#even then. drain punch.

[jojolimons]

gah spent the whole day putting together a team for the blueberry prologue

i at least got a win out of it tho

[lae-zels]

girls: 😐 wyll, astarion: 🤨 gale: 😍

[im2tired4usernames]

God I never get a fuckin break from being a housewife to a house that's not mine or a parent to children that are not mine

[saltymarshmall0w]

beatdown buddies

(You always read fics where the pit is instantly calmed by Danny’s presence, but what if it didn’t?)

Now, you have to understand, that Jason was long past attacking strangers in a blind fury. The Bats? Sure, all the time--- but he was working on that.

This particular scrawny, possibly-homeless stranger hadn’t done anything more than simply exist in Jason’s proximity. If it was any other Crime Alley resident, Jason would be much more likely feel a surge of protectiveness.

This guy though– he was different.

Locking toxic-green eyes to toxic-green eyes made the pit in his skin violently react. Before he knew it, he was hitting the guy with everything he had, and the guy was hitting back.

The groceries Jason had left his apartment to get spilled all over the ground as the two rolled.

Pulled hair, split knuckles, and bruised bodies, the guy’s fist hit Jason’s jaw for the umpteenth time, cracking his head back and making him look at the gloomy sky.

They only used their fists. Jason could feel the familiar ghost of weapons hidden under the other guy’s hoodie, but neither pulled their hidden weapons.

Despite it all, Jason and the guy shared blood-tinged smiles. Blood boiled under his skin in an exciting trill. He was angry, and it was fantastic.

He’s pretty sure he just made a new best friend.

Someone hit Jason’s back with what could distinctly be identified as a broom. He vaguely heard the sound of yelling around him, but Jason’s only focus was getting his next hit in.

Eventually, they were stopped by a familiar shade of blue and black. Strong arms pulled him off the stranger and pinned his arms down, locking their arms over his chest to prevent Jason from getting free.

“You need to calm down!” Dickwing’s voice lectured in his ear. “You’re going to kill him!”

Surprisingly, Jason settled in Dick’s hold, fight and anger drained out of him in the space of a breath. The fire under his skin didn’t keep flaming and flaming and building it just– stopped.

“Oh, Please.” The stranger was grinning widely, despite the model of developing bruises and cuts across his face. A burly man who Jason vaguely recognized worked at the store they were standing right in front of was both holding up and holding back the guy. “We were just saying ‘Hi’.”

The guy made eye contact with Jason. Blue, no hints of green anywhere. The guy winked. “Danny.”

Frankly, Jason couldn’t quite explain his actions. He felt stupidly chastized by Nightwing’s patented older brother stare of disappointment. Apparently, the guy couldn’t explain his actions either, as he disappeared the instant no one’s eyes were on him.

-

Jason arrived an hour early to Wayne Sunday family dinner. He missed cooking alongside Alfred, and offered his help.

He let Dick wrap an arm around his shoulder for a few seconds as a welcome. He didn’t seethe at Bruce simply being there. He chose to sit between Tim and the Demon brat when it looked like new fratricide plans were being drawn up by the younger.

The pit didn’t scream under his skin to hurt. Little things didn’t set him off, making him have to leave early. He wasn’t tempted to throttle anyone for existing around him.

The pit was just… quiet. Peaceful even. Well, as peaceful as it could get in the Wayne household.

It was a massive improvement compared to six months ago— hell, compared to last month.

He shrugged off inquiries about his black eye, citing it would heal quickly anyway.

-

Jason should have known he wasn’t safe.

Sure, he was on a roof one could only grapple to, across the city from crime alley, and dressed up as Red Hood.

However, Danny always reappeared periodically like a well-timed extremely therapeutic punching bag.

One moment, Jason was looking down over the streets of Gotham the next, he was being flying-kicked by a lithe frame. Something instantly recognized Danny so, rather the putting a bullet in him, Jason picked himself back up into a crouch and lunged at Danny.

“Hood? Hood what’s going on?” Someone called in his ear— Oh, right he had connected comms with his family that night.

Danny stopped suddenly, straddling Jason’s stomach, one hand fisting his collar, the other posed to strike. He blinked. glowing green eyes turned blue. “You’re not like, busy doing vigilante stuff, are you?” He asked.

Every bruise and cut from their last fight was gone, his baby face appeared as though it had never been punched in his life, making him look all the more punchable.

“Nope.” Jason answered, driving an elbow into the kid’s stomach and in the same motion ripped the comm out of his ear to toss it to the side.

