#but seeing his blood in his brothers teeth and dripping down both their skin makes it so worth it

[weirdbrosinc]

sam with a biting kink and dean with a blood kink

[wheneclipsefalls]

Marked

Masterlist        ao3

This one shot is a sequel to Lesson Learned but can be read as a stand alone

Pairing: Neteyam (23) x Metkayina fem reader x Loak (22)

Summary: Neteyam and Lo’ak have many different ways of staking their claim on you. 

Warnings: aged up characters, rough sex, slight degradation, p in v, threesome, dom/sub undertones, spitting, swearing, orgasm denial, possessive behavior, power imbalance, established relationship

Sevin: Pretty        Yawne: Beloved           Tewng: Loincloth

Ocean waves roll against the strong corded muscles of Neteyam’s thighs as he wades out of the salty water. His body aches from the strain and exertion of the hunt but it’s a welcomed feeling. The pleasant hum that tells one that they have  accomplished something, pushed themselves to new limits. Now that his desire for adventure and achievement has been satiated he yearns for a softer pleasure. This instantly has his thoughts turning towards you. 

Beads of ocean water still running down his toned body as he hastily makes his way towards your marui pod. He finds it empty. The lack of Lo’ak’s appearance is sure to be no coincidence so he immediately knows where to find you. On the outskirts of the village he can see Lo’ak’s small pod with the flaps closed and it tells Neteyam everything he needs to know. He is barely within eyesight of the abode before he hears your whining pleas. A smirk curves along his lips, wondering what his brother has gotten you into now. 

Pulling back the flaps, the sight immediately sends blood rushing to his groin. 

Your hands are tied to the headboard by the slim pieces of leather Jake had once taught Lo’ak to make. As Lo’ak licks and feasts at your core devilishly you curse those stupid straps that keep you in place. Part of you wonders if the younger Sully brother requested to make them only for this purpose. The sight of the leather now stirs a concoction of thrill and dread when you see him unwrap them from his forearms. 

Lo’ak is insatiable. Long tongue running up and down your folds and tracing circles till you are practically growling at him. Then, without any warning, he is sucking on your clit, fingers probing at your entrance synchronously. It’s a rush of tantalizing sensations that quickly bring you towards the familiar cliff of climax, only then to have it ripped away in an instant. 

You aren’t sure how long Lo’ak has been edging you, but your core spasms with the need for release. Yet, it is becoming clear with the mischievous satisfaction that twinkles in his golden orbs that this feeling will not be going away anytime soon. 

All of this could have been avoided if you had simply kept your mouth shut. The hungry makeout session underneath the mangrove trees was heading in a direction that you knew would end with him ramming into you without reprieve. You were more than ready for that outcome but it was the consistent drag of his teeth along your neck and fourth mark littered across your collarbone that had pushed you to complain. 

Lo’ak has always been possessive. Truly, both brothers can’t stand the thought of another man touching what belongs to them, but Lo’ak lets out this frustration by marking your body as his…constantly. You’ve been to more meetings and gatherings than you can count that led to wandering eyes observing the primal marks covering your skin. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the ordeal, always trying to find a way to cover them. This effort is always proven useless however as Lo’ak inevitably finds new places to sink his teeth into. 

In a moment of weakness you brought it up, complaining that his oral fixation always ended in giving you unwanted attention and embarrassment. 

He didn’t take it well.

You should’ve known such comments would bring you to now, where you are writhing beneath him in humiliating desperation with a new line of teeth marks along your curvy hips. 

Your head snaps over to finally see Neteyam, dripping in the entrance of the marui. Hope lights within you like a flame, naively thinking that the older brother will come to your rescue. 

“N-Neteyam!” Your voice grows into a whine as Lo’ak purposely avoids your bundle of nerves again. Still, Neteyam’s gaze is casual, opting to look at his brother instead. “Nete help!”

Lo’ak rolls his eyes at your pathetic little pleas. His tongue flicks at your clit just to enjoy the amusement of seeing your hips jut. 

“Our little yawne thinks she has the right to tell us not to mark her sweet body.” Lo’ak’s distorted explanation rolls off his tongue easily. You quickly go to sputter and correct the information but suddenly two fingers are pressing into your tight heat and the only thing that escapes your soft lips is a gush of air followed by a moan. Lo’ak presses his other hand to your inner thigh, keep you spread open for him. He has to hold back an audible groan at the sound of your tight pussy squelching around his long fingers. 

“Silly babygirl.” Neteyam chuckles before crossing the room, past the spot where you squirm and cry beneath Lo’ak. He starts to dig through various weapons and tools that abide in the corner of Lo’ak’s marui while you try to call for help. 

“You borrowed my spear gun.” He casually tells Lo’ak.

“Yep.” Lo’ak confirms, lips still tickling at your clit and sending a vibration of pleasure through you. 

“Where is it?” Neteyam hums, still digging through the items. You can barely believe your ears as they continue to have a casual conversation as if you are not dripping onto his brother’s face while begging to finally have an orgasm. This isn’t the first time they have done something like this and it gets you wondering if they simply do it to frustrate you further. To show that your pleasure is completely in their hands and can be taken lightly as a form of a sadistic game. 

“Behind the basket, bro.” 

“Nete!” 

Lo’ak’s canines sharply bite your clit. You screech and cry at the pain. 

“When my head is between your thighs you call my name.” Lo’ak’s hisses at you, stern gaze pinning you in place. You can feel your clit throbbing from the small bite but it only fuels your desire to burn hotter until it has become agonizing once again. 

“Yes Lo’ak.” You whimper. He nips at your folds again, reprimanding you. 

“Yes sir.” You correct yourself but you can’t help but feel that he tricked you into answering incorrectly. When he dives back in to assault you with euphoric pleasure Neteyam finally decides to stroll over and set the spear gun to the side. He pets your curls and coos as you moan relentlessly. His long fingers slowly brush along the news marks on your hips, admiring the contrast against your light blue skin. 

Lo’ak’s fingers curl inside of you while his thumb massages your sweet bundle of nerves. It’s enough to have your legs shaking and renewed promises coming from your lips. 

“Sir please! I’ll do anything you want just please let me cum!” You beg, back arching while your hands frantically tug at the binds. 

“Oh yawne, you know how much I love hearing you beg.” Lo’ak draws out while beginning to pump his fingers in and out of your sopping entrance. His other hand comes to leisurely play with your little bundle of nerves, lightly tapping it repetitively till you are close to the edge, then pulling back. You swear he has some sixth sense that tells him when you are about to cum. Sometimes you wish you were better at keeping a poker face but you are putty in the brothers’ hands and you doubt that will change any time soon. 

“Neteyam, he’s being mean.” You whine, pained expression turning to look up at the older brother. 

“Babygirl, you know how much Lo’ak and I like decorating your little body with pretty marks. It seems to me that you were the mean one telling Lo’ak he couldn’t.” Neteyam easily rebuts with a crooked grin. It’s obvious that he does not intend on lending a helping hand and your hope starts to diminish. 

Your little squeak mixes with the lewd squelching sound of Lo’ak’s suddenly removing his fingers from you. He leans back on his haunches, sending you a cocky smile. The loss of sensation has your brain in a frenzy, desperately trying to find some point of contact to ease the burning desires. You push your hips towards him obscenely chasing after Lo’ak’s touch. All it grants you is leisure glide of his fingers between your folds more so for his entertainment than your actual pleasure. 

Before you know it Neteyam is standing up with a pleased sigh and grabbing the spear gun on. Your cerulean eyes watch him warily, stomach dropping as you see him heading towards the exit. He claps a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. 

“Seems like you got this, bro.” Neteyam’s comment is only met with an assured nod from Lo’ak before he is strolling out of the marui, leaving you alone to be tormented by the younger Sully. 

Your tewng doesn’t conceal the angry purple marks on your hips no matter how much you shuffle the bands and fabric. Lo’ak leads you towards the fire with a possessive hand to the small of your back. Half the village is gathered together for the small celebratory meal but you can’t focus on any of the festivities with your body clawing for release. 

No matter how hard you begged, pleaded, or promised unimaginable things, Lo’ak was set on edging you without reward. 

Pattering beside him with shaky legs you spot Neteyam lounging on the outskirts of the gathering. Led to the other brother, you are prompted to sit on the eldest Sully’s lap. You obey but not without a short huff and a pout etched on your lips. Trapped in his lap with an arm around your middle Neteyam is unbothered by your pouting state. If anything, he seems to enjoy your adorable expression as Lo’ak’ picks up your feet and places it on his own lap. 

You refuse to say a word as food is passed around and chatter fills the air. The sexual frenzy of hormones racing through your veins sets you into an irritable mood. How is it that you have two fully capable, and drop dead gorgeous, Na’vi males and you’re still sitting there clenching your thighs together like a teenage girl? 

Lo’ak can’t resist running his fingertips occasionally up and and down your calves, even tickling at the bottom of your feet until you are kicking and glaring at him fiercely. The cute scrunch of your nose and angry gaze only eggs him on, a cheeky grin permanently in place. 

“Are you going to stop being a little brat or do I need to fuck that pout off your face?” Despite the amusement in Neteyam’s tone, you know that it is no joke. The sensible part of your brain tells you it is better to behave. It increases the chances of getting to cum at least once tonight, but you are also known for being stubborn. It’s a trait that the brothers enjoy on a good day but a large part of that is due to how fun it is to break that stubborn spirit. To show that after all the glaring, biting, yelling and plotting, you still will end up a whimpering mess promising to be their good little slut. 

However, you are already riding the thin line of Lo’ak’s patience and you know the moment Neteyam sees some real defiance from you, there are bound to be consequences. Consequences that are sure to leave you aching and rutting against your sheets tonight in search of relief. 

“I’ll be good.” You mumble before slotting yourself closer to Neteyam, head pressed against the crook of his neck the way he likes it. The obedience stirs him to trace soothing circles along your back, slowly calming down your racing heart beat. 

The meal continues on smoothly after that. You enjoy the privacy that eclipse brings as the three of you are sat on the edges of the crowd, away from prying eyes. The night air is cool and gentle across your skin as the light slowly shifts to that of bioluminescence. For a moment you think that the worst is over and that the night will end with you entangled between the two happily but one detail throws off the whole trajectory of your plans. 

Aonung stars from across the fire, browline scrunched with a heated gaze that doesn’t dare to leave you. 

You recognize the stare as you have known Aonung your whole life. You spent most of your childhood running into the future Olo’eyktan as you played with Tsireya. There were even times as you got older that both of your parents briefly discussed the possibility of you too mating in the future. All of that of course was long forgotten when the Sully family arrived and the brothers managed to steal your attention away. Truth be told you never imagined yourself with the Metkayina male and you figured he felt the same way but it's obvious that this does not dismiss the injury to his pride. A mate that could’ve been his but is now constantly being felt up by forest boys. 

You pray to Eywa that neither brother notices the penetrating look, even venturing to try and distract each with sweet kisses and random stories from your day.  

Naturally it is Lo’ak who spots it first.

The golden rim sparkles with interest, tugging at one edge of his lips. The crooked smirk hides filthy plots swarming through his brain. He knows how much Aonung disapproves of the relationship but most importantly he recognizes the triumph his brother and him have scored over Aonung, blaringly obvious by the way you nuzzle between the two of them. 

It’s only once Lo’ak’s hand is teasing up the plush of your inner thigh that Neteyam detects the source of the decision. Neteyam tilts his head to the side, braids swinging as he tauntingly stares right back at Aonung. To Aonung’s credit he doesn’t shrink away or avert his eyes. A notion that can be credited to male stubborn pride. 

The wafting tension becomes palpable, stealing the breath from your lungs and tingling across your skin until you’re shifting on Neteyam’s lap. You recognize what is happening, a silent game between the three males. Aonung refuses to look away and Lo’ak eagerly starts to place open mouthed kisses along the heat of your neck. The warmth of his tongue along your pulse is tantalizing and enticing but your thoughts are still clear enough to recognize the embarrassing situation that is coming to unfold itself. The grind of Neteyam’s hard cock beneath your core only sparks your primal desires into a further distraction. 

“Nete-” Sharp teeth at your earlobe cut the sentence short. Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to recall what your objective is. Calloused fingertips begin to slide up your ribcage, daringly getting closer to the shell top along the swell of your breasts. “S-stop he’ll see.” 

“That’s kind of the point, mama.” Lo’ak’s words are complimented by a sharp pinch to one nipple after slipping underneath a shell. A small mewl slips your lips. The heat between your legs is unbearable again and the consuming pleasure of exploring hands and kisses only serve to subdue your mind further into a sexual frenzy. 

“H-he’s future Olo’eyktan maybe we shouldn’t-” Neteyam grips your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back at him. Those golden orbs now harbor ice, relentlessly staring you down with a firm intensity. You gulp, already regretting speaking.

“I don’t see why you should care, babygirl.” You can’t tell if it’s Lo’ak’s or Neteyam’s hand that reaches for your other nipple to abuse it, but the sharp pain has your back arching as you bite your tongue to keep the noises in. “Is he the one filling your sweet pussy every night, making you see stars?” 

“No sir.” The glimmer of stars-like freckles adorning his face are a sharp contrast to the dark shadow covering his features. Neteyam is usually so gentle and sweet, a good counterbalance to Lo’ak’s short temper, but there are moments when you get to see him like this. Rigid and unyielding to anything but absolute acquiescence. It sends a thrill racing to tug at your already pumping heart. 

“Then it shouldn’t matter to you. Isn’t that right, babygirl?” When your eyes start to drop closed due to the teasing at your buds, Neteyam’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your soft cheeks. This startles you back into the present, pulling together some resemblance of a response.

“Y-yes sir. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know baby, I’m not sure if I believe you.” Neteyam tuts with a feigned sigh.  Lo’ak tugs on both of the hardened nubs simultaneously, pulling a small shriek from your throat. You are too caught up in Neteyam’s piercing features to process the way your hips are rubbing back against him shamelessly. 

“I mean it!” Your small whine becomes more urgent. 

If you were to look over you would see Aonung gripping the edge of his knee painfully, holding himself back from stomping over there to make a scene. Lo’ak occasionally looks back to make sure he is watching and it always results in a wordless brawl of emotions as they try to pin the other down with deadly looks. 

“Then prove it.” Lo’ak chimes in, hot breath fanning over the back of your neck. Your jaw is finally released. You shoot bewildered looks back and forth between the two, trying to understand what conclusion they had already come to. The warm hands beneath your shells disappear and you are maneuvered to straddle Neteyam hips while facing away. Your legs spread wide, allowing the brush of night air to sink past the edges of your loincloth at your heated core. 

Aonung’s features are now clear from across the fire, the only Na’vi intently watching the three of you. Blood rushes to your flushed cheeks. This is so much worse than a few hickeys. 

“Slip your hand in your loincloth, yawne.” Lo’ak’s command has you snapping your neck to stare back at him in shock. He tilts his head with a look that says now is not the time to test them. You are trying to prove you’re sorry, after all. 

With that in mind you shut your eyes and nimbly slip one hand underneath the soft cloth of your tewng. Heat radiates from your core, slick already dripping to your inner thighs. 

“Two fingers along that pussy.” 

There is no other choice but to obey, fingers swiping between your folds. Your cunt is still sensitive and the light brush of your fingers already has your hips bucking shamelessly. 

“Show me.” The younger Sully murmurs darkly. Strings of arousal cover the two fingers and create a lewd line between them. Lo’ak wastes no time, grabbing your wrist and bringing the digits into his mouth. His tongue caresses each inch, stealing every trace of the slick. It’s then that you notice he is staring right back at Aonung, who wears a deep scowl that leaves creased wrinkles along his forehead. 

The shame that would usually riddle your stomach into knots is concealed by the increasing pleasure that you receive from watching Lo’ak clean your fingers, his skilled mouth showing a reflection of what other places his tongue has been put to work. 

Once the brothers deem the show of claim worthy enough, they send Aonung one more look of victory before shifting you to your feet and leading you into the bundle of mangrove trees. You pad along with them thoughtlessly, only focused on the radiating sexual energy coming from the brothers. 

Your forms are concealed enough to be dismissed by the main crowd but a certain onlooker can still make out the silhouettes lit by the moonlight. 

There is not a second given to breathe before lips are attacking your swirling turquoise skin. Neteyam’s hand grips your throat, pushing you back against the bark of the tree. Tongue and teeth dance across your form without reverence. Lo’ak pushes your legs apart to continue suckling at the already present marks to your inner thighs. Your grip on Neteyam’s broad shoulders is borderline painful as you silently beg for the younger brother to move his lips closer to your clothed core. 

“Nete can we please go home? I n-need you inside.” The tremble in your voice is hushed away with a chaste kiss to the lips. 

Neteyam’s response sounds different. The vowels are wider and the concoction of sound only swirls into gibberish in your brain. For a moment you believe that you are already so fucked out that your mind has lost the ability to compute words, but then you notice the way he is looking down at Lo’ak instead of you. Lo’ak too responds with foreign sounds that mean nothing to your ears and that is when you realize the brother are speaking English to one another. 

It’s not the first time they have used this trick. The language barrier proves itself to be a good tool for discussing your torment or pleasure while you remain anxiously unaware. You hate the way your frustration grows at uselessly trying to decipher their conversation, especially when that infamous smirk returns to Lo’ak’s lips. 

“Does our little slut want to be fucked?” Lo’ak coos in a patronizing tone. You rapidly nod your head, dismissing the humiliation of looking so desperate.

“Yes sir! Please need to be fucked, need to be shown my place.” You’re willing to say just about anything at this point to be filled. To finally have the ache in your core blossom into unfathomable euphoria. 

“That’s right, babygirl. Aren’t you lucky to have the two of us teaching you how to be a proper cockslut?” Neteyam rubs his thumb along your pulse, applying just enough pressure to coalesce arousal and trepidation. 

“Y-yes yes thank you.” Your lips chase after the first sight of dark blue skin you see. Your kisses barely reach his cheek as you are still held in place by the firm grip on your neck. 

“How about a deal, mama?” You suddenly notice that Lo’ak is back on his feet, towering over you. You are trapped between the two of them against the tree, only a small window allowing you to see the continuing festival in the distance. A set of hands make quick work of unknotting your loincloth, tossing away the offensive garment. You immediately feel the light breeze along your slick covered petals, reminding you of how vulnerable you are now. 

They lead you towards a stump and Neteyam sits down promptly before pulling you to straddle one of his thighs, facing away from him. You squeak as the majority of your weight now rests on your core against the toned muscle. The pressure is overwhelming in your state so you try to lift yourself off, but Neteyam grips your hips and pulls you back down before you can escape. 

“Not so fast, babygirl.” He chuckles. “Show us how good you can ride my thigh then we will give you what you want.” 

Your bottom lip is trapped between your sharp teeth. This is new territory. You’ve never tried this before and although you are immensely turned on, you begin to worry that this won’t be enough to push you over the edge. 

