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ryin-silverfish · 5 months ago

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LMK Fanfic: The Serpent and the Deluge

AO3 Mirror

LMK S5 spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

Kinda a companion piece to my "Chaos doesn't work that way" post.

Featuring: the Nine-Headed Demon telling a story, and lots of Chinese mythos references.

We met again, Harbinger.

Now hold on, and hold your punches. We are in a dream, the realm souls wander to in their slumber. You can't touch me here, nor can I touch you; though I apologize for intruding without permission, it doesn't really matter when this visit is my last.

Why am I here? To tell you a story about a cave.

Oh come on, no need to look all bored before I even begin. I know you've heard it once, but I promise, this one is better than the last. The Cave and the Sun: Expanded Edition, if you would.

Yes, I'm very obsessed with the sound of my own voice. You would too if you were stuck in the Palace of Darkness for centuries, accompanied only by the cries of hungry ghosts and my nine late colleagues, droning on and on about crimes and punishments.

Please, Harbinger, just let me have my one last indulgence before leaving it all behind, once and for all.

Where was I? Ah, the cave.

Officially, it is not a cave, but the Terrace of Gonggong. But if you were born in the empty void beneath, amidst the pooling blood and endlessly collapsing earth, you'd never know.

Whose blood, I heard you ask? The blood of Xiangliu, loyal minister of Gonggong, shed by Yu the Great, from which my kind spawn and return to upon the end of a single life, so that we may be born anew. Rocks weren't the only thing you can spontaneously pop out of in the age of the ancients, it turns out.

One day, a little bird and a little snake crawled out of the pool, like countless others before them, and didn't get eaten by their malformed siblings on the way out. Up and up, they climbed, until they were scooped up by the scaled claws of the elders, nine heads fully grown, and told of their destiny: nothing.

Yes, you heard that right. Nothing.

That was all their kind were, and would be, sealed beneath the Five Altars, misbegotten ilks of the Floodbringer, whose blood and flesh were marked forever by the deeds of the Breaker of the Sky Pillar.

“So venture not into the light above,” they warned, even as their ramshackle nests sank deeper and deeper into the putrid swamp. “Our essences are cursed, stained by the transgressions of our forefathers. You will bring them nothing but misery and destruction, and be boiled down to nothing in return.”

And it was easy for the little bird to almost believe them, as she tore into the flesh of their malformed siblings, spawns of Xiangliu who had come back incomplete, in bits and pieces, driven only by hunger until they dissolved into the pool of blood once more.

But, as always, the best way to get someone to do something is warning them against it, and the little snake is a born contrarian.

...

He heard the call while hanging upside down on a stalactite, tasting the copper-scented air with his forked tongue, trying to catch a whiff of the wind that slipped through the cracks.

They all did. Yet, unlike the ones above ground, it was a call some were still capable of refusing, dampened by the seals and reduced to a fraction of its strength.

Come to me, it said, and only the spawns with the weakest and strongest will listened.

"What are you doing, Ah Jiu?" The little bird yelled, hovering above the many-limbed tide of malformed spawns, stepping all over each other as they made their way up the steep cliffs. "Come back here, right this instant!"

The little snake did not listen. Could not listen. As he unfurled his own wings and followed the tide, the call had become a song, loud and mesmerizing, drowning out all the other sounds inside and outside of him, till only a single word remained: Come.

So, like any frustrated, overprotective sibling, the little bird took off after him.

...

They emerged out of a sea of blood, covered in the viscera of their malformed siblings, who had slammed themselves against the protective spells of the seals, over and over and over, until a brief opening was created.

They looked into the light together, and it burned. Horribly. It's a miracle that they weren't blinded forever.

The little snake, who saw more with his tongue than his actual eyes, was the first to regain his senses. Whereas the world inside the cave was like a spiderweb, thin threads stretching across a metal-scented void, the world outside was a tapestry of smells and sounds and vibrations, stretching endlessly towards the horizon.

He took so long adoring this tapestry, he didn't even notice the little bird flying off. As fierce and practical-minded as she was, when she heard the call in all of its wondrous, terrible glory, she darted after it like a huntress pursuing her prey, an arrow cutting through the air.

If she was alive in this day and age, she'd be the sort of tourist who headed straight for the destinations, took photos of the biggest, most iconic landmarks, then spent the rest of the day sleeping on the bus.

The little snake, however, preferred to stroll his way there leisurely. Enjoy the scenery, even as the tour guide was screaming his name into the speaker, telling him to hurry up, for heaven's sake.

Why am I so familiar with such...modern stuff? My my, do you know how many tourists managed to die in the dumbest manner ever, and how many of them ended up in front of the Tenth Court?

Impersonating a king of the Underworld meant I got a share of the workload too, and I'll admit, after all the extra paperwork and inane cases the others had thrown in my way, it made killing them just a tiny bit cathartic.

Back to the little snake. When he arrived, the entirety of demonkind had gathered beneath a towering mountain peak. From its top, the call echoed on and on.

Amidst beasts and beings of all shapes and sizes, he could barely spot the little bird, her dark, iridescent feathers standing in stark contrast with the white fur of the nine-tailed fox beside her.

He was only allowed a single glance, before the call became a deafening choir, and a verdant banner, made of jade-like scales, was raised up into the air, by a stunningly beautiful woman with the lower body of a snake.

A goddess, she called herself. And she had summoned them here to topple a dynasty.

...

You have already met Nüwa, Harbinger. You know very well what she's like.

Whatever you think of her now, I have a warning for you: do not ever see her as your mother, or your kin. Or anything other than a goddess.

We are her kin. Everything born naturally from Heaven and Earth, out of the Qi flow of Yin and Yang, whether they call themselves gods or demons——are of the same substance.

And look how she treated us. Watch that banner, the Spirit Calling Banner, work its magic, calling us to kneel before her regardless of our will. Would you ever make such a thing and keep it in storage, just in case you need to raise it against your friends and family?

You, whom she molded from stone and clay, are not her children either. Not even the children of a terrible parent.

The best analogy I can come up with is a figurine collector and her collections. If my brief peeks into the living realm hold true, some collectors love their dolls more than anything. Would probably save their collection instead of all the other valuables, when a fire broke out in their house.

But figurines can't think or feel. They won't have a problem with being locked eternally in a glass case and having it be their entire world. They don't bleed when used in a wargame. Nor will they worship their collector as a goddess, or write a love poem to her.

If Nüwa was ever human, I'd sympathize with her disgust a lot more, when Zhou the Tyrant expressed his desire to take her as a concubine.

Well, she isn't, and neither am I.

She sent my sister and her new friends to tempt King Zhou and topple his dynasty, promising to release our kind from the Terrace in return, then executed them for doing exactly that. All because they had harmed too many of her precious figurines in the process. Honestly, what was she expecting?

This, I can never forgive.

I, however, am not poor Azure. I don't fancy myself a champion for demonkind, and my dear sister had made her choices, however unwise they were.

I have waited all these years, endured more setbacks than you can count, done my fair share of manipulation and sacrifices, for a goal greater than petty revenge.

I wish to shatter the cage that traps us all. Unravel the cruel threads of Fate and Destiny.

...

What do you know of Chaos, Harbinger?

It's scary. And bad. Hmm, I expected to hear that, yet I'm still disappointed. How very human——and divine, to impose morality and wishful thinking and arbitrary orders onto the unfathomable, the natural!

Allow me to show you a glimpse of the truth. The same truth the little snake gazed upon when he returned to the cave, and made his efforts in vain, to save those who did not wish to be saved.

This is Chaos.

The primordial cosmic sea, the warm deluge of nothing and everything. The potential for Life.

"One begets Two, Two begets Three, Three begets everything." Chaos separates into Yin and Yang, and through the copulation of the two, Heaven and Earth and Life come into existence.

The spontaneous spawning of beings from Qi flows, from the mighty gods and fantastic beasts of old to your garden-variety yaoguai, as primordial matter divides itself——that will be impossible without Chaos.

To put it in simpler terms: remember the blood of Xiangliu? From the pool we came, and it's the pool we'd ultimately return to.

"After everything you've said and done, I'm even less convinced that it's a good thing."

Oh, that is not an argument. Merely a statement of facts. At the end of the Great Cycle, when the process of division runs out of momentum at last, everything will return to Chaos and be reborn once more.

An end that will not come in the next few eons, yet one Nüwa desires to "protect" this world from, nonetheless.

Confused? Need some time to process what you've just heard? No worries. Let me tell you another story in the meantime.

Or, as I like to call it, the fable of the failed cosmetic surgery.

...

The god of the South Sea is Shu, the god of the North Sea is Hu, and the Lord of the Center is Hundun.

The three encountered each other inside the domain of Hundun, and Hundun welcomed them warmly as guests.

To repay his kindness, Shu and Hu thought up an idea: "All humans have seven orifices through which they look and listen, eat and breathe. Yet Hundun doesn't have any. Let us bore some for him, so he can sense the world."

Everyday they bore one orifice, and on the seventh day, Hundun died.

...

"...What was the point of this story?"

Who knows! Maybe it doesn't have one. Maybe the old human who wrote it was poking fun at the incessant need to find a point in everything, like he always did.

But my point, Harbinger, is this: death, destruction, all the scary stuff you are thinking of——these are not the essence of Chaos, merely the results of its division. You cannot have Life without its opposite, Yang without Yin; for every push, there must be a pull.

Thus, by dividing this world from Chaos, Nüwa has ensured its doom.

Much like water, if you build a dam and only dams to defend against a flood, the silts and mud gradually build up at the bottom, and it's only a matter of time before the river overflows into an even more catastrophic deluge.

By creating the Pillar of Heaven, what would have been nothing but a storm of Qi currents, a surge of spontaneous births and deaths in the ancient ages, became a disastrous flood that periodically threatened to engulf the artificial bubble once and for all.

It is her prison as much as ours. And when its walls fell at last, it would have taken every single prisoner with it, in the same way the Terrace of Gonggong has taken mine.

...

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so the saying goes.

Unfortunately, the little snake is quickly disabused of such notions. In the decades he was away, the cave had grown even colder, darker, more dismal than ever. Fewer of his kin stood in the swamp, as more and more youths came back malformed, wrong, incomplete, the Chaos in their blood fizzling out with each passing and birth.

Yet still they clung to the familiar, the corrosive certainty, the willful ignorance.

“You have taken the brightest of us with you, allowing her to burn up in the light, and still you dare whisper your poison into the ears of the younglings? Still you wish to lure them to such a cruel fate?”

Monster. Unforgivable.

Words turned into sharp retorts turned into accusations turned into screams, then, at last, pleadings, as his kin tied him to the heaviest stone they could find, then pushed it off a cliff, into the abyss where all the blood flowed to and gathered.

He sank and sank, further and further away from the nonexistent light of their warm bodies, for what seemed like an eternity.

Then he opened his eyes and saw.

...

He saw everything he had been, every time he had crawled out and returned to the pool. Basked in the remembrances of those he once called kin, clinging to him like dews on metal as he shook them aside, and gazed deeper into the blood-red void.

He saw the nine-headed serpent, hissing, sinking into and lunging out of the earth below as if it was made of water. Before it was a man with a face like weathered cliffs and an ape-like gait, who calmly held up his golden staff, standing tall against the poisonous tides the serpent unleashed with each of its breaths.

He saw the faceless vermillion beast, the winged tiger, the beast with human face and boar tusks, the horned monster gnawing on its own flesh, raging in vain as the glowing chains dragged them down, into the void between the stars.

He saw the red-headed giant, his snake tail lashing out wildly against the circle of fire that was shrinking around him, fueled by the burning man with the body of a beast.

With one last desperate roar, the giant leaped out of the flames, plunging his head right into the golden pillar that stood between Heaven and Earth.

A crack formed. He looked into it, and he saw, he saw, he saw it all——

Come back to us, the shades of the pool cried out behind him. Come back and forget everything. Close your eyes and begin anew. Come back, it's safe and warm in here.

Never, he said.

Then he reached into the depth of himself. Felt the little droplet of warm chaos, cracking, pulsating, dividing——and set it aflame.

...

He slithered through the blood, like a flame burning across a trail of oil. Past the long-submerged caverns where generations of spawns once carved their tales into the stone, past his writhing, malformed siblings, through the cracks in the collapsed entrance where a little snake and a little bird once chased after the echoes of a call.

The seals did not even activate, as he burned his way out of long-dried bloodstains, and emerged into the chamber of the Five Altars.

Meticulously, he shattered them, one by one. With each altar that crumbled, the earth beneath shook, and the cracks in the ceiling and walls widened.

He could sense the ripple in the blood, feel his fellow spawns dissolving back into the pool. It was quickly becoming a vortex in the lightless depth, as the essence of Chaos ate through the bedrocks, the thick Yin energy of the Underworld, the very fabric of space, returning to the great beyond where true peace lay.

A peace that would be forever out of his reach. Or so he thought, as the Terrace came down around him.

...

"Wow, you are even more of a monster than I thought."

Ah, I see what you are doing here. Such childish provocation will no longer work on me, now that I'm in the process of discarding my own childish indignance, my body sinking deeper and deeper into the primordial sea as we speak.

But still: if trying to save people without their consent makes me a monster, then yes. I am a monster, and so are you, Harbinger.

Please. You think you have found a true third solution, a long-term one? No, had Nüwa even explained it properly, what your sacrifice was supposed to accomplish?

Of course she didn't. So allow me.

The so-called Great Cycle she spoke of is nothing like the real deal. It is as artificial as the division between this world and Chaos.

Had I not awakened you prematurely, you'd have emerged into a cold, desolate, broken realm where all life had withered, yet was not allowed to be broken down and returned to its origins.

You'd have walked like a lamb to the slaughter, led by the last few ghostly fools of the Underworld, to burn yourself up inside the Pillar and reset the world. Moving it back in time to the very beginning, where life still flourished.

This is your true destiny. This is what she thinks of as a mercy, creating a sacrificial effigy who has no attachments, nothing to miss. Having never been properly alive, surely death will be as light as a feather to the poor thing!

"Then why did you still want me to sacrifice myself?" Have I ever told you that, child? Your decision was your own, whether I liked it or not. Had you said "No!" to my face and walked away to face the end with dignity, I'd have defended that decision too, and I did.

Either way, I'll have my exit. Whether swept up in the flood and returned to Chaos in bits and pieces, or...to a point where I'd no longer remember. When I'm still capable of making different choices.

Now, your solution is unexpected, not gonna lie, but still one that upholds the division. Instead of using five powerful support beams to hold up the broken pillar, you've made the entirety of humanity into its anchor, tying them irrevocably to the fate of the world.

If I were a true monster, the easiest way to render your effort naught would be killing off large swaths of them in one go, before they had time to fully adapt to their new reality.

As wonderful as it is, this new barrier you've created is more of a net instead of a brick wall, full of holes, and an emissary such as me can easily slip through.

This emissary, however, is not the one you should be looking out for. It's the exiles, and they are coming.

But I've lingered and rambled long enough, haven't I? Guess it's time to leave my doubts behind, too, along with whatever sentimentality for this world that remains.

It's a pleasure talking to you, child. I'd say "Don't miss me too much", except I know you won't. Literally. You won't remember this dream, even if you want to.

And when we meet again——if we ever meet again——I will be me no longer, nor trapped in this maelstrom of divisions.

I will have merged back into the One, and I sincerely hope you will too, one day.

#lego monkie kid #lmk fanfic #lmk fanfiction #lego monkie kid spoilers #lmk s5 spoilers #lmk nine headed demon #nine headed demon #lmk mk #chinese mythology #xiang liu #investiture of the gods #fengshen yanyi

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leelreallylikespersona · 9 months ago

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Decaying Godhood (Persona AU)

I've been rambling and throwing ideas for this AU for a good bit now, here's a much more cohesive post about it!

Shoutout to @the-squeege and @artekai for discussing ideas with me, it was super helpful o(*°▽°*)o

Spoiler warning for P3, P4, P5/P5R, P5S, and P5T!

So let’s meet the main characters and their arcana!

Nyx (Tower)

Ryoji (Death)

Izanami (Empress)

Izanagi (Emperor)

Yaldabaoth (Devil)

Satanael (Justice)

Emma (High Priestess)

Salmael (Lovers)

Azathoth (Hermit)

Adam (Strength)

I’m omitting Pandora, Nyarlathotep, Clockwork God, and Enlil since I haven’t played the games they’re from… I don’t know enough about them to include them properly.

I’m scrapping the usual typings and giving (almost) everyone new typings… mostly because I have no idea who I’d apply fire, wind, etc to, none of these guys scream any particular element. I’m still working out the typings but what I know for sure so far are the “typeless” ones:

Adam: Strictly physical attacks

Azathoth: He is strictly a healer in this, and has no offensive attacks

EMMA: Navigator, can occasionally use almighty attacks

I’m leaning toward making their typings relating to humans, somehow.