Minutes later Danny was pulled off him, and the fire under his skin died down.

He blinked back into his surroundings to find himself on a rooftop with half of Gotham’s vigilantes standing in a circle around him, an unease that he could only read because he was so familiar with them written in all of their body languages. Batman held Danny slightly behind himself, keeping a firm grasp on the guy so he couldn’t escape.

“You claimed the rage was getting better.” Bruce stated in the way that meant he was supposed to answer his unasked questions..

Jason waited for rage and indignance to rise up in him, but rather he just considered that Bruce saw glowing green eyes and a brutal beat down and made a logical leap.

“It has!” Jason argued anyway. He sniffed and ran a hand under his slightly bleeding nose. It didn’t sting enough to be broken. “I haven’t lost my cool in months.”

“That’s what he has me for!” Danny chimed happily. His nose was broken, but Danny didn’t seem to mind the twin streaks of blood running down his face. “We’re friends with Benefits. It’s always healthy to have a little dead-guy on dead-guy action. You guys should really fight with him more often, his ectoplasm is rank.”

[girl-lostconnection]

The thoughts are chasing me for the last few weeks or so, so now I’m gonna share them with you.

TaskForce 141 x Helldiver!Reader

141 who are getting higher clearance to find out about the whole entirely separate military branch that operate on intergalactic fucking levels.

And then they meet the Reader — always in armour, primary weapon slinged over their shoulder, heavy boots thudding on the metal of their ship as they jog from armoury to main panel, punching in coordinates.

141 don’t think they ever saw someone work this quickly with missions that never last more than 45 minutes at most, jogging through harsh terrain to work through every mission objective.

But still it seems doable. It doesn’t seem like anything too harsh they’ve seen on Earth. Not so different really. They don’t get why the soldiers of this branch are called “helldivers”.

Reader hums, voice getting distorted due to helmet they seem to be always in. Always ready for battle.

“Cause we dive feet first into hell”, they chuckle, rolling their shoulders before locking themselves down into the pod.

141 watching with growing worry the way the pod gets fucking launched down the orbit like a bloody missile. It’s a miracle the person inside even gets out upon collision. It’s a miracle they are in any state to fight.

But there is something wrong with the whole branch. Soldiers too young, heads too hot, missions too risky and weapons that are never provided. Most of ammunition helldivers buying themselves. Spending their own money to improve the state of the ship and their own weapons.

It’s not until 141 find out the horrifying statistic that colour drains from their faces, fingers cold and static-y.

Average lifespan of Helldivers in the field is less than half a minute.

Average age is 18 to 22 years old.

Continuation

[4linos]

clingy, not a burden

lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis/request: after a long day, minho’s need for affection is met with warmth and reassurance, reminding him he can always seek comfort without shame.

wc: 1143

It had been a difficult day for Minho. He'd spent hours at practice, pushing his body to its limits with choreography and vocal runs, and while he appeared fine on the outside, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He didn't show it all the time, but when he was this worn out, the sharpness in his usual actions and the brightness in his gaze began to fade. More than anything, he just wanted to be near you.

It started when you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables, with the calm hum of the evening filling the room. Minho entered silently behind you, his steps light and seemingly hesitant. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there and watched you for a bit. He looked a little... smaller, as if all the energy he'd spent over the day had drained him totally. Then, almost as an afterthought, he scooted closer to you, snuggling in next you as if your presence was the only thing that could keep him grounded.

You could feel him before you saw him: his body warmth, the small brush of his palm against yours, the subtle aroma of sweat and tiredness on him. You looked up to see him standing there, staring at you with the gentle, almost vulnerable expression he saved for occasions like this. He said nothing, but you understood exactly what he wanted.

"You okay, babe?" You asked, your voice simmered with worry, but a smile pulled at your lips as you noticed how close he was standing, nearly leaning into you, as if he couldn't get enough of your presence.

He blinked slowly and gave a slight nod, but his eyes never left yours. You could see he was tired, both physically and emotionally, from practicing, but he wasn't the sort to acknowledge it. Instead, he just followed you about the kitchen, lingering close like a shadow.

When you moved to the counter, Minho was there behind you, resting against it and watching you slice the vegetables with a kind, almost drowsy smile. It was subtle, but the way he kept close to you made you feel like you were the only thing he could think about at the time. You could literally feel the weight of his tiredness through the air, and the way he didn't let go of your side all evening told you exactly what he needed: closeness.