“Seem like a good deal, mama?” Lo’ak kneels down in front of you, tying his hair back into his infamous ponytail. You go to protest but the words are caught in your throat as Neteyam unexpectedly flexes his thigh. The slight shift of muscle drags against your clit, eliciting a small moan to take the place of your disagreeance. 

“Good girl.” Lo’ak purrs. 

Neteyam’s hands guide you along the smooth skin of his thigh, the effect bringing a wave of pleasure bursting through your core. After not being touched for a few hours, it’s a great relief to have some sort of contact to the sensitive folds. He guides the motion in long strokes, flexing the muscles at random points to hear your moans increase in volume. Lo’ak watches the way your body arches beautifully with every rock of your hips. Eventually seeing the phenomenon is not enough for the younger Sully so he captures your lips in his, loving the way you breath harshly into his mouth. 

Their large hands maneuver your body easily until it is obvious that even on top you are not in control. Neteyam’s thigh is covered in your sweet slick, providing natural lube for your journey along the aqua skin. The wet noises of your pussy mix into a melody with your shaky breaths and squeaky moans. 

“Making such a fucking mess, sevin.” Neteyam’s deep baritone cusps around the back of your neck. Your breath catches when Lo’ak swipes the shells away to greedily cup your breasts. “Wonder what your little admirer would say if he saw you like this. See how desperate you are just to ride my thigh.”

The dirty praises bring another round of sweet whimpers into the air. You had forgotten about Aonung and the shame you felt having the brothers feel you up in public but now that worry has resurfaced into something else, a filthy fantasy you didn’t know you had. Neteyam chuckles darkly at your reaction. His hand wraps around your braid, forcing your neck to crane back, accentuating the dramatic curve of your body. 

“You like that idea, don’t you babygirl?” Your legs are already shaking from the strain of rutting yourself back and forth. The hands digging into your hips are the only things that keep your momentum going. “Want everyone to see what a good little slut you are for us, huh?”

Incoherent noises surface as a response as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. Tendrils of sensitivity are already lacing your core, the drag of your clit against the hard muscle becoming borderline overwhelming. A sharp slap to your ass has your eyes snapping open to the scene again.

“Neteyam asked you a question, mama. Don’t be rude.” Lo’ak reprimands you. 

“Y-yes sir, I do.” You whimper. Neteyam finally releases your braid. Your head spins as you are back to facing forward. The trees seem to curve and morph into the night sky, dark edges becoming thicker around your vision.

“Ah ah ah hang in there, mama. Don’t go passing out on us.” Lo’ak gently pats your cheek, bringing your vision back into focus. “We just started after all.” He chuckles. 

The pace picks up, strong hands digging into your soft sides to keep you going. Any thought outside of your need to cum drifts away, only leaving enough mental energy to chase your oncoming high. Words of encouragement ring in your ears, even though your body has become pliant as Neteyam and Lo’ak do the work. The familiar tightening sensation in your stomach returns but this time with the hope of release. 

“Come on, babygirl. Cum all over my thigh. Give it to me.” Neteyam’s dark growl is feral and enough to bring sweet euphoria to the front of your mind. Your body convulses and shakes seemingly down to your very bones as you decorate his thigh with your release. The forced rocking motion draws your climax out until you are whimpering and trying to escape the oversensitivity. 

Strong arms slip around your waist, pulling you back flush against Neteyam’s chest. The simple motion against your core has another whimper surfacing. You can feel the strings of cum and arousal connecting your core to his thigh lewdly. 

“Good girl. What a pretty mess you are.” The thick timber of his voice anchors you in the moment, the only sensation your overwhelmed nerves can focus on. It takes a few moments for your pleasure-addled brain to rejuvenate, finally remembering where you are. Your lazy vision drags along the scene until spotting the glowing flames from the festival past the trees. The crowd has moved on from eating to dancing and weaving intricate songs of drums and vocals. 

You wonder if the noise was enough to drown out your climactic screams. 

There is a loss of heat when you are gently handed off to Lo’ak. Your protests are short lived when you regain the comfort in his arms instead. Sitting on the younger Sully’s lap you can see the clear shimmer along Neteyam’s thigh. 

“Why don’t you help Neteyam out and clean up your mess, mama?” Lo’ak whispers the command cloaked as a suggestion in your ear. 

Neteyam watches with glowing hooded eyes as the flat of your tongue dances across his skin. You can taste your own juices but the real pleasure comes from tracing the lines and curves of his toned muscles. Regardless of whether or not you have sufficiently cleaned him up you start to focus on worshiping his body instead. You hungrily lace his inner thighs with open mouthed kisses that have him twitching. Small hands explore the expanse of his legs and thighs, no efforts to conceal your lust. 

A hummed groan releases into the air and you are unsure of which brother it came from but it spurs you on anyway. Neteyam is gracious enough to allow you to leave a few small hickeys along his inner thighs. However, when you try to focus your efforts on the bulge in his loincloth he stops you. Gentle fingers twist in your hair, guiding you to look up at him.

Your pout has returned. 

���But you sai-”

Lo’ak’s fingers spreading your folds cut off the sentence abruptly, rough pad of his forefingers finding your clit quickly. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly. Watching the way your already puffy clit shrivels at the touch. 

“We said we’d give you what you want, mama, but you have to trust us. Good girls don’t act greedy.” The words barely register in your brain when two of his fingers slip into your heat. Neteyam chuckles and pets at your hair as you are limp against his thigh. Lo’ak doesn’t start slow, knowing you are already warmed up enough as it is. The tips of fingers mercilessly rub against your g spot until you are trembling. 

The combination brings up memories of Lo’ak tormenting you earlier that day.

Afraid of a repeat, you scramble to get ahead of the situation.

“Lo’ak! Please sir, can I have your cock?! B-been thinking about it all day I need it!” The words tumble out of your mouth as you strain to press your body back against him. The movement allows him to reach a new angle with his fingers. Your face pinches together in bliss, ignoring the humiliation that comes from the position you are in. 

“Aw yawne, you’re already cockdrunk? Can’t have you suffering now can we?” His feigned caring tone only lasts for a moment before you can feel the head of his cock sliding across your petals. More pleas leave your lips but they are unnecessary when he starts to slip past the rim. The stretch of your walls around his thick length is overwhelming. 

Lo’ak’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he finally manages to sheath himself fully in your tight cunt. The way your heat hugs him so perfectly has him already longing to rut into you without mercy. When he sees the pure bliss that laces your features his self control snaps and an unbreakable pace begins. 

Neteyam cradles your face in his hands, watching every flicker of emotion in your expression. You take each thrust obediently, pushing your hips backwards to provide better access. Neteyam revels in the sight of you. Pliant between them as Lo’ak fucks into you brutally. When tears trail from the corners of your blue eyes, Neteyam coos and wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. He takes a mental picture of your wrecked state, body trembling and overwhelmed, hair a tangled mess and cheeks wet with tears. And yet you still take more. 

Always the perfect girl for them. 

“Open.” Dark blue fingers tap your cheeks. Eyes barely fluttering open, you wrench your jaw apart and stick your pink tongue out. Neteyam spits into your open mouth, the substance landing on your tongue. You swallow the spit eagerly, another tangible reminder of his claim on you. Knowing the drill, you present your tongue to prove you’ve swallowed. Your stomach flutters at the look of pride Neteyam gives you. 

Soon the sound of Lo’ak’s pelvis colliding with your ass is mixed with your screechy moans. They hover above the other chants and calls of the celebration. 

“Sh babygirl. I know you want everyone to know how good his cock feels but we shouldn’t disturb their fun.”

In the midst of thrusting Lo’ak manages to grasp your discarded loincloth and throw it to his older brother. Neteyam is quick to understand the meaning while you are absolutely delirious and pleasure drunk between them. When Neteyam tells you to open your mouth once more you become excited, thinking he will spit in it again or better yet, finally let you suck him off. A shocked whine vibrates from your throat when soft balled up fabric is forced into your mouth instead. 

Your tongue pushes at the fabric, trying to get it out. Seeing the struggle, Lo’ak plants his pelvis to your ass before reaching forward to force the fabric back into your mouth. Your curly hair bounces with the shake of your head, earning a sharp pinch to one of your nipples. 

“What’s wrong, mama? Though you liked taking it from both ends.” Lo’ak’s teasing makes you whimper and pout around the gag, a sight that Neteyam gleefully enjoys. He mentally curses himself for not bringing the polaroid camera he stole from the lab. He knows that this view would provide a perfect shot to add to his little collection of you. In his eyes, you never look more beautiful than when you are on your knees between his legs, lidded eyes barely showing your blown out pupils. 

You stop fighting the gag, giving in to the blissful stretch and stroking of Lo’ak’s member inside your pussy. It’s hard to think about anything else, especially when Neteyam takes away the task of even holding your head up. His large hands are warm against your soaked cheeks and those amber eyes send goosebumps along your skin. 

When fingers trail around your hip and back to your clit, you start to come undone. Your lips stretch around the fabric, gaping to try and form muffled words. Although none of it is close to coherent, Lo’ak can tell from the way you grip his cock what you are trying to communicate. 

“I’m right behind you, sevin. Don’t hold back.” The younger Sully grunts shifting to get a deeper angle. Your ears drop backwards as the all consuming sensation takes you over again. “Damn!” Lo’ak grits out between sharp teeth as you almost painfully squeeze around him. 

The climax takes everything out of you. Your muscles burn and your core now aches in a new way. You collapse against them, letting Lo’ak use your pussy to chase his own high. The night air feels harsh in your lungs as it comes in small steam through your nose. The loincloth is drenched in your own saliva, small strings slipping past the corners of your mouth. 

“Taking me so well, mama. Look so pretty.” Your heart siezes with the sweet praises from the younger brother and its the motivation you need to hang on. When the familiar warm ropes of seed paint your inner walls, a wave of relief washes over you. The filling of your womb is somehow comforting, a sweet partner to the gentle trace of Lo’ak’s fingertips on your bare back. 

The window swallows your whimper of protest when Lo’ak slips out. You are held between them when finally the cloth is taken out, a line of saliva connecting it to your swollen lips. You preen when Neteyam leans down and presses a chaste kiss to those lips. He carefully unties the shell top from around your torso, helping you to get more comfortable. It is only when he is leaning forward to do so that you notice the outline of his aching cock in his loincloth, reminding you of your original objective. 

“Neteyam,” He looks down to see your head resting sweetly along his inner thigh, voice breathy and sincere. “I want it.” 

Neteyam sighs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know, sevin. You’ve already almost passed out once. Let’s not push it.” 

Lo’ak snorts, before rolling his eyes. 

“Bro, you’re too soft.” Neteyam's soft gaze sharpens into a glare that is directed at his brother. Lo’ak doesn’t so much as flinch. “She’s literally asking for it. You really gonna say no to that face?” He squishes your cheeks together and puts on his own mocking pout as you both look up at him. Were it a circumstance where your brain isn’t morphed by post orgasmic bliss you might have laughed at the scowl that crosses Neteyam’s features at the teasing. Now, you can only bat your eyelashes up at him sleepily.

“Shut up and let her go.” Neteyam snaps, batting Lo’ak’s hands away. “Come here, babygirl.” 

It’s clear his resolve has crumbled but you don’t give him the chance to change his mind. Trembling fingers undo his loincloth and eagerly toss it away. His length slaps softly against his stomach, obviously aroused from the turn of events. It baffles you to think that Neteyam was willing to let himself go unattended to, worrying about your well being instead.

This realization ignites a determination to take care of him. To bring him the same euphoric pleasure he is so willing to give you. 

Neteyam shuts his eyes as you leave sweet kisses and kitten licks along the shaft and head. His cock twitches, bringing a sleepy but triumphant grin to your lips. Although your jaw aches and sleep tugs at the back of your eyes, you push through and wrap your lips around the head. You can feel the deep rumble that comes from his chest when you finally sink down till your nose is pressed to his navel. 

It’s not an easy fit. Your throat contracts around the girth and your gag reflex is already on the brink of acting up. Still, the heavenly moan that trickles from his lips is reward enough. 

You gag around his length, forcing yourself to go up and down in smooth strokes. The ache in your cheeks from holllowing them only increases as his hips start to buck up into your mouth. It’s clear that he’s been on the edge for a while now. Every time the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, your heavy eyelids threaten to droop closed. 

“Not sleepy time yet, babygirl.” Neteyam chuckles, patting your cheeks to signal your eyes to open. 

Neteyam gets lost in your glassy eyes, kept open and looking up at him by sheer will. You’re always so obedient for him. Doing everything in your power to bring him pleasure even when your little body can barely take the strain. This cacophony of thought mixed with the tight convulsing around him is what pushes him over the edge. 

You choke in surprise when white ropes of cum sputter into your mouth. Lo’ak is quick to hold your head down so none of Neteyam’s seed is lost. Barely hanging onto consciousness, you manage to swallow down the sticky substance. 

The night air is filled with the mixture of yours and Neteyam harsh breathing, his thumb pushing any lost cum past your lips. Fucked out beyond repair, you don’t try to fight it when Lo’ak collects you in his arms. His shoulder acts as a good pillow as you snuggle into the crook of his neck. Sweet praises drift into the last grasps you have on reality. 

Unbeknownst to you, the brothers spot a figure at the edge of the trees, his eyes caught on the sleeping form in the younger Sully’s arms. 

Aonung

“Hey cuz.” Lo’ak smirks.

Taglist: @pandorxxx​ @neteyamtesuli

[yanderemommabean]

MOMMAAAAAAA I LOVED YOUR HORROR OBEY ME THING! (Yes I have you on notifs, I friggin love all your writing, you’re exceptionally talented.)

So here’s my request :3

Yandere Beel and Belphie, deciding to share a female reader. They think they’ll have to resort to darker methods, but she really just loves them both so much! She cooperates every step of the way, and when one of the other brothers tries flirting (probably Mammon or Asmo let’s be honest) she sees the darkest side of the two twins.

Thank you so much in advance if you so write something for it!

((Blood mention and violence! Reader is not the one bleeding!))

You really are too perfect. Belphie still beats himself up about ever being mad at you and thinking you were some lowly being. And Beel...well he's just as dark as he is a bright smile with a big appetite. They both love you so much but have to admit they never want to show that dark side to you. Really they never have to. You're so sweet and obedient, you wait for them to lead you by hand if you go anywhere, you ask permission before leaving their sight, you don't ask questions when they get a bit...odd...which is often. But they tend to forget you've captured the attention of their other brothers as well. There's jack shit they can do about Lucifer, as he's the most powerful and terrifying and could easily smite them, so they let him think he has your heart. But the others? They need to learn to watch themselves. Belphie can feel his fangs aching to tear into Mammon. That dark blood coating his mouth and throat sounded divine. That cheap asshole keeps thinking he can get you alone by throwing fits and demanding like a brat, and it's killing his last shred of sanity. You giggle when he begins to tickle you, those sinful hands daring to touch your perfect skin, and before Belphie can launch, Beel already has Mammon by the throat. You go pale, shaking as the usually playful demons are now transforming and dripping drool from their large, tooth filled maws. Those teeth look eager to pierce any flesh they can, and Mammon’s skin looked especially appetizing to Beel as he began to snarl in their ancient tongue, of which you couldn't make out much other than them being angry. Belphie moves like a snake, his arms quickly wrapped around you as he starts to carry you away from the scene, but its too late. A punch was thrown, and a nose was definitely broken. Beel holds his face as his eyes turn ballistic, his pupils pinpoints as he roars and lets the blood drip down his nose and lips. 

You scream, but Belphie hushes you with a rather possessive kiss, turning you away but you insist on wriggling and biting him even. Oh? So you want to misbehave? No no no, you’d never…You’re just worried about Beel is all! That’s it! Oh forgive him, he gets irrational when protective you know? 

“No no see! Beel can handle himself! Mammon’s already nearly blue…Once he’s a shade darker we’ll be good for a while. Why the big eyes sweetheart? Choking him wont kill him! He’ll just be hurt enough to think about what he’s done. Unless…You want him dead?” You’re unable to speak. You aren’t used to such anger and violence, despite being in literal hell, or the devildom. These are beings of pure unadulterated rage and brutality yet for so long all you’ve seen was a few screaming matches and…now this. “No-No no no! Just-” you stammer, trying to squirm in Belphies grip once again as Beels face is warped, something truly sinister covering his expression as he holds Mammon’s throat with both hands, a wicked gleeful smile on his face as he does so. “LET HIM GO! Beel! BEEL!” you scream, having no other choice but to use the power of your pact to get the beast off of him and allow him air. The demons are all thrown to the side, your body hitting the floor too with a harsh thud, the breath being knocked from you as you cough and scramble to check on the second born. 

You don't get two inches to him before Belphie whispers a spell and you’re in their bedroom, Beel still covering his bleeding face as he stares at you like a dog awaiting its next command. He looked like he was in a trance yet still wanted blood. How did things spiral this fast? This is crazy! “I love you sweetheart, I really really do…But you don't get to do that to us. You don't get to tell us what we can and can't do, pact or not, all we want is to protect you” Belphie hissed, teeth coming out as if he wanted to bite right into you, but he held off, seemingly talking to Beelzebub through their odd twin link. “Belphie. Stop…They get worried easily is all, they saw me hurt, and wanted to check on me. I mean what other way could they stop us to check on us both?” Beel says as he pinches his nose, staring at you with sweet but terrifying eyes. Completely delusional. “Right? I mean I like to think we know you pretty well at this point, you just wanted me to stop because you thought I was badly hurt. But I'm ok! I am, the blood is even stopping on its own. You’re so sweet it's almost silly sometimes”. You may be a human with ancient beings older than the world itself, but you aren’t stupid. Those eyes held a deep, dark intent, and the next few words you say might be your last if you aren’t careful. You’ve been given a chance to play along, so, you take it. “How could I not be worried?! You’re bleeding! “ you exclaim, watching as Belphies face goes back to being soft and amused while Beel pouts and holds you to his chest as he pets your hair. “Aww. We’re so so sorry Y/N, really! But we’re big and strong, there’s nothing you need to worry about ok?” Beel says with a kiss to your head, gently flopping you on his bed as he turns to look towards Belphegor. “Ward the room for a while, I don't want to hear anything from Lucifer until this little cutie is calmed down. He’d just make the tension even worse” Once Belphegor began the incantation, Beel crawled to sit above you, blood dried on his face as he smiled. “You'll be ok, Me and Belphie won’t let anything happen to you. We love you, after all”. 

-Mommabean (I hope you enjoy beans!!! Sorry for typos, I type too fast and auto correct doesn’t always catch them!) 

[fastlikealambo]

Tear You Apart|| Kraven The Hunter x Black!Fem Reader Part 1/2

Summary: After a successful hunt, Sergei comes home to you but he’s not really in the mood for-I know y’all are not here for plot, be fucking forreal. 

Triggers: All of them but really primal play, knife play,  unprotected sex, asthma, mentions of blood, consensual choking, improper use of a crossbow, aftercare 

Note: “Kraven wouldn’t actually be able to do-” I’m gonna stop you right there brother, this is a whorehouse. A poorly written whorehouse.