As for the plot, at least a quick summary of what I’m thinking so far… all of humanity has come to a standstill. As in, time has stopped progressing for them. However, effects of leaving a living thing out to the elements are still occurring. In other words, humans are kind of just rotting away. It’s a very slow, magic mixed with organic decay kind of process that’s going on here. The appearance of this rot becomes more and more obvious as our group of unlikely heroes progress.

The gods, with the exceptions of Nyx, Thanatos, and Izanagi are dead, so how does this work? For this AU, none of the final bosses really die… their physical forms are abolished and their concepts are left to wander a nothingness, endlessly reflecting on what they’ve done. For Adam’s case, he stuck with Maruki until he died, then he took on a human form and lived among people for many years. Now would be a good time to mention that this takes place years after the events of P5S, so any human characters are long gone.

Let’s start from the beginning of the AU. It focuses on Nyx, Ryoji, and both P3 protagonists. These four are kind of just in a white void. Ryoji is able to move freely, he can see, he could leave too, but doesn’t want to leave Minato and Minako. They’re depicted as statue-ish figures, with a few features a deity would have. Their positions after the events of P3 caused them to go from humans to some sort of gods themselves. They are still mostly human though, this is important for the start of the plot.

Nyx’s sealing is visualized here as having been chained to these two. Until now, she couldn’t move, she was paralyzed along with having actual restraints. Therefore she couldn’t see, her eyes were forced shut. She couldn’t speak either. She could hear though, and the only thing she could do was listen to Ryoji speak to Minato and Minako. Some days, he’d talk to them as if they were still around. Other times, she could hear him mourn. Initially, she didn’t understand it at all. Sure, that’s her kid, and she cared about him somewhat, but she didn’t understand why he’d cry about them so much. There’d be times too, where Ryoji would talk to her, usually it would be him saying he wishes she could understand humans like he did, or sometimes he’d yell at her. Over the course of years and years, Nyx comes to understand Ryoji’s feelings… somewhat, anyway.

This brings me back to the chains she has. Now, all of the sudden, she can see and move again. And these chains, which were once really short, are now much longer, allowing Nyx to walk pretty far from them. This happening is meant to show Minato and Minako’s humanity being affected by the Rot, which is causing them to lose their grip on Nyx.

Upon hearing some movement, Ryoji is quick to become aggressive, but Nyx is still disoriented from suddenly being able to see and speak again, so she doesn’t return any hostility. You can imagine the arguing taking place as they try to figure out what’s happening. After a while, they realize they are able to see into the human realm. That’s when they notice the state of humanity.

Of course, they don’t notice the Rot yet. These two are the first to venture into the human realm to investigate what is going on. It’s mostly Ryoji that wants to figure things out, he takes Nyx with him to keep an eye on her.

This brings me to the motivations of each of the characters… Ryoji going out of his way to help humans makes sense. He did live as one, and made a lot of friends who he cared a lot for. For others, they hate humanity (cough Yaldabaoth), so why’re they here? Simply put, after humans rot away, the realm of gods is next. Also worth mentioning, everyone now has a humanoid form (if they didn’t have one already), so this is something of a second chance for these guys too.

I’ll go through each character:

Nyx: After spending years only listening to Ryoji talk to the twins and voice his affections for humanity, she gains a better understanding of them and obtains a sense of self (much like how Thanatos/Death became Ryoji during P3). She feels like she owes it to Ryoji to help him now.

Izanami and Izanagi: After the events of P4, these two really didn’t feel like doing anything else… Izanami was unable to do much anyway. They are later dragged out of the realm of nothingness they were hanging out in. Izanagi’s time with Yu makes him far more inclined to help out, Izanami is a little heartbroken that after the Investigation Team proved humanity’s worth, they fell into this state.

Satanael: He ditches the Phantom Thieves after Yaldabaoth is taken care of, and left to go cause minor bouts of chaos, nothing too drastic. He doesn’t outright try to end humanity, he just likes “poking fun”, so when everything comes to a standstill, he’s alarmed. Satanael is more neutral compared to everyone else, he does care about mankind, not to the extent that Ryoji and Azathoth do, though. He doesn’t hate them either, so he (probably) helps them for a selfless reason.

Yaldabaoth: For sure is only saving humanity so he also doesn’t rot away. Perhaps by the end, he’s changed a bit, but now that he’s given a physical form again, who knows what he’ll get up to.

EMMA: Upon being defeated, she spent her time watching over Sophia and Ichinose. She chooses to help humanity because of how well the PTs treated Sophia.

Salmael: Toshiro’s anxiousness rubbed off on him a bit… As the god of stagnation, this halt in humanity seems like it’s his doing, but it isn’t. He ventures out thinking that he somehow accidentally did it, and is horrified by the Rot..

Azathoth and Adam: These two genuinely care for humanity, their motivations are completely selfless. While Azathoth can suspend his emotions, Adam spent more time with Maruki, living as a human for years, so he’s much more emotional over the whole situation.

None of these guys are able to have Personas, but are able to “summon” their deity forms as an extension of themselves (so there’s a split-consciousness situation happening). Awakenings are still required for them to be able to do this, though, similar to Persona awakenings.

This ability requires one to first of all realize that their status and power as a god is due to humanity’s perception of them, but then they also must accept that. Only then they can “break free” of their restricted humanoid forms to use their more powerful forms. These forms look similar to their in-game designs, but there’ll be some differences, as I want to give them fun new(ish) designs…

Acquiring this ability is much easier for some than others… Ryoji and Adam as an example, are really quick to accept this once they understand the idea initially, but then a few others refuse to accept that humans are responsible for their power.

As for enemies, Shadows are present due to humans being unable to pass properly. For major bosses, the Rot left some human bodies as empty husks that became aggressive. These husks are attracted to the power the gods have.

Some side characters I also want to include… Jose and Sophia run the shop that provides weapons and other equipment! There’s also the Velvet Room that has specifics I’m trying to figure out… I might make Yu and Ren the attendants.

I think that’s all I have for now! I’d still like to figure out the order in which each god joins the team… It starts with Ryoji and Nyx, Salmael probably second since he’s already out investigating (he can be the navigator before Emma joins), then it’s either Adam since he’s also around, or Emma. This is still a wip! So if anyone has any comments or anything, feel free to send an ask! I'm already doing some doodles for this so hopefully I'll have some art for it soon (❁´◡`❁)

#Persona 3 #Persona 4 #Persona 5 #Persona 5 Royal #Persona AU #P3 AU #P4 AU #P5R AU #I honestly would love to see the final bosses come back somehow...#But that'll never happen so I'll just have this AU to keep me entertained (●'◡'●)#P3 spoilers #P4 spoilers #P5 spoilers #P5R spoilers #P5S spoilers #P5T spoilers

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socialistasshole · 1 year ago

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Man I'm frustrated as shit right now and I can't even begin to imagine how those closer to the situation feel. How fucking dare anybody support the genocide happening in Palestine right now by calling boycotts and calls for ceasefire "antisemetic", as if they even understand what that word means.

How about we bomb Isreal? No, that would be fucked up, right? Because you'd be killing and ruining the lives of countless civilians right? Nah, these motherfuckers would be more upset about the fact that the people dying are Jewish, as if that matters when we're talking about matters of life and death.

Nobody sane is saying "let's kill all the jews" or "man I fucking hate Jewish people" because of this genocide. People are just pissed off at the state of Isreal and they want innocent people

to stop being fucking massacred

I'm not going to pretend that I even begin to understand the whole complex relationship between Palestine and Isreal. But it doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to know that genocide is bad??

I really wish I could begin to understand the mental gymnastics people are pulling to defend Isreals actions.

Anyway, just seen one too many posts today of people defending Isreal and it's been eating at me.

I'm sorry to all those who are more closely affected by this conflict. I really wish there was more we could do to stop the assault besides just screaming endlessly into the internet void and yelling at corrupt politicians that don't give a fuck.

#palestine #genocide #isreal #gaza

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butacrusader · 2 years ago

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000 - Why Do We Have This Slot?

This cage is vast, it has no walls. While I stand still all I see is a white plain stretching across an equally blank sky. There is no life in this place. I can move for as long as I choose but should I stop even for a moment I am snapped back to this spot, forever damned to be tethered to my prison. Despite this, I have wandered far, exploring the purgatory I have known for countless years. In my travels in this wasteland of white I have seen flashes of things, horrible things that simply should not be. Grotesque abominations that appear for moments at a time only to disappear as if they had never been there at all.

My memories of these creatures continue to lead me back to one memory specifically. A black shapeless being, a formless thing that could not have been created by any God in this or any other reality, appeared ahead of me as I walked and stared at me with dead crimson eyes. As I drew closer to it in my mind I could feel its hate, its rage, and its fear, emotions I know well but have never experienced with such intensity as I felt from this entity. As quickly as it came, it disappeared, and for a brief moment I swore I could see its twisted maw speak a word, an utterance I have yet to understand in content and context.

"Foundation".

I have puzzled over the meaning of this word, this final message of a nightmare creature whom I have not seen since. I have tried to approach the other flashes in hopes of learning more about this word, but I am barely able to comprehend their appearance before the creatures disappear back into the void from which they were spawned. It has made me wonder…what are these creatures? Where do they come from? Where do I come from? How did I get to this place? How do I get out of this place? These questions remain unanswered, and I fear they may never be answered, the thought of which serves only to drive me mad.

It is curious that the other effect of the chance encounter has proven far more productive. Prior to this, I was unaware that I possessed a mouth, or vocal cords, or any mechanism to make noise. Though I knew I drew breath, the emptiness around me provided surprisingly little auditory feedback when the air rushed into my lungs. Despite this, sound was not only possible, but now almost inviting. After hearing the wretched words spoken to me out loud, I felt it was my duty…no, my right to destroy the silence I had known for so very, very long.

What began as a whisper barely audible grew and grew as I became more and more emboldened by my newfound abilities. Soon, I was shouting nonsensical words to the skies, laughing in my mind as the silence was broken by me. And even more surprisingly, the world listened. Ripples of energy appeared in the air, controlled solely by the weight and volume of my voice. Should I whisper, they would be soft and light, floating whimsically for a few seconds before disappearing. Should I yell, they would be sharp and heavy, angrily stabbing themselves at the useless oblivion around me.

This pleased me greatly, for it gave meaning to the chaos, gave me purpose. I was no captive! I was a god! This was not my prison, but my realm! My words were law, my voice my weapon! Through these powers I would recreate this realm into one of life, one of joy that I controlled, that I would rule justly! This is how it would be, for I had decided it would be so! I grinned as I focused all my energies, all my hopes and all my ambitions into one tumultuous, deafening bellow, the roar that would begin my reign as lord of the hollow nothingness.

But it did not change anything. The ripples my effort created, though incredibly violent in nature, vanished only a few seconds later leaving no trace of any impact they may have made on this damned abyss. I tried again, with no change to the outcome. Over and over I shouted, my angry yells eventually devolving into screams of fear and horror at the prospect of being trapped endlessly in the damned empty silence that pervaded this abominable place. I screamed and screamed until I could not scream any more, at which point my only other option was to weep. It was not fair. It was not fair! IT IS NOT FAIR!

I did not do anything to deserve this fate, why am I here?! Who or what would be so cruel as to trap someone in a blank nothingness for eternity?! "Foundation", did it do this to me!? Is "Foundation" my captor?! Or is it my creator? It does not matter! I will howl and shriek at the emptiness and until the waves of force I create rips open an exit from this hell, and then I may be able to find the truth, the one fragment of logic and reason in this unending sea of madness and despair that is my existence!

…I will not stop screaming until I am free

#scp foundation

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tabbyrp · 2 months ago

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Day 14

@goodlawman

The twin suns of Tatooine had dipped below the horizon, the bitter shadow of night stealing all the warmth from Freetown. Tabby sat on the roof of the small, sand-blasted building she called home, her eyes scanning the endless dunes. The outpost was used to being on alert. Whether krayt dragons, Tusken raiders, or the occasional womp rat tripping the sensors when sneaking in for scraps.

This was different. Tabby had felt it for weeks. A slow, creeping sensation gnawing at her bones.

She’d tried to explain it to Cobb, and while he listened, there was only a ruffle of her hair while he tried to offer reassurance. “Tabs, this planet is a tough enough place for anything to survive. There ain’t going to be anything out there we don’t know how to deal with.”

But Tabby had still felt eyes on her as she slept. Watched. Hunted. It crawled through her dreams, waiting. Ageless and immense, reminiscent of the dark voids of space she had once endlessly traveled through. There had been stories back then. The crew liked to make new arrivals shiver with tales of monsters born from dead stars, living where light couldn’t touch, feasting on ships that went off course, or just the sacrifices shoved out of airlocks.

Pulling her blaster from her belt, she jumped down from the roof and made her way through the silent street, her boots kicking up little clouds of sand. Her hand tightened on the grip of her weapon as she stopped just shy at the edge of town, where the beams of lights from Freetown stopped in a hazy circle’s edge and the dunes took over in an endless sea of black.

Then it came. A sound so low, she wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all. The whistle of a sandstorm resonated through the ground, growing evermore shrill until Tabby winced with the urge to cover her ears.

The sound stopped and with it, the creature erupted from the dune. A massive, shapeless thing made of smoke and shifting obsidian bone, it moved with unnatural speed. Amid the swirling darkness, a skeletal face with burning eyes glared at her.

Tabby barely had time to dive behind a beacon before it struck. The metal cylinder ripped in half as the beast lashed out with a long, clawed limb, the sand rattling with the force of its blows. Scrambling back, Tabby fired her blaster wildly. The bolts sizzled into the creature’s form, but then vanished into the darkness.

She yelled for help, but the hurricane roar of the monster drowned out her voice. She rolled to the side just as its claws slashed where she’d been a second before. Panic surged through her. Freetown’s defenses wouldn’t stop it, and her blaster was useless.

They were all going to die.

Then, a bright flash exploded in the corner of her vision, and the creature let out a high-pitched screech, swirling its attention to where Cobb stood at the end of the street, a double-barrelled rifle in his hands “Tabs, stay down,” he yelled, firing another shot.

The blast of energy hit the creature square in one gleaming red eye, and for the first time, it recoiled. Smoke rose from where the shot had landed, and the monster writhed in pain. Cobb fired again, hitting the second eye with deadly precision. The creature let out a final, desperate wail before disintegrating into the sand.

Tabby collapsed to her back, breathless. She was grateful to still be able to see the stars overhead before Cobb came over, pulling her to her feet. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Told you there was something out there.”

Cobb draped an apologetic arm over her shoulder as he glanced toward the dunes. “Yeah, you did. And do you happen to know... was that the only one of ‘em?”

Tabby’s gaze followed his, the desert stretching out into the same endless darkness that deep space could be. She listened but it was silent once more. “I hope so.”

It was when Cobb went to bed after settling Tabby in hers, and dreamed of two sets of fire-red eyes, that he learned they were about to need so much more than hope.

#goodlawman #au: circle in the sand (star wars)#putting the ooooo in spooktober

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alicenaivory · 3 months ago

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【•⊱𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐬—𝐈𝐈𝐈•⊱】

[Voices Of The Damned. That is the only thing I can call these voices as they chatter endlessly, rattling my brain and feasting on my pain. My mind would never be my own again and this void won’t stop swallowing me.

The thought of living weighed down on ones brain like it was the hardest to endure but somehow dying sounded much easier. Who would’ve ever thought dying (vampirism) would make you feel more alive and for some just deader than before?

Deader than this man here slumped in the chair. Killing him should’ve stopped this hollow inside me from growing, it was supposed to quiet the noise but it never lasted.

I knew better than this. The pain never stops!

The voices will always persist, throwing all my insecurities at me. Piercing a dark void in my brain until finally I do the honors of removing my daylight ring so the flames consume me.

So I relied on the suffering of others, it quieted the noise but the silence never lasted.

I was only fooling myself.

Wasting my eternity creating a circle of toxicity.

I should grow up. It won’t be long before I’m knocking at the door of two hundred years on earth with nothing real to show for it. Nothing about the number of people I killed would be impressive or matter in the end.

The thought of being the age of an ancient, pulling the same shenanigans would be embarrassing and shameful to me.

I often find myself missing the days when things were innocent. When I wasn’t as cool fleshed and human blood pumped through my veins. I use to recoil at anything that reminded me of being one of them. To be warm and fuzzy, feeling things without the noise.

I’d drown out the sound of my screaming mother and father as I lie outside in the grass. Not to watch the stars but to imagine peace and silence. It’ll be ruined the minute I’d step back in my house and mother would find any reason to yell about the dirt in my dress.

I’d still hold onto hope, reminding myself there would be better days.