"Minho," you teased softly, watching how he kept following you around the apartment, sneaking behind you when you went to the the bathroom and reappearing just a few seconds later when you settled into the couch. His movements were so gentle, his gaze so steady, and the way he leaned in, seeking the warmth of your skin, made your heart hurt with longing. "You're being a little clingy today, huh?"

It was meant to be playful, to ease the stress that had accumulated around him. Minho was not the clingy type, at least not unless he was tired or needed something specific. It was one of the things you like about him: he wasn't overly clingy, always giving you your space unless he truly needed it. But as you said it, his face changed quickly. The smile faded, and the light in his eyes faded just a little. His lips pushed together in a narrow line, and the sorrow returned to his face so rapidly that you nearly missed it. He wasn't offended at all. But you knew him well enough to notice that something had changed beneath the surface.

Minho's shoulders stiffened, and for a brief time, he looked like he was about to leave, walking away and leaving you alone in the apartment's silence. You could sense his sudden distancing before he made a move, and it hit you like a punch in the the stomach. You never wanted him to feel forced to walk away from you. Not right now, when he needed you the most.

"Minho…" you murmured quietly, your voice breaking as you reached out and gripped his wrist, bringing him back into you. His look had softened to something uncertain, the faint sadness still lingering, and you realized you had made a mistake. "I didn't mean it like that," you quickly added, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I wasn't teasing you, I promise. I just... I was trying to make you laugh. I'm sorry."

Minho hesitated, his eyes shifting to yours. There was a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he stood in front of you, his hand clumsily drawing away from yours for a second, unsure how to answer. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and you could tell he was still digesting things, feeling a touch vulnerable, with his walls cracking in an unusual way for him.

But then, after a long moment, he sighed, as if the weight of the day had finally gotten to him, and smiled sheepishly. His shoulders slumped, and at the next instant, he leaned forward, concealing his face in the crook of your neck and pushing against you as if seeking refuge. "I'm sorry," he said into your skin, his words muffled. "I just... I'm really tired today. I didn't want you to think I was annoying or something." You smiled softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, the warmth of his body against yours a reassuring reminder that you didn't need to say anything else. You kissed the top of his head; your voice gentle and full of love.

"Minho, you can be clingy. I don't mind," you said softly but really. "If you need me, I will always be there for you. You don't have to hide it or be embarrassed. I adore how you want to be close to me. You are never too much for me, you know that, right?" Minho halted, his body stiffening against yours for a little moment, as if he wasn't sure how to accept the reassurance. But then he relaxed again, his breath slowing as he sank himself further into the warmth of your embrace, as if the sheer reality of your words might lift the weight of his tiredness.

You felt his body soften against yours, the last bit of tension fading as he snuggled even closer, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that he was clingy. It didn’t matter that he needed something you couldn’t put into words. All that mattered was that you were there, and that he knew, no matter what, you’d always be his safe place to land.

“I’m not going anywhere, Minho,” you whispered, your hand tracing small circles on his back. “You can be as clingy as you want. I’m here. Always.”

And with that, he finally let himself rest, his exhaustion slowly melting away in your arms.

//

masterlist

[karinasbaby]

sim jaeyun — sense.

P. spiderman!jake x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, sir kink, somewhat hard dom jake, tying up, pet names, making out, jake is desperate and needy, breeding kink, creampie, cursing, other filthy shit | WC. around 3k im assuming | A,N. wanted to write smth for spiderman jake so here we are ! pls read a,note at the end !

in which.. jake gets affected by an unknown aphrodisiac potion in the middle of a fight.

limping towards your apartment building at two am wasn’t the ideal situation jake was hoping to find himself just a few hours ago.

yet here he is. right hand pressed against the bleeding gash on the side of his waist while his left hand loosely wrapped around his red mask. an unfavourable situation really. seeing the friendly neighbourhood spiderman walking funnily down the streets of queens.

crimson red leaking between his fingertips and bleeding through his suit, multiple small cuts adorned his legs and angles, ripping apart the high-tech suit that was crafted by mr.stark for him only, weeks of hard work wasted down the drain in the matter of a few villains.

yet none of those tragedies were processed inside of jake’s foggy mind. as ridiculous as it sounded, he felt all the blood rushing from his body to the middle of his legs. adding more to his lightheartedness overall.

he couldn’t figure out what the fuck the stupid robber threw at him in that filthy glass bottle of his. the glass shattering right next to jake’s jaw letting the liquid seep into his suit and before he could even realise it, he had ingested way too much of the unknown liquid mid fight due to his stupid habit of licking his lips and heavy breathing.