If you don’t know already, this is 18+, minors DNI

“Do you least wanna eat dinner first?” You asked, turning back to the table but he’s already shoved the plate of vegan oxtails to the side with one hand before lifting you onto the dinner table. 

“No, just you.” He muttered, sucking at your neck and you threatened to whimper right then and there but not yet. You grasp the back of his head softly at first before twisting the sweaty curls hard enough for him to growl and look up.

“ I just bought this fucking table, baby. You know the rules.”

At those words,Sergei sat up immediately and helped you off the table before a rough hand tipped your chin to look into his eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

“Enough for you to fuck me.” You quipped, but reached up to lay a feather light kiss on his jaw. “ I trust you, always. Do you trust me?”

“ Always. Safe word?”

“Spider-Man.”

���Good girl.”

It’s routine now, he gets your inhaler, you tie your locs back into a ponytail. He waits patiently until you’re done, putting the puffer in his back pocket before leading you to the middle of the living room.

“Be nice and still, can you do that for me?” He whispers, and you nod. You can almost see the love in his eyes disappear, replaced by something much darker.

Hunger.

With both hands, he rips your blouse in two, the pieces falling to the floor. The pants are next, leaving you in your underwear as he dips two fingers beneath your waistband, making quick work of finding that special spot. This time the whimper escapes, and you break eye contact for a moment.

“Eyes on me.” He said sternly, his fingers pumping harder and faster, until he slid them out, dripping. He sucks on his soaked fingers before taking your face in a searing kiss, your back to his chest. His nose slides down your neck, inhaling deeply before he lets go.

“I’ll give you a two minute head start.”

With that, you race out the living room and out the back door into the nature preserve behind your house. Even in the dark, you can feel a pair of yellow eyes on you as you make your way through the forest. 

“Do you really think you can outrun me?”  His voice booms in the quiet of the woods.

“Do you think I’d make it easy for you?” You yelled back and continued running deeper into the dark.  The cold night air chills your skin but you keep going, the only noise is your bare feet hitting leaves.

“ Where are you, pretty girl?”

You pick up the pace, heading into a moonlit clearing, leaning on a tree to catch your breath.  An owl appears overhead and in your distraction you miss an arrow sailing into your bra strap, pinning you to the tree. 

“What have I said about turning your back on an opponent?” 

He emerges from the dark, crossbow in hand, shirt gone. Before you can make another move, he lets another arrow loose into the other bra strap.

You’re trapped.

Like a lion, he leaps at you, pinning your arms above your head. With a near desperate growl, he slid a knife beneath the center clasp of your bra, your breasts spilling from the cups, teeth running across your brown nipples,and you moan. 

“ Tell me what you want. ” Sergei demanded, running his teeth down your brown nipples, biting the sensitive flesh until you moaned an answer.

“Your cock.”

“I don’t think I heard you lamb, what do you want?” He asked again, taking your breast in his mouth when you didn’t reply quick enough.

“Please I want your cock!” You begged

He smiled wolfishly at your pleading before wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“All you had to do was ask.”

I’m at work so I can’t finish the rest till I get home hence the part 2. See ya in a few hours!

[violetduchess]

Douma or Muzan with a reader that absolutely despises their own eyes? both their mother and baby brother died when she was born, and her father wanted nothing to do with them. Literally the only reason is that they have their mother's eyes and never sees reader as their own child. just a nuisance. and because of that, reader begins to hate their eyes. so much so, douma/muzan first meet reader when they were going to uh, damage them, so to speak. if ur able to do this, tysm!!

@cursetopia I'm sorry this took so long.

Content Warning: The following fanfiction contains sensitive themes, including self-harm and violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Douma

The night was shrouded in darkness as you stood alone, your heart heavy with the weight of a lifetime of pain. The memory of your mother's eyes, the very eyes that had caused her death, haunted your every waking moment. Your father had never seen you as his child, only as a constant reminder of the tragedy that had taken her away.

Over the years, you had come to despise your own eyes, loathing the reflection that stared back at you in the mirror. You felt cursed, burdened by a legacy of sorrow. It was this self-hatred that drove you to take drastic measures.

In the shadows, Douma had been watching, his eyes fixated on your inner turmoil. His twisted curiosity led him to approach you, his presence like a haunting specter. "What do we have here?" he purred, his voice dripping with malevolence as he stepped out of the darkness.

Startled, you looked up at him, your eyes wide with fear and desperation. "Leave me alone," you whispered, your voice trembling.

But Douma had no intention of leaving. Instead, he moved closer, his fingers caressing your face. "Such beautiful eyes you have," he mused, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You recoiled, tears welling up in your despised eyes. "Don't touch me," you pleaded, your voice cracking.

Douma's smile widened, revealing sharp teeth. "Oh, but I will," he whispered, his fingers brushing against your cheeks. "I'm going to make you see the beauty in your own eyes."

Before you could react, his fingers dug into your skin, pain surging through your body. But instead of harming you further, he began to heal your wounds, his blood demon art knitting your skin back together.

As the pain subsided and your injuries disappeared, you stared at him in disbelief. "Why… why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Douma leaned in close, his eyes locking onto yours. "Because," he murmured, "I see potential in you. Potential for beauty, for strength, and for power."

In that moment, something shifted within you. For the first time in your life, you felt a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark of self-acceptance. You realized that perhaps your eyes were not a curse, but a unique part of who you were.

As you looked into Douma's crimson eyes, you saw a reflection of your own potential, hidden beneath the pain and self-loathing. It was the beginning of a strange and twisted bond, one that would lead you down a path you had never imagined, all because someone had seen something in you that you couldn't see in yourself.

Muzan

Your life had always been marred by a cruel twist of fate. From the moment you were born, your eyes, a striking mirror of your mother's, had been a curse. They were a constant reminder of the tragedy that befell your family. Your mother died giving birth to you, and your father, unable to look at you without seeing his late wife, had despised you from the start. You were treated as a nuisance, an unwanted reminder of what he had lost.

As you grew, the hatred you felt for your own eyes deepened. They were a cruel inheritance, a mark of your mother's sacrifice and your father's rejection. You loathed the way they looked back at you in the mirror, a constant reminder of your own tragic existence.

One fateful day, consumed by your self-loathing, you decided to do something drastic. You sought out the most powerful demon in existence, Muzan Kibutsuji, with a horrifying request—to destroy your eyes, to rid you of this unbearable burden once and for all.

Muzan, ever intrigued by the depths of human despair, agreed to meet you. He appeared before you, his crimson eyes locking onto your own, and he listened to your heart-wrenching story with a twisted sense of amusement. He saw in you an opportunity for something far more sinister than you had originally intended.

Instead of immediately granting your request, he offered you an alternative—a proposition that would change your life forever. He promised to transform you into a demon, granting you power beyond imagination, and in exchange, you would serve him and carry out his sinister desires. You hesitated, but the allure of escaping your painful past was too much to resist.

As the transformation took hold, your eyes changed, becoming even more vibrant, more otherworldly, as the curse of your humanity was replaced by the curse of immortality. Your vision sharpened, and you could see the world in a way you never had before.

Muzan's dark gift came with its own price, however. You were now bound to him, forced to carry out his orders without question. You were no longer human, but a demon, a servant of the very thing you had initially sought to escape.

Over time, you grew accustomed to your new existence, and Muzan's dark influence began to warp your soul. Your hatred for your own eyes had transformed into a thirst for power and control. You became a loyal enforcer in his ranks, carrying out his will without hesitation.

As the centuries passed, your memories of your human life began to blur, but one thing remained clear—the eyes you once despised had become the windows to your dark and immortal soul. And with each passing day, they glowed with a sinister crimson light, a stark reflection of the darkness that now consumed you.

All rights reserved @violetduchess. All works of fanfiction belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my express permission. Thank you.~☆

[sametsyun]

Beauty and the Beast

Shinazugawa Genya x Iguro sister!

Just to be clear, I placed the x reader tags so ppl could find it. There's no need to be assholes about it. Thank you and enjoy.

Chapter 1

Prologue~Chapter 2

The mountain was quiet, aside from the usual chirps and insects echoing throughout the whole forest.  A large paw walked against the dry soil, silently creeping through the forest. Its yellow eyes fixated on the deer right up ahead. The panther crouches further hiding behind the tall grass, the deer remains ignorant of its predator, greedily taking more of the fruits laid in front of it.

Snap

A twig snaps and the panther’s teeth were sunk into the deer’s neck. Its blood dripping down into the panther’s mouth. The deer jerked around the panthers hold to try and escape, but it merely sunk its jaws deeper into its neck, snapping the deer’s neck. Once confirmed its prey was dead, the predator stands and runs away, dragging his meal towards a place.

The panther’s big ears twitches at the familiar sounds of wood against wood, striking each other. It reaches a clearing, where a big mansion stood and multiple wooden stumps scattered along a wide space. In between the clearings stood a fairly tall young teen, holding two wooden swords. The girl uses a training dummy as a leverage to jump high into the air, her black hair flowing freely. Bringing up both her bokkens above her head.

“Oto Kokyu; Ichi no Kata: Todoroki!”

She slams them down harshly onto the training dummy with a loud sound, resulting in the dummy to sliced in three halves. She lands soundlessly on her feet, twirling both bokkens in her hands before tucking them on her back. Her hazy turquoise eyes lands on the black panther approaching her.

“Ryoshi” she acknowledges her pet. “Is that our lunch or your lunch?”

Ryoshi, the black panther, drops his game and affectionately rubs his snout against the exposed skin of her thigh, growls (panther meow) out his response. The girl nods and scratches his ear before heading towards the door, “Clean up your mess afterwards, okay?”

The oversized cat says nothing and drags his meal towards his ‘outdoor throne’. One made by his owner’s flamboyant mentor for the majestically flamboyant oversized kitty. He had another one inside the house but that was shared with his owner since he likes taking naps with her there. Needless to say, he was spoiled. As he deserved.

~

“Oh, Ozumi-chan! You done with today’s training?”  Suma immediately asks upon seeing the girl enter the house. Hearing her arrival, Suma’s wives peeked their heads from whatever room they were in and smiled. Ozumi nods and discards her bokkens and zori, sending small thanks to Suma as she handed her a small towel. “Hai, I’ll be heading out after lunch. Ten-sensei is asking me to go on another mission with him tonight. Or at least he says it’s a mission.” She turns to the side mutters the last part.

Hinatsuru frowns, “Is he still trying to bring you to the meetings?” she said taking the wooden swords to place them in the training room. Ozumi shrugs, wiping the sweat off her. “Sometimes but not as much as before. He still tries to make me at least see a glimpse of him” her voice turned bitter towards the end.

“That man, I swear to the gods” Makio shakes her head disappointedly. It’s no secret to them that Ozumi held a strong dislike towards her brother. “Dislike” was an underestimation, they knew she really hates his guts but it just seemed like a better way of saying it rather than using the word “hate”. Although she does have a reason why and has every right to be.

“I’ll go bath now”

“Go ahead, I’ll go prepare us lunch then!”- Hina

“I’ll prepare your uniform!” -Suma

“Then, I’ll fix up your weapons!” -Makio

The three wives rushed off to different rooms to go and finish their self-assigned tasks, leaving Ozumi alone in the hall with a sweat drop. “Y-you don’t have to do that…” she said but none of them were in earshot so she just went on ahead to the baths.

At this point they’re just spoiling me rotten�� Not that I mind but still!

While the girl was down in the bathrooms, Makio entered the room to see Suma taking out Ozumi’s uniform out of the fresh laundry. Both wives sat down on the floor and began folding and preparing the needed items for the girl. “So, this is how her uniform looks like, huh?” Suma suddenly pointed out with an astonished shine in her eyes, holding up the inner shirt with one hand and the other holding the pants. Makio leaned forward with the same glint in her eyes, “This is my first time seeing it, to be honest! She always covers it up with that huge ass cloak so we can’t see shit at all”. She grabs the under shirt from Suma and lifts a hand to her chin. “I bet Tengen-sama designed this. There’s no way in hell she’ll even request this style”

“It looks like our old kunoichi uniforms back then, right?” Suma smiled, “At least it doesn’t expose her as much as ours did”

Her other wife silently nodded and they both continued on with their task. Makio making sure each kunai and shuriken were polished and sharpened well, including the twin cleavers and Suma, after she finished folding the clothes, carefully secured each weapon in their designated holster.

“Say” Suma suddenly said with Makio humming in response. “Do you think he knows she’s with us? Zumi-chan’s brother, I mean?”

The other woman shrugged, “I doubt he knows. Tengen-sama wouldn’t casually mention her if she doesn’t allow it. But he does want them to reunite someday. Yosh! Done. Let’s go help Hina!”

~

The trees and foliage blurred passed her as she ran through the trees. Her footsteps were light and quick, leaving nothing but flowing leaves and dark blurs behind her. A figure runs along underneath the trees she ran on. Footsteps loud and breaths heavy. Its blood dripped onto the soil, creating trails of its own.

The demon breathes heavily, eyes wide in fear and pain as it clutches its severed arm. Shit! I didn’t think there’d be a slayer here! This guy…!

Thunk!

A kunai was thrown in his direction, making him halt to an abrupt stop as it lodged itself into the tree. The demon sees a glint on the of his corner of his eye and ducks down, dodging the huge cleaver meant to chop his head off. His eyes sharply met a pair of slitted turquoise, piercing down his soul. This guy’s a beast!

The demon rolls over and lands into a defensive stance, baring his teeth at the cloaked demon slayer. Watching him as he pulls out his blade from the tree.

“I don’t have time for this” The slayer muttered, shocking the demon. It’s a woman-! Gurk!

Within a blink, Ozumi was in front him, twin swords held on each opposite side of her head. She swings her arms open, using both swords to slice through the demon’s neck. She kicks the ground beneath her and flips over the demon’s body, and leaves it to disintegrate on it own.

Shit, I’m late Ozumi thought as she sprinted through the trees. Her thoughts promptly ran towards her early fight and furrowed an eyebrow. I didn’t even need use the breath…

Her eyes looked down towards the gigantic cleaver on her hand, the moonlight glinting on its cyan hue. Independent and Strong-willed. Was what her swordsmith described the color as. Independent and strong-willed… Disconnected and Selfish.

It’s just a blade.

A blade made to be your companion until your last breath.

Her feet stopped at a familiar clearing, the light of an oil lamp gently glowing at a certain shed, held by a kakushi patiently waiting for her. Ozumi steps forward into the light, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment to the pair of kakushi’s who bowed at her.

“Good evening, Iguro Ozumi-sama” they greeted.

“The Sound Hashira?” She asked.

“Sound Hashira-sama is attending the hashira meeting now. We were asked to bring you as per request to Oyakata-sama” the male kakushi on her right informed, making Ozumi raise an eyebrow. “Oyakata-sama asked for me? What for?”

“All Tsukugos were summoned by the Master to be properly introduced to him and the pillars” the male kakushi bowed. Forgive us! Ozumi-sama!

Ozumi clicked her tongue and cursed darkly under her breath. The kakushi’s flinched at the sudden drop of her mood, quickly bowing their heads to avoid her piercing eyes.

If only Oyakata-sama hadn’t request this then I’d gladly take someone else’s mission as an excuse!

“Next time I see his ‘flamboyant’ ass, I’ll flamboyantly blow it up with his own shit” Ozumi huffed and handed her twin cleavers at the other kakushi. “Let’s not waste any more time.” She closed her eyes and let them blindfold her and cover her other senses. She felt herself being carried on someone’s back before they took off.

~

“Is it really okay for you to lie to your Tsukugo like that, Uzui-san?”

Sitting by the engawa of the Butterfly Estate were both the master of the said estate and the Sound Hashira.

“Hmph! That brat will just take some random ass mission as an excuse to ditch me if I hadn’t lied!” Uzui Tengen, the Sound Hashira, huffed out crossing his arms. “It’s not like he’s here anyways so she’ll be fine”

The Insect Hashira tilted her head, “He’s still not aware of her being a member?”

“Yeah, and as far as I know he still thinks she’s missing and she’s trying to keep it that way”

“You know they’ll still meet each either way, right?”

Tengen sighs, “That’s what I told her as well. But she wants to climb the ranks first before that happens. Something about rubbing it in his face or something” he rubbed his neck.

“…And what of her condition?” Shinobu quietly asked. Tengen leaned forward, resting and elbow on his knee, “I’m aware that Himejima-san has an apprentice that eats demons” Shinobu was about to interrupt but Tengen held a hand up. “Mine has something similar.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve got huge balls using Oyakata-sama’s name to call me, Tengen”

Ozumi’s dark figure loomed over the two hashiras, eyes turned into a sharp glare directed at her laughing mentor.

“Why’d you think I have 3 wives then-OW!”

“Hohh? Why don’t I rip it of you then?” She threatened pulling Tengen’s ponytail in a harsh grip. Shinobu’s eyes widened a tad bit slightly at her arrival. Her feet are light. She observes the girl’s feature quietly. The young student was fairly tall-most definitely taller than her brother-, figure heavily covered with that high collared cloak of hers that shielded half of her face. She can definitely see the similarities.

 “You’re Uzui-san’s tsukugo are you not? Iguro-san?” Shinobu interrupts the pair who stopped. Tengen was pinching both of his student’s ears while Ozumi was pulling his cheeks. It was a funny sight to see the Sound Hashira in.  

Ozumi let go of her mentor’s cheeks, her expression returning back to her usual neutral face. She stood up properly and bowed at Shinobu. “Hai. I’m Iguro Ozumi, though I prefer not to be addressed as Iguro to you Hashira’s, Ozumi is just fine, Kocho-sama”

Straightforward.  Shinobu smiled, “Very well then, Ozumi-san” She stood up and held her hand out towards the door. “Let’s take this in my office, shall we?”

~ Taisho Secrets

Ozumi was originally supposed to be some poison loving addict who worked under a Chinese syndicate, but that didn’t make sense with the plot this author (Bridgerton yorn, chor) had in mind.

The mountain Tengen lives in has a lot of Ozumi’s questionable pets there

[fantasy-svt]

I'd like to hang out

Previous | Magic or Not Masterlist | Next

Synopsis: Vernon is often seen as a cold and uninterested person, but he is quite the opposite. His help often goes unnoticed, but to you it means the world. You make sure he knows how important he is to you.

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x fem!reader Word Count: 3.6k words Warnings: fighting, injuries (that lead to reader being handicapped)

"Run!" You loudly yelled out to your siblings, trying to not breath in the smoke as you grabbed your younger brother and ran out of the house. Quickly counting the heads, you were glad that everyone escaped the raging fire. You pushed your siblings away and to the exit of the forest, not wanting them to stay near the fire any longer and risk their safety.