But I’ve come a long way from her. I was very far from the girl who enjoyed the peace and quiet. Further from my reach with the girl who wanted better days.

Now I was the one to ruin the better days and turn a town to gloomy death and fog.

I was the girl who feasted on the screams and suffering of others.

I craved the chaos.

It’s been this way for centuries now and I did seek a chance to start over and do better but that’ll never be with this fractured mind.

Here I am in a new city, new place and space to start over and yet I have somehow made another mess of myself.

I’ve been asked “Doesn’t it get exhausting?” and truth be told. There’s nothing more exhausting than it.

Nothing more lonely and tiresome than spending your immortal life stuck in the same place. It’s like I’m tripping over an endless hill, falling over and over again and picking myself up but only this time I’ve fallen and I stayed sticking to the ground.

I’m doing this alone!

I can’t let myself think about it.

I won’t allow myself to think about 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.

How the ones I held dear and close left me to my suffering all alone.

We’re they to blame?

Could I expect them to have the same tolerance for me?

Bonds had been torn until they were broken. Trust was misplaced until it was lost.

I was amusing until there was nothing to muse over anymore. I was entertaining until boredom was found in my flawed version of “entertainment.”

Now I am the shattered mess, cleaning up the pieces they broke, trying to fill in the empty pieces 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 took from me with them.

The weight of my own body feels like much to carry, like I’m drained and weak as I look down at the crimson sticking to my fingers, sighing at the thought of cleaning it up.]

It’s just not fair you know?

Why do I enjoy suffering so much?

[I refer to my humanity and how I kept it on, speaking to the dead man as if he still held any gain of consciousness left but he was long gone. Not to heaven nor hell, I didn’t believe in that but maybe his energy went somewhere unthinkable.

I turned my head to the right, watching him as if I were waiting for something so much as a response.]

They deem me as weak and I know it but neither of them could spend a single moment in here and survive!

[I pointed to my head, looking at him with a fierce cold gaze. He is laying slumped back, ignoring my rants like he has something better to do.]

Look at me when I’m talking to you!

[I found myself snapping at him as I reached down to tilt his head up, it fell forward pulling the rest of his body to the floor with a loud thud. I was sure I heard something break or crack, perhaps it was his neck or skull. I couldn’t tell.]

Who’s more dramatic between the two of us? Biggest riddle I’ll ever solve!

[I imply that he doesn’t want to listen because I feel unheard and hearing his killer out wasn’t exactly his obligation.

Everyone hears but is there anyone who truly listens?

Everyone has eyes to look but do they truly see?

I started to pace the floor, his silence had growing more aggravating than my own emotions. I kneeled down to near him, turning him over so he can look up at me. The lifelessness in his eyes were haunting but I couldn’t bring myself to feel remorseful.

Tears start to roll down my pale cheeks like rain, mascara sticking to my face and my eyes start to burn as my vision blurs.

I can hear the laughter in my mind, voices of the damned laughing joyously like they had won and I’ve never been more enraged!

Am I okay?

Am I /really/ doing better?

My last bit of sanity is shattering from the ground beneath me, tears no longer falling as they feel like their more crashing around me. I know I can make it all subside with one flick of a switch.

I was stronger than that wasn’t it?

Had my strength already faltered if I’m considering it?

Am okay? I pretend to be and I’m good at it.

I was okay being eternally their beautiful and deadly. . .

or maybe I was more of their beautiful and broken and there will never be any acceptance in that!

Where will I go from here? With all that I know what will I do? What is left?]

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igbylicious · 6 months ago

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it’s a tradition i treasure DEEPLY asdkjasdkdjdasjkdas!!!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

The sweater metaphor 🥺 it’s so good. weaters are warm and comforting.

aw i’m glad hehe i really wanted those cosy vibes for them!! (〃▽〃 )

God. it’s difficult to see others living your dream u_u pfff <3

sometimes living vicariously through fanfic is a joy, sometimes it’s a cruelty! ( ╯□╰ )

“so little” yeah sooo little, like having a loving, mutually beneficial relationship with two adonis-like men who are fun, kinky, and genuinely care about you. Barely anything at all 💅

well when you put it like that… they do bring just a lil smth to the table i guess uwu

uh oh simp alert!! (<- said as if i have not spent the last 6 months screaming into the void about ateez)

pffff hahaha at least San balances it all out by being just as bad of a simp right back! (╹◡╹✿)

i may be in love with him. you cant prove anything though.

sus 👀

i kinda really wanna see this, at the very least to satiate my desire to see Wooyoung beg, sob, whimper, and lose his actual mind

‘begging, sobbing, whimpering and losing his actual mind’, you say? noted ____〆(ⓛωⓛ)

hnjdfhjh Woo coming without any more help ;;;; i wanna pet him and tell him he did so good ;;;;;;;;;;;;;

saaaaaame ;;;;;;; San was stronger than i could ever be for reigning back his reaction asdsjkadsjkdsajk

Oh shes just like me fr fr

ASKDJASDKJ OK SEEING THOSE TWO QUOTES SIDE-BY-SIDE MADE ME SNORT-LAUGH SO UGLY god i wish i could say that was intentional xD but yeah reader at her most relatable LOL

how DARE you make me have emotions in the middle of this !!!!!! (affectionate) one moment im having thoughts none of which are in the bible, the next im all… all,

he’s their Sannie!!! ;;;; true story i actually had to take a short break here from writing bc i needed a good think on how to pivot back into the hard smut after that asdkjadskjkjs 〒▽〒

ASDKJASDKJKADSJJKADSJSDJKASKDJ

i will never get enough of how you write sub wooyoung, especially when he’s in this state - wrecked and pliant.

ngl he is easily my favourite sub to write EVER 〒▽〒 if that favouritism is showing in the fic, well, good! he deserves it!!! i always get all giggly & happy abt all your reactions, but the reactions to sub Wooyoung have an extra extra special place in my heart asjkasdjkdaskj ♡

need dick from a guy who whines /gen

FOR REAL!!!!!!!!! ಥ_ಥ

im no dom nor a switch, but i can imagine it’s such a nice change of pace after he’s been the one with most of the responsibility so far. (maybe i just assume it takes more out of a person to dom than it actually does? who knows lol xo)

i think that’s a fair assumption! obv it depends on the dom how much a scene wears them out and what kindof aftercare they need; but considering San had to look after TWO tied-up subs, making sure they’re both satisfied and safe during a pretty intense session? yeah i think that would take a lot out of most doms; that man is TIRED and absolutely deserves to get spoiled in return! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

endlessly amusing to me that San is the dom™ most of the time, but also the most shy out of the bunch xD woo and reader are being menaces and he’s just spluttering and trying to keep up with their shenanigans<3

asldjkasldksja i was lowkey hoping someone would point that out lol!!! yeah San is comfortable and confident abt sex within like, very specific parameters, but take one tiny step outside of them and he’s an instant blushy mess („• ᴗ •„)

By the way i'm keeping a doc of all this yelling im doing because i document EVERYTHING, and bc it's under a read-more and i don't want to risk losing it when i inevitably change my tumblr url, or tumblr fuckin... burns and dies. and i thought you might like to have access to it as well! so heres a link :)

omg we both have must-document-brain I LOVE IT, i keep backups of feedback ppl leave on this fic so it’s 1) all nicely gathered in one place & 2) in case smth ever gets messed up BUT THIS IS SO NICE AND STRUCTURED AHHHHHHHHH (♡°▽°♡) (i got the documenting part down, i do *not* got the organisational part down lol!)

ALSO!!! IN CASE YOU THOGUHT I WAS KIDDING ABT PRINTING IT OUT!!!!!!!

they keep me company when i’m making foodies hehe ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt10

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You and Wooyoung get tied up again, under slightly different circumstances than last time.

wc: 9.3k

ch. warnings: dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, San gets a lil mean here and there but he’s such a huge softie underneath it all, threesome, objectification, praise kink, degradation kink (@ Wooyoung, ‘slut’ is used 1x) & degradation as praise, blowjob, light choking on cock, orgasm denial, subspace, vaginal / anal fingering, cockwarming sorta, vibrator, DP (vaginal / anal), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, a few spanks, biting & bruises, pain kink, dacryphilia, squirting, creampies, condomless sex w/ IUD, aftercare, nicknames for reader (‘baby’, ‘good girl’, ‘cocksleeve’, ‘(fuck)toy’, ‘cockslut’ & ‘rope bunny’ 1x) (+ a 5 sec mention of shower sex (handjob) w/ lowkey subby San at the very end)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

additional warning: reader is referred to as ‘little’ 1x, but it’s strictly meant as ‘calling you cute in a lowkey demeaning way’, not a reflection on physical size

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

After your heart-to-heart with San and Wooyoung, nothing changes immediately. Not on the surface, at least.

Like a beloved warm sweater which has its seams reinforced by all your care and effort; it still looks the same on the outside, but less liable to tear or fray. The same patterns are intertwined through your shared lives, but strengthened, solidified.

Of course, the details of how the three of you fit together will need to be figured out in the long run — but for now, you are perfectly happy where you are.

(Especially when ‘where you are’ is, once again, the familiar space of San’s bedroom.)

“That’s it, baby, doing so well,” San hums, enveloping you in sweet encouragement.

He has you on your knees and bent over, your mouth stuffed full with Wooyoung’s cock. One of San’s large hands runs up and down your back, the other rests on your waist. Strong fingers dig into the soft meat of your hip, keeping your ass pressed against his clothed crotch.

“Get Wooyoungie real close for me, won’t you?” San says, his sweats doing little to hide the growing bulge that he’s rocking into the cleft of your ass. “Want him hard and squirming before he gets anywhere near your sweet cunt.”

You whine a muffled moan around Wooyoung, eager to obey San’s demands, and even more eager to get to the next part.

It’s finally time to revisit a certain bondage experiment; to have you and Wooyoung tied up together — only this time, there won’t be any clothes in the way. There won’t be any heartfelt, quiet conversations either; you and Wooyoung had both asked San to push you tonight, and San’s eyes had lit up with a bright gleam that promised you’d get exactly what you asked for, and perhaps even a little more.

Already San delivers on his promise; using you to push Wooyoung right to the edge before San has tied even a single rope around either of you.

It won’t take much longer now. Wooyoung shudders with a choked groan when you take him a little deeper, his chest heaving as he lays on the bed, an arm slung over his flushed face. Your hands rest on his hips, holding him down while you get him riled up to San’s liking.

San’s hand slides all the way up your spine, between your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck, where he guides your head down with firm pressure. You make a gurgled wet noise when Wooyoung hits the back of your throat, but San takes it slow, gives you time to relax and control your breathing.

“There you go, that’s my good girl,” he says, voice smooth as silk. The petname hits harder than ever before, wrapped securely in the knowledge that you’ll stay his good girl for a long time to come. “What a messy thing you are, drooling on Wooyoung’s dick exactly like you’re told. Our obedient cocksleeve, gonna fill up all your pretty holes just like you deserve.”

Anticipation sears through you at San’s praise, soaking your untouched cunt as you whimper. They will test your limits today, just like your patience is being tested right now, needing them both inside you already. The weight of Wooyoung’s cock on your tongue is pleasing — but it is not enough, not when you know what is to come.

San reaches a hand between your thighs and groans in appreciation at what he finds, greeted by wet slick when he parts your folds.

“Is that just from taking Woo’s cock down your throat, baby? Didn’t even need my fingers to get you nice and wet, did you?” San asks, but his hand is still firm on the back of your head, refusing to let you off Wooyoung’s dick for an actual answer.

Salty precum leaks onto your tongue while San still slowly guides you up and down, and your eyes tear up at the insistent prodding at the back of your throat. Without warning, San starts rubbing rough circles around your clit, and he chuckles with obvious delight at your muffled noise, convulsing against his harsh touch.

“Fuck, Woo, look at that. Takes so little to get her worked up, she wants to be used so bad.”

(Yes, yes, you want to moan at him. Want them to use you, to take you for themselves; your body, your pleasure, your all.)

Wooyoung breath hitches at the way you whine around him, but he lifts his arm off his face and looks at you, just like San told him to. A shudder runs through him at the sight of your lips around his cock, plump and glossy, moving with San’s steady but unrelenting pace. Wooyoung’s eyes are watery already, like his body senses what will soon happen to him.

“Shit…” he rasps, his gaze fixated on where he disappears inside your mouth. “Hmnh, making me f-feel so good… Getting close, Sannie…”

“You can hold out a bit longer,” San tells him, almost dismissively. “Need to prep our sweet girl at least a little bit, if we want her to take us both tonight. Wouldn’t want to break her, would you Woo?”

“N-no— ngh—!”

Wooyoung chokes up when you let out another loud, garbled moan around him. You can’t help yourself; your head is starting to feel fuzzy, intoxicated by San’s rough fingers on your clit and the way he talks about you, like you’re his plaything to take care of. He hasn’t even tied a single rope around you yet, and already you’re bound to his will.

San chuckles fondly at how noisy you are, but there is a condescending edge to the sound. His hand tightens just slightly around the nape of your neck, holding you in place on Wooyoung’s cock. The tip teases right at the back of your throat this way, your nose nearly touching his pelvis, and you whine as San presses harder into your clit.

“Hey, hey, quiet down, baby,” San gently chides you, like he isn’t the very one making it impossible for you to do so. “Are you trying to make it even harder on Woo not to cum? Later, when he’s stuffed in your wet cunt; then you get to be as loud as you want. Fuck, you won’t be able to help yourself, not with I’ve got in store for you. But for now… Don’t let him waste his load on your throat, alright?”

You can barely fight back the next moan, a few stray tears escaping down your cheeks. You hear San’s voice from somewhere far away, reminding you to take steady breaths. You do just so, feeling slightly less light-headed and overwhelmed, but Wooyoung is still throbbing in your mouth, so deep that every tiny quiver of his hips causes you to spasm around him. You push down on Wooyoung’s waist a little harder, trying to keep him in place.

“That’s it, deep breaths, just like that. Good girl, listening so well,” San praises you — only to instantly abandon your clit and bury two fingers deep inside you.

The sudden intrusion has you keening, a jolt searing through your body as San forces you to accommodate his thick fingers. Wooyoung jerks against your grip, hissing broken curses as his veiny hands scramble for purchase in the sheets. Your hold on Wooyoung slips for just a second, leaving his hips free to buck up and make you gag on his cock with a wet gurgle, tears and drool spilling down your face.

“Easy, easy…” San’s grip on your head relents, and his thumb finds the crook of your shoulder, firmly kneading your tensed muscles. His cock presses half-hard against your ass, twitching with growing interest as you shudder under his touch, his fingers curling inside you. “Just need you to keep Wooyoungie’s dick warm while I get this tight cunt ready for him. You’ve been doing so well, just a little more.”

The need to please San ripples through you like a warm, soothing wave, but it’s hard to stay relaxed when a deep pressure has been building between your thighs. San is thorough as he scissors you open, and Wooyoung whimpers, instinctively trying to thrust into your mouth, to take pleasure into his own hands. You try to keep Wooyoung down, but your grip on his hips is not strong, and grows weaker as San continues to stretch your cunt.

At first you think the brush of his thumb against your clit is accidental.

Then it happens again, and again, and San’s thumb quickly becomes clear in its intent; to make you squirm just as much as Wooyoung. And when San sets his mind on something, there is very little he can’t achieve.

Sure enough, he pushes you further with every wet squelch of his fingers, and you quickly feel light-headed again. Mindlessly you rock into his hand, your moans sending shockwaves through Wooyoung’s body as he whines and jerks his hips again — but San slips his hand down from your head to Wooyoung’s waist, helping you to keep his boyfriend pinned.

“Careful, Woo. Don’t break our girl before we get to the fun part.”

“S-San, I don’t know if I can— hmgh, ah, fuck—”

Wooyoung twitches dangerously on your tongue and you are not much better off, a sharp heat swelling in your belly with every thrust of San’s fingers until you feel close to bursting, unsteady on your shaky knees.

San makes a noise of gentle disapproval when he realises how close you both are. “Tch. No, my pretty playthings, I can’t have you cum; not yet,” he purrs smoothly, the sweetness in his voice a cruel contrast to his next actions.

His fingers suddenly disappear from your cunt, right as he pulls your lips off Wooyoung’s cock. Freed from obstruction, your lungs pull in air with wheezy, choked up sobs — but your orgasm fades out of reach no matter how much you whine and twist against San’s hold, rubbing your slick thighs together in a poor attempt at finding friction.

But Wooyoung is even farther gone than you; his cock, glossy with saliva, leaks precum from the angrily flushed tip, his abdominal muscles twitching. Wooyoung whines with a pitiful cry, bucking his hips uselessly at the loss of your mouth. The veins in his forearms pop as his hands tremble in desperation, and he instinctively reaches for his cock to get himself off.