tongue pressing against the dampened fabric that was soaked with what he assumed was a potion of some sort because it fucked him up entirely.

he was rock fucking hard. in the middle of the street. with multiple injuries. at two am.

to say that he was sexually frustrated would be an understatement. his body was aching in every way possible. his senses heightening further than they normally should be, hearing his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ear drums as he dragged himself closer and closer to the brick wall of his favourite building.

he almost moaned when he lifted his head upwards to face the windows of the apartment, throbbing, tortorous pain pulsing all throughout his veins and body. he could barely remember all the scenes from the unnecessary assault, from the stinging kicks to his abdomen to the tenderness he felt in his knuckles due to his calculated punches that had the guy knocked out on the floor after hours.

knowing your tendency of asking him countless questions from his fights and encounters with criminals, he tried to prepare himself to relief all your confusion. key word: tried. because he felt his legs beginning to shake under him. breaths turning heavier with each passing second.

he inhaled a deep breath to ground himself just for the next few minutes. eyes focusing on the sight of your window still open, you were still waiting for him. jake’s fingers loosened in relief before he lifted his right arm upwards to shoot a long, thin web. connected himself from the ground to the side of the brick wall.

the translucent web kept his weak figure balanced against the pull of the gravity, feet lightly pressed under the rough ridges and corners before he finally pressed his knee against your window sill.

jake’s half lidded eyes desperately searched for your presence, widening in complete delight when he spotted your figure laying on the bed. one hand wrapped around your favourite novel while the other adjusted the volume of your headphones. your fingers instinctively pressing against the negatively symbolised button before a blur caught your attention. the sight making your heart drop.

your gaze quickly met jake’s exhausted one. “jaeyun?” you whispered in surprise, taking in the appearance of his battered body. shit, how did he get hurt so bad when he left not even an hour ago?

before you could realise it your feet carried you away from your mattress and towards your lover who was now holding onto his stomach in pain. eyes closed and head lowered to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat at the pure anguish his body was going through.

he felt each nerve pulsing with white hot heat. ache circulating his body stemming from the cuts and punches along with his confusing boner that made his head spin in need.

“i’ll go get the first aid kit.” taking off your headphones, you rushed towards the door of your bedroom before disappearing. unaware of the way jake was desperately reaching forward to just stop you. to tell you that his cuts didn’t matter at the moment. and that if he didn’t have you under him in the next few minutes his mind might erupt.

his body ran on his impulse at this current second. head pushing away all his pain and burn from his small cuts and bruises (in comparison to his previous injuries) to focus on his leaking cock that pulsed between his unusually tight boxers.

he felt ridiculously hot and warm. it was uncomfortable to stay in his suit when his body ached to hold yours, he was struggling. so much.

“sit down on the bed, baby.” you walked back inside the room carrying the small box in your hands, attention caught on the ointment that was in the middle of the box surrounded by the multiple bandages that you mentally counted in your head, they seemed like a good amount.

“how did this even ha—?” your words got cut off when jake wrapped his arms around your waist and harshly pulled you against him, the sudden movement causing the first aid kit to fall out of your hands and clatter quietly on your carpet, “get on the bed right now.” jake practically whined into your ear, breath hot against your skin as his desperation was evident in every word.

you were confused, bewildered to say the least. how was he even able to move with such horrendous injuries that were probably excruciatingly painful for him right now? “baby wha—“ “please, baby. i’m begging you. please strip and get on the bed.” he groaned, hands loosening around you as they pushed you gently against the bed.

“but jake your inju—“ rip!

a punch of pieces of fabric just fell onto the ground as jake harshly ripped your clothes off. you didn’t even have the time to process what happened before he buried his face into your chest, hands cupping your breasts that were decorated in his favourite dark red lacey bra. he adored the sight of his favourite lingerie on you, but at this current second he loathed every fabric that was on both of your bodies.

“fuck— baby, i need you so bad. i-i don’t know what’s going on, i got hit with this random liquid by this stupid fucking— oh my god—“ he cut himself off when he felt you leaning closer to him, the slight brush of his dripping cock against your thigh made him almost cum in his suit. “i need you so fucking bad.” he whined before pressing his lips desperately against your lips, relief washing down his body when you reciprocated and stopped asking questions.

truth was you were more than confused at the moment. but with the way your lover was a few seconds away from getting on his knees to beg you so you allow him to fuck you was… an experience indeed.

you really loved seeing this side of jake. functioning on nothing but pure desire and need.