"Get them!" The loud shouts from behind you made you growl softly under your breath, turning your head to see a couple of villagers with torches. You turned back to your younger sister, handing her the three year old in your arms before turning back to the villagers. You allowed yourself to let go, feeling the bones crack and change until you stood half your height and on four legs. Your body ached, like it did every time you changed to your wolf form. Letting out a low growl, you lowered yourself on your front feet so you were ready to attack the villagers decided to get any closer. They didn't take the warning, getting closer with their weapons raised. With another loud growl, you lunged forward and sunk your teeth into the first person before chucking them to the side. You backed up slightly before growling once more at the rest. They seemed more hesitant, but the smirks on their faces made you stop slightly in confusion. A sharp pain in your side made you howl in pain before turning your head around, grabbing onto the person's arm and biting down hard enough to break the bones. The loud crack was followed by a scream while blood poured from the wound, dripping down and painting your fur red.

Unfortunately, this gave the opportunity for the others to attack you. You had no chance to retaliate, only able to grunt and howl in pain as swords started to stab and slash into your skin. Your vision started turning darker, your brain was forcing you to go to sleep and yet you remained awake enough to notice the confused shouts.

"Are you okay?" A gentle voice spoke to you as you felt a hand rest on your head, gently petting you to relax you slightly. You whined, the pain finally starting now that your adrenaline had disappeared and the person by you hushed you softly.

"Get Joshua!" Another voice was louder than the one beside you, but it was also the last thing you heard.

Vernon watched as Joshua arrived, kneeling beside him and gently putting his hand on the wolf before them. Magic flew out, embracing the wolf and Vernon's body relaxed as reflex. The wolf had long past out, only the slow heartbeat and soft huffs indicated that it was alive.

"Let me go!" A loud voice screamed and Vernon turned his head to see the guards holding back two children, both under the age of ten. Tears were streaming down their faces as they tried to escape the grip of the guards while biting and scratching. Vernon waved his hand to the guard, indicating that they should let go of the kids. They were quick to scramble closer, kneeling next to Vernon before hugging the wolf. Their yellow eyes were filled with tears, dripping down their faces and into the fur as the whined softly.

"Your sister will be fine, she is healed." Joshua spoke, making the little ones perk up and look at him with big eyes before they lunged at Joshua to hug him. He embraced them with ease, petting their heads before letting them rush off again to tell the news to the others. Vernon sighed softly before moving his hand, which was still placed on the wolf's head. Then he watched as it was lifted in the cart, all the kids crowding around again and laying down as well. Vernon watched in awe as some of the kids changed before his eyes, suddenly being wolves as they curled up beside the bigger wolf.

"Right, you've never seen lycans." Joshua laughed as he patted Vernon's back, moving past him and mounting his horse.

"Lycans? You mean werewolves?" Vernon followed Joshua's movements, mounting his own horse before turning back to Joshua and riding beside him as everyone set off. Joshua was quick to shake his head, a small smile on his face as he walked up behind the cart full of children (or apparently lycans).

"Big difference, lycans are born the way they are. Not bitten or anything, but just able to change into wolves. Mostly whenever they wish, unlike the full moon thing for werewolves." Joshua explained it swiftly and Vernon nodded, looking back at the people before him. Some remained in human form, others were curled up in wolf form. The scene made Vernon's heart ache, because he couldn't imagen why people wanted to harm this family in any way. Then again, he was a bit biased as he had a ton of magic friends. Others didn't often share that view, especially the villages near the border.

He just hoped it would calm down now that the knights were stationed everywhere, he didn't feel like traveling for hours again.

The sunlight was blinding, reflecting off of the white walls that confined you. Your ears were ringing and your body was begging you to change, but you paused that thought as you noticed someone at the doorway. Two women, more specifically. Both were dressed in modest white robes, one of them more elderly than the other one. They looked startled as they noticed that you had awoken, one running off while the elder woman moved closer to you.

"If the lady could change, I can help you dress in some other clothes while we await the doctor." She spoke in a gentle but stern voice and you had a feeling that she was not just a maid or nurse. With a sigh, you let yourself go again as your bones started to crack and move. It didn't take long for you to change, all the bandages fell off as you shrank in size. The cold breeze made the hair on your arms stand up as you tried to cover your naked body, but the woman paid no mind as she threw a blanket over your form. She pulled a simple nightgown from out of the closet, helping you put it on before sighing softly as you were still on the ground.

"The lady can move to the bed." She states and you nodded, pushing yourself up before frowning. Your legs did not move in the slightest, no matter how much you tried or willed it. You pinched your skin, hard enough to cause bruises and yet you felt nothing. It seemed surreal, so much so that you couldn't help but bring out your claws and dug them into your skin. Blood poured from the puncture wounds, yet you didn't feel a single thing.

"Miss!" A male voice called out to you and you looked up, seeing a doctor along with two guards staring at you in shock. The doctor came closer, pulling your hand away from your leg before moving to inspect the wound. You felt numb as you were examined, even when you were lifted by the guards and placed in a wheelchair. The thoughts racing through your head were muted by the second voice that screamed at you, crying and wailing. You were paralyzed from the waist down, you couldn't walk or run...

You had lost your freedom, trapped and confined to the chair you now sat in. There was no way for you return to the comfort of the forest, no running alongside your kind in between the trees. The soft moss underneath your feet and the smell of wood around, all would be gone from your life. You were doomed, a wolf that could not run was a wolf deemed to die...

"I'm afraid that your legs will not recover, we were unable to heal you in time due to the long journey." The doctor spoke and you looked up to see his face, his eyes filled with pity. When you looked at everyone else, their gaze was the same. You hated it, but you couldn't say anything to them.

"Where is my family?" You opted to ask about your siblings instead of your own health, they were more important to you anyway. A guard stepped forward, explaining that they were in a room on the first floor. So you took ahold of the wheels on your chair, pushing yourself forward. You thanked the man who opened the door for you, rolling out into the hallway and to the stairways. You paused, knowing full well that you were not able too get down without any kind of help and yet you couldn't find it in yourself to ask anyone. You were close to just throwing yourself and your wheelchair off of the stairs, but you were able to stop yourself. Instead, you looked around for any other way to go downstairs and your soon enough you spotted a few men. One of them noticed you quickly, a smile growing on his face before disappearing just as quickly.

"I thought I healed you?" He asked, just as confused about the situation as you were. His eyes did a double take to your legs before he kneeled before you and lowered his head, almost like he was ashamed. You sighed softly, glancing at the other men before looking back at the stairs.

"Can anyone help me?" You asked, looking back at them with a questioning look. One stepped up immediatley, moving his arms to hook underneath your legs and shoulders before lifting you up. You yelped softly at the unexpected movement, moving your arms to wrap around his shoulders. He was dressed in simple clothes, brown pants and a looses shirt. His blond hair was parted to reveal his face, his eyes focused on the stairs as he carried you down.

"Thank you..." You were quiet when thanking him, eyes cast downwards as you waited for him to set you back down in your wheelchair, which had already been brought down by the man who had kneeled in front of you.

"Don't worry about it." The man gave you a smile as he gently put you down, moving your dress slightly to not be caught in the wheels before bowing at you a full 90 degrees. You bowed your head at him as well before pushing yourself away from him, following the distant smell and sounds of your family. The door was easier to open this time, revealing a large room that was filled with pups. Their eyes immediatley found you, running your way and pouncing on your lap with low whines. your arms were quick to move, embracing the young ones and making sure that they didn't fall off of your lap.

"Why are you in a wheelchair?" One of your younger siblings asked, yellow eyes staring at you with curiosity as he touched the wheels. The question was simple, but you hesitation made all eyes turn to you once again. Words didn't need to be spoken, you could see the realization in their eyes.

"Sir Joshua!" The youngest girl called out loudly, running past you and clinging herself to the man's leg. "You have to fix her! She still has to play with us!" Her words made your heart tighten slightly, her unawareness of the situation made you want to keep her from the truth. Alas, Joshua's gaze said even enough for the youngest to understand.

"I wish I was able to do something-" "Please don't." You interrupted him quickly, turning around while letting the kids run back into the room to play. You sighed softly before moving out of the room, waiting for Joshua to follow and close the door.

"You're the reason that I'm alive, so don't bother with my legs. At least now, I can still care for them." "But you're a wolf..." Joshua's voice was quiet, filled with some kind of guilt and regret. You shook your head, replying with a simple 'not anymore'. You'd have to live as a human from now one, whether you wanted or not.

"I promise you and your siblings will be taken care of. You have my word." Joshua bowed his head at you once more before walking off, leaving you be on your own.

For now you'd just hope for the best, maybe a miracle would soon appear.

"We should've been there before it happened! Villagers are attacking them, no matter what we say. There should be consequences for them to understand." What Jeonghan said was not unreasonable, if anything it was logical, and yet it only gained him some subtle glares from nobles. It was ridiculous to Vernon that they were even having this conversation, but he could not protest in any way. Instead, he had to stand guard, listen to them argue about things that should be normal human decency.

"So what if a few werewolves-" "They're lycans." Wonwoo interrupted from his seat, barely looking up from the papers before him and not even pausing his writing.

"Yes, lycans... Who cares if they got hurt? We need to focus on the matter at hand-" The noble was interrupted by a loud clang, sounding through the room and rending it silent. All eyes turned to Vernon, who had his jaw clenched as he stared at his fallen sword.

"Vernon?" Seungcheol spoke first, allowing Vernon to pick up his sword before frowning as he noticed Vernon's gaze. With a subtle glance at his Jeonghan, Seungcheol then asked Vernon to speak.

"I don't think lives should be overlooked, especially not because of their status or origin. Doing so, you're actively going against the discrimination law that the king created. Doing so, you are disrespecting the king." The way that Vernon spoke would often sound unbothered, but his friends could hear the underlying tone that revealed his true intentions. The venomous tone also didn't go unnoticed to them, which only made them hide their growing smirks while the nobles remained confused by his statement. But even when his anger was clear, his face remained neutral like usual when he guarded.

With another low sigh, Vernon stood back in his place and stood still. He'd get his anger out on a later moment, preferably against one of the puppets in the training yards.

"For now, we'll send patrols to outer towns to keep an eye on everything. We can look into it more on a later time." Seungcheol spoke, his tone clearly indicating that he had enough of this meeting. The nobles started to exit one by one, leaving the room in an awkward silence as everyone turned to Vernon again.

"You can drop the act." Joshua spoke first, which made Vernon relax instantly as he dropped the façade. His face morphed into an expression of annoyance, his spear falling to the ground once again as he groaned loudly.

"Just once, I wish I could." He didn't finish his statement, just clenching his hands with a loud sigh. Instead, he just let out a loud sigh before picking his stuff up again.

"I'm going to train..." With another sigh, he bowed his head before exiting the room and heading off to the training grounds. He paid no attention to the nobles as he passed them, which only earned him some scoffs in return with comments about his attitude. When he arrived at the training grounds, he quickly shed his armor before picking up one of the swords. His eyes moved around to search for an opponent, but when he found no one he opted for the dummies instead. However, it quickly became boring and he sighed loudly as he threw the sword to the ground.

"Mister knight!" A loud voice boomed through the grounds, two or three children running his way with bright smiles. Vernon recognized them quickly, kneeling to greet the kids while picking up his sword so that they couldn't get hurt. When he looked past them, he noticed you along with the rest of your family and he couldn't help but feel guilt rise up again.

"Can we fight too?" One of the kids before him asked, making Vernon look down again before smiling softly at them.

"You can, but you're a bit young, no? Most kids only start at age 12." Vernon explained and he could only laugh as he saw the pouts on their faces.

"Let's not bother him too much, huh. I'm sure he's trying to train." You came closer and picking the youngest one up before looking at Vernon. He looked up at you, surprised by the way his heart skips as you give him a bright smile.

"I don't mind, no worries." As soon as those words left his mouth, all of the kids smiled once again and surrounded him again. Questions were thrown at him from left and right, but Vernon took the time to answer every single one with care. It left you astound, no knights from your town had ever come near you or your family, let alone talk to you. Yet a royal knight, or you assumed he was one anyway, was talking to the pups with no problem or any kind of sign of discomfort.

"Can't you help (Y/n)?" The question posed by your brother made you freeze, watching Vernon for his reaction. He was looking your way as well, but his expression was one that would normally be perceived as pity and yet you could tell that it wasn't that. Rather, it reminded you of guilt.

"I can't do more then Joshua." He spoke softly, watching as everyone around him turned gloomy. He turned to you before bowing his head slightly, whether he was apologizing or looking at the ground was unknown to you.

"I should've been there sooner, I apologize." "For what? You weren't the one that sent a mob of people after me." You spoke back, rolling closer (with a bit more difficulty than you expected) before patting his head, realizing later on that doing so was not really a normal for humans. Yet, he only gave you a small smile before he got up. He bid you goodbye before he set off again, marching his way to the town.

He needed to do something important.

"They seem to be having fun." Seungcheol approached you as you laid on the ground in wolf form, wheelchair pushed against one of the pillars and out of the way. He stood beside you as he watched your siblings, a bright smile on his face as he did. They were running around in wolf form, playing and jumping around the field and practically ruining the flower patches. Seungcheol didn't care much, watching them was kind of relaxing in a way. Then again, maybe it was for his own wish for kids... You huffed in response, too lazy to lift your head from the ground. Instead of saying anything else, Seungcheol sat down beside you before sighing softly.

"I heard that you want to go back to your hometown." He spoke and you looked up this time before shaking your head at him, huffing loudly again.

"No? Oh, right! I forgot something. Vernon made something for you." Seungcheol spoke again and you looked up before following Seungcheol's gaze.

"He wasn't sure to give it, he was afraid you'd get mad." Seungcheol said again and you took another glance at him before looking back at the gift. It was a wheelchair, one where your back legs would be propped up while you could still walk with your front legs. Your ears perked up, which prompted Seungcheol to get up and move it closer to you before awkwardly looking at you. With a nod, he helped you by lifting your backside in the chair. With careful steps, you tried to get a grip on how it worked. Surprisingly, you felt like you were just walking, barely any weight from the wheels or structure and no bumping from the ground.

"It has a magic infused, it won't break or bother you." Seungcheol said and you looked up at him again, barking softly before running off in the field. Turning was no problem, even short and abrupt turns didn't make you fall in the slightest, and you could only gleam in joy.

You could actually run again, be free from the stupid chair that had bound you to stay in place.

You stopped in your tracks when you felt a familiar scent, head moving to where the smell came from and spotting Vernon. You didn't think as you sprinted to him, changing when close enough to him and throwing yourself to hug him tightly. You might have forgotten about your lack of clothes...

"As creepy as this sounds, please don't let go of me..." Vernon spoke and you frowned, pulling your head back with a frown.

"I can't, I'll crash to the ground." You snapped back, trying to make some kind of joke and yet it only made Vernon go red from embarrassment. Seungcheol stepped in and threw his jacket over you before helping you sit down back into the wolf-wheelchair. It was then that you realized that this was a chair for both of your forms, which only made you more happy with the gift. Wrapping the coat around yourself, you turned back to Vernon and smiling brightly at him.

"Thank you, really." You spoke and Vernon nodded his head at you again before rushing off, still red from embarrassment. However, you were quick to rush after him while making sure to not lose the cloak around your form.

"Sir Vernon!" You called after him, making him pause before waiting for you to catch up. When you did, he gulped before telling you to wait for just a second. When he returned, he held an oversized shirt and a skirt before handing them to you. With another smile, you pulled them on and folded Seungcheol's coat on your lap.

"Seungcheol can watch the kids, I'd like to hang out a bit."

[waltwhitmansbeard]

For the Hospital prompts, may I request

17. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt." Perc'ahlia in Vamp Machina?

If it's not fitting, you can pick another universe <3

17. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt."

Vex isn't used to the worry. When one is a powerful, nigh-indestructible undead killing machine with razor-sharp teeth and an ass that won't quit, one becomes accustomed to feeling untouchable, unshakable, even in the face of acute danger.

And then some skinny nerd with a death wish and annoyingly nimble fingers comes along to turn everything upside down, and here she is, arms crossed tightly around herself as she resists the urge to tear open this receptionist's throat in rage. All she gets is a phone call from the witch her brother's been knocking around with—"Percy's in the hospital. I...I thought you'd want to know."—and she's not even allowed in to see him. These fluorescent lights are hell on her skin, make her look even more undead than normal. How much longer is she expected to wait before someone gives her some fucking answers?

She's left to stew in her own anxiety for so long that she almost misses when they come out, Percy half-draped along Keyleth's side as she helps him hobble toward the door. In a flash, Vex is in front of them, earning a gasp of surprise from the witch. She inspects Percy, taking his chin in her hand as gingerly as she can to inspect his face, his neck, his clothes. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt."

And despite the swollen black eye and the stitches on his lip, the fucker laughs, gravelly and low, and Vex wants to bite him in all the best ways. "Not all of it."

Keyleth scowls. (As annoying as she finds her brother's fascination with the little witch, Vex can't deny she's pretty, rosy and delicate in a way she bets tastes wonderful.) "He stumbled across three vampires feeding on a woman in alley and thought he'd take them all on himself." Vex frowns; he's a talented vampire hunter, she is aware, so surely three wouldn't be enough to do this kind of damage. Keyleth continues, her voice dripping with acid. "Why don't you tell Vex how many wooden bullets you had on you at the time, Percival?" Oh, how fun—this kitten has claws.

Percy's eyes flick up to the ceiling, clearly over being chastised. "Two."

Vex's stomach swoops. Two bullets? For three juiced-up, pissed-off vampires? Gods, she's lucky he's alive. She drops his chin. "I thought you were intelligent, Percy."

His eyes—eye, really—narrow into slits. "What would you have had me do, Vex'ahlia? Let them kill her?"

Yes, she wants to snarl. Fuck that bitch, better her than him. Vampires killing humans is the natural order of things, but she'll burn this city down if he's one of them. She's aware of the hypocrisy, of the irrationality of her bone-chilling desire to keep him safe, but she can't be bothered with reason. He's hers, and Vex is not interested in sharing. She sees the challenge in his eyes, his waiting for her to say it out loud, her willingness to say that some nameless human woman should die in order to prevent this level of devastation to his body, the body she is so very fond of, but she won't give him the satisfaction.

She slips her arm around his waist, on the opposite side of Keyleth, and begins to urge them forward. "Come. I'm sure your witchy roommate has supplies to heal your pretty eye back home, and I'm going to take that shirt and use it to find the one who did this to you."

"If you want to see me shirtless, Vex'ahlia," he murmurs, low and weak, "all you need to do is ask."

Fuck, Vex can feel the heat of the embarrassed flush on Keyleth's cheeks, but it's overshadowed by her own heat simmering low in her belly. She brings her lips right up to his ear, which is also caked in blood. "You and I both you know you enjoy it when I don't ask."

That, at least, seems to rattle his self-satisfied confidence; he nearly trips as they exit the hospital. Vex grins, eager to get him home and punish him deliciously for his recklessness.

[winters-mistress]

even in the dark, you will not be my light

"Quickly, get in." Yennefer grits her teeth, finishing the spell with the last of her physical energy. The hut she has created, the invisibility and anti-tracking shells taking much more out of her than anything she'd done before sodden. It's a little shack, not much of note, but what can you expect out of a mage of stuttering magic and a frantic spell to get a child with a fever get out of a cold rainstorm?