San reacts immediately, the flat of his hand connecting against Wooyoung’s outer thigh with a sharp, warning smack. Wooyoung sobs out a strangled wail at the impact, but he obediently withdraws his hands and is rewarded when San rubs soothingly over the reddened mark on Wooyoung’s thigh, easing him through the denial.

San uses his other hand to give you the same attentive care, reverence and desire in his touch as he squeezes at the plush love handle of your waist, sweet kisses on your shoulder. “There,” he murmurs when your and Wooyoung’s breathing has steadied, “now you’re ready. Let’s go have some real fun, hm?”

He does not even need to provide further instruction; as soon as San backs away to clean his fingers with a wet wipe, Wooyoung sluggishly turns onto his side and you sidle down next to him.

Wooyoung groans with a shuddery breath when his hard cock presses against your soft stomach, smearing you with spit and precum. He burrows his face into the crook of your shoulder, his lips hot on your skin while his arms wrap around you. Your body whines in need at the feel of him, and you return his embrace to bring him as close as possible.

Even just a clumsy brush against your clit is enough to send sparks through your body. It takes every ounce of willpower to stop yourself from grinding against Wooyoung until he’s trembling in your arms, until you find the release that San denied you.

Would it break Wooyoung if you went against San’s instructions? Would Wooyoung try to be good and not cum on your stomach, or would he join your rule-breaking and hump back against your thigh, heedless of the consequences? You think that you know the answer, but you sure are tempted to have it confirmed.

But before your curiosity grows beyond control, San returns.

He makes a pleased sound at the sight of you and Wooyoung already in position, clueless of the disobedient thoughts on your mind. “Look at you two,” he says fondly. “I’m so lucky with such a pretty pair of rope bunnies to play with. Won’t know where one of you begins and the other ends by the time I got you all tied up.”

The back of San’s fingers brush over your cheek in approval, dimples poking at his cheeks as he smiles down at you and Wooyoung; and like a fucking simp, you feel every trace of brattiness melt away at the touch. Nothing remains except a longing to be taken care of by San, to surrender yourself to the safety of his control.

(San may have a huge soft spot for you, but fuck if it isn’t mutual.)

San wastes no time to begin his ropework, starting with tying Wooyoung’s hands behind your back. No chest harnesses today, favouring simplicity for a speedier process. San’s dominant exterior softens a little as he works; he is more thorough than usual with his checks, mindful of the fact that you and Wooyoung are already worked up and antsy.

Wooyoung is definitely still affected by the denial, struggling to stop himself from wiggling around; but San does not reprimand except in the gentlest of ways, just enough to keep Wooyoung in line. Meanwhile, San treats you with murmured assurances and calming touches, already luring you into the edges of that fuzzy subspace; sharp arousal blunted by a pleasant hazy cloud that coats your thoughts.

Soon enough you and Wooyoung both have your arms incapacitated, trapped together into your embrace. San moves down to bind your legs, but pauses when he catches sight of Wooyoung’s cock still pressed against your stomach. His eyebrow raises in disapproval.

“What are you waiting for, Woo?” he asks sharply, pinching Wooyoung’s hip. “Thought you were excited to fuck our pretty girl, but I can always do this without you. You two aren’t my only playthings, I don’t need your cock to plug that wet cunt. There are plenty of other options if you’re not up to it.”

(True; San had asked you to bring a few of your favourite vibrators, just so he’ll have his pick from your own personal collection, if the mood strikes him.)

“No, no fuck, wanna fuck her, wanna fuck you so bad,” Wooyoung babbles, nuzzling deeper into your shoulder.

You moan at his desperation, rolling your hips in an attempt to guide Wooyoung inside you. But the angle is awkward and Wooyoung struggles without use of his hands, his cock uselessly sliding against your sodden folds without finding entrance.

“Oh Wooyoungie,” San croons as he watches Wooyoung’s pitiful attempt at filling your cunt. He runs a hand through Wooyoung’s hair in a cruel imitation of comfort. “You poor clumsy thing, need some help with that?”

San does not wait for an answer; instead he taps your thigh, signalling you to lift your leg to give some space. Wooyoung hisses when San firmly grabs him by the base, and finally his cock sinks into your wet heat, stretching pliantly around him. You sigh blissfully at the easy, snug fit of Wooyoung inside your cunt; San’s fingers prepped you well.

“There, that’s better isn’t it?” San pushes your hips forward to press flush against Wooyoung’s, just for good measure. “Now… can you be good for me a little longer?”

He gives a loving squeeze to your ass, then gently cups Wooyoung’s cheek to lift his face up from your shoulder.

This time, the comforting touch is genuine. San knows he is asking a lot; especially from Wooyoung.

You feel on a cloud already and just hum at San in confirmation, ready to descend deeper into this foggy frame of mind. Your thoughts are slowly melting into a sweet syrupy goo, swirling with nothing but pleasure.

But Wooyoung whines, rocking into you unevenly. His eyebrow piercing glints in the dim lamplight as he wiggles, a hypnotising shine. Wooyoung barely seems aware of his movements, a glaze drawn across his eyes, his jaw slack. You can’t help a giggle from bubbling up at his desperation; there is just something so adorable about how badly he needs to cum, and how ineffective his attempts are at getting there.

San, however, is less amused.

“Woo,” he says, sharply smacking his ass to snap him out of it. “Can you be good, or do we leave it here with the rope? Can’t tie you up any further if you can’t behave.”

It sounds like a scolding, but you have been with San and Wooyoung for long enough to know better than that. You can see the intent hidden underneath; San’s honest question of whether he can safely continue with the bondage or has to stop, asked in the only way Wooyoung can hear him right now.

“Hm, y-yeah,” Wooyoung slurs, his hips going still. The sharp sting has cut through his desperation, clearing a path for just enough lucidity to answer. “’M good. Want it… wanna get tied up together even more…”

“Good. Then let’s go on.” San moves his hand to squeeze your hip. “Still with us, baby?”

“Not going anywhere,” you sigh, the warmth of San’s palm infusing a soft glow into your skin.

Wooyoung grins at you with heavy lidded eyes. “You better not,” he mumbles, giving you a pointed look. “You promised to stick around, right?”

“Woo, don’t tell me you’re still worried about that,” you giggle, feeling floaty from the way his cock is filling you up, from San’s warm hand running over your thigh.

“Right now? Not even a little bit,” Wooyoung says, leaving a light bite on your shoulder that he quickly soothes with a light dart of his tongue. “You’re not exactly a flight risk like this.”

“You know what? Fair point,” you manage to breathe out as Wooyoung starts on sucking and nibbling at your bottom lip, while San pecks your and Wooyoung’s cheeks before he picks up a new piece of rope.

Wooyoung only breaks away from your lips to give San feedback on rope tension, or to let you to do so. His newfound composure hangs on by a bare thread, cock twitching in your sensitive cunt at even the lightest shift. You moan into his mouth, the threads of your own composure fraying with every brush of Wooyoung’s tongue.

Thankfully, San only needs a few more simple but effective ties. He binds each one of your legs to one of Wooyoung’s, using a few lines of cord to wrap snugly around your thighs, calves and ankles, all laid carefully to avoid pinching any knees.

By the time he’s done, you are pressed together so tightly that Wooyoung couldn’t slip out of your cunt if he tried.

“There,” San says, looking over his work with a pleased, slightly smug curve to his lips. “Now you can cum.”

Wooyoung’s mouth latches onto your shoulder before you can even fully process San’s permission. You whimper at the bite of his teeth, the rough bucks of his hips, but the ropes dig into your skin, denying you any satisfying range of motion. Wooyoung’s frantic thrusts do nothing but jostle the both of you in place, making you groan in frustration.

You cast a desperate glance at San, but he is content to simply watch his helpless subs in a sweaty, gyrating tangle of limbs while he palms himself through his sweats, flushed tip peaking up above his waistband. The corner of San’s lip twitches when he catches your eyes, but perhaps you overestimated his softness for you; San is utterly unswayed by the silent plea in your teary eyes, only stroking himself a little quicker as he enjoys the show.

“W-Woo, a little slo— Wait, I can’t— I can’t cum—” you whimper, but all restraint is lost to Wooyoung. He groans against your neck and tries to slow down, turn the roll of his hips into something more purposeful, but you can’t find friction, can’t find the right angle, no matter how much you shift and wriggle against him.

It feels good, being filled up by Wooyoung’s cock; but he can barely move, never hitting that toe-curling spot inside you, giving your clit little more than an awkward grind. Faint sparks prickle across your skin and through your cunt, only a weak echo of your earlier build towards orgasm. San had cruelly denied you release then, but now an ominous feeling sits in your stomach; that you and Wooyoung could lay here struggling for hours to no avail, never finding release no matter how you try.

Your head is still fuzzy with submission, but despair creeps into the sweet surrender to your restraints.

“Sannie…” you whine, pouting at how he continues to touch only himself. His sweats are pulled down low on his hips, allowing him to lazily fist the head of his cock, thumbing at the precum that oozes from the slit. “Please, San…”

It’s a pitiful attempt at appealing to San’s softer side and you both know it. He gives you a crooked grin, his hand coming to a slow stop. “What’s wrong, baby? Didn’t I say you’re allowed to cum now? Go for it.”

Wooyoung groans in shared frustration, panting hard into your shoulder, littered with his bites. Again you wiggle and try to find that angle, whining with the knowledge it’s no use.

“P-please, Sannie, need your help…”

San’s cocky facial expression shifts to fake sympathy, his lips set in a mocking pout. “Aw poor thing, Wooyoungie can’t get you off by himself?”

Wooyoung starts to grunt in protest, but you shake your head. “N-no but, hmm, I— I can’t get him off either.”

San’s eyes widen in surprise, the mocking sympathy knocked right off his face. (There is that soft spot.) “Shit, baby…” he murmurs, shifting in closer to run a soothing hand over your arm. His fingers leave a glistening trail of precum. “Not even thinking about yourself?”

“Wanna make him feel good too,” you whine and clench around Wooyoung’s cock, drawing a rough moan from him; but doubtlessly he is in the exact same predicament as you, unable to cum from just this.

“Hm, you know what I think?” San says, with an affectionate smile that crinkles his eyes. “Think that deserves a reward. Let me see if I can help where Wooyoung can’t.”

Wooyoung twists against the ropes, his breathing laboured. “H-hey,” he gasps, “what about me?”

“Hm? What about you, Woo?” San says, like he’s just making casual conversation. He kicks off his sweats and makes himself comfortable on the bed behind you, pressing a few kisses on the shiny trail he left on your arm. “You got that juicy cunt keeping you warm, don’t you? That not enough for you?”

“Hngh,” Wooyoung groans out, though you suspect he has a whole lot more to say. But instead he goes in for a rough kiss, tongue delving past your lips with a frustrated vigour, like he’s trying to use your mouth to keep his own shut.

San makes a soft noise of approval. “That’s better,” he says, patting Wooyoung’s thigh. “Appreciate what you’re given, hm?”

He slides his hand down, just barely fitting between your and Wooyoung’s squirming bodies. His palm runs over the junction of your thigh and hip, until his fingertips brush against your clit and press down. You keen at the added stimulation, body instinctively trying to convulse; but between San and Wooyoung, one pressed against your back, the other tied up in tight embrace, you can barely move an inch, completely pinned between them.

The angle is still awkward, but San rubs sparks into your clit all the same. Wooyoung groans as you clench around him, his roving mouth chasing after your every single gasp and whine. San keeps up his steady pace, grinding into your ass with low breaths. He slowly kisses his way up your neck, your jawline, then props himself up on his elbow and leans over to brush his lips against yours, introducing his own tongue to the sloppy tangle of you and Wooyoung.

Your head is spinning, lost in the heady, uncoordinated mess of hungry lips. You shudder at the glide of their tongues against yours, jaw slackening to grant them easier access, a mingle of your saliva and theirs spilling onto your chin.

Again, Wooyoung tries to rut into you — and it causes San’s fingers shift slightly, right into a spot that cuts sharply through the dizzying heat of their mouths. It happens fast, so fast you barely see it coming despite the long-build up, and suddenly your entire body stiffens up as your muscles pull taut, cumming on San’s fingers with a choked up cry.

San breaks away from the kiss, murmuring gentle praises as he roughly keeps at your clit, wresting every ounce of pleasure that he can from you. You clamp around Wooyoung’s cock, twitching with every aftershock, your slick smeared against his pelvis and San’s fingers. Wooyoung gasps for harsh breaths, his eyes squeezing shut when it becomes too much.

An unintelligible string of curses falls past his lips as his hips stutter and his hot seed spills inside you. You moan contently at the feeling, sagging in relief when San’s hand finally stills, letting you come down from your release.

San blinks at Wooyoung in surprise as he processes what just happened. “Woo, did you just—?”

For a split second, San’s face brightens up with genuine delight — but quickly the mask slips back into place. He chuckles in amused derision and pulls his hand away from your cunt, up to pat Wooyoung’s cheek with slicked-up fingers, spreading your mess on his face.

“Couldn’t even wait your turn, huh? That desperate for it.” San turns to you next, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. “Look at him, baby, that sweet pussy is just too much for him to handle. Such a perfect, well-behaved cocksleeve you are for us, and it’s wasted on that brat. What are we supposed to do now? His dick must be going soft and I haven’t even started to fuck you.”

San rolls his hips, pushing his hard cock against your ass.

“K-keep going,” Wooyoung rasps, his chest heaving with strenuous breaths. (He is softening inside you, but unable to pull out.) “I can— I can take it.”

His words are shaky but filled with resolve, and San looks him over with a pleased smile.

“Hm. What a well-behaved toy you suddenly are,” he hums. “The brat got what he wanted so now he’s willing to play along? Alright, then we’ll play.” San’s voice is sweet — yet you can’t shake the feeling there is a warning hidden underneath.

Wooyoung seems to sense it as well, wiggling against you. “Please, please San, I’ll behave,” he says in a low whine. “Ju— just couldn’t help it, felt so good, she’s so good…”

“I know, I know…” San soothes him, running his sticky fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. “Poor Wooyoungie, you just wanted to cum, right?” he says, his sympathy towards Wooyoung carrying the same edge of mockery as it had for you.

“Y-yeah,” Wooyoung sniffs, but there is a hesitation in his answer, like he’s trying to figure out if there’s a trap hidden inside the question.

San chuckles. “That’s what I thought,” he says, then turns to you again. “What do you say, baby? Can you relax that tight cunt and give him a break while I prep your pretty, plump ass?”

You nod, taking a few deep breaths — but relaxing is a challenge when San’s palm slides over the curve of your rear. He groans lowly at the feel of you, letting his fingers dig hard into the soft meat.

“Fuck, I don’t take advantage of this ass nearly enough,” San rasps, giving another roll of his hips. “Gotta take it slow but damn, it’s been a while… Don’t know if I can hold back once I’m fucking that tight hole…”

You moan weakly, trying to push back into him, but San lets out another groan and holds you in place.

“Can’t rush this, baby, gotta loosen you up for me first.” He nips at your ear, breath hot on your skin, then goes to reach for a small bottle of lube. “Don’t worry, gonna make you feel so good taking my cock, taking our cocks. Can’t believe it took us this long to do this, finally stuffing our sweet cockslut just the way she needs… Just wait a little longer, alright?”

“Want you, Sannie…” You tilt your head to glance back at him, and San can’t help a fond smile at the needy look in your eyes.

“Yeah, I know you do,” he says quietly, unable to fight back the dimples poking into his cheeks. The earnestness in his voice catches you off-guard. “But that’s not enough, is it? You want Wooyoungie too, greedy thing.”

Huh.

Despite having personally provided some evidence to the contrary, you are not an idiot; you understand fully well what San is getting at.

He is just tugging lightly the seams of your still ambiguous relationship, playfully testing its strength, baiting you to reassure Wooyoung. San probably thinks he’s being subtle about it too, hiding the bait in his dirty ramblings. It’d be fucking adorable if he hadn’t just spread your asscheeks, a lubed-up finger teasingly circling around the tight muscle of your rim.

You try not to get distracted by San’s actions and focus on his question instead. You look back at Wooyoung, his hair matted with sweat and a faint glimmer of tears in his eyes. His cock is still nested deep inside your cunt, sensitive and twitching.

“So much… Want you so much…” you sigh, closing the tiny space between you and Wooyoung to press your forehead against his. “Feels so good, filling me up so good…”

Wooyoung shudders at the praise with a tight groan, and his nose clumsily bumps into yours as he finds the angle for a kiss. It’s slower than before, sluggish in the aftermath of your orgasms, but still intense, especially when San pushes his finger inside and sets an unhurried pace.

You whimper into Wooyoung’s mouth, gasping for breath when he breaks away to put his mouth on your neck instead, languidly sucking the sweat off your feverish skin. “Shit, Wooyoung…” you whine at a graze of teeth, involuntarily clenching around him.