he quickly pushed you towards the bed, falling right after you on top of your soft mattress before he connected your lips again, sucking on your tongue needily while he humped your thighs. his breaths were heavy, soft whimpers of your name and how much he needed you left his pretty plump lips while you felt your panties growing wetter by the second.

you brushed your fingers through his fluffy hair while he tried to kiss you and hump you while simultaneously trying to remove his suit. the frustrated fucks and shits leaving his mouth when he would pull away to get a quick breath before kissing you again.

once his suit was off he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. pushing his body on top of yours, burning skin on skin as he felt countless beads of sweat roll down his body. his body was completely on fire. a depraved urge to fuck you till sunrise centered itself in his head. and before he knew it he was ripping your panties in half and spreading your legs wide open.

you moaned in pleasure when his dripping cock settled on top of your cunt, the precum running down his base almost like he had already came. he cursed under his breath before he used his strength to move you around to his liking.

“you know i’m not the type to do this, but today i just can’t baby. i’ll make it up to you.” he rushed out as he lifted your wrists up above your head, you confusedly look at him before he shot multiple webs around your wrists and the bed. trapping you under him entirely.

your heart dropped to your stomach as jake was the complete opposite of whoever was on top of you right now. he never truly fucked you, he made love to you every chance he got. wrapping himself around you and gently pleasuring you because your pleasure was his. he was so tender and loving. a drastic contrast from the man that used to kiss your wrists when you were coming down from your high to the man that just tied your wrists by using his web fluid. and you can’t say you weren’t excited.

he settled onto his knees, taking in the breathtaking sight of you sprawled out on the bed in front of him, legs spread widely with your cunt dripping. your hole practically begging him to fill you up. he slapped his cock against your soaked folds a few times. riling you up further as you squealed under him at the jolts of shock rushing throughout your body from your clit.

“look at you baby… you looking so beautiful. so pretty for me.” he breathed out dazedly, a soft smile carving its way onto his lips as your pretty eyes glossed over while your bottom lip got trapped between your teeth, “gonna be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” he teased as he brushed his pulsing length between your folds, dipping the tip just in slightly before pulling away and enjoying your mewls of his name.

“yes— yes, yes! i’ll always be your good girl, please.” you choked out, the need for him pulsing throughout your body. “please what?” he paused his movements as his eyes pierced into yours. “please, sir.”

“such a good girl for me.” he chuckled when he pushed his length in, you gasped as he thrusted in deeply, brushing against all of your sweet spots in one go. you were seeing stars at the way he filled you up, his thick length always stretching your walls out just right. he was perfect.

“fuck— baby, you feel so fucking good.” he moaned, his pace becoming completely out of control as he felt his need and desire becoming more intense, his emotions stirring with his thoughts while the only thing he knew his body needed was to release. to fill and stuff you full of his cum and hopefully the effects of the potion will come off.

you moaned his name so sweetly for him, hands struggling against the webs as he spread your legs wider against your bed, his eyes entranced on the way his length disappeared inside of your soaked cunt before it came out glistening, multiple threads of wetness connecting you both as the wet sounds began to echo in your room. “sir— i’m so s-so close.” you mewled out as he continued to pound into you.

at your words jake switched his position, from balancing himself on his knees on your mattress to hovering above you, placing your legs back atop his shoulder as he sank in deeper this time.

broken moans of his name left your mouth as his tip kept abusing your sweetest spots over and over again. eyes rolling to the back of your head when jake slipped his hand between the two of you and used his thumb to rub tantalising circles on your swollen clit, coaxing your orgasm out.

“wanna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock like a good girl?” teasing you, he leaned down to leave bite marks over every inch of skin he could access, his body jolting with electricity and excitement when you arched your back against him, jaw going slack as the coil in your abdomen tightened more and more.

jake felt his mind reeling when you finally tightened unbelievably around him to the point pulling out almost felt painful. he relished in the way your body convulsed while he switched from rubbing your clit to landing slaps against it. each wet slap resonating in the room accompanied by your desperate moans while you creamed around his cock so prettily.

he felt like he was floating through a cloud of euphoria at the view of you shaking beneath him, because of him. his hips continued to pound into you, dick pulsing in need inside of you as his own climax was right around the corner.

you desperately pulled at the webs, twitching under jaeyun as he continued to fuck you through and overstimulate you from your orgasm, your body felt like it was lit ablaze as he pleased you while he chased his own release. “feels good baby?” he asked as lowered himself this time to kiss along your chest, smiling against your skin when you nodded with a soft “mhm”. unable to produce any coherent response.

jake’s other hand came up to rip your bra off, swiftly and with ease the thin fabric landed on the floor next to the other garments while one of jaeyun’s hand came up to massage your breast as his lips wrapped around the other.

you threw your head back when his tongue and fingers played and pulled at your sensitive nipples teasingly. the sensation of him fucking himself so deep inside of you while he toyed with your breasts shocks of pleasure travel across your spine. every nerve ending blasting with ecstasy as jake overstimulated you.