Geralt doesn't even spare a moment to consider Yennefer's possible ulterior motive, doesn't consider that it could be a trap. But thankfully, both he and his child end up secure in a small, raggedy cottage, out of the rain, out of the storm.

The witcher places the child on the settee, sparing a glance at the movement in the corner of his eye. It's Yennefer, because of course it is, but she's not doing anything nefarious this time. All she's doing is leading Roach, Astoria and Thanau into a barn she's made up for them, and his attention is quickly caught by a stuttering breath from the girl laying in his hands.

She breathes in, raggedy and unkempt, as Geralt makes work of removing her sodden clothes and boots, leaving her only in her chest band and undershorts. Her skin is so hot, it almost rivals his own witcher warmth, and he quickly bands her hair up from her face and lays her in the bed he sees in the corner of the room.

There's only one, he realises in passing, but it's hardly the mist important thing when he realises Cirilla's skin is damp with sweat and her cheeks are flushed. She's always so confident and strong that seeing her shuddering and flushed and feverish is greatly concerning.

Yennefer comes in by the time Geralt has filled a clay bowl with water and is running a rag over her forehead after covering her up in the blankets.

"How-how is she?" Yennefer gasps out. Geralt spares her a glance, biting back a harsh response to her hypocrites. She's raggedy, her hair is unbrushed and wild, her eyes are big, and she's hunched over with her hands on her knees, looking small as she looks up at him.

"Alright. As much as she can be. She needs medication. Willowbark and salix willow. Mint, basil and ginger." Geralt lists from the top of his head, still wiping down the girl. "Need to get the sputum out as soon as we can. Keep her warm but cool, get water into her."

"Do you have any herbs in your sacks?"

"Not anything that wouldn't melt her insides." His eyes lock on the vulnerable child once more. "And the storm would take away any scents of herbs growing in the forests."

Yennefer takes a shuddering breath, walking over towards the water bucket Geralt had filled the clay pot from, and ducks her head inside, drinking greedily until her stomach aches and she belches in a way that make Tissaia bend her over and tan her hide.

"Let me see what I can conjure." Yennefer gasps out, wiping the water from her face. "I need to find somewhere to draw from afterwards. I can't give too much of myself in case she needs anything bigger, it'll hurt me."

Geralt's jaw flexes, and she knows he struggles to hold back words that she knows will hurt just as much as if they had struck her around the face.

She looks down. "Tomorrow, hopefully." She says, her voice quiet. Only he can make her feel so small with just a look. "After she's awake."

"Yennefer, she suffers. She needs the herbs." Is his way of telling her to shut the fuck up and get on with it. She nods slowly, slinking down to her knees as her eyes close, reaching inside herself.

Yennefer has to lay down next to Ciri after she has conjured a handful of several herbs. Blood drips from her eyes and she faints briefly, sending Geralt into a panicked anger. He doesn't like Yennefer so close to Cirilla at the best of times, after all that bullshit with the demon, and her role in his brothers deaths so strong she may as well have dug the knife in their hearts herself. So to have her laying next to the girl when she's so sick, it unnerved him. He doesn't even want to blink for fear of her being taken from him.

Ciri's breathing easier now, after he managed to get a teapot full of herbs and leaves down her. She's less flushed, and he keeps cold cloths all over her body to break the fever. It's all he can do for now, just brew more tea and change her cloths and get water down her in her moments of lucidity. The girl is now clothed in a long tunic with sleeves stopping just past her shoulders, it looks more like a sleep gown than a shirt.

When Yennefer sits up an hour later, Ciri's sleep is peaceful and her tanned skin is clean of blood. Geralt is at their bedside, watching them both with equal intensity. It makes guilt sit tight on her chest, to see a man who would have lay his life for her and fall to his knees in her worship so tense and untrusting and paranoid, watching every move she made. It's her own fault, her selfishness, and her entitlement, but the fact and her attempts of atonement don't go far with this man.

"Are you feeling better?" Geralt asks her.

"Yes. I-I can't draw from myself too much, not after the fire. I'll need to find a riverbank or draw from stones in the coming days." her voice is quiet as she looks to Ciri. Geralt tenses. "She's breathing easier." Yennefer comments.

"She will need another dose of her tea soon, can't have her sleeping too long without it. We'll need some lemons and honey when she wakes up, clear out the thickness in her chest."

Yennefer nods. She gets up from the bed, slow. She drinks more water and flexes her fingers.

"The rain is slowing a little." she says. "Can't imagine we'll find any lemon trees or honeycomb in the middle of winter. I'll see what I can conjure after the storm breaks." she's rambling and she knows it, but she's so desperate for Geralt to see that she's sorry that it hurts.

He looks exhausted when she looks at him. Yennefer doesn't know if it would help if she pulled back all together, at least for a while. He's so worried, for Ciri, for her health and her physical safety from those who want to hunt her and use her, of the hunt who's invasion is imminent and his paranoia that she would all of a sudden snap her from his grasp and make away with the elder blood princess.

"You need to sleep, Geralt." She says.

He snorts. "No rest to be had these days."

"Be that as it may, lay down with her, she's not awake and you cannot make her drink when she is asleep. Her fever is down and she breathes easier, you've done all you can for now."

Geralt breathes and looks at the girl. In her assessment of the girl, Yennefer is correct. The princess sleeps soundly, and his arms ache to hold her, to assure himself that she's still okay.

He silently toes his boots off and removes the armour, keeping the steel sword in arms reach as he gets on the bed, hearing it creek in protest of his considerable mass. Geralts arms wrap around her, and he pulls her to his chest, laying on his back with the young girl laying on his torso. He can feel her heartbeat, listen to her pulse, his hair moves with her breath.

Yennefer stumbles when she comes back, holding another handful of mint leaves in her hand.

"Stop, Yennefer." He orders. "You'll only hurt yourself if you keep going with no source." He huffs.

"I just-I just need to sit." But she ends up collapsing against the bedframe, and is caught on instinct, pulled back onto the sheets as her body lays down again.

"Geralt, what-"

"We both need to rest, we'll be no good to her collapsing on our feet tomorrow."

"You don't trust-"

"I do not. But lay there and collect yourself, now is not the time to speak of such matters."

"I'm sorry, Geralt."

"You've said. We can't talk about this now, Ciri is what's important now. So rest, you can't help me get her better if you run yourself ragged."

[chenziee]

The Nightmares we dream

@lawluevents - Day 8: Hurt/Comfort / Memory @onepiece-bingo: Blanket fort

Alternate summary: there is so much trauma in this boy

[ Read on AO3 | series ]

—————

It was hot. 

So incredibly hot. 

It felt like the fire that had engulfed his parents’ hospital was licking at his skin as well, scorching his tiny, ten year old body black—just like it did to everything else that stood in its path.

Law couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

He gasped, trying to get some oxygen, only for it to turn into a coughing fit. Ash was filling his lungs, the heat burning him from the inside out.

Blinking, Law tried to look around himself but there was too much smoke and his eyes were stinging, filling with tears he couldn’t stop. With a shaky hand, he tried to rub at them, to clear his vision a little but he startled at how wet and slimy they were.

With a frown, Law’s eyes turned down to look—only to scream at the sight of blood dripping from his fingers, the red staining his pristine white skin tainted with amber lead. He screamed, except his voice wasn’t coming out. And yet, he continued screaming voicelessly, to the point his throat hurt.

Was he covered with blood?

Why?

What happened?

He couldn’t remember.

“Brother…”

Law’s head whipped up at the quiet whisper. He had to squint against the bright, so painfully bright and blinding fire but finally, he managed to find the small figure standing in front of him.

Lammy!! he cried—but his voice still refused to come out.

He reached forward, trying to grab for her but she was too far away, just out of his reach. He tried to stand up but his legs gave out the moment he tried to put weight on them, making him fall into a heap on the ground.

Lammy…

Gritting his teeth, Law forced himself to look up, his eyes searching for his little sister.

“Law.”

Mom?

“Law.”

Dad!

“Why didn’t you save us?”

Law froze, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Why were you the only one who survived?”

I… I tried to save you! I was only a child, what more could I have done?!

“Law.”

Law turned around quickly at the new voice coming from behind him. Cora-san! Where are you?!

“Torao.”

Law frowned. Who was this?

“Torao!”

Another person he loved—and whom he had failed? Another person who died because of him? For him? 

But then, why couldn’t he recognise the voice?

“Torao!!”

Law gasped, his eyes snapping open into the darkness of the captain’s cabin in the Polar Tang. His breathing was laboured and he was covered in sweat, clutching at his blanket as if his life depended on it.

Exhaling deeply, he raised one shaky hand to rub at his eyes. He winced when he realised how wet his face and hands were—he almost expected there to be blood when he glanced at his fingers. After all, he could still smell the smoke from the fire, taste the ash, feel the heat. Flevance had happened so many years ago and yet, it still felt so real…

“Torao, are you okay?” someone next to him asked quietly, uncertainly.

Funny. In his dream, Law couldn’t place the voice at all but now, it was almost ridiculous how easily he recognised it. And even more ridiculous how it immediately grounded him, both his heartbeat and breathing slowing down to a calmer and healthier pace.

“Straw Hat-ya…” he sighed as he forced his body to relax. When would these nightmares stop haunting him? “I’m fine, just a bad dream.”

Straw Hat hummed thoughtfully and when Law looked at him, he wasn’t surprised to see him chewing on his bottom lip as he studied Law’s expression. It was too dark to be able to tell what to look in his eyes was like… but Law didn’t have to see it to know it was full of worry.

Law huffed, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.”

He expected Luffy to puff up, to grumble about Law being mean and how he wasn’t thinking that hard… but for some reason, Luffy did neither of those things. It made Law curse the darkness of his room—he had no idea what was going on in Luffy’s mind, unable to see his eyes or really gauge his expression.

“Okay,” Luffy simply said after a long while.

Law was grateful he didn’t pry. He didn’t feel like talking about his stupid nightmares—about Flevance, about Lammy and his parents, or about Cora-san. He knew Luffy would just get angry at the World Government and Doflamingo if he did—like he always did whenever Law told him even a little about any of his past—but more than that, Law simply didn’t have it in himself to talk about any of it right now.

He just wanted to grab a book and distract himself from the ghosts of his past. After all, this wasn’t his first nightmare; he was used to sleepless nights, used to staying up with nothing but a cup of coffee, dim light, and his small library.

The only thing he wasn’t used to was someone else being there to see it.

“Go back to sleep, Straw Hat-ya,” Law said softly as he himself sat up. The least he could do was to take his anxiety elsewhere.

Before he could even pull the blanket off, however, Luffy’s hand closed around his wrist. Law paused, glancing at Luffy questioningly… to which Luffy’s grasp on him only tightened.

“You’re gonna leave and stay up all night again?” Luffy asked, and Law could just hear the pout on his lips.

“Go back to sleep,” Law simply repeated instead of confirming it… or denying it. There was no point, after all. They both knew the answer anyway.

“No.”

Law startled at the tone. It almost sounded like Luffy was scolding him, while also begging at the same time and Law…

Law didn’t know how to respond.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to when Straw Hat continued only a second later. “Stay here. I’ll go make you your coffee—” 

“Please don’t,” Law said automatically. He still remembered the last time Luffy attempted that and used so many coffee beans that the resulting beverage was basically a murder weapon.

“—and we can make a blanket fort and cuddle while you read. And hey! Sanji taught me, okay?!” Straw Hat finished.

Law couldn’t help the chuckle that made its way past his lips at the unhappy addition at the end. He could just picture the adorable frown that was undoubtedly gracing Straw Har’s face as he said it. Law wished it wasn’t so dark in the room; he wanted to see it.

He wanted to kiss it away.

Not fighting the urge, Law leaned forward, pressing his lips to Luffy’s in a quick kiss. “Fine, let’s see if anything stuck from Black Leg-ya,” he mumbled against Luffy’s mouth.

A wide smile spread on Luffy’s face then, present still when he kissed Law back before he jumped up, ready to run off. “Yay! Get the fort ready, I’ll be right back!”

And he was gone… but not before turning on the light on the way, causing Law to wince and close his eyes at the sudden brightness.

When the door shut behind Luffy, Law basked in the silence for a moment. Suddenly, he realised how calm he was now. As if his nightmare didn’t happen, as if his memories were back in the drawer in his mind where they belonged instead of spilling all over the floor, slowly drowning him.

Of course, they were still there. They would always be, Law knew. He didn’t want them to disappear either, didn’t want to forget.

But… 

As long as breathing became easier, as long as the weight he carried became lighter, he would take it.

Inadvertently, Law touched his left arm, his fingers tracing his soulmark like his mother used to do when he was a child. He still didn’t believe a soulmate was a blessing—hell, his own was a menace more than anything—but maybe, just maybe…

That was enough.

And when Luffy came back with a steaming cup of coffee that smelled like liquid heaven and had the perfect amount of milk, whining about the lack of a blanket fort that Law didn’t bother making—but still smiling like the idiot he was, shining brighter than the light above the bed… Law wasn’t even surprised at the warmth that spread from his stomach through his entire body.

Yeah, this was more than enough for him.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x21 All Hell Breaks Loose - Part 1

Bobby feels his age when he runs after the black kid in the camo fatigues. He’s losing ground quickly and his heart is hammering in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to give out on him until he hears Dean’s scream somewhere behind him.

“Sam!!!”

It’s a desperate scream, raw with anguish, and it stops Bobby in his tracks, chilling him to the bone. The eerie silence that follows doesn’t make it any better. All Bobby hears are the black kid’s boots splashing through the mud, away from him, as he disappears in the foggy darkness. 

Please, God, no. 

Bobby turns back around, no air in his lungs, pulse thrumming in his ears, and, in the distance, he sees a crumpled silhouette - two entangled bodies, kneeling in the rain. 

No. Please. 

Bobby wills his legs to move. Coming closer, he hears Dean sob. Sam is in his arms, limp, his too-long arms dangling lifelessly at his sides, a dark red spot glistening on the back of his jacket. Dean is cradling him, inconsolable, rocking back and forth, face buried in the crook of his baby brother’s neck. 

“Dean?” Bobby asks, although there is no point. There’s also no point in taking Sam’s cold hand and searching his wrist for a pulse. Sam’s face is slack against Dean’s quaking shoulder, blood oozing from his open mouth, and his skin is already taking on the gray, translucent hue of death. 

Bobby, too, sinks onto one knee, the mud immediately soaking through the faded denim of his jeans, and the rain falls harder now, dripping from Bobby’s trucker cap and running down the back of his neck. Dean is still rocking Sam in his embrace, his fingers white-knuckled where he’s clutching Sam’s jacket, the brown fabric in his grip dark with rain and even darker with blood that has stopped spreading now that Sam’s heart is no longer beating.

“Goddammit, Sam…”

Tears pushing up his throat, Bobby brushes one gentle, shaking hand over Sam’s hair, wet and too long for his own good. Then he slings both arms around his boys - one dead, one broken in grief - and holds them as best as he can. 

It takes a long time to pry Sam’s body out of Dean’s arms. They’re all drenched and ice cold when Bobby can finally convince Dean that it’s time to move, to at least get Sam’s body out of the rain and into one of the vacant houses of the farm. Sam’s corpse is heavy and unwieldy with his freakishly long limbs, now boneless and threatening to drag in the mud as they carry him inside and put him on the bare mattress of a long-abandoned bed. 

Dean’s a mess. He’s sitting on the bed beside Sam, one hand on his brother’s still chest, tears silently rolling down his face as he stares at him with big, bruised eyes. The kid’s soaked and shivering so hard Bobby can hear his teeth chatter. He needs to get him out of his wet clothes and warmed up, but if Bobby has learned one thing about Dean in the last twenty years it’s that touching him in a state like this will earn him a bloody nose or a broken jaw. 

At least there’s a fireplace in the room, so Bobby uses some of the rotting furniture as firewood. The room lights up in an ominous play of orange light and pitch-black shadows as the flames start to dance, and Dean’s profile looks absolutely feral in its rippling glow, his tears a stark contrast to the set of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes.  

Bobby knows the kid. A tough shell - near impenetrable - hides a soft core in this one, vulnerable particularly to guilt and failure, and he protects it with a thick layer of anger. Dean’s shoulders broadened early in his life after John placed too much responsibility on them - the responsibility for Sam. Although Bobby tried to lift the weight off Dean whenever the boys landed in his care, it was no use. Dean never let his little brother out of his sight, like a soldier on eternal watch. 

Sam going to Stanford, Bobby had thought, would give both boys a chance to go their own way. And for a while, it had seemed that way, even if Dean had seemed to drift after their separation, copying John for lack of purpose. Sam had thrived; Dean had been a work in progress. 

The two of them banding together again had brought that process to a hold - and started a new one. With joy, Bobby had watched these two chuckleheads squabble while gradually redefining their roles and their relationship. But one thing never changed: Dean kept looking out for Sam. It was his purpose - or at least what John had made him believe -, and losing his little brother like that… 

Looking over at Dean, Bobby sees those broad shoulders slumped in failure, and he feels guilt and self-loathing roll off the boy in dark and heavy waves.

A puddle of rainwater and mud has formed around Dean’s scuffed boots. He’s still shivering but doesn’t even seem to notice. 

This has got to stop.

“Dean?”

No reaction.

“Dean!” Bobby steps closer, probably risking life and limb as he reaches out one hand to gently put it on Dean’s shoulder. He’d expected Dean to whip around and snap at him, maybe even punch him. It’s what the kid does when he’s hurting - lash out. Not this time, though. Dean flinches under his touch, spooked, as if he’d forgotten someone else was in the room. Then he turns a gaze on Bobby that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end - it’s the dead gaze of someone who is past saving.

“What,” Dean says, voice flat and empty. 

“You’re soakin’ wet,” Bobby tells him, his own voice not as steady as he’d like. “And it’s cold. I got some spare clothes in my car. I’m gonna go and get them for you.” The faded pair of jeans and worn-out flannel from his trunk will be too wide and too short for Dean, but at least they’ll keep him warm. There’s a blanket, too.

Dean eyes him, unblinking, then trains his gaze back on Sam. “I don’t care.”

In the orange glow of the fire, Sam’s body looks less ghostly and ashen. You could almost believe he was only asleep if it wasn’t for the utter stillness of his chest. Dean’s hand is still resting on his heart, as if waiting for a rekindled beat. But in Dean’s eyes, Bobby sees the horrific depths of all hope lost.

Bobby takes a shaky breath and rubs his beard. “I know you don’t care. But I do. And I’m not gonna sit here and watch your stubborn ass go into hypothermia. You stay put! I’ll be right back.” 

He doesn’t like leaving Dean alone like this. Doesn’t like the pearly glint of Dean’s gun peeking out of his waistband, or the feeling in his gut. Regardless, he turns around and steps outside again, into the pelting rain, trusting that Dean is too out of it and too paralyzed by grief to do something stupid.