He’s getting hard again, his ridiculously fast recovery time never ceasing to amaze you, slowly rocking into you with the limited movement allowed to him. Meanwhile, San picks up his speed when he feels you relax, going pliant as he stretches you out.

“More?” he asks, lips brushing against your ear.

“Hm, yeah…” you mumble, surprised San even bothered to ask — and even more surprised when his finger slips out. “Wha—?”

You turn your head back to look at him, and blink when San holds up one of your vibrators; long, sleek and tapered at the base, with a nice range of intensity settings. Slim, but definitely thicker than just one of San’s fingers.

“You— you’re not gonna?” You frown at San; not opposed but… confused. The drawn-out, slowly building intensity of the scene is definitely getting to you. It’s like you’re wading through a thick fog, only a few strings of nebulous thoughts crystallising into words. It’s a great toy, one that has done you great service in the past, but… But what about his cock?

The thought slips out of your mouth before it can consult your brain on the matter. Immediately, San bursts out in a short laugh, and even Wooyoung’s shoulders shake, his giggled cackle muffled by your neck.

“That’s my eager little cockslut right there,” San grins. “Knows exactly what she wants. Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there soon. Just want to ease you into it, remember?”

‘Ease’?

A faint flash of scepticism briefly crosses your cloudy mind; a vague nagging there might be some inherent contradiction between ‘ease’ and ‘vibrator’ — and San seems to be in a bit of a mood today. But the thought fails to catch hold, and you nod your assent.

Pleased, San lightly kisses your cheek, and you wiggle impatiently at the squelch of more lube. All this business about your toy is getting Wooyoung is impatient too, restless from what he clearly perceives as an unnecessary delay. He expresses his discontent with bitey kisses, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth.

Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath when you squeeze around him, an involuntary response to San carefully pushing the vibrator into your hole, still turned off for now. You hiss at the increased stretch, but San starts off with a few shallow thrusts, easing you into it just like he promised. Gradually he takes the vibrator further, until he finally pushes it in completely and leaves it there, nested deep inside you.

Wooyoung suddenly goes very quiet, freezing into the kiss. “San…” he breaths shallowy; is it a plea? A warning? You can’t tell at all, sunk too deeply into your daze to read his tone.

But San is wilfully deaf to whatever Wooyoung is trying to communicate, keeping his focus on you instead. “Gonna turn it on now, alright baby?”

The toy whirrs to life, a pleasant hum against your tense muscles — and only separated from Wooyoung’s sensitive, half-hard cock by the thin barrier of your inner walls.

Wooyoung reacts at once, jerking violently against the ropes as the vibrations send brutal jolts of pleasure through his body. He lets out a strangled cry that borders on anguished, fresh tears springing in his eyes. Jostled by his writhing, you moan as your clit drags against his cock.

“S-San—” Wooyoung tries again, desperately. “Fuck, I— I don’t—”

From the corner of your eyes, you can just barely see how San’s lips curve into an aloof smile. “What’s wrong, Wooyoungie? You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you?”

Wooyoung groans, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He grinds out a swear through gritted teeth, his hips bucking uselessly against the ropes, giving him no escape.

San slowly tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Changed your mind? You can stop this any time, remember.”

“Ngh, ah, I—” Wooyoung hisses tightly, and his eyes snap up to meet San’s. A volatile heat burns behind them, a thick tear trickling down his flushed skin. He looks a mess, but still Wooyoung stubbornly shakes his head, like it’s below his pride to cave in now. “T-told you before, right? Keep going.”

San holds his gaze for a long moment, but then he nods; trusting Wooyoung’s judgement.

“Fuck,” San swears lowly. “Could put you through anything and you’d just take it for me, wouldn’t you, Woo? Just wanna cum over and over again, what’s it gonna take to wear out a greedy slut like you?”

He takes the vibrator up a notch and the increased intensity hits you hard, your body trying to bow in on itself as you gasp and tremble, a sharpness coiling between your thighs. You’re clenching down on Wooyoung hard, and you whimper when San suddenly licks a broad stripe up your neck, wet tongue dragging heavily against your skin.

“Gonna need you to help me to ruin this one here, baby,” San murmurs, his voice gravelly. “Think you can do that?”

You shudder as his tongue flickers against your ear; but looking at Wooyoung, it honestly doesn’t seem like San needs your help. Wooyoung looks plenty ruined already; his eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in agonising pleasure. More tears escape his lashes, trailing down his temple into the sheets. Still… it’s a request you’d hardly refuse.

“Y-yeah, yeah I can help,” you say, hoping it’s true. You’re pretty far gone yourself; pressure is building rapidly from the toy’s persistent buzzing. The base of Wooyoung’s cock presses against your clit, indirect vibrations pulsing through the swollen nub. Even if Wooyoung does not cum soon, you will.

“That’s my girl,” San hums, and leans over again to capture you in a short, searing kiss. You moan in surprise, your sluggish body too slow to respond before his lips are gone again. “Then… how about you suck some pretty bruises into that pretty neck for me? Remind him he belongs to us.”

“‘Us’?”

You blink, your mind as sluggish as your body. Sunken too deep into a submissive state to process the concept of someone belonging to you.

“He is our Wooyoungie, isn’t he?” San says, smiling down at you. “Just like you’re our sweet girl.”

“A-and you?”

For a moment, San goes quiet. He nods slowly, eyes intent as he looks from you to Wooyoung.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I’m your Sannie.”

The moment is so gentle, you would almost forget that San has the two of you tied up in rope, subjecting you to the vibrator with no escape.

San’s soft gaze lingers a little longer, until he seems to remember the truth of the situation himself and snaps out of it with an abashed chuckle. He recovers with a quick wink, his smile gaining a toothy edge. “Now, take care of Wooyoung for me, will you?”

Wooyoung’s breath gets even more pitchy, his eyes fluttering open. They shimmer with tears, pleading at you. “Please…”

Shakily, you let your head fall forward into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, wired so tight that you can do little more than press open-mouthed kisses on his skin, tasting the thin sheen of sweat gathered there. He whimpers, shuddering under your mouth, and slowly you relax into him, lapping at him with growing enthusiasm as you get used to the vibration’s intensity.

San flicks the toy to a higher level.

“Fuck—!”

Wooyoung snaps, his back arching sharply. Your body bows forward with him, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you spasm around his cock. With calm, amused interest, San watches the outcome of his actions, how you and Wooyoung twist and convulse, ropes digging into your skin as you squirm.

He chuckles at the ruined mess before him, and decides to just leave the vibrator buried inside you to free up his hand. San roughly grabs at your ass, plying your neck with kisses. You’re panting, sweat beading on your forehead as hazy overstimulation takes control, burning through your nerve endings and fogging up your mind.

Wooyoung’s cock is hard and throbbing in your twitching cunt, his moans high and whiny right by your ear. You can feel yourself melting away into his desperation, like you are nothing but a conduit for San to mercilessly drive Wooyoung to the edge again. San keeps you grounded but only barely, his lips sweet against your shoulder while he kneads harshly at your asscheek, like he means for his fingers to leave a permanent indentation into the thick meat.

The vibrations turn up again.

Your orgasm hits you before you even realise what is happening, tearing through you like lightning. Heat pulses through your abdomen and static fills your ears. You barely even register Wooyoung’s pathetic mewl as he cums, or how some of his seed trickles past his trapped cock, mingling with the fresh gush of arousal from your fluttering cunt.

San turns the vibrator off when Wooyoung lets out a broken sob, and his trembling body sags against yours with a loud groan as the buzzing finally stops. You draw breath in sharp gasps, still coming down from the aftershocks while San runs a soothing hand over your arm and asks how you’re feeling. You moan tiredly, turning your head to try and find him in a kiss. He indulges, briefly but sweet.

“Such a good girl, fucking amazing. Doing so well for me,” San murmurs against your lips, a strain to his voice. Then his eyes flicker to Wooyoung, and San gently cradles his head to lift him up from your shoulder. “Woo, are you alright?”

Wooyoung groans, limply going along with San’s hold on him. “Give— give me a minute,” he says hoarsely. “Just… give me a minute. I—”

San gently shushes Wooyoung, bringing him in for a kiss. “Fuck, you really just take it all, no matter what I put you through, don’t you?” San says, but there is not a trace of derision this time, only full-blown awe and adoration. “Relax, Woo, there’s no rush.”

Wooyoung sighs at the reprieve, then glances at you with a fatigued grin.

“He sure takes it real damn serious when we ask him to push us, huh? What a fiend.” Wooyoung’s tone leaves no mistake it’s intended as the highest of praise.

“That’s our Sannie, alright,” you giggle, and peck the tip of San’s nose. “Personal demon at our beck-and-call.”

An adorable rose blush dusts across San’s cheekbones. “Okay, that’s enough out of you two,” he admonishes almost bashfully, leaning over you to kiss Wooyoung again.

As San shifts, you can feel his hard cock against the small of your back, the tip smearing precum on your skin. San might’ve said there is no rush — but his dick clearly has a different opinion on the matter. Still, he does not hurry anything, lazily kissing Wooyoung until he switches back to you. He stays like that for a while, caressing one with soothing touches while he kisses the other.

It does not take long before you start to fidget again; impatience roused by the combination of San’s gentle stimulation while the toy and Wooyoung’s dick are still inside you. Your hips start to move in time with San’s fingers brushing across your thigh, unable to suppress your body’s urges like he is.

Wooyoung moans at your slight rocking, responding in kind. You can only image how sore he is, but his dick still twitches back to life.

“Oh? Everyone’s ready to go again?” San asks with a fond chuckle, and he reaches for the lube again when you and Wooyoung confirm with an emphatic yes.

You hiss as San slides out the vibrator, trying not to stiffen up at the prospect of finally having his cock fill your tight hole. It won’t be your first time taking San like this — but it is your first time while Wooyoung is already stuffed in your cunt.

San notices the way you tense, giving you a few passes with two freshly lubed-up fingers first. “Relax, baby, relax,” he murmurs. “You trust me?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I do.” Your voice is shaky, but resolved. You want this too much to back out now, eager to have your fantasy fulfilled at last. So you take deep breaths, tension seeping out of your body with every exhale.

You whine when San’s fingers disappear, replaced by his slick cockhead pressed against your rim. For a moment he just waits there, his hand resting on your ass and uneven breaths falling on your neck — just long enough to make you shudder in anticipation, until San pushes forward with a shallow thrust, breaching your walls.

Instantly the stretch threatens to overwhelm you, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s back as you let out a strangled whimper. “Sh-shit, San—” you gasp as he gradually presses deeper. “It’s— hmgh, ah— So tight—”

San slowly rocks into you, his lips catching a lone tear on your cheek. You can’t remember it falling. “Stay with me, baby, you can do this” he soothes, squeezing firmly at your ass when you whine in response. “You can do this. Who knows your body best, hm? Who knows what you can take?”

“Y-you do,” you pant. “It’s you, Sannie.”

“That’s right,” San says, his voice raspy but warm, “and I know you can take me, baby. A pretty cocksleeve like you can handle the both of us just fine.”

“Fuck, San,” Wooyoung groans, his head falling back. “I can fucking feel you, feels so good…”

“Getting hard again already, Woo?” He chuckles when Wooyoung whines in confirmation. “Then help our good girl out, alright? Distract her for me until that tight hole is ready to get fucked fast and hard by my cock, just how she deserves.”

Wooyoung nods eagerly and leans in to kiss you, but you shake your head. Just a simple kiss won’t be enough to distract you, not with your body straining to accommodate San’s thick length as well. “N-no,” you moan, tongue-tied from the overwhelming pressure in your lower abdomen. “No, n-need you to bite me, please.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes gleaming darkly. “Fuck, baby, since you asked so nicely…”

Without hesitation, Wooyoung bites down on the top of your shoulder, getting a solid mouthful of muscle. He suckles and gnaws at the skin, surprisingly gentle at first, but he slowly clamps down as you whine at the sharp pressure. Pain blooms beautifully under his teeth, perfectly masking the discomfort elsewhere by demanding your full attention.

Wooyoung groans as your cunt reflexively tightens around him, his jaw twitching. He stays on you for a while, but then breaks away with a whine, leaving an indentation that you just know is going to bruise like a fucker.

You don’t know if the release is a relief or a loss, but it got the job done; the slide of San’s cock has gotten much easier without you even realising. The feel of them both still borders on overwhelming, but it feels good, so good, stuffed so full that it’s like your mind is getting pushed out of your body, drifting hazily between them. Wooyoung laps sweetly at your shoulder and San joins him, angling his head so their lips can meet against your marred skin.

San’s self-control is fraying at the edges, the smooth roll of his hips becoming rougher by the second. You let your head fall back against his chest, moaning in encouragement.

“Please, San, please,” you whimper, unable to keep still. Awkwardly you rut against him and Wooyoung, using every inch of your limited movement to try and fuck yourself on their cocks.

Wooyoung shudders with a loud moan, twisting against the rope to match your rhythm. He is unravelling quickly, while San holds himself together just long enough to give himself a fresh coat of lube. He ignores the combined protests of you and Wooyoung when he pulls out almost completely — protests that are silenced when he slams back in.

The hard snap of San’s hips jostles you forward, almost knocking your chin into Wooyoung’s. San buries himself with a low groan, and sets a punishing pace as he humps against your ass. His energy is frenetic, agitated, like he’s the one now frustrated by how tightly bound you and Wooyoung are, the position limiting the force of his thrusts.

You manage to turn your head just enough to see the wild look in his eyes, teeth gritted and sweat on his brow. Both of his hands grab at your ass now, spreading your cheeks and pushing at you like he wants to push you on top of Wooyoung, his mind gone haywire from the mindless need to fuck into you at full strength.

Wooyoung is fully gone at this point, whiny “ah”s falling past his lips; drunk on how he can feel the outline of San’s dick against his own, through your throbbing walls. He doesn’t even try to move anymore, at the mercy of San’s ruthless pace. Arousal leaks freely from your wet heat, so slippery around Wooyoung’s cock that you’re sure San would be pushing him out your soaked cunt if the ropes didn’t keep you forced together.

The pressure against your g-spot is immense, and you’re so wound so tight that a flare shoots through your spin with every awkward brush of Wooyoung’s cock against your clit.

It’s all too much, the decadent onslaught of sensations that comes with taking San and Wooyoung at once, something coiling deep inside your stomach. You try to warn them, but only a silent, choked up sob escapes your throat when you topple over, writhing wantonly between their heated, sweaty bodies as you cum with sharp jolts, clear fluid spewing from your fluttering cunt as you squirt on Wooyoung’s sore cock.

Wooyoung mewls and spasms as your cunt constricts around him, but somehow it’s not enough to push him over the edge — or perhaps it is too much, too overstimulated to find release. “Oh fuck, fuck,” he babbles, cursing under his breath as San fucks you through your orgasm, wresting as many pulsing aftershocks from your spent body as he can.

“There you go, good girl,” San rasps in your ear. “Give it all to us, every fucking drop.”

He tries to be gentler as your orgasm subsides, knowing you and Wooyoung must be at your limits, but his self-control hangs on by a frail tether. He grinds against your ass, murmuring sweet praises and even sweeter whines as he chases release. San noses at the column of your neck, and you surprise him with a sloppy kiss, sucking at his tongue until finally he gasps and shudders, spilling deep inside you. A few more thrusts, then he stills with a low groan.

San breaths hard, giving himself a moment to come down before he pulls out, his seed leaking out of your stretched hole. He makes a faint noise of disapproval, gently rubbing a finger around your rim and pushing his cum back inside you, almost absent-mindedly.

You moan weakly, the finger helping you to adjust to the absence of San’s cock, but Wooyoung is still hard inside you.

Wooyoung whimpers quietly, drawing hitched, snivelling breaths. “S-Sannie…” he begs, pushed to the very edges of what he can take. “Please, I gotta… gotta…”

San’s eyes widen with a start. “Shit, Woo, you didn’t—? Fuck.”

Immediately San comes into motion, his finger leaving your sensitive hole. He expertly loosens up the ropes that bind your thighs together, letting the tension fall away and allowing Wooyoung to slip out, cum now also dribbling from your sopping cunt.

With utmost care, San gently palms at Wooyoung’s aching cock, carefully jerking him off. “There, that’s better isn’t it?” San says, the words wrapped in tenderness. “You can cum now, Wooyoungie, fuck, you deserve it after all that. You can let go now.”

You watch, enraptured by the slow shift from agony to bliss on Wooyoung’s face. He bites his lip, cheeks shiny with tears and sweat as San brings him to one last high, trembling with every pass of San’s hand until he spills on San’s fingers and your stomach, nothing but translucent fluids at this point.

From there on out, San engulfs you and Wooyoung in the softest of aftercare.