“shit— baby i’m so close.” he moaned against your chest, swollen lips wrapped around your nipples while he absentmindedly thrusted his hips sloppily, his body running on his impulse to get him off as soon as possible, his own abdomen tightened in pleasure as he could taste his orgasm on the tip of his tongue

“please fill me up, please sir. i need you so much.” you moaned out in need, craving the feeling of his warm cum spilling inside of you. “yeah? how bad do you need me?” he breathed, littering kisses down the middle of your breasts as his mind spun continuously. “so fucking bad. i need you to breed me and stuff me full with your cum, sir. please please give it to me.” he groaned as your words seemed to push him right down the edge.

his body jerked above you while his cock twitched, spilling out rope after rope deep inside of you. you both moaned in euphoria at the feeling, so fulfilling and satisfying for both of you as jake began to grind against you, riding out his release before falling on top of your body.

the two of you were catching your breaths, basking in the blissful aftermath when you realised jake was unusually silent. “jake…?” no response.

“jake i swear to god if you fell asleep and left me in these fuckass webs i will chop—“ and then you heard him snoring.

.. on the brighter side atleast he’s no longer affected by a sex potion.

a,note. this is not proof read or edited and will 100% be rewritten when i have the time cuz i hate how it turned out its so fawking rushed like this came out from 30 mins but pls take this as i try my best to write my full heeseung fic im trying my best thank you !! ♡

[meanbossart]

Based on the latest art/the famous graveyard scene, or at least my version of it. CW: The usual durge-isms. Astarion's sense of humor.

The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn’t a proverbial soul to be seen as you stroll through the headstones with lazy strides. You’re so often in a rush to get from one place to the next, how novel it is to meander.

You wonder if either of your souls could tick up the counter; Astarion, a corpse-walking, and yourself something else entirely.

His head, battered and bruised as the rest of your bodies scans through the names etched on their respective places of rest, uncharacteristically quiet ever since you left the Inn. You’re worried. It’s been a dreadful day, and now he’s brought you here - you speak. “Are we defacing any graves tonight?”

Astarion humors you with a stiff grin - no, he says, then he changes it to a maybe, and then he asks you to be patient. His eyes land on a simple stone, half-sunken into the dry ground and overtaken by weeds and vines - a small thing forgotten amidst drunkards and urchins in a dark corner of the dead’s park. He sighs, pushes up his sleeves and snaps the foliage away with his own hands, dusts off the shallow writing and rubs the grime off on his knees - standing back a few feet to look over at his handwork. You squint to read his full name off the rock.

“Ancunin?”

 “Astarion Ancunin.” He scoffs. “I haven’t seen this in… Well, in centuries. I was beginning to wonder if I had an em somewhere in there.”

His amusement dies down.

“I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.

“He must’ve had someone come and smooth out the ground- Cazador, I mean. He was waiting for me here, when I finally surfaced.”

The vampire's eyes have risen from his name. He looks past the rows of gravestones and into the brick walls that surround them, sight glazed over, face drained from feeling. His words, so victorious in choice, just bear a numb uncertainty. He is so tired. “From that day on I was his. Until now.”

You shake your head. “You were never his. Everything he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe. But he did take it. And I can’t get it back.” Astarion shoots you an assertive scowl. “There’s nothing left of the person I was anymore. Just a name on a rock. I need to figure out who I am now - and what I want.”

You struggle to reach out to him. For the thing which he mourns. His words, when they echo within your own, perforated skull, sound to you like a statement of freedom, a relief; you’ve also left behind the person you were, and there is nothing there worth lamenting.

Astarion is different. As vague as his recollection of the past may be, or as favorably as you believe things have turned out for the both of you, eventually - you can’t help but feel like he would still trade it for a do-over. You don’t have it in you to ask if he would be willing to do it even if it meant your absence.

You know the answer.

You try to make your peace with it.

This person that your lover longs for, you didn’t know them, and you didn’t love them. But you do now; and so, you find yourself wanting for nothing.

“What is it that you want right now?”

“You.”