As fast as his legs will take him, he treks through the mud, icy rain dripping from his hat, hoping no single gunshot will break the eerie silence of this dark, dark night.

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[apollo-likes-writing]

Left for Dead

Character(s): Nightwing/Dick Grayson, Red Hood/Jason Todd, Batman/Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Robin/Damian Wayne.

Summary: He was stupid. Now he deals with the consequences.

[Alternate Summary: Dick gets shanked lmao]

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: Whump, graphic depictions of injury, gore, blood, unconsciousness, knife imagery, Dick and Bruce's relationship is very strained, Jason and Dick being wholesome brothers,

Authors Note: I hate how Hollywood make potentially fatal injuries look pretty <3. Being educated in first aid comes in handy for writing things like this [laughs in first aider].

He didn't realise it happened until it was too late.

He didn't realise the extent of the damage until the stench of iron branded his senses and the freezing metal scorched his nerves. The pain isn't immediate. It starts as a tiny spark behind his ribcage and progresses into a raging forest fire that spreads along his torso within a minute. He's running on pure adrenaline.

"See you in hell, pretty boy."

His assailant jeers at him and grins wildly with jaunty yellow teeth. He's there only for a moment longer before he disappears from the vigilante's view and sprints down the street. Dick clutches the knife that still remains in his chest, staggering backwards. His back makes contact with the brick wall behind him and he looks up into the Gotham sky with pain and exasperation painted on his face. Rain lashes at his body; his tattered Nightwing suit giving little protection from the onslaught of the heavens above. The blue insignia on his chest starts to stain an ugly purple.

His legs give out beneath him and he falls to the cement below him. His back scrapes against the gritty texture of the wall on the way down and rips wounds into his shoulder blades. Dick's breathing is shallow. Every inhale and exhale of his lungs causes searing agony to dance along his nervous system in waves. He glances up again to see his vision warping before him, the shadowy buildings of Gotham above him twist and turn as if he's falling down a rabbit hole. The mere sight makes him nauseous.

The initial adrenaline rush is wearing off, which becomes apparent afted the initial dull throb behind his ribcage becomes a screaming agony along his torso. His eyes begin to droop and what little vision he has begins to haze at the edges. The blood from his chest clings to his skin and drips off his body onto the floor. The puddle of his insides under him begins to spread and creep into the cracks of the pavement below. There's blood in his lungs - he can feel it in the way his breath thickens and metal coats his throat. The scratchiness catches and he coughs. The blood in his oesophagus surges into his mouth and he splutters. His chest tightens and he gasps for air. Blood clots make his throat close up as he suffers. He heaves, gagging at the iron taste on his tongue.

It takes a good minute or so for him to stop coughing. When he's finished, he musters up the strength to look down at the metal embedded in his ribs. It's ironic: the object currently plugging up the gaping hole in chest and preventing him from completely bleeding out is also the thing that will inevitably kill him. His instincts scream at him to take it out - to grab it with both hands and tear the foreign object out from his chest. In his mind, however, he hears Bruce's first aid training from when he first became Robin.

"If you or someone near you has been impaled by an object, do not - I repeat - do not remove it. That object is the only thing keeping them alive. Take it out and they have two minutes to live at maximum."

Against his own instincts and better judgement, he leaves the knife where it is.

Muffled voices catch his attention, and if he turns his head he can see two streaks of shadow walking towards him on the other side of the street. From what Dick can gather, they haven't seen him yet, and he can somewhat make out their conversation from where he lies.

"--'s terrifying," one starts, "Did you see the Scarecrow attack on the news last night?"

"I didn't need to," the other replies, "The attack happened two blocks away from my apartment."

"Oh, deadass? That's gotta be scary. You okay?"

"Yeah, but that nice elderly couple who live on my floor - the one's who collect my mail for me when I'm out? - were out when it happened and got effected. They're both in hospital right now."

The first pedestrian audibly gasps. "Oh shit. They alright?"

"Hopefully. I'm going to send them some flowers and maybe some money to help with the medical bills."

"That's nice."

They're so close to him. They're so close to him and yet they're so absorbed in their conversation that they don't see the bleeding vigilante on the opposite side of the road. He needs to get their attention - to say something, anything, to let himself be known. He opens his mouth to call to him. He screams. He yells. He cries. Yet they still don't hear him.

Because his throat catches and his voice fails at the first hurdle and his words turn to winces. Gotham is an incessantly cruel mistress.

The figures turn around the corner and disappear from sight.

He breaks down. The dam keeping his tears at bay crumbles and he cries; not only out of physical pain, but out of pure agony at the loss of the vague sense of safety those strangers could have given him. He sobs, his body heaving. The blood in his throat resurfaces and bubbles in his mouth and red liquid dribbles down his chin onto his chest. His tears mix with the polluted rain of Gotham and dilute the crimson on his chest.

Dick is going to die here.

At the epitome, he closes his eyes. The rain continues its assault on his face and he hopes (as stupid as that sounds considering the circumstance) that it will wash not only his blood, but also his body away into the filthy drains of Gotham. At least then the pain would finally stop. He begins to slip away... his consciousness fading...

"Batman to Nightwing. Status report."

Dick cracks his eyes open at the static of the comlink in his ear. A flash of hope, for the second time, streaks through him. Though this time it's out of need to stay alive. He weakly brings his hand up to his ear to press a button on the device.

His voice is pathetically hoarse when he speaks. "Bruce..."

"Codenames, Nightwing," his father replies, "You should know this."

"Bruce-" he coughs again, the words catching in his throat and blood, for the third time, falls from his mouth. He heaves. "I need help."

There is only static on the other side of the line in reply. Does Bruce not care? Has his time as Nightwing strained their relationship? He wouldn't just leave him to die, would he? Bruce wouldn't do that. Right? Right?

The static cut out and a stoic voice speaks again.

"We've got a hit on your location. Sit tight. We're coming to help."

Dick sighs in relief. He spits out blood before he continues. "It hurts, Bruce."

Bruce's voice remains calm. "I know, Chum. I know. We're coming."

Dick cries again; half out of joy and half of pain. They're coming. He's going to be saved. He looks up at the sky again at the overcast clouds, though his vision remains blurry as the not-so-gentle pulse in his chest dulls his senses. The charcoal clouds swirl above him - was that because of the wind or was his vision spinning? - and he looks down again. How could he have been so stupid? He was Nightwing, for goodness sake; the first Robin, the Boy Wonder. There was no reason to act as stupid as he did. It was a simple takedown: disarm and incapacitate. Yet he messed up so badly that he ended up injured and incapacitated himself.

Sudden streaks of black and red and brown appear above him. A mechanical voice speaks above him and a crimson coloured helmet focuses against the blur.

"Holy shit, D-- Nightwing!" Jason exclaims, rushing to the aid of his older brother.

Dick moves his head to face Jason groggily, his head suddenly weighing several tons. Jason hooks his arms under Dick and begins to lift him off the floor. Dick cries out at the sudden movement as the knife shifts in his ribs. Jason almost drops him in his haste to put him back in his original position. He mutters a small apology before standing up and pressing the comlink in his ear. Dick hears him twice - once in front of him and twice as a static voice in his ear.

"Red Hood to Batman." Jason calls, glancing at Dick with worry evident on his face, "This is bad. We'll need the Batmobile to get him back to base."

There's a pause before Bruce replies.

"Understood. ETA: one minute."

Jason takes his finger off the ear piece and rushes back to Dick. The rain is still lashing down, so Jason takes his jacket off and places it over Dick's legs in an attempt to keep him warm.

"Where does it hurt, Dick?" he asks gently. If he wasn't in immense pain at that moment, Dick would have scoffed at Jason's ludicrous question. He is, in fact, in immense pain, so decides to answer honestly. His speech is slurred as he replies.

"Everywhere, Jay. It hurts everywhere."

"Alright," he responds, "Bruce'll be here any second now, okay? Just keep talking to me."

Dick nods, "Thankyou for coming."

"Of course. Did you think I wouldn't? I gotta get my big brother back for all the times he saved me, right?" he chuckles, the sound robotic behind his helmet. "Plus, I get bragging rights for this. I'm not letting you live this down once you recover."

Dick laughs in response. However, it turns into a bad coughing fit and he gasps again. He splutters and blood lands on Jason's helmet. His chest hacks and heaves in pain. This fit is the worst one he's had by far. He's almost choking, the blood in his lungs trapping air in his trachea. Jason ignores the blood dirtying his helmet and rests both his hands on Dick to steady him: one on his shoulder and the other on his blood-soaked stomach.

"Hey, easy now." Jason soothes, "Can't have you dying on me, alright? Bruce would get so pissed at me."

Dick continues hacking for about thirty seconds. That thirty seconds - in Dick's mind at least - felt like thirty minutes. He eventually calms down and he stops coughing, and as if on cue, the Batmobile screeches to a stop in front of them. Both Batman and Robin step out and rush towards him.

He's safe.

At the revelation, he closes his eyes and drifts off into unconsciousness.

He continually falls in and out of consciousness on the way back to the Batcave. During the time he is awake, he feels his head rested against Jason's legs and Damian babbling on in the front seat of the Batmobile about whatever new animal he has most recently stole adopted and currently keeping captive in the Cave.

----

He wakes up to a comfortable pillow under his head and an IV drip in his arm, as a well as a cool towel placed on his forehead. Cloth bandages press against his body. He blinks a couple times, the white light above him fading into focus. He attempts to sit up but groans in pain, his head seemingly splitting apart. Alfred comes into view with a sympathetic smile on his face and holding a glass of water.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Master Dick. You'll only damage yourself further." He puts the glass to Dick's lips. "Here, drink."

Alfred tips the glass into his mouth and Dick lifts his head to gulp the water down greedily. It's almost laughable how thirsty he appears to be. The liquid soothes his throat and does the world of good for him. Duck sighs in contentment and rests his head back against the pillow.

He looks around at his surroundings, which just so happen to be the Batcave. His bed, now clearly a high-tech hospital bunk, sits on wheels near the Batcomputer.

"How long was I out?" Dick asks, glancing back at Alfred.

Alfred appears to hesitate before answering. "Four days, Master Dick. You gave Master Bruce quite the scare."

Dick turns his head to face the light above him but continues to look at Alfred with his eyes. "Did I?"

Alfred steps away from the bed and visits a metal table nearby that is full of medical instruments. He picks up an ice pack and a towel that appears to be similar to the one on his forehead. He wraps the towel around the ice pack and walks back to Dick. He dabs at the bruises on Dick's face that he didn't even realise he had. Was that from the fight?

"Yes," Alfred answers, snapping Dick out of his train of thought. "Are you surprised? Perhaps I should lecture Master Bruce on how to properly care for his children."

Dick chuckles, but it comes out raspy. It catches in his chest and he coughs painfully. Thankfully, there was no blood to dirty his hospital blanket this time.

"I think it's a bit too late for that, Alfie," he replies. "I appreciate it though."

He seethes at the ice pack as it is dabbed under his eye.

"Am I still devilishly handsome?" Dick continues, shooting Alfred a lopsided grin.

"Oh yes, Master Dick. Any suitors you have are currently quaking at the knees."

Both Dick and Alfred chuckle at themselves. The elevator to the Batcave dings while the two of them are preoccupied and the doors open. In comes Bruce wearing tracksuit bottoms and a baggy shirt. He looks as if he hasn't slept in days, and he probably hasn't.

Bruce smiles from across the Batcave. "Good to see you're awake, Dick," he starts, walking over to the side of Dick's bed. He gives his son a hesitant grin once he arrives. Dick catches his fathers pause and smiles cheekily.

"Well don't act so excited, Bruce. I mean, I almost died out there!" he teases.

"I'm aware," Bruce replies, his eyebrows quickly knitting together to form a frown. "What happened out there, Dick?"

Alfred shoots a glare at Bruce and takes the ice pack away from Dick's face.

"The boy just woke up, Master Bruce. Can you not give him half an hour to gather himself?" he interrogates. Dick's previous teasing smile falls.

"It's fine, Alfie. Really-"

"No, it's not." Bruce interrupts. "Alfred is right. I'll go."

Bruce straightens up and begins turn away. Dick grabs his hand with his own to stop him. The action causes pain to streak through his chest.

"No," Dick winces. "Stay. I want you to stay."

Bruce helplessly looks at Alfred for assistance. Alfred simply shrugs and turns away to reorganise the supplies on the table.

Bruce shifts somewhat uncomfortably before replying. "Ehm-" he stammers, "-alright. I'll just be at the Batcomputer."

He walks away from the bed and heads to the Batcomputer. He sits down and busies himself with whatever case he's dealing with at the moment. Dick scoffs at his fathers behaviour.

"Progress. This is progress," he whispers to himself.

Jason enters the Batcave shortly afterwards, also wearing civilian clothing. He has a goofy smile on his face once he realises Dick is awake.

"Hey! How's my favourite cripple doing?"

Dick laughs and slowly pushes himself into a sitting position in his bed, much to the disdain of Alfred.

"I'm your favourite cripple?" Dick retorts, a smile painting his features. "Thanks, Jay. Greatly appreciated."

Jason's grin widens as he walks to Dick. "You're welcome."

Jason reaches the bed and brings out a metal stool to sit on.

"I suppose I should thank you, huh?" Dick asks.

"Thank me for saving your ass? Absolutely."

"Language, Master Jason." Alfred speaks up, continuing to organise his tools.

"Uh, Spanish."

Alfred turns to look at Jason with a raised eyebrow. The younger of the two brothers puts his hands up above his head.

"Yep, got it. Sorry Alfred."

"I should hope so," the butler replies, turning back to continue what he was doing. Jason and Dick share a poignant look with each other before snickering quietly together.

"In all seriousness, though. Are you feeling okay?" Jason questions.

"I just got stabbed, Jason. What do you think?" Dick replies, his voice teasing.

"Yeah, understandable." Jason responds. "Hurry up and get better okay? I don't wanna be dealing with the demon spawns on my own."

Dick laughs in response, the action resulting in a small wince.

"Sorry Jaybird, but I think I'll be benched for a while."

At that, Jason sighs and slumps down on his chair dramatically.

"How could you! You would abandon your own brother?"

Dick laughs. "I'd rather have a punctured lung than abandon you, Jason. You know that."

"Yeah," he responds, "I know." He pauses for a moment, slowly processing what Dick said. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and Jason shoots him a look. "Wait a minute-."

Dick sticks his tongue out at Jason, who is about to retort before Alfred turns to the brothers, seemingly finishing his previous job.

He claps his hands. "Alright. Visiting hours are now over, Master Jason," he announces, a hint of humour laced in his voice. "You can visit him again tomorrow."

Jason stands up from his seat and turns to leave.

"Alright. You get better soon, alright?"

Dick smiles. "I'll try. Don't have too much fun without me, okay?"

Jason turns just before he reaches the exit to the Batcave and grins.

"I make no promises."

----

Dick was bedridden for about a week. Now he's allowed to walk around the Batcave on his own, but not away from the watchful eye of Alfred. Just in case.

He currently stands in front of a body-sized mirror. To put it bluntly, he's a mess. Different shades of bruises colour his face with yellow and green and purple. One eye is swollen to the point where it's almost forced to close. His hair is messy and unkempt, and bandages wrap around his chest, back, and shoulders. White plasters are dotted around his face.

He's a mess right now, but he's on the road to recovery. He is in a far better state than he was when he first got attacked, and things are looking up. Hopefully, he'll be taken off the bench within two months if Alfred is kind to him.

Bruce appears behind Dick in the mirror and makes him jump. Dick chuckles slightly and turns to face his father.

"Hey Bruce. What's up?"

"Are you ready to talk about what happened?"

Dick sighs. "No pleasantries then, huh? No worries," Dick pauses before continuing, "I'd rather not go into it, but I can give you a description of the guy who attacked me if that helps?

Bruce nods.

--

Bruce and Dick now sit next to each other in front of the Batcomputer. Bruce wields a coffee mug titled "Worlds No.1 Okay-ish dad" in his hand and Dick holds a glass of water (Alfred's orders were made incessantly clear as to what he could and could not drink while on the road to recovery. Coffee was currently a big no-no).

"So, what did your attacker look like?" Bruce asks, fingers hovering over the computer keyboard in front of him.

"Caucasian male. Looked around 5'10, maybe 5'11? Brown eyes and brown cropped hair. Had a tattoo on his neck of a star with writing I couldn't read during the fight. Was wearing black jeans and a white shirt under a dark blue rain coat."

"Alright, thankyou," Bruce replies. "I'll go through the criminal record files on the Batcomputer and see if we can get a match. I'll call you back here if I find anything."

Dick nods and stands up from his seat before walking away.

Gotham is a cruel mistress on the best of days, but there are times where she lets up. Where she allows a small semblance of hope to shine through.

Masterlist

[pocketdemonbendy]

Rough sketch of chapter 7

Snip of the story: chapter 7 https://archiveofourown.org/works/43693807/chapters/109870999

Slap~

The pian in his cheek registered long before Tonie realized he'd been struck by Leo. Leo marched out of the room with Donnie hot on his heels calling out for him to wait. Tonie's breath quickened before he released a guttural Roar that rang throughout the lair. He flexed his claws in and out pricking the pads of his hands. All he wanted to do was go after Leo, sink his claws in to him, make him suffer and then kill him. Just when he thought he was going to lose it he was knocked off his feet. Landing on his back he rolled onto all fours hissing. 

Raph was standing across from him his sai out in defense. "Here kitty kitty." Raph growled a teasing grin on his face. 

Tonie pounced instantly claws out ready to sink them into Raph's scales. Raph ducked under him then jumped over him as Tonie pounced again. Raph went in for a jab but Tonie met him with a momentum that he wasn't expecting, knocking Raph back onto his own back. Raph pushed him off and then brought both of his fists down onto Tonie. Tonie scratched at Raphs shoulder climbing out from underneath him and onto Rap's back. Tonie wrapped an arm around Raph's neck digging his claws into Raph's skin. Searing pain shot through Raph's left shoulder, he quickly pulled Tonie off him tossing him across the room then fell to the ground.

Tonie landed with a thud and tried to push himself to his feet but stopped at the taste of blood in his mouth. Looking over to Raph, he could see the blood dripping down from clear holes left in Raph's shoulder from his tusks. Shit Tonie huffed. He had bit him. The two of them stay laying on the ground trying to ketch their breath. 

"You fight like this with Tat~ your brother." Raph breathed running his fingers over the bite mark. 

Tonie raised his head looking Raph in the eye. "I used to, not anymore." He growled sitting up on his knees his hands and body shaking. He'd never admit it to the snapper but Raph could do some damage. "I got tired of it."

"So what you decided to fuck his life up?" Raph hissed looking around for something he could use to put pressured on the bleeding. 

"I just wanted to knock him off the pedestal he perched himself up on." Tonie looked to his side seeing a roll of fabric wrap. He took it and tossed it hitting Raph in the head. 