He undoes the ropes with his usual practised swiftness, then thoroughly checks your bodies for abrasions. There are a few spots of light rope burn; nothing severe, but San still smears a soothing salve over any patches of even slightly chafed skin. There are some drinks and snacks at the ready, and you are just sipping on some water when San takes a washcloth to the crusted remains of cum on your thighs — but you ask him to leave it for a little longer, and relish the faint blush that blooms across his cheeks at the request.

“Dirty,” Wooyoung grins at you, and neither of you miss the way San has to take a grounding breath.

“Yeah,” you grin back at him. “Maybe we could take a shower later, get all of that taken care of,” you say, nudging your head meaningfully towards San. “…Once my legs don’t feel like rubber anymore.”

San’s cheeks burn even hotter, and he shoots you and Wooyoung a vaguely cautious look — but he has no reason to be wary, not tonight.

Once everyone is steady enough on their feet, the three of you somehow manage to (not quite) fit behind the shower curtain. It’s not an easy feat to get clean in the crowded space, but it is easy for you and Wooyoung to tiredly lavish San with some well-earned attention. Sluggish hands run across the soap-sudded expanse of his soft skin and firm muscles, languidly jerking him off as he whines and sighs between you.

Safe to say, everyone is fully satisfied by the time that the three of you are settled on the couch in San’s living room.

Wooyoung has wiggled himself in the middle, so you’ve curled up against him. You’re still pretty damn sore; maybe you pushed it too much with the shower, but damn if it isn’t worth the tired, pleased smile on San’s face. He has an arm slung around Wooyoung, his hand resting on your shoulder, carefully avoiding the indentations that Wooyoung’s teeth left on your skin.

You’re bundled up in comfy clothes and a cosy blanket, with leftover pizza in front of you and some old Pucca cartoon playing on the TV. Nobody is really watching, just background noise while you chat quietly, re-balancing your emotional equilibrium after what easily is one of the more intense scenes you’ve done with San and Wooyoung.

“Still can’t believe I forgot to take a picture,” San pouts, shaking his head in disbelief. “You looked so hot tied up together like that.”

“We could just do it again, you know,” Wooyoung says. He stretches out his arms with a big yawn, then resettles by lying down across you and San, his head in your lap as he grins up at San. “And then you could fuck me next time around.”

The thought mulls slowly in your exhausted head, but it does ping a definite interest. To watch and feel how San rails a helpless Wooyoung into oblivion, fucking Wooyoung’s cock into you with every thrust? Yeah. Yeah, you’re pretty on board with that idea.

“I could be persuaded,” you say coyly, playing with the damp strands of Wooyoung’s hair. “Just give me like, I don’t know, a month to recuperate first.”

San chuckles self-consciously, but there’s a little gleam in his eyes that tells you he’s pretty damn pleased with himself too.

“Sure, we can let you take it easy for a while,” San teases, but then he sighs, a wistful look in his eyes. “Just too bad I can’t fuck you both at once. Only thing that could’ve made tonight even better.”

“I mean, I feel like there’s options for that,” Wooyoung says, tapping his bottom lip. “Take turns or something, and there’s plenty of toys to play with.”

“Yeah, maybe we can get San one of those clone-a-willy kits,” you suggest casually.

“Clone a what now??” San chokes on a cough, his eyes widened in shock as his face goes bright red again.

“Good thinking! We can add a fourth to the mix, strap San’s dick-clone on them, problem solved.”

“You’re a problem,” San says, pouting at you and Wooyoung. “You guys are missing the point, then it wouldn’t be me—”

“Okay, so we find a Choi San lookalike to impersonate you,” you shrug. “Problem solved now?”

San groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? Can someone please remind me why I put up with you two?”

You giggle at his exasperation. “Because you’re our Sannie, remember? You promised me.” You do reach up to gently squeeze his wrist, his warm hand still resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I am,” San says with a long-suffering sigh. “Guess I’m stuck with you.”

But his actions belie his words as he rubs your shoulder affectionately and pulls Wooyoung closer into his lap. Wooyoung winks up at you, and you grin back, shuffling a little closer so you can lean against San.

The three of you recover from the scene in the emotional safety of each others’ company, finding yourselves bound together all the more closely for it; even after the ropes have come off.

#whiway

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elias-code · 4 years ago

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Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice II

Choose your own adventure ~ “What’s Better than Breakfast in Bed?“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You've asked Techno whether he wants to sleep with you or not, and he makes up some excuse to join you. He cuddles with you into the night, but you're greeted with a nightmare, Dream's voice warns you of something to come, but refuses to specify what. Techno pulls you out of the dream and you sleep undisturbed until he greets you with breakfast in the morning.

Warnings: Cussing, Nightmares

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

— The Bird —

"Techno-" I said, kneeling to his level, "What do you want? I mean, you can sleep with me if you want to."

He paused, expecting a quip, but instead, I'd forced him to choose for himself.

"Seeing as you’re already cold, even with the fire..." He clicked his tongue, testing his words, "I want to keep you warm."

Holy shit that's adorable, I thought. Techno never let emotions shine through his words. When I talked to him, I had to constantly read between the lines. His monotone speech was, I supposed, a product of his repressed emotions. Ever since meeting him, I felt like it was my responsibility to dismantle the fortress he’d put around his heart.

"Excuses, excuses," I teased, “but you’re right, I’m gonna freeze without you.” I smiled at him. He let out a small huff, but his expression was unreadable.

"It's not an excuse, it's a reason," he said, turning to me, "They're desperate for me to be at the banquet, but they won't let me go alone, alright? If I let you freeze to death, it wouldn't make for great PR."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, standing up. I offered a hand to him, to help him stand, "Thank you for not killing me so you don't have to go," I whispered.

"No problem, heh," he took my hand and stood, "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

"Where are you going?"

"Just downstairs, get ready for bed," He said, dodging the question. He let go of my hand and awkwardly pat me on the head, leaving the room.

I didn't know how the ball was going to work out. On the one hand, Techno would go to the banquet and it'd be as awkward as it's always been between us. On the other, I'd manage to tear down his walls and reveal his emotions, changing our relationship forever.

Techno presented himself as untouchable, calling himself 'the blood god,' but I saw him hold back tears when Tommy betrayed him. I saw the destruction his wrath brought upon L'Manburg. He has compassion, but if he bottled them up any longer, there's no telling who he'd become. He couldn't keep letting everything out as anger, or we'd all pay the price.

I dressed for the night, setting his cape on the back of his chair. I chose a simple shirt and pants, the thickest ones I'd brought with me. I was still cold, but I took the opportunity to inspect his room.

He lives in the attic, a small loft with sparse decoration. What little furniture he did have was extravagant and of the highest quality. His desk chair was made of dark oak wood, the velvet red cushion was well worn. The table matched, a knife was stuck in it, too hard for me to pull out. It was dull, probably used to open letters.

His bed was made, probably just before I got there since it was only roughly put together. Next to it, there was a giant bookshelf pushed against the wall. Most of the books were unmarked and dusty, but a few of them were clean, recently put back. The Art of War, Odyssey, and the Iliad were among them. Their spines were worn and multiple bookmarks were sticking out of the top of each.

"Do you read much?" Techno asked, startling me.

"Um, oh," I stuttered, "I don't know where to get books from, so..."

"No?" He reached over and pulled The Art of War out of the bookshelf.

"I live out in the middle of nowhere," I shrugged, "The only thing I read is my mail."

"That's pretty sad," he said matter-of-factly.

"I have plenty of things to occupy my time with, Technoblade," I crossed my arms.

"Mhm," he handed me the book. Its cover was more worn than its spine, the old leather was cracking at the corners. "Take that home with you, I've read it a thousand times. Might come in handy."

"I suppose I can use it to knock intruders out," I flipped it over. It was like a brick in my hand, heavy and hard enough to break a window. "Thanks."

I yawned, realising how late it's gotten. I left my house almost a full twenty-four hours ago and I rode endlessly until I got here. I was exhausted.

I walked over to my pile of stuff and carefully placed the book in my bag. I then took a bit of a running start and jumped onto the bed, landing in a pile of furs and knitted blankets. "Don't wake me up in the morning," I muttered.

Techno came over and sat on the bed next to me. "I'll try not to," He said.

I shuffled under the blankets and shivered. The furs were enough to keep my body heat in, but I wouldn't tell Techno that. I heard him pick the covers up to join me. Soon, I felt his arms wrap around me, his chest to my back.

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I stifled a giggle. The blood god is snuggling with me... This is not what I thought was going to happen when I joined the server. I smiled and put my hand on his, wrapped around my waist. No one was going to believe this ever happened.

--- The Bird's Dream ---

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way, I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him, as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” Dream's voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

"Who are you?" I tried to yell, but only air came out.

"I'm the one who whitelisted you, the one who trusted you."

"What does that mean?" I was desperate to stop, to wake up, but I was falling infinitely.

"That's not for you to know, Puppet. You're here because I have a job for you, nothing more. You're the only one that can get through to him."

"What- What's my job? Why am I here?"

"You'll know soon enough-"

--- Technoblade ---

I slept soundly until I felt them stir under me. It sounded like they were having a nightmare, they muttered my name. What the hell are they dreaming about? I pulled them closer, brushing my hand through their hair. I wanted to wake them softly, so they'd forget about whatever was just racing through their mind.

They took a deep breath, signalling their waking. I continued to stroke their hair, "You ok, Bird?"

They mumbled an 'ok' and turned to face me, burying their face in my neck. I did the same and took deep breaths for them to follow. Within minutes, they were asleep in my arms. It felt right.

I didn't have the heart to admit it. If I did, I'd just have to tear it all away again, I'd be the one thing I truly hated. I'd be a traitor.

Don't get attached, Techno. We get to break hearts now, not just crush them! If you name this one, you'll regret it. Nothing screams ruin more than you do.

I woke up to birds chirping outside my window. The weather had finally let up, now I could finally get real work done. It took me a couple of seconds to remember the person fast asleep in my arms. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it.

Carefully, I picked up the covers and snuck out of bed. I wanted to keep my promise not to wake them up, and so I immediately left the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards as I descended the stairs to the kitchen.

I pulled half a dozen eggs out of their box and cracked and cooked them over the fire, adding the occasional spice so it wasn't too bland. I toasted some bread and stuck it all on separate plates. Four eggs for me, two for them. I was two times their size, after all. The image of them laying on my bed flashed in my mind, making me smile. I shook it off. I couldn't get attached any more than I was now.

I pulled myself together and went back upstairs with the food. I put my plate on my desk, pulling the knife out of it and stashing it in my drawer. I walked over to the bed, placing their food on the nightstand. I reached over and gently pat them on the head, slowly waking them.

"Good morning," I whispered.

They opened their eyes and mumbled "G'morn'n,"

"I made you some eggs," I said, still petting their head, "You should eat them while they're hot,"

"Ok," they sat up and I moved back over to my desk, sitting in my chair.

They yawned and stretched, their shirt raising over their waist, exposing their belly button. I looked away and busied myself with my food.

Oh, look at them, they're so cute... so naive... so vulnerable.

I wanted to scream at the voices to shut up. They had been plaguing me ever since Phil suggested I invite them. For some reason, they had a vendetta against the bird. They wanted to see them suffer to, in turn, make me suffer. The voice's presence itself was enough to turn my hair grey, but this added a whole extra layer to my agony.

"Techno?"

"Hmm?" I didn't look up from my food.

"Did you make me breakfast in bed?"

I looked at them, hiding my embarrassment, "You told me not to wake you, but I was hungry, and I thought you'd like some too."

They blushed and shrugged. "You know me so well," they sighed.

"And I thought you'd appreciate the origin of the eggs," I added.

"Oh, and where are they from?" Their mouth was full, making them mumble a bit. They looked a bit scared.

"Well," I leaned towards them in my chair, "They're from The egg."

"Bullshit," they called, stuffing their face with more eggs. Maybe I should have given them more.

I laughed, genuinely, "They're just chicken eggs, I doubt the egg would taste very good,"

We ate and joked like nothing was wrong in the world. They were so good at making me feel at home, but the voices were eager to remind me of my past. I wouldn't let them spoil this. What we had was new to me, and I wouldn't just lay down and take the voices at their word. Gods know they aren't worth their weight.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin.

The bird smiled at me from the breakfast bar, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was neatly braided and they were both already dressed.

"How was your morning?"

"Techno made me breakfast!" They laughed. That was a surprise, he didn't even cook for me.

"Ooh, nice," I said, "What's better than breakfast in bed, eh?"

"Riches beyond your wildest dreams," Techno chuckled. I guess they were both in a good mood this morning.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flow-y things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION, BRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

#technoblade x reader #techno x reader #c!techno x reader #c!technoblade x reader #dreamxd #dreamsmp #dsmp #mcyt #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader #philza #elias original #two left hooves

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leastfavoriteasian · 4 years ago

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at his mercy

!spoilers for the dream smp!

check out my masterlist here!

warnings: triggers, suicide mentions, blood, swearing, whole lot of angst

art by @danyve16

He was trembling.

Tommy could feel himself trembling, but at the same time, he couldn’t. No, he felt numb, completely numb inside.

The last few days were the worst of his life. Not that his life had been very good to begin with. But now he was trembling in the corner of the small obsidian prison cell, trying to stop the images going to his head.

Did he expect to die a few days ago? Of course not. Dream had specifically told him, drilled it into his head, that Tommy wasn’t to die. That those around him were going to die, Wilbur dying, Tubbo being threatened for the discs. Tommy was shell-shocked when Dream had continued beating the shit out of him after he pleaded and yelled that he was on two hearts, and then-

Tommy squeezed his eyes tighter. He had died. It was almost fuzzy in his head, how quickly he went from being on the floor of the obsidian floor to falling in the black void that was endless falling...

And he had heard Wilbur’s voice. That chilling, evil voice that long ago gave him comfort. But not anymore. That tone reminded him of how Wilbur was on the brink of insanity, how he had blown up everything and everyone they had worked for. The tone that would endlessly rant and scheme, and eventually begged for his own death. Not the same tone that had gleefully shouted, “SUCK IT, GREEN BOI!!!”, but the tone that had slammed Tommy into a wall forcefully and whispered harshly that Tommy was never going to be president. Oh, how he wished he could erase those memories.

Tommy didn’t even notice himself doing the ‘shaky breath’, until Wilbur called him out.

“I do the ‘shaky breath’ whenever you talk like that,” Tommy retorted, trying to hide his breath hitching. Because when you talk like that, Tommy thought, it means bad things are about to happen. I know that, because the last time you talked like that, Lmanburg blew up and you died. But meeting Wilbur again wasn’t the scariest part. Tommy had finally put it in his head that he was dead. He was dead. No turning back. He could stay and Wilbur, Schlatt, and Mexican Dream for fuck’s sake, he finally accepted it that he was in the black pit for the rest of his life. The scariest part was hearing Dream call out his name.

Tommy had froze, on the spot. That voice was far scarier than Wilbur’s. Because even though Wilbur had been an insane, unstable person, Wilbur’s intention were clear. But Dream, Tommy never knew what Dream was planning, who’s side he was on, what he wanted, or why he wanted it. Wilbur would asks and beg and give anything to get what he wanted, but Dream would manipulate, twist people’s minds, and pretend to be peoples’ friends to get what he wanted. Hearing Dream call out his name, like the millions of other times he did, sent chills down Tommy’s back. Like the time that Dream had tried to negotiate with Tommy for the discs way back in the beginning, to the election, to Dream giving Wilbur TNT, to the bunch of times Dream had called Tommy while he was in exile, called for Tommy to drop all his items in a hole, and for Dream to blow it up completely. Tommy shuddered. But the next second, Tommy had opened his eyes, and he was back in the prison. And he wasn’t sure what to think. Sure, he was happy he wasn’t dead. It wasn’t like, all those times, he had almost jumped into lava, or drowned himself, or jumped off a ledge, just so he could escape Dream, the manipulation, the cold, cunning words.

But it was. All those times, he just wanted to escape Dream and his evil ways, the way he always talked to Tommy as if they could relate, as if they were on the same side, as if everything Dream did was for the better. It was always like that. And Tommy had always wanted to escape Dream, all the way from when Wilbur had started L’manburg. Tommy had thought Oh? So you’re in charge of the SMP? Fine. I can make my own land, too. Away from yours. He had been sick of Dream’s demanding rules. But did it work? No. Tommy and Wilbur had ended up exiled from the land, while Wilbur eventually teamed with Dream, leaving Tommy at Dream’s mercy again. And the exile. The exile was one of the most torturous, traumatic periods of Tommy’s life, for one sole reason. He was in Dream’s hands, 24/7, all the time. He had owed all he had, which wasn’t much, to Dream. Or, at least Tommy had thought he owed everything to him, but in reality Dream had manipulated and convinced, successfully, that Dream was Tommy’s friend, and Dream was only doing what was right. Which was the exact opposite. And it had led Tommy to exactly where he didn’t want to be. At Dream’s mercy.