He’s caught in his own lack of hesitation, sullen face brought back to life by a small look of bemusement, of surprise. “I want you. Not just now, I… You were by my side through all of it - the bloodlust as well as the misery. You’ve shown yourself to be patient. And caring.” His words are staggered by chortles. “You are so sweet to me. A shock, frankly, given the most recent discoveries. I often wonder if this was always part of your nature, or just a happy consequence of your… ah”

Astarion’s finger prods uncertain around his own curly head of hair, prompting laughter to rumble up your throat. “Incident.” 

“Perhaps.” You’ve never wondered such things and you never will. “You’re beginning to sound awfully sweet yourself, mister concussion.”

He groans in response, reaching the short distance over to the throbbing bruise on the top of his forehead, next to his temple. It was a close call today, perhaps the closest yet - or you only felt the ever more desperate given what was on the line this time. “Anyway, I should probably fix this.”

You watch as Astarion crouches down in the dirt. With a small dagger he had tucked away in his waistband, he gets to work scratching irregular lines into his neglected headstone.

Astarion Ancunin

His father’s pride, his mother’s starlight, his friend’s joy.

229 NR - 268 NR.

He makes an addition below the numbers.

468 NR.

“Is that the year?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, then proceeds a little less confidently.  “... At least… I think so?”

You both exchange clueless looks before breaking into an ugly cacophony of snorts, Astarion leans with his hand on his memorial and hangs his head down in feigned exasperation, shoulders jerking. You kneel, joining him on top of his undisturbed plot. The vampire shakes his head “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been dead to the world long enough - whatever year it is now, I plan on living it. And I’m not letting anything stand in the way of that.”

He puffs his chest and breathes a lone sight - no subsequent following and no former to speak of. His body sits back onto his shins, hands fall limp on top of his thighs “Not him, not the sun, not some giant brain, and certainly not…

“Come here.”

There was less than a foot between your bodies that the elf now closed. He cups your jaw between his thumb and his pointer-finger, you feel a gentle pressure on your neck as Astarion uses you to leverage himself over - your mouths lock, you feel a scabbed-over cut on his otherwise soft bottom lip, a hard lump that splits and leaks into your gums. You turn,, grab onto him tight - hot palms on the cold nape underneath the collar of his shirt and chest against chest, a sore nose-bridge buried into his gaunt cheek. Your faces break apart and he presses his brow to yours, a passionate kiss turns into a tight embrace. 

You take a long whiff of the crook of his neck “You’ve got me in a kind of way I can’t begin to make sense of.”

Astarion’s hand becomes entangled with the hair at the back of your skull. “I love you too.”

You feel it. The desperation and the future echo of his cracking ribs, the hot, vivid flashes of your digits prying apart bone and reaching into the cavity of his heart - you can’t be close enough to him. You can never step into his skin and he can never leap down your throat. An anxious feeling sinks into your gut as you realise that there is one thing that you still want; even in your waking hours of clarity, even in crystalline sanity, even in moments like these, ones that you hold sacred and wish to shield from depravity.

He murmurs into the side of your face. “Lets have sex. Right here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to beg?”

The playfulness in his tone is brief. He feels it in your tense shoulders and stiff back - you aren’t teasing him.

You only pull away enough so you can look at him, hands remain latched to his waist. “I’m still afraid of what I might do.”

“I understand.” He doesn’t seem disappointed, only sobered. “Well that puts a slight damper on my plans. No matter.”

“You can help yourself once you’ve tied me up for the night.”

“If I wanted to make love to a rabid mastiff I’d go find a new maniac to lord over me.”

“We could still just… Stay here a while. Together.”

You come off a little pleading. Astarion’s eyes squint when he smiles - “Yes, I… I think I’d like that.”

It’s a little clumsy, the way you sway apart and try to find your footing on the gravel, how your hands slide down each other’s elbows and then lock tightly at the fingers, refusing to let go, new amateur joints; as if men like yourselves who’ve more battles than many do in entire lifetimes couldn’t dream of standing up without the leverage - it’s ridiculous. You’re like little children bumbling to your feet, giggling, trying to catch each other staring as you dangle your locked hands over gravestones and step over rogue bouquets blown by wind.

Everything is fine, everything is well. Your future is certain as is your happily ever after - whatever it may imply. You peruse the cemetery, mocking the dead for the names their parents have given them, their uninspired eulogies and whether or not their dirt happened to smell of piss - you make up stories about the lives they lived and both the horrific or the banal circumstances in which they died. Astarion skips up the stairs to the coffin-maker’s abode, overlooking the scenery - he calls for you to come admire your kingdom, death prince. You laugh, and he laughs, and it all seems so awfully benign.