Raph growled at him but took the wrap. "You let your anger get the best of you?" 

"Yea." Tonie said dryly pushing himself to his feet wincing at the pain. 

"So what exactly did you do?" Raph applied the bandage to his shoulder hissing at the sting.

Tonie sighed walking over to him and placing his hand on Raph's shoulder. His palm glowing red. "The males in my species can be honored or disowned over losing a tusk in battle." He began feeling the sting from Raph's wound. "If you lose a tusk and win the battle your a hero. On the other hand if you lose a tusk and the battle, your a disgrace."

"Okay what's that have to do with Tatuini and you?" Rah asked through clenched teeth feeling the searing pain again. 

"Tatuini lost his tusk and the battle. Judas disowned him shortly after. Tatuini went from loving, wealthy family to being the newest bane of Judas's existence." Tonie slumped down next to Raph resting against him. 

Raph looked over his arm seeing the scratches and the bite was gone. "How's that your fault? You cause the fight?"

"No...I'm the one who ripped out his tusk." Tonie was sullen unable to meet Raph's eyes fearing he would only see judgment in them. "We used to spar on a daily, but this one was different. It started out normal but then escalated. He pushed some buttons and I lost it. Next thing I know I was holding is tusk and he was broken and bleeding out on the pavement half dead."

They were both quiet till Raph raised his arm over Tonie and hooking him to his side. "Why are you taking all the blame for yourself then. Sounds to me like he was asking for it. Maybe not to that extent but he was still looking for a fight."

Tonie pushed Raph's arm away leaning back to glare at him. "If you were the reason your father disowned and threatened to kill one of your brothers, how would you feel? Especially if there wasn't a way to fix it?"

At the thought of that Raph's gut twisted in guilt. "I probably wouldn't forgive myself." 

Tonie released another heavy sigh before, to Raph's surprise snuggled back under Raph's arm. "Neither can I." Tonie hummed a growl laying completely down resting his head and chest on Rahp's leg, his arms folded and tucked under his neck.

Raph not knowing what else to do rested his hand on Tonie's shell rubbing back and forth. Tonie wasn't a bad guy he was just angry. Raph thought looking him over. 

[itevilhag]

ang huling el bimbo | tangerine (bullet train)

tangerine x reader | tangerine x fem!reader | tangerine x assassin!reader |

summary: estel is late, and estel is never late. tangerine's worst nightmare comes true.

warning: ANGST with no happy ending, hurt/comfort (kind of), major character death, mentions of blood and violence (not explicit), apart from these one written, nothing more.

an: enjoy this angst filled fic that i wrote! and i highly recommend you listen to the song attached to the fic, just to rub more salt into the wound.

...

"Where the fuck is she?" Tangerine muttered to himself as glance at his blood speckled watch.

5:30 a.m

You were never this late on a job. Yes, there have been several occasions when you were off by a few minutes, but never this much. You were supposed to be here ages ago, and yet there's no sign of you. Usually Tangerine wouldn't worry this much about you on a job. You were a highly skilled assassin. The best of the best. Taking down every single target with grace and finesse, he had no need to worry over you. But he understood risk that this line of work could bring to someone.

"Fuck this."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lemon asked, confusion painting his face as he watched his brother load his gun with a fresh round of ammo and holster another gun to his belt.

"I'm gonna go look for Estel, you stay here and keep that hard drive safe." Tangerine didn't even let Lemon speak another word as he was already out of the car.

“Rude bastard.” - Lemon.

With his gun cocked and his finger on the trigger, he went out and checked every single crevice of the warehouse that they had just infiltrated, passing by a few dead bodies as he walked around cautiously. While searching In the silence of the warehouse his mind began to wander to the most hopeful thoughts he’s ever had in his entire life to the most horrendous and gut-wrenching images his mind could conjure, and in all of them was you.

But a pained wheezing coming from one of the rooms made him halt his steps. Turning his head to his left, he came face to face with a door which was slightly cracked open. Moving closer to the door, he saw a slumped figure seemingly trying to reach for something. Knowing that they could potentially be reaching for a gun, he immediately opened the door. And right at that moment, Tangerine wished he hadn’t.

"Looks like cupid got me this time." you joked softly, with a barely noticeable grin on your bloody lips. Though your tone was light your appearance did nothing to hide the pain you were in. Sitting on the floor, your hair crusted with blood, your lip split open, a bruise blossoming on your cheek, your teeth stained with blood which dripped down from your lips to your chin, and an arrow making your chest it’s home, soaking the suit Tangerine had given you for your birthday with blood.

As your eyes met his, Tangerine lowered his gun and said nothing. He slowly walked towards you with a distant look on his face, his eyes shifting focus towards the arrow on your chest. He knelt in front of you, his hand stained red as his hands cupped your cheek, the other gravitating towards your chest. Your hand met his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t. I’ll bleed.”

"Fucking bastard." he cursed. He is now backed into a corner. A corner where he can do absolutely nothing to save her. Pull it out or drive her out of the middle of nowhere to get medicated. He had two choices in his hands and yet both of them lead to the same thing- her death.

He hadn't even realized that he was crying until he felt your fingers brushing away his tears. Your skin felt warm and cold at the same time. A fucking reminder of what could and what would be.

"Hey, Tan?" He felt something cold being placed on his hand. "Give this to Lemon, will ya'?" A Thomas and Friends keychain, all three of their trains in one hook. "Tell him to keep it safe. Risked my arse for that one."

Tangerine despite the tears chuckled lightly. Through his disheveled curls, Tangerine could see her struggling to get something out of her breast pocket. But when she eventually did, something familiar was laid before his eyes. A velvet box.

"I was going to eventually. But it never was the right time." You opened the box and admired the ring that you were supposed to propose with on the reserved dinner anniversary a few months away from now, but now that will never come now would it?

You took the ring, and placed it on his finger.

"You just fucking had to, didn't ya'?" Your brows immediately furrowed, confused at what he said.

"Always beating me to it." Tangerine met your eyes, questions stirring within them, and he answered you by doing the same thing, he took the velvet box in his breast pocket, and presented it to you.

He took the ring out of the box, held your blood stained hand in his, and placed the ring on your finger.

"Now we're even."

Tears flooded your eyes, a smile grew on your lips as a watery laugh bubbled from your chest, which you immediately came to regret as it sent a wave of pain all over your body.

“Hey, come here.” he whispered softly, his arm wrapped around your shoulders guiding you to sit back against the wall. He felt your shoulders rise and fall as a heavy sigh of relief leaves your lips. You were so tired and exhausted, you just wanted to rest, to close your eyes and succumb to the enclosing darkness around you, to let it wash away the pain. But you couldn’t leave Tangerine and Lemon, you didn’t want to. But you guessed at this moment that fate had other plans for the three of you.

And as the warm glow of the sun rose on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of colors, bathing you and Tangerine in its light. You were flooded with a sense of peace. You knew that even when you leave, they'll be alright.

"I've never seen a proper sunrise before." You said softly, your head falling on his shoulder, his head on yours.

"It's so beautiful." you breathed.

Before the darkness collapse around, you felt warmth embrace you, and a kiss was placed upon your forehead, and then…

Tangerine's tears cascaded down from his cheeks to your forehead as your body slumped against his, your last breath on his neck.

"It is."

[iyumeu]

spirit guardian

You call forth spirits to protect you. They flit around you to a distance of 15 feet for the duration. If you are good or neutral, their spectral form appears angelic or fey (your choice). If you are evil, they appear fiendish.

summary: you've been trying to keep things under wraps but when the bullying escalated and you find your life in danger, your demon finds out and the results are... not pretty. warnings: gore, blood, violence, body horror, self-mutilation, the boys are a little dark in this one, i would say hints of yandere, im not that good of a gore writer though so like if you're super into gore please dont expect much, but please read the warnings before each segment thank you.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿ᏊㅇꈊㅇᏊ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You didn't want to admit it, but you were being bullied.

You had always known that the demon brothers had their own responsibilities to deal with and couldn't be with you all the time. The sentiment stretched over to your problems as well. They definitely had better things to concern themselves with and you weren't about to bother them with your insignificant issues, especially petty issues that surfaced from demons' general dislike of humans.

It wasn't anything you couldn't handle, really; acidic words spat at you in whispers, torn books here and there, a subtle exclusion from classroom activities... Small, inconsequential things that made you amused on a good day and irritated on a bad one. Harmless.

Or so you thought.

When the foot swung into your stomach, you swore you heard a sickening crack and you were flung into the wall behind you. Blood gurgled in your mouth and you spat it out on the ground in front of you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. After spending an entire year in the Devildom and making a pact with all of the demon brothers, you had gotten complacent. Believing your bullies to be merely harmless schoolyard types, you had followed them to a shady and secluded part of the R.A.D. because they wanted to "talk".

You had paid dearly for carelessness, completely caught off guard when one of them pierced you with a sharp jab of their arm. You remember feeling nothing but winded at first, shock numbing your nerves until you saw red trailing down their hand, dripping off the sharpened claws of their nails.

It was then that a scorching pain spread out from the gored out hole in your abdomen, spreading out to the rest of your body.

In hindsight, everything happened so fast. Before you knew it, you were slumped over on the floor and bleeding out. Even through your blurry vision the demons' malicious glee was clear as day.

"Not so proud now, are you?" one of them spat out. "Always looking down on us just because you were hanging off the arms of the Lords of Hell. Guess we're the ones looking down on you now!"

You were starting to shiver from the cold as blood soaked through your clothes, watching the demons advance while wondering if you were really going to die from as something as petty as this.

And then, one of your pact marks flared to life.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿Ꮚ´•̥̥̥ ‸ •̥̥̥Ꮚ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Lucifer

cw: body horror

A single black feather slowly drifted down onto the ground before you. The rest of the world turned hazy as your gaze focused onto the feather, long and elegant and delicate, watching as it fell into a pool of your blood. A pair of polished black shoes entered your line of sight before their owner crouched down in front of you, uncaring of the blood seeping into and staining his clothes.

A gloved hand reached out to cup your cheek, a gentle touch against your skin, and you sluggishly moved your gaze up to Lucifer's face.

"MC," he sighed. His eyes were dark, a complete contrast to the tender look on his face. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

His wings stretched out behind him, a dark expanse of feathers that curled around the both of you, separating you from the world... and the world from you.

"Lucifer," you began, but he was quick to press his thumb against your bottom lip, halting your words.

"This isn't a one-off, I assume?" he asked despite already knowing the answer. You avert your gaze and he sighs again. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you," you said.

"I see." Lucifer's hand moved to pull out a black silk handkerchief, using it to clean the blood off your face. "Then it seems that I have failed you, if you believe that relying on me was not an option at all."

"That's not true...!" You were interrupted by Lucifer gathering you in his arms, while he took care to avoid your wounds as much as possible. With a gentle hand, he guided you to rest your head against his shoulder as he slowly shifted to a standing position, ready to bring you back to the House of Lamentations. His arms were warm around you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and secure. You felt that, if you were by his side, you would never run into harm again.

It was then that you finally remembered your bullies, the ones who had put you in this state in the first place. Had they left the area, running off at the sight of Lucifer? That was most likely the case, you thought, but you still couldn't help but peer over Lucifer's shoulder and through the gaps of his wings, to check.

Your breath caught in your throat. Lucifer immediately placed a hand over your eyes.

"Shhh," he said. "Don't dirty your eyes with such a disgusting sight."

It was now that you were finally aware of a strange and disturbing cracking sound coming from behind Lucifer. A brand new chill settled down upon you, your body seizing up with fear. Suddenly, you wanted nothing but to put space between Lucifer and yourself.

As if he were aware of your thoughts, Lucifer shifted his hand from your eye to the back of your head, cradling you close to his body as he started to walk away from the scene. His wings were properly positioned this time and you were unable to peer through them.

Lucifer Morningstar. The First-Born. One of the strongest Lords of Hell. These titles hadn't meant anything to you before, but now they were are the forefront of your mind. The glimpse you had stolen before Lucifer turned your gaze away was now burnt into your retinas.

Your bullies' bodies hovered in the air with their limbs stretched impossibly long, curled up and tangled around their twisted bodies like a grotesque ball of yarn. Their mouths were torn open, jaws dislodged and handing horrible from their skull, eyes wide as they screamed silently for someone, anyone to put them out of their misery.

You knew that they would not die, not until someone found them and decided to kill them. And, considering the area they were in, it would take an extremely long time before someone were to chance upon them.

They had planned to use the remoteness of the location against you. They never could have thought that it would be used against them in the same way. This was something Lucifer had definitely taken into consideration.

Lucifer's arms were a cage around you; what was once comforting now felt suffocating.

"Lucifer," you managed to force out. You felt him lean down and press a kiss against your hair.

"It seems that I have to teach you how to be more reliant on me," Lucifer said in a tone as if he were speaking about the weather. "It wouldn't do for something like this to happen again."

"It won't," you were quick to say. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Lucifer looked down at you. You were the only thing reflected in his eyes as he gave a small, gentle smile that gave you a sense of dread that went down to your very bones.

"Don't worry, little lamb. For you, I will be a very forgiving master."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━[ᓀ˵◇˵ᓂ]━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mammon

cw: violence and a lil bit of gore

The sudden caw of a crow drew the attention of your bullies. You tried to take the chance to stand up and run but merely shifting in place caused the pain in your abdomen to flare up, white hot and blinding. You hiss through your teeth, swallowing your yelp of pain.

There is a second caw. You look up and see at least a dozen crows perched up on windowsills and tree branches, their heads tilted in the direction of your bullies and their dark eyes glinting with something that invoked a sense of unease within you.

"Why are y'all distracted by a bunch of birds?" the lead demon barked out. They were not doing a good job of masking their apprehension. "We're here to teach this pathetic human a lesson, not gawk at crows!"

"But aren't those..." another student began.

The flutter of wings echo all around. More crows land on nearby fixtures; ten, fifteen, twenty. You slowly look up and see more black shapes flying in the sky above, circling the area like vultures to their prey. You hear the sound of wings flapping once again, closer this time, and Mammon lands in front of you, wings spread and in his demon form.

"...aren't those Lord Mammon's crows?" the student finished weakly. The demons were looking pale now, realizing just what they had done. You paid their expression no notice, filled with relief now that your guardian demon is here. Mammon, who despite his reputation, was always your reliable protector. Mammon, who always went out of his way to ensure your safety in the Devildom. Mammon, who... who was holding one of the demons up by their skull, uncaring of their struggles and pleas as their hands scramble against Mammon's, their toes skimming the ground. The other two demons were already running off, uncaring of their companion but Mammon didn't seem to notice, his attention on the demon in front of him.

In the back of your mind, you noticed that the demon was the one who had stabbed you with their hand.

"Mammon?" your voice came out in a whisper. The demon's pleas turn into screams of agony as Mammon tightened his grip. "Mammon!"

Mammon turned to you, eyes bright and feverish.

"Don't worry, MC," Mammon chirped. "I'll be quick!"

Mammon didn't lie. Immediately after his words, there was a frenzy of feathers and caws and screams. Just as quickly as it happened, the crows dispersed and the body dropped to the ground with a sickening thump, an unrecognizable, bloodied version of itself.

Mammon was holding something in his hands and, after he made his way back to you, he placed it in your lap. The blood-soaked wallet seemed to weigh a ton, its blood further staining your uniform. Mammon was beaming, standing in front of you like a dog waiting to be praised.

"That's compensation!" he said in his usual, nonchalant tone. "You deserve it after what they put ya through!"

Another caw sounded out and you couldn't help but flinch violently. Mammon was immediately kneeling beside you, soothing you with his bloodied hands. The sickening smell of bloodrust grew stronger with his proximity and you fought the urge to lean away.

A few crows hopped towards you, dropping more bloodied items onto the ground beside you. Staring blankly at those items, you recognize them as the necklace one of the other demons had on, a ring one of the demons who had fled the scene had worn, a earring, a tooth, bits of gold-tipped fingernails...

You lurched to the side, uncaring of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen, and started heaving. Mammon gently pat your back, trying to comfort you. It only made you more nauseous, the scent of blood overwhelming your senses once again.

For the first time since you arrived in Devildom, Mammon's presence invoked a sense of fear within you.

"I should've stayed by your side," you heard Mammon mutter. "Shouldn't have allowed those bastards to get to ya."

"Mammon..." You could predict the trajectory of his thoughts and desperately wished you were wrong. "It's not your fault," you choked out. Please, please, please—

"But it was!" Mammon argued. "If I were always by your side, they wouldn't have had the chance to even touch you!"

"It was my fault," you begged. "I didn't want to bother you so I didn't say anything!"

Mammon frowned. "I didn't think you needed protecting even from yourself."

oh. oh no.

Mammon carefully scooped you up into his arms. This time you could not help your flinch, but Mammon didn't seem to notice.

"It's okay!" Mammon said cheerfully. "If you can't take care of yourself, I'll take care of ya! I'm your guardian demon, after all!"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━⸜₍๑•⌔•๑ ₎⸝━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Leviathan

cw: drowning, but u watch it happen. doesn't happen to u

The demon suddenly froze in their step, their hands coming up to grab their throat. They curled over and started coughing, started heaving, out long and stringy bits of black and green matter.

No matter how much the demon vomited out it never seemed to end and soon it was strewn all over the ground, accompanied with the pungent scent of rotten fish and the salty tang of the sea.

You blink and Leviathan was suddenly standing beside you, sharp teeth bared in a snarl and long black tail whipping around in agitation.

"Levi...?" you spoke slowly. You had never seen him this agitated before

"They hurt you," Leviathan said. His voice was low with an eerie quality to it; it was like a reverb, an echo, and it brought to your mind stories of hallucinatory voices sailors often heard at sea, beckoning them overboard.

The demons were frozen in place as Leviathan stalked towards them, slowly circling around them like a shark around prey. Then, another demon started choking, doubling over and throwing up the same black and green mess the first one did. The smell of fish and the sea grew stronger and you suddenly realize that they were vomiting out seaweed.

"I was wondering what was so important to you that you forgot that we were going to talk home together but I see now."

The third demon fell to their knees, clawing at their throat as they started throwing up seaweed as well.

"All this time I thought that you finally realized that I was just a no-good loser otaku... but that wasn't the case, was it?"

Levithan's voice was smooth, calm, and still retaining that ethereal quality to it. It felt like it was being spoken directly into your head rather than coming from in front of you. It made goosebumps rise up on your skin.

"Levi—" you tried again but you were interrupted.

"I should have known better!" Leviathan laughed. "My Henry wouldn't do that to me! No, the fault lies with these interlopers, trying to take you away! Trying to kill you!"

The first demon's face was turning pale. They tried to gasp for air but a strange froth poured out of their mouth instead, followed by water, copious amounts of seawater splashing violently onto the floor.