Just like the plan with Techno, the one to blow up L’manburg, had led to Tommy realizing he was wrong, and to side with Tubbo, which led to Techno, Techno and Dream blowing up one of the only homes Tommy had ever had. To an entire country being at the mercy of Dream. Just like now. When Tommy opened his eyes, he saw himself, in the familiar, too familiar prison cell, with none other but the one and only Dream. And Tommy had known, and felt sick to his stomach, when he listened to Dream go on about how Dream could easily kill Tommy to learn and experiment about immortality. And while an immortal Dream was terrifying, something else had Tommy’s minds. Tommy was, once again, at Dream’s mercy.

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vodkassassin · 4 years ago

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world state: refresh, chapter 1

Summary: Something goes wrong with the plant body contingency plan, and Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua both end up perishing. However, it appears that the System isn’t finished with them, yet. And with their new promotions, this life they find themselves in seems more like a well-deserved vacation. / Back in their previous world, the people who knew them are still in mourning. And some of them are not willing to let them go.

—

“Dude! I thought the plan was to not die!”

“I —!”

“All that work for nothing! And you didn’t just fuck up, you had to drag me down with you? I thought we were bros, man. I thought we were cool!”

Shen Yuan shrinks back, watching him with wide eyes. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“Am I yelling?” Shang Qinghua crosses his arms and turns away. “I am just so sick of dying, bro! I thought we had a contingency, so I wasn’t worried, but now! What the fuck was that?”

“I couldn’t just,” Shen Yuan reaches up and pulls at his hair in aggravation. “I couldn’t just let that happen to Binghe!”

It’s kind of weird seeing him with such a slight build and shorter hair and big eyes a bright blue, when Shang Qinghua has long since become used to the broader shoulders and taller build and long, pin-straight hair of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Yuan’s got some curl to his hair. His eyelashes go on for days.

This must be how his bro looked like back in the real world. Or, their first world. After all this, there’s no way in hell that Shang Qinghua can call the world they’d just left fake or pretend.

He wishes he could.

Shang Qinghua makes a face and squints at his friend. Should he even call him that? After all, he… “You literally committed suicide. And you took me with you. Without asking! Bro, we’re both dead!”

“It’s not my fault that the plant bodies didn’t work!” Shen Yuan wails, and Shang Qinghua jerks back, stunned. Well, it seems that the cool and collected poker face of Shen Qingqiu had been left behind with the body itself. “You told me it was ready! And I didn’t ask you to stand so close to me when I detonated!”

“How was I suppose to know that’s what you were going to do?!” Shang Qinghua shrieks. He points an accusing finger at the other man. “We had a plan, you jerk! I kinda expected that we’d, oh I don’t know, go by it? Just a little bit? Play our parts? You changed the script on me without even giving me a cue!”

“Stop talking about it like it’s a stupid movie!” Shen Yuan says, and oh man his eyes are round and tearful. That’s not fair. “Binghe was going nuclear on us, Airplane! What was I suppose to do, let him destroy the world? Because you and I both know that’s what was about to happen!”

Shang Qinghua flinches back. He ducks his head and hunches his shoulder, looking away with a glare.

Shen Yuan sighs. He clears his throat, and says, “... I’m sorry I took you with me. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I tried to wait until you were out of range, but….”

Shang Qinghua sniffs.

“The only person capable of surviving a blast like that would be the protagonist.” He sullenly admits.

The both of them are silent at that. Shang Qinghua glares down at the vast expanse of blackness that surrounds them, leaving nothing to be seen but each other, somehow untouched by the dark. It almost seems like it might be a dream, but Shang Qinghua already knows what death feels like, and that had been it.

Can he even call himself Shang Qinghua anymore, if he’d left the body of that identity behind?

“I hope it was enough to fix Xin Mo’s influence on him,” Shen Yuan murmurs worriedly. “We’re not around anymore to mitigate the damage or direct the plot. What’s going to happen now? What if our absence means that the canon plot takes over again? Was it all for nothing?”

Shang Qinghua — Airplane drops his shoulders, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. He feels way too old for this. Why can’t death be the final rest it was suppose to be? Why does this keep happening?

“Where even are we?” He asks.

There’s a familiar ding that echoes endlessly in the void around them. Airplane shares a glance with Shen Yuan, both their expressions bearing the same look of dread and exasperation.

“Why?” Shen Yuan bemoans.

“We’re not done?” Shang Qinghua demands, feeling suddenly furious as a window, slightly too light against the inky blackness, pops up before them. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns away from the blinding brightness and covers his face, muttering furiously under his hitching breath. It’s not fair! What are they, slaves to the System? Airplane is so tired.

“What,” he hears Shen Yuan breathe out beside him.

There’s a tug on his sleeve — they’re both wearing the same robes they died in, resized to fit their new (or rather, their old) bodies but just as dirty — and he turns to glance at his friend, only to find Shen Yuan gaping at the System window in astonishment.

“Airplane,” his friend insists, eyes wide. “Airplane, read it.”

With a put upon sigh, Airplane turns back toward the window and squints at it.

Congratulations, Host 74 and Host 81! Due to your exemplary efforts to rewrite the plot of World-0690, both of you have been promoted!

“What,” Airplane gapes. “A promotion? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Keep reading,” Shen Yuan urges him, eyes still round in shock.

In compensation for your hard work and the troubles faced in World-0690, Hosts have been given the choice of their next assignments!

“I don’t want to,” Airplane whimpers. He turns away from the half-read window and throws himself at his friend.

Shen Yuan lets out a sound of surprise as he catches him, and a hand automatically goes up to pet at Airplane’s head as he buries his face into Shen Yuan’s neck.

“I — Airplane? What’s — ?”

“I don’t want to do it again,” he says, eyes stinging. Fuck, he’s crying. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to his friend. “I don’t want to. I’m done. I don’t want to anymore. Shen Yuan, I don’t want to!”

“Shit,” his friend mutters. The hand in his hair is comforting, stroking back and forth in a heavy pet.

Airplane sucks in a deep breath, which is a mistake, because it immediately bursts back out of him in a jarring sob.

He’s just so, so done. He doesn’t want to! He isn’t sure what he does want, just that he doesn’t want this! Please, please don’t make him! Not again! Airplane is done!

Shen Yuan speaks again, louder this time. “Airplane, listen. It’ll be different this time, okay? It’s giving us a choice!”

“I don’t want to,” Airplane cries.

“Um… How about I read us the, uh… the options. Okay?”

He sniffles. It’s not like there’s a decline button, he checked before he even started reading the damn window. This isn’t fair. This is so goddamn unfair.

Shakily, he nods his head against Shen Yuan chest. “... Okay.”

“Alright. So, um… option one is to be reborn with a system in a new world that requires a rewrite. It’ll be like how we ended up in PIDW, but we’ll have to read the plot beforehand so we know what we’re going into.”

“No,” Airplane jerks back, glaring up at his friend fiercely from beneath his damp lashes. “I will not be born again. I’m not growing up for another time. My childhoods in both worlds were shitty, I’m not letting myself be a child again, Shen Yuan!”

Shen Yuan gives him a weak smile. “Third time’s the charm?”

Airplane just continues to glare at him. The other man drops the smile and sighs.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a definite no to option one. I don’t wanna go through infancy or, hell, puberty again, either. So, option two…”

Airplane is quiet as his friend gazes up at the window and rereads their options. He refuses to turn around and look at it. He doesn’t want to see it. He’s so sick of the fucking System.

[Host….]

Fuck.

Shut up.

[This system apologizes—]

Shut up, shut up, shut up! Aren’t we done with you? Haven’t I finished what you wanted? Our mission is over, right? I don’t want to talk to you! Leave me alone!

[....]

“Okay, option two,” Shen Yuan says, eyes fixed on the window. Airplane lets his forehead drop to rest against his friend’s shoulder. “We can transmigrate into already written lives, fully grown bodies. Our task in that case would be to help stop the end of the world.”

“Fuck that,” Airplane and Shen Yuan both scoff at the same time.

Airplane draws back from his friend’s embrace to share a grin with him.

“I’m sick of responsibilities. How many options are there?”

Shen Yuan glances back up to scan the window. “There’s a few pages worth… Hey, System?”

There’s a ding. Airplane directs his gaze determinedly on his friend’s face and doesn’t look behind him.

“Can you filter the options?” Another ding. “Okay, filter out all options that require us to play a prewritten character or save a world.”

Ding! Airplane watches avidly as Shen Yuan’s expression smooths out into something pleased. The other man glances back down at him, and then blinks when he realizes that Airplane has been staring at him the entire time. He coughs, and pink flushes over his cheeks.

Airplane feels a smirk crawl onto his face. “Aw, bro. You know, you’re pretty cute like this. Is this how you looked like back — uh, in our first lives?”

Shen Yuan’s blush deepens. “I — uh… yeah, I think so? I don’t have a mirror, so I can’t be one-hundred percent sure…”

Then, the other man smirks back at him, a teasing light entering his bright eyes. “You’re not too shabby yourself, bro. Actually, you’re freaking adorable. If I knew this was what Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky looked like, I’d have never even tried taking your papapa scenes seriously.”

“You never took them seriously anyway,” Airplane scoffs, fighting off his own blush. He stares into the inky blackness of the void instead. “Besides, no one should have taken them seriously.”

“Eh? Why?”

The smirk crawls back over Airplane’s face, and he glances up at Shen Yuan from beneath his eyelashes. “I’m ace.”

Shen Yuan pauses. He stares down at him, speechless for a few long moments. Airplane lifts one hand to hide how his smirk has transformed into a grin. His shoulders shake with amusement.

Finally, Shen Yuan’s face breaks into incredulousness.

“You —? Are you serious?” The man wheezes. He reaches out and slaps a hand against Airplane’s shoulder, and then does it a few more times. “Are you fucking serious? A joke! The entire thing was a joke this whole time? Airplane, I’m gonna fucking kill you, oh my god!”

Despite his words, the slaps are gentle. Shen Yuan still has one arm wrapped around him in a hug.

Airplane bursts into laughter.

“I mean,” he giggles. “The story itself wasn’t a joke? But the reader count skyrocketed after the first smut scene, and the subscriptions mirrored that. I was just a starving college student, bro. I hadn’t eaten in three days, I needed some cash.”

Shen Yuan’s hits cease, and a serious expression overcomes his outrage.

“Was it really that bad?” He quietly asks.

Airplane bites his lip and looks away. “It’s been worse than that, but… Yeah. It’s what helped me make the decision to lead PIDW into the stallion novel genre. I kept the actual story to myself and just focused on writing what the subscribers demanded. It was a huge blow to my integrity as an author, and there were a lot of times that I hated myself for it, but I was too hungry to care most of the time.”

“Shit,” Shen Yuan presses a hand over his mouth. Airplane looks away entirely before he can see the pity that’s likely to be in his friend’s expression. “That’s shitty, man. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “After being born into it, though, there’s a lot of times I wish I’d just gone with my original draft. Starving would have been better than… a lot of what happened, back there as Shang Qinghua.”

Shen Yuan’s arm tightens around him. His hand finds its way back into Airplane’s hair.

“Hey,” he says, quietly. “What’s your name?”

Airplane snorts. “Shang Lei.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He buries his face into Shen Yuan’s chest and laughs. “No, that’s my name.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

He smacks Shen Yuan in the arm, grinning. “Yes, I’m serious.”

“You hack writer. You’re so original, I’m in awe.”

Airplane rolls his eyes and snuggles into his friend’s hug. “I’d offer to let you read the original PIDW, but I don’t have it with me, and I think it would hit differently now that we both uh, actually know most of the characters personally.”

Shen Yuan makes a face. “Man. I’d totally read it, too, if it wasn’t for that. And besides, the way you wrote Binghe... that’s not him. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. You raised him differently.”

There’s a quiet sound, like sniffling. “I … I don’t think I did such a good job,” Shen Yuan whispers, and his voice is thick.

Airplane closes his eyes.

“Anyway.” He says. “Our options?”

“... Right.” Shen Yuan coughs. He straightens up. His arm tightens around Airplane like one might clutch at a teddy bear. Airplane accepts it. “Um…. The filters have narrowed down the list quite a bit. How do you feel about being reborn as forest hermits in a farming simulation become reality?”

“Um. Pass. I’m not much for manual labor.”

Shen Yuan laughs. Airplane can feel the way his body trembles with it against him. He smiles and rests his head into the crook of his friend’s neck.

“Yeah, neither am I. Uh, there’s…. Demon Lords — nah, that’s R18. We know how that goes, and since you’re ace, no thanks. Um, there’s actually a lot of otome-type worlds. Weird. System, filter out those ones.”

Airplane yawns. He’s still feeling upset over all of this, but he’s come to a decision.

Whatever new world they end up in — and goddammit, it’ll be together — he’s not going to allow Shen Yuan convince him to let himself become attached to the characters this time. He’d done so well, in the first half of his life as Shang Qinghua, keeping himself distanced from his peers and enemies alike. Life went by quick and mostly painlessly, when you didn’t connect with anyone. The real pain came after Shen Yuan talked him into seeing the people of that world as actual people.

It was lonely before then, sure. He’s not sure the hurt that came after was worth it, though. Plus, this time he’ll have his bro at his side. That’s all he’ll need.

“Oh, hello.”

He pulls back from his friend’s comfy embrace to look up at him. “Find a good one?”

“I think so,” Shen Yuan tells him. He’s smiling up at the window, and he’s got one eyebrow raised. “This one is ‘Become Game Masters of an ARMMRPG.’”

“Eh?” Airplane frowns. “... Doesn’t it mean, uh, a VRMMORPG? Like in anime?”

“No. This one is Alternate Reality Massive Multiplayer Role Playing Game. Instead of being a virtual world, in this… story, I guess? In this story, the player characters are actually people capable of dimensional travel. Each ‘game’ is a different dimension, and the people can only die in their home dimension. From the description, it’s basically the same as the synopsis of your run of the mill VRMMORPG anime, except the virtual games are real worlds.”

“Sure, but if they’re real worlds, then what does being a Game Master mean?”

Shen Yuan grins down at him.

“Hey, Airplane,” he says. “How do you feel about being an actual god?”

—

Luo Binghe curls up on his throne like a child might sit in their mother’s lap, but there is no warmth to be found for him in this position. He clutches his knees to his chest and fights off another bout of these ceaseless tears. What’s a throne worth, what’s the seat of an emperor worth, what is all the power that he’s spent years accumulating worth, if Luo Binghe himself is actually useless regarding what truly matters?

He’s the king of an entire realm, territories a-plenty in the human one as well, but none of it matters anymore.

Nothing can matter, not now.

He launches himself off the throne, startling the line of servants that kneel on the gilded floor. He ignores their jolts and their gasps of surprise, turning on his heel to leave the room entirely. It’s only a few doors deep into the private wing behind his throne, a room in the center of his palace that is more secure than any place else in all the world.

He throws open the door, and catches it before it can slam shut. He closes it with barely a whisper.

It feels wrong, making too much noise in this room. Being too loud.

Shizun never liked it to be too noisy.

Luo Binghe’s eyes sting as he approaches the shrouded and still form that lies on the dias in the center of the room. He kneels before it, and then lowers himself further to press his forehead against the cold stone floor.

“Shizun,” he whimpers. “This lowly disciple is so sorry. This scum will repent for as long as it takes. Binghe will kneel for eternity if that is what it takes. But please, please. Come back.”

His voice cracks on the last word. It echoes quietly in the room, bouncing off the walls and reaching back to him until all the Luo Binghe is able to hear are the reverberations of his own useless please.

Just like every time before, the form he kowtows to is silent and unmoving. Cold. Dead.

Luo Binghe has made the worst mistakes, and there is no way to fix them.

[Read ch. 2]

#scum villain's self saving system #world state: refresh #cucumberplane #shen yuan #shang qinghua #vodkassassin fanfiction

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

The Midnight Hour

Welcome to another installment of A Very Bouncey Halloween! This time we’re in the canon universe and we’re dealing with a wraith/ghost/specter. Are they technically slightly different things? Yes. Do I care? No. This is fanfiction baybee.

Is this story’s plot loosely based on the lyrics to Thriller? Hell yeah. It’s fricken bats. I love Halloween.

tw: ghosts, spooky scenarios, frightening situations

1.4k (ish) words

---

Jaskier screamed in terror and alarm as soon as he was able to rip the dirty gag from between his teeth. Through a series of half-choked sobs and heaving breaths he managed to call out for his best friend, his ever-diligent guardian angel, “G-Geralt! Help m-m-me, Geralt, please!”