“That will be king for you soon.”

“Oh, gods - get away from me.”

He knows you aren’t serious. This world has brought you too much joy for you to end it. There hasn’t ever been a moment where you were tempted to do your fathers bidding.

But there’s been moments where you questioned what other choices you had.

Not tonight, however.

Astarion rolls his eyes and takes the hand you reach out to him with. You are yanked towards the paved terrace up the stairs, and you pull him into yourself in a lazy sway by the balustrades. “We will figure something out” You say.

“As always,” Astarion confirms with an emphatic nod of the head, but his gaze is low - he stares at your moving feet. Hand-in-hand and hand-on-hip he’s picked up on what you’re doing; “It’s - left forward, right back, close left, close right, right?”

“That is only if you’re leading.”

“Well then, I guess I’m leading.”

“Be my guest.” 

He places a hand on your waist, you put yours on his deltoid, your boots bump into each other on occasion as you both waltz over uneven stone tiles, first with careful attention until you’ve caught yourselves in a sound-less rhythm. When you raise your eyes you find your partner-in-dance staring on with a rivalling smirk.

“So, you remember how to ballroom dance, yet haven’t got a clue about your own name?”

You ask if that disappoints him, Astarion assures you to the contrary. You both rehearse a dance for an event you will never be going to, and you enjoy every second of it.

[thesecondhandwoman]

can you make stubborn sick!reader and sevika? like reader getting sick because she is so overworked at her job and then sevika scolding her with love ofc, we just love soft and caring sevika 😭

SICK DAY

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: Recently you have been working yourself to the rim, and it had resulted in you becoming sick, making your girlfriend, Sevika, step in and force you to get better.

Request: Anon 🤍

Zaun never slept. The hum of machinery, the occasional shout from the streets below, and the flicker of neon lights painted the city in a constant state of chaos. It was the perfect backdrop for how you felt, burnt out, dizzy, and utterly drained.

You’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning in bed as your fever grew worse. By morning, nausea hit you like a punch to the stomach. You’d stumbled into the bathroom, cold sweat dripping down your temples, barely making it to the sink before your body betrayed you.

The retching sounds echoed through the apartment, and by the time you were done, your knees wobbled so badly you had to grip the counter to stay upright. You splashed cold water on your face, staring into the cracked mirror at your reflection. Dark circles framed your eyes, your skin pale and clammy.

But even then, your stubbornness wouldn’t let you give in. There was work to do. People were counting on you.

Dragging yourself into the living room, you grabbed your bag and threw on your coat, every movement sluggish and uncoordinated. You ignored the spinning in your head and the way your stomach churned at the thought of taking a single step outside.

Unfortunately for you, Sevika noticed.

“Babe,” her voice cut through the air, sharp and concerned. You froze mid-step, turning to find her leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. “You look like hell.”

“I’m fine,” you croaked, wincing at how scratchy your voice sounded.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning you from head to toe. The worry in her expression was obvious, though it was paired with a healthy dose of frustration. “Bullshit.”

“I just need to—”

“You need to sit your ass down before you pass out,” she interrupted, stepping toward you with purpose. “Have you even looked in the mirror? You’re burning up, you can’t even stand straight, and don’t think I didn’t hear you puking your guts out this morning.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, though whether it was from the fever or her words, you weren’t sure. “I’m not that bad,” you muttered weakly, trying to sidestep her.

She moved faster. Her mechanical arm gripped your waist gently but firmly, stopping you in your tracks. The cool metal against your overheated skin made you shiver. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Sevika—”

“No.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. “You’re sick, and you’ve been running yourself into the ground for weeks. You think I don’t notice? Skipping meals, staying up late, barely talking to me because you’re glued to your work? Enough is enough.”

Your vision blurred slightly, your body swaying as the room spun around you. If it weren’t for Sevika’s steady grip, you might’ve crumpled to the floor right then and there. She sighed, muttering something under her breath before scooping you up into her arms.

“Sevika!” you protested weakly, though it sounded more like a whimper.

“Yeah, yeah, complain all you want,” she said, carrying you back to the bedroom. “You’re not winning this one, sweetheart.”

The next hour was a mix of soft scolding and reluctant care

After making sure you were tucked under the covers, Sevika disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a cool washcloth for your forehead and a glass of water. She didn’t say much at first, just sitting beside you, her presence a comforting weight.

“You’re gonna drink this,” she said, holding the glass of water out to you. “Slowly. And don