"But it's okay!" Leviathan turned to you, smiling brightly. It was the same smile he gave when he got a new high score on the game and was eagerly awaiting your reaction, it was the same smile he gave when he ran up to you with a drink in hand while you were queuing for him in C.S., it was the same smile he gave when he managed to get two tickets to an event and brought you along as his plus one. "I'll protect you! And I'll get revenge for you too, just like the Lord of Shadows does for Henry! Like in Volume 17, when Henry was kidnapped by the Lord of Lechery's jealous ex-paramours, the Lord of Shadows showed up and summoned his familiar to rip them apart..."

Leviathan glanced back at the demons for a moment. All three of them were coughing out seawater now and turning shades of blue. Long, red gashes left behind by desperate nails ran down their necks as they tried, in vain, to claw for air. Seawater was also dripping from this nostrils, bubbling from the horrible breaths of air they were trying to take. There was a sneer on Leviathan's face but it was quick to disappear when he looked back at you. When he stepped closer, you noticed that the pupils of his eyes had turned to sharp slits.

"I can't summon Lotan here to punish them; Lucifer would be mad and more importantly you might get hurt! So I did the next best thing! I know that drowning is a very slow and painful way to die, especially if you fight against it, so I thought that it would be a suitable alternative for a punishment!"

He looked so pleased with himself. It was like killing people for revenge was on the same level of enjoyment for him as getting merch of a character he liked.

Without a care for the demons behind him, Leviathan quickly made his way up to you, making sure to be careful as he picked you up off the ground.

"See?" he grumbled, "this is why I say that staying in my room is so much better." He paused. "Ah, do you want to see them drown the entire way?" You quickly shook your head no. "Yeah, you're right. That'll take too much time. I'll bring you to Satan to get you wounds healed. Afterwards, don't think of even taking a step out of my room, alright! You've already seen how dangerous the outside world is!"

With that last sentence, he carried you away. You desperately hope that Leviathan was joking about it but something about the way his tail curled possessively around your ankle made you think otherwise.

In your periphery vision, you notice the demons lying on the floor, some of them twitching and some of them writhing around. You close your eyes, and look away.

⭒☆━━━━━━～>º˵)ニニニニ>━━━━━━☆⭒

Satan

cw: just. loads of violence and gore

There was a large, gaping hole in one of the demon's abdomens, directly mirroring yours. Except it was larger, more brutal, and much more horrible than the one they inflicted on you.

Satan removed his hand from the demon's abdomen with a loud, wet shlick. The demon fell to their knees, clutching at their open abdomen. Satan smiled a bright, close-eyed smile. For once his spiked tail wasn't curled around his leg, instead gently swaying back and forth as he reached forward to yank the demon's intestines from the hole.

Perhaps it was due to the manner of the wound or the force Satan used but it didn't take long for the intestine to snap and for Satan to hurl it to the side in annoyance.

"Can't even do one thing right," he sneered. He raised his foot only to harshly stomp down on the demon's back. It landed with a sickening crack and the demon collapsed onto the floor, spine bent at an irregular angle. They were still screaming in pain. They were still alive.

Your voice was trapped in your chest, your eyes wide open and unable to be torn from the horrific scene happening in front of you.

Satan moved onto the next demon, grabbing them by the hair and pulling sharply to the side. When the third demon tried to scramble away, Satan froze them in place with a simple flick of his fingers and an uttered spell.

With his attention now turned back to the demon in his grasp, Satan used his other hand to hold the demon's head in place as he slowly pulled at their hair until it started peeling off, a thin layer of skin attached to the base of the strands and holding them together. That wasn't enough for Satan, though, and he inserted his long fingernails into the demon's eyes, scooping them out with barely contained glee.

"This is what you get for thinking that you can even look at MC," Satan told the demon. He then dropped that one onto the ground as well, kicking them in the stomach and sending them skidding across the rough earth.

It was at this moment that you realized that this was the demon who had kicked you into the wall... and the earlier demon was the one who had stabbed you with their nails. The last demon, the one Satan was dragging towards you now, was the one who had called you out in the first place. The one who had put the entire bullying thing into motion.

Satan kicked the back of their legs, making them drop onto their knees in front of you. Now that you had a much closer, unwanted look at them, you notice that their lips had been stapled shut, the dull metal gleaming slightly in the limited light.

"Sorry for taking so long, kitten," Satan apologized to you in his usual, gentlemanly tone. "I might have gone a little bit overboard." When he directed his words to the demon trembling in front of you, he was much harsher. "What are you waiting for? Not going to apologize?!"

The demon made some muffled cries, completely unintelligible from behind his cruel gag. A nasty smile spread across Satan's face. "Oh, I forgot. You can't speak, can you? Well, it seems like you'll have to apologize in another manner."

Satan reached around and ran a finger down from the center of the demon's collarbone to their sternum. From this close you could see the sweat dripping down the demon's face, hear the whimpers from their throat, feel their agony as Satan peeled off the left side of the demon's skin, revealing their rib cage and organs.

"You can still apologize with your heart," Satan told the demon. "Can't you?"

"S... Satan." Somehow, you managed to muster up the willpower to speak. "Satan, I can't do this."

Satan's green eyes were on you now. He was confused for a moment before clarity entered them. You waited for him to move the demon away, but he never did. Instead, he dug his fingers into the demon's rib cage and pulled it out, like one would with a closet door.

The demon screamed from behind his gag.

"Of course, silly me. You wouldn't be able to reach his heart due to his rib being in the way! Well it should be easier now, yes?"

You were going to be sick.

"I don't... I don't want this, Satan," you forced out through gritted teeth. Satan frowned, but it was directed to the demon.

"Hear that? MC doesn't accept your apology." He discarded the demon to the side before kneeling down in front of you, offering blood-soaked hand for you to take. "I'd love to torture them for you some more, MC," he said gently, "but I don't think now's a good time. You need to get your wounds cleaned and healed."

You closed your eyes and looked away. Even though you were trying your best to block it out, the scent of blood was still strong in the air.

You heard Satan chuckle in front of you. "I know," he said in an indulgent tone, "but I'm serious. I read that humans are a lot more fragile than demons so I need to disinfect your wounds at the very least. We can always come back later; it's not like they'll be running away any time soon."

You tried to tell Satan that there was nothing more you wanted than to never see this sight again, but you couldn't open your mouth without throwing up.

"If you don't stop throwing a tantrum, I'll get angry," despite his words, his voice was more amused than anything. You forced yourself to speak.

"It... hurts," you ground out. "I can't... move."

"Oh." His voice was deeper now. Your eyes flew open to see him trembling with rage as he glared towards one of the nearby demons. "I see. It appears that I've been too lenient with them." His gaze went back to you and softened. "Don't worry, I'll make them pay their dues. Now, this might hurt but I'll try my best to be gentle."

Without giving you a chance to react, Satan scooped you up into his arms taking care not to aggravate any of your wounds.

"We'll return to the House of Lamentations first," Satan told you. "When I'm sure you're fine, I'll bring demons to you instead. How does that sound?"

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his chest and pretended to sleep. You hoped the demons died before Satan came back to get them... for their sake.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━(=🝦 ༝ 🝦=)━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

sorry things are short from here on out. im tire. d

Asmodeus

cw: suicide

You hear Asmodeus gasp before he quickly placed himself between you and the demons. Relief flooded you at the sight of your friend.

"Darling! What happened to you?!" he bemoaned, reaching forward to wipe a smear of blood off of your face. You smile weakly at him.

"I just got a little hurt, that's all. Can you bring me home?" you asked. Behind him, you can see the demons backing away.

"Hurt...?" Asmodeus's eyes trailed down and landed on the horrid wound in your abdomen. You blink and suddenly found him in his demon form, wings twitching with agitation.

"Asmo...?"

Asmodeus abruptly stood up and turned to face the demons. You see them freeze in place and an eerie blankness washed over their faces.

"My darling is hurt," he whined. "Do you know who was the one who did it?"

The demons pointed at each other, neither of them willing to take the blame. You see Asmodeus cock his hip and rest his cheek against the palm of his hand.

"There's so many conflicting answers that I'm soo confused. Ah! I just had a great idea! I want you to kill that horrible, horrible person who harmed by darling. You can do that, right?"

In a blink of an eye, the demons turned on each other, ripping each other to shreds with the utmost of ferocity. Meanwhile, Asmodeus stood in front of them, calmly watching them tear each other apart whilst humming a cheerful melody. Soon, only one demon was left, bloodied and bruised, and they collapsed in front of Asmodeus.

"Wow!" Asmodeus cheered superficially. "Now, I want you to kill yourself!"

The demon faltered. Asmodeus grabbed them by the chin, long nails leaving angry red lines on their skin as he forced them to look into his eyes.

"I want you," he repeated slowly, "to kill yourself."

The demon's expression was completely blank and open as they nodded at Asmodeus before placing their hands around their neck and squeezing.

Asmodeus stepped back to stand by your side as the demon slowly suffocated themselves to death.

"Isn't it great!" Asmodeus asked you. You turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were bright and feverish. "How obedient they are! They all do what I want them to do without question..." Asmodeus trailed off, disdain in his eyes as he watched the demon die in front of him.

"No it isn't!"

Asmodeus blinked. Confusion was clear in his eyes. "Why not?" he questioned. "I didn't have to dirty my hands, you didn't have to dirty your hands, and they all got what they deserved!"

"Death? Was death what they deserved?" You searched his eyes for any signs of remorse but you found none. Asmodeus was one of the gentlest demons you knew... you supposed that the keyword there that you had been ignoring the entire time was 'demon'.

"They hurt you, my dear. They sullied your beautiful form with their ugly selves, of course they deserved death! If I weren't worried about getting blood on my outfit, I'd have them draw it out, too!"

"This is wrong," you muttered to yourself. "This isn't right."

"Wrong? Not right? Honey, you're in the Devildom," Asmodeus cooed. He gently carded his fingers through your hair as he spoke. "Unfortunately, might is right here."

You shiver and curl into yourself. A frown graced Asmodeus' features and he was quick to try and comfort you.

"You'll get used to it soon," he said. "And even if you don't, you shouldn't worry! I won't let it happen again. How could I allow those tear stains on your pretty little face?"

His eyes were glowing eerily.

"Just... introduce all of the people you meet to me, alright? Then you'll never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again♡"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Beelzebub

cw: you know that thing in the mummy (1999) where the scarab beetles crawl under the person's skin and then eat them from the inside out? yeah.

You had never seen Beelzebub so furious before.

He held you in his arms as the demons before you paled at the sight of the sixth Lord of Hell.

"MC, you're hurt," he said slowly. His grip on you tightened for a brief moment before they loosened, Beelzebub clearly trying his best to control his strength so that you wouldn't get hurt.

There was a strange buzzing sound in the air. You assumed that it was coming from Beelzebub's wings.

"I'll be fine Beel," you try to comfort him. "It's just a flesh wound."

Beelzebub shook his head. "You're not fine," he insisted. "They tried to hurt you. They hurt you."

The buzzing was getting louder now. You touched Beelzebub's cheek and a warm fuzziness made itself known in your chest as Beelzebub leaned into your touch. "I'll be fine," you repeated. "I just need to get to the hospital, or a demon equivalent of it, and then rest up."

"I'll bring you to Satan," Beelzebub said. "But first, you need to see."

"See what, Beel?"

"Punishment," he said solemnly, directing your gaze towards the demons who were busy clawing at themselves. At first you couldn't tell what was going on but you soon managed to discern small little bumps moving around under the demons' skin.

The buzzing sound was louder, now.

One of the demons finally opened their mouth to scream and, to your absolutely disgust and horror, small black beetles crawled out of their mouth. As if it were a signal, insects started crawling out of the other demons' orifices as well, centipedes and ants and little white larvae, wiggling their way out before burrowing themselves into the demon's flesh once again.

The few seconds it took for the insects to eat away the demons felt like a lifetime, your eyes fixed onto the absolutely hellish sight in front of you. When the bones of the demons fell onto the ground, most of the insects scattered but some still dug into the bones, feasting on the bone marrow. You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying your hardest not to throw up while you were still being carried by Beelzebub.

"They hurt you," Beelzebub said. His voice felt so far away. "So I hurt them back."

You squeezed your eyes shut. The buzzing hum of insects did not allow itself to be tuned out.

"So... you have to tell me if people want to hurt you, okay? I'll protect you."

Beelzebub was no longer in his demon form, but the buzzing sound did not go away for a long, long time.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━ᙙᙖ━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Belphegor

cw: just violence i guess

The demon froze in their tracks, eyes staring straight ahead at something you could not see.

"What's wrong?" one of the other demons asked. They didn't seem to hear them as fear dawned on their face and they started backing away.

"Get away from me!" the demon screamed. They tripped over themselves and fell flat onto the floor, but they did not pause in their attempts to scramble away. "Get away from me! No! No! No!!"

"What's going on? Why're you acting like..." Another demon suddenly stared down at their feet for a moment before they started to heave. The last demon had a moment of sanity before they, too, suddenly started looking around them in fear.

"Ahhh! It's on me, it's in me, get it off, get it out!" they screamed, violently scratching at their skin. The first demon had stopped moving back and instead started waving their arms above them, fighting off an unseen assailant while the second demon was attempting to shove their entire hand down their throat. The third demon was scratching at their eyes, uncaring of how blood was now running down their body.

The first demon started clawing at themselves. The second demon slit open their stomach. The third demon clawed out their eyes.

Before you could see any more, a pair of cold hands wrapped around your shoulders, effectively drawing your attention away from the scene in front of you. A tail brushed against your face, blocking your vision entirely as Belphegor snuggled up to you from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"MC... Are you okay?" he asked.

"I... I'm fine, but those demons, they—"

"—hurt you, right? That's why they're getting punished right now." You felt his self-satisfied grin against your neck and realized that whatever they were going through right now was the work of the demon behind you.

"Belphie, what did you do?!"

"It's nothing much, really." He was proud of what he did. "I just gave him some nightmares. Or hallucinations, as some people call it."

You opened your mouth, to plead, to beg, you didn't know, but Belphie interrupted you before you could speak.

"Anyway, they're not important. You need to go to Satan, right? He has some healing spells that would be of use..." Belphegor slowly untangled himself from you. "Can you walk on your own? Or do you need my help?"

You didn't want his help but, when you tried to stand up, the pain rendered you immobile. Belphegor caught sight of the wound in your abdomen and flattened his lips. For a moment, you were transported back to the entrance of the attic, Belphegor looking down at you with loathing and rage in his eyes, but the moment quickly vanished and Belphegor reached out to pick you up.

"I'm normally the one being carried but I can make an exception for you," he said in a faux, lighthearted tone.

The demons' screams became louder. More terrified.

"You'll have to make it up to me, though," Belphegor continued, already walking towards the House of Lamentations. "When you recover, I expect lots of cuddles. I won't accept any rejections~"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━ʕ -ᴥ-ʔ━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

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hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this thing got away from me. well as the tags say i want to do a follow up to this but idk what sort of follow up it'll be. def yandere though. speaking of yandere, watch this space for the next yandere thing that gets churned out, because i like yandere a lot, anyway it's going to be yandere brothers x mc. all of them, at the same time. will mc survive? probably! will they be happy they did? probably not. :) anyway i hope to be able to do more yandere content in the future

edit: SORRY I FORGOT THE CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THE FIRST 3

edit2: inserted one (1) instance of satan calling u kitten for a friend

[red-letter-imagines]

NSFW MDNI!!

Random Thirsting of the day:

FUCKING VS. MAKING LOVE BONTEN PT.2

(The Haitani Brothers)

RAN HAITANI

Fucking:

Happens when he's stressed, busy, mad or jealous

Usually involves more clothes, haphazardly worn condoms and more frequent purchases of birth control pills.

The man has insane stamina; even after six quickies all around the Bonten building (yes, that includes Rindou's quarters), he's barely satisfied.

Has a knack for choking and dirty talks his partner's soul out, especially when he's getting possessive.

Surprisingly doesn't believe in hickies that much when he's fucking. He knows that ass is his, and that he's fucked it to fit his dick only. He knows he's got his partner's mind, body and soul. No need to stake claim what's entirely yours 🖤

However, if his partner finds it fit to mark him in any way, he won't mind. He belongs to them in every way too, so it's only fair.

Is that kind of man who walks away from a wreck without a hair out of place, same principle with fucking. No one can ever tell, except during meals. He eats for three people.

Making Love:

Happens more than fucking, and his favorite kind of sex.

Tries to do it as often as he can, but with his job being so hectic and taxing, he manages four times a week max.

A lot of feathery, teasing touches followed by his lips and tongue.

Whispers against his partner's skin. Most times it's just lust-driven gibberish, but when his partner is in need of comfort or reassurance, he tells them how much he loves them, what he loves about them, everything to soothe his beloved.

Always intertwines their hands when making love, relishing in the warmth and feel of their palms. Kisses every knuckle.

Refuses to finish unless his partner has cum at least twice before he puts his dick in.

The type to maintain eye contact constantly.

Aftercare is thoughtful and giggly. He turns into such a sap after making love, needy for cuddles, kisses and whining when his partner doesn't give it to them fast enough.

Prepares a warm bath if his love desires, but mostly just wants to stay in bed and fall asleep together.

Never misses an opportunity to tell his partner 'I love you' before they close their eyes.

RINDOU HAITANI

Fucking:

His favorite pastime. Like literally snatches that ass every chance he gets.

Doesn't have to have a reason for it; he's DTF all day everyday.

Tends to have a sadistic streak. He feels it more when his partner is embarrassed or nervous about getting caught.

Is the type to expect head anytime he asks for it. Fucks their mouth to the throat, and squeezes their neck just to feel the outline of his cock under their skin.

Rips his partner's clothes and doesn't give a shit. Usually ends with him donating his coat and driving them home.

Unlike his brother, Rindou sees hickies and lovebites as a necessity during sex. He just loves seeing proof of their shared passion, and the reactions people make when they see.

Loves cockwarming when him and his love are lazing around. Has them pantless on his lap while they play videogames, his dick resting peacefully inside them.

Kisses are mainly teeth and tongue, and draws blood when he's mad.

Has a safeword, and it's been used more times than he'd like.

Making Love:

Less rough, but just as dirty.

Sees undressing his partner as foreplay; slowly licking every newly exposed skin and never breaking eye contact.

Shares his brother's nasty tongue, for oral or dirty talk, both apply.

Doggystyle is his favorite. Something about it just feels so animalistic to him, and he has full control.

If his partner's insecure about their body, he gets mad. Spits out compliments like insults, pistoning his hips against theirs as if it offended him.

Sweats buckets during sex. He'd be dripping sweat down the tip of his nose and onto his beloved's face, and laughs at them for being grossed out.

His 'I love you's are quiet, but spoken with such reverence it actually brings tears to both their eyes.

Yeah, he's a little bit of a crier during love-making.

Aftercare is sloppy, but endearingly so.

Googles stuff for aftercare

Fluffs their pillows like that'll change something, or massages their feet as if he'd done anything to it.

A flustered mess when his love asks about it, and storms out the room when he's laughed at.

Comes back and pins them under the blanket, yelling about how they should sleep now.

Thirst.