He scuttled backwards, sliding against the dirty marble floor as he tried to push himself to standing with his hands still tied in front of him. The oddly masked and costumed villagers had bound him, gagged him, and tossed him rather unceremoniously through the front door of the enormous, half-rotten mansion. They had very quickly shut and locked it behind him.

“It demands a sacrifice,” they’d insisted. “Or it will not sleep.”

He managed to clamber onto his feet and wipe a little of the dust from his clothes. The house appeared to be totally void of living occupants. He took a few shaky steps forward, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest like it might burst forth at any second and make a run for it on its own. Still, nothing stirred. The air was calm and heavy, thick with dust and years of stagnancy.

Jaskier was breathing in terrified, desperate little pants and sobs. He couldn’t help it; he was beyond scared. He wanted Geralt by his side more than anything. Why did I have to mouth off when I did!? Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut when he’s in a bad mood instead of always trying to-

A sudden shadowy movement caught his eye from the direction of the far hallway. He took a slow, deliberate step backwards and held his bound hands in front of him like some kind of useless, trembling shield. “No, please. No, no, no.”

Another flicker of life from the corner of his periphery.

Another swift, inky shape manifested in the darkness of the abandoned house and teased at the edges of Jaskier’s wavering vision.

The panicked bard kept his watery eyes as wide and focused as possible while he tried to remember the things Geralt had taught him about ghosts and wraiths. Just as he was about to try for the door again, the specter of a man stepped into the foyer. His translucent body shone dimly in the pale moonlight filtering through the front window and painted him in shades of off-white and grey. Jaskier opened his mouth to scream but found his lungs to be void of air. He was too frightened to make any sound at all.

The bard tried to flee, urging his legs to move and his eyes to look away but quickly discovered that he was trapped; paralyzed by the gaze of whoever this was and frozen in place, Jaskier whimpered.

“You’re rather pretty,” the specter stated.

“Th-thank you.”

“Because you are so pretty,” the ghost’s face morphed from that of a handsome young nobleman to that of a beast, eyes red and teeth sharp. Jaskier inhaled and nearly tripped over a piece of moth-eaten carpet. “Because you are so pretty, I shall give you the chance to run and hide. I’ll count to fifty and give you the head start. The longer you stay hidden, the longer you get to live. Sound like a deal?”

Maybe Geralt would turn around and come back for him. If he could just entertain the creature for long enough...whatever it was..

“Alright. Agreed.”

The strange monster closed its eyes and began to count, loudly and clearly. “One… Two…”

Jaskier bolted down the first available hallway and arrived in a chamber filled with various forms of statuary. This could be a good place to hide, but it would probably be the first place this creature looked.

He scampered out of the statuary and down a small, thin passage. This probably leads to the servants’ quarters, he surmised, wiggling his way past a smashed armoire sat wedged in the middle of the hall. Jaskier thrust himself into the first random bedroom he could find and curled up at the bottom of a sturdy steamer trunk. His hands were still tied together and the rope chafed terribly at the skin of his wrists but he couldn’t be asked to give a damn under his current circumstances.

Instead, the bard regulated his breathing as well as he could and waited for the sun to rise.

---

“He’s surely dead by now,” the old woman behind the mask informed Geralt. “The wraith will have gotten him.”

“Fuck.”

---

The furious Witcher didn’t hesitate to kick the front door of the dilapidated mansion down.

From a short distance within, he could hear a quiet voice entreating another person to cooperate. It was gritty like the grave dirt and soft like the wind through nighttime foliage: “Come out little bard, it’s time to play. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

The bone-deep relief Geralt felt at finding out that Jaskier was (for the moment) still alive was overwhelming. If there hadn’t been a monster to kill he would have dropped to his knees where he stood and thanked Melitele for his best friend’s well-being.

The Witcher flew down the hallway after the wraith and followed its slow, dragging footsteps. It had easily tracked Jaskier through the mansion and Geralt found the creature bent over a trunk, tugging at the lid. The overwhelming stench of fear filled the air around them both and gave the bard’s hiding place dead away.

“Leave the human alone and I’ll try to make this a fair fight,” Geralt snarled. His enormous shoulders filled the doorway, blocking the monster inside and giving him nowhere to go but through the Witcher. “That’s my best offer.”

“Darling Geralt!” the trunk cheered. “I’m so sorry about earlier! I’m glad you came back for me!”

“Stay put,” the Witcher demanded, lowering himself into a defensive stance as the wraith made ready to attack. “I’ll get you out when everything is safe, alright?”

“Gera-”

The creature sprang at Geralt before Jaskier could get the rest of his words out. It threw itself across the room, knocking the Witcher back out the door and into the cramped hall. Geralt thrust forward with his silver sword and slammed it into the wraith’s ribcage. The monster shuddered and screamed, falling to pieces of ash where it stood.

A quick fight.

A surprisingly easy fight for a wraith that had apparently put the villagers under thrall (or at least scared them into giving up Jaskier).

Geralt relaxed his posture and sheathed his sword. He strode across the room to the trunk and flung the lid open. Once he was sure the bard was unharmed, he gathered Jaskier into his arms and buried his nose within the bard’s softly curling hair. “Fuck, Jaskier. You scared me.”

“I’m s-s-s-”

“Jaskier?”

The bard was shaking like a leaf in his arms. His eyes were red-rimmed and tears flowed endlessly down his splotchy red cheeks. Jaskier couldn’t seem to draw a firm, full breath into his lungs without sobbing it back out only a moment later. Geralt didn’t know what to do; he’d never seen the man so frightened before in his life.

“Don’tputmedown,” the bard gasped out. “Pleasedon’tputmedown.”

“I won’t,” the Witcher frowned, sitting atop another closed trunk and settling Jaskier onto his lap. He tucked the bard’s head into the side of his neck and started rocking back and forth on instinct. After a minute or two of silence and constant, warm physical contact, Jaskier’s breathing returned to normal and he stopped sniffling.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back for me this time,” he whispered. “Not after the argument. You’ve left me on my own for less foolish reasons in the past.”

“Can’t leave,” Geralt shrugged. “Not anymore.”

“Nothing stopped you before,” Jaskier huffed. A sharp pang of regret, guilt, and horror struck the Witcher to his very core. All the emotions people said he didn’t have came rushing to the surface as the bard’s tired, accepting tone asked: “What’s so different about this time?”

“Well, bard, this time,” Geralt said, eyes boring down into Jaskier’s. “This time I realized that I love you and I can’t just yell every time I feel like I’m being misunderstood. I need to learn to explain myself better.”

“G-Geralt?”

“I love you, Jaskier, and the thought of losing you is intolerable to me.”

“I love you too, of course, but you already knew that,” the bard laughed in shock. “Of course this is the ghost, right? This is a trick of the light? I’m having a fear-based hallucination and your eyes are about to become spiders, right?”

“I hope not,” Geralt frowned. “That would hurt.”

“Oh my gods,” the bard’s anxious frown transformed into a bright, giddy grin right before Geralt’s eyes. The Witcher wondered how anyone could feel so much so quickly, but Jaskier proved it possible every single day. “Oh, Geralt!”

“I would kiss you now, but I’d rather get out of here, first.”

“Sounds good,” Jaskier nodded. “Also, do you mind untying my hands?”

#geraskier #the midnight hour #geraskier fluff #panic tw #scary images #ghosts #wraiths #canon universe #a very bouncey halloween #jaskier in peril #geralt to the rescue #snuggling #getting together #geralt uses his words #talking it out #geraskier nonsense #bouncey's fluff addiction #is this based on the lyrics to thriller? yes

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whumpingcrow · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 (Gio POV)

Bad Dogs Sleep Outside

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, discussion of conditioning/training/brainwashing, trauma/ptsd themes, noncon drug use, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, lady whumper, intimate whumper, multiple whumpers, physical assault, dehumanizing language/themes, emotional whump, weather whump (is that a thing?), strangulation mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Everything sounds very far away. It's a thing I keep noticing over and over again, like my mind is a carousel and there's only one little man riding in circles, screaming "Hey! Everything sounds really far away!" each time he goes around. How do I remember what a carousel is? What a bizarre thing to linger around after everything else was beaten out of me. It's so bizarre that I laugh. That sounds far away, too.

"Watcha laughing at?" Rory asks me, her voice a murmer across a million mile void from her throat to my head. I look up at her from my spot on the floor. She's so beautiful, her once electric blue hair is fading out to a light blue-ish blonde, which looks like a silvery halo, the way the light is catching it right now. I smile at her. Nicko should be drawing pictures of her, and it makes me feel somewhat disgusting that I have the one he drew for me taped up to the wall next to the beanbag, because I'm most definitely not living, breathing art that needs to be captured on paper, Rory is.

I can't remember her question, but the fear that ties my stomach into knots because I am so stupid and need to be listening better, also feels far away. Whatever drug she gave me this time is amazing. I never want to stop feeling this way. I want to be as far away from myself as possible all the time, if I could I would get a restraining order against myself. Why do I remember what a restraining order is? Restraining orders and carousels stayed behind but not guitars or names of people I think I used to know? Why'd they have to break me up so jagged like that? None of my pieces fit together anymore, no matter how many times I've tried to glue them back together.

But right now, the pieces of me that are the most functioning are the most shattered and re-mended of all; the sharp edges of training. I remember it all, even if it's just down to muscle memory sometimes. I don't have to try so hard to think about why I'm doing something or what it means, it just is. I do this now, kneeling in front of Rory, tentatively hovering by her leg, making it obvious I want to be closer. I know that, with some of the trainers, being soft like this was sometimes reward-worthy, or at the very least would stop them from hurting me for a little while.

"You're so beautiful," I breathe, realizing that she's still looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer to the question I'm stupid enough to have forgotten in the five seconds since she's asked it. She blushes, then smiles at me. Her hands find their way to my hair and she runs her fingers through some of the tangles.

"You're such a darling, you know that?" Her voice is like a song, her fingernails scratching behind my ear is driving me crazy. I feel myself pressing into her touch, and I hear her laugh softly. It makes me warm all over. I want her to look at me how she's looking at me right now all the time, jaded blue eyes downcast at me, shining in amusement behind the dullness of the drugs, like sunshine reflecting off shattered glass discarded in a dirty puddle. And I love the way she sounds when she says things like that, that I'm darling. I want her to say more stuff like that, so I keep going.

I lean toward her, tipping my head back to get a better look at her. "Rory," I whisper, "you're like an angel, miss."

She smiles wider at me, then drags one of her sharp nails against my jaw and down my throat. A chill goes down my spine, and I sigh just a little at it. "Why don't you come up on the bed with me, Gio?" Her voice is real low and silky when she says it, it echos across the vast canyon that I feel is separating me from reality. I remember when I first got here, she told me her name was like the princess I was too stupid to know (how fucking irritating that I remember what a carousel is and not whoever Rory was talking about) and I think now that the title fits her. Nicko's called her that a few times, "Princess", and it feels like the most honest thing he's said.

Slowly, I grab onto the too-soft sheets and pull myself to my feet. The ground is nothing but static underneath me, for a second I'm scared I'll drop through it and fall endlessly into hell. I can't help but think that's where I'll end up, and it scares me shitless that I might be going there right now. So I collapse onto the bed next to Rory, keeping my eyes focused on the floor to make sure it's still there.

Rory loops her fingers around my neck loosely and forces me to turn my head to look at her. She's staring holes into my skin, her gaze suddenly so intense it reminds me of Master. I close my eyes. I don't want to think of him, towering over me and watching me with that same look as I would tremble and sob and beg him to just be done already. Rory's finger is right over my pulse, and I pray that she doesn't add any pressure.

She smells like smoke and alcohol and perfume, and her breath is brushing my cheek when she says "It's so cute when you say things like that." Then her lips fall against my cheek, then my jaw, then she moves her hand and kisses over my pulse. I draw in a deep breath, keeping my eyes closed. I wonder if her lipstick is coming off on my skin where she kisses me. And, just when I think I might fall over in the euphoria that comes with her touching me so gently, her lips are against my own, hands cupping my face to keep me still. As if I would ever dream of not letting her do this to me.

She kisses me sloppily, with tongue and teeth, and I'm grabbing hard at the sheets and trying to put myself back into my body so I can actually experience it. But no matter how hard I try, everything is still so far away. "Hey!" The little guy on the carousel screams. "Everything is very far away!"

Even when her hands are sliding down my chest, and over my waistband, I don't really feel it, even when she's taking my lip into her teeth and biting like she's trying to draw blood, it's not my pain, not really. Even when the door opens and slams shut and I hear Nicko's booming voice asking us "What the fuck are you doing?!", it hurts my ears but I don't really process it.

Only when Rory snaps away from me and I feel hands grabbing me hard and ripping me off the mattress do I feel somewhat present, and Nicko is grabbing the collar of my shirt tightly and his furious face is right in front of mine, and I'm afraid.

"Why the fuck are you tounging my girlfriend, you fucking freak?!" He shouts at me. I try my best to cower away from him, but his grip is too tight, he really wants me to see how angry he is. Hot tears are in my eyes, I can't force my brain to come up with an apology, so I just stare up at him as he shouts at me. And then he must decide that yelling isn't enough, and he pulls back and punches me in the nose.

"Nicko stop it!" I hear Rory shriek, but it seems to only egg him on more, and he hits me again. This time I notice that the floor is pressed up against my back, or I guess I'm splayed out on the floor, it's hard to tell, my world feels all upside down. And my face is throbbing, I think, and I can't tell if it's hard to see because of the pain or if I just don't have my eyes open all the way. Through all of that, though, I remind myself to be quiet. Nicko's already so angry, the only thing I can do is stay silent and observe him landing brutal kicks against me, now. I find myself wondering what I did to deserve this, everything is so muddled and confusing I'm not even sure who's hitting me anymore.

"I'm sorry," I plead to the hands, trying to put as much remorse into my voice as I can, but it only comes out mangled and exhausted. Not good enough, they hit me again. I try another time, "ple-please, I'm sorry!"

Then I'm being picked up off the ground, hands reaching out of the dense, fuzzy cloud of confusion surrounding me and pulling me gruffly to my feet. I'm dragged out of the bedroom, I can hear Rory shouting at Nicko to let me go, and I look up to see him glaring forward, not even looking at me. He's livid, even more angry than the day he shouted when I passed out at the shop. My lungs feel like they're full of cement, Nicko is mad at me! I am so stupid and annoying and worthless and

"I'm so sorry!" I sob out. He ignores me.

We pass by one of Nicko's other roommates as he drags me down the hall, he's never said a word to me before, but he always looks at me with vague disgust when he's around. I think his name is Ben. Now, his disgust is warped with horror, his eyebrows twisted into a tight frown and his mouth hanging open as Nicko drags me along next to him. He doesn't say anything. I wish it were Salem. Salem would have said something. I wonder when he'll back from work, if I'll be able to sneak away from Nicko and Rory long enough to see him. That is, if I even live that long. The way Nicko is handling me carelessly, with a drunken, vengeful look in his eyes, I don't have much hope that I will.

He opens the sliding door to the backyard, where snow covers nearly every surface, the porch light soaks all of it in a rusty orange glow. It makes me feel hollow inside when Nicko drags me out there. I'm not wearing shoes or socks, hardly wearing pants, and Nicko seems to only give me thin t-shirts instead of heavy sweaters like he and Rory wear.

The cold knocks my breath away, especially when Nicko tosses me down to the ground. The snow feels almost sharp against my skin, like it's cutting into me. I refuse to make any sound. Nicko is mad enough. He approaches me slowly, I only dare to look at his huge black boots approaching, I don't lift my head, I don't look up at him. I don't deserve to. He crouches down in front of me, sliding his belt out of the loops in his jeans slowly.

"You're fucking sick, you know that?" He says. I flinch away from his voice, and then he's sitting me up, leaning me against one of the wooden pillars holding the awning up. "You don't seriously think she wants you, right? I mean, look at you, you're pathetic. You're not even a fucking person anymore, Giovanni. Do you get that? She doesn't want you..." he presses me closer to the beam I'm leaning against, I feel splinters in my back already. He's so fucking scary like this, and I absolutely hate myself for pushing him into such horrific anger. I'm so horrible. I deserve this. I deserve this and so much more. He brings the belt up, looping it around my neck and the pillar, tightening it so I can't move. If I relax even an inch it would strangle me, I'm sure of it, I'm barely able to get in ragged breaths already. Nicko stands up. "She just wants the attention."

I can hardly see him through tears in my eyes as he stands up, hovering over me for a moment. I want him to let me down, I want to go back inside and put on Salem's sweater that I keep hidden, I want Nicko to like me again, I hate when he's this angry. I say nothing, because I deserve this. Because I'm horrible.

"You'll sleep out here tonight, so you can really learn your lesson."

His blurry silhouette turns away from me. I can't move enough to watch him walk all the way inside, but I hear the door close, then I hear it lock. When I'm sure I'm alone, I start to cry.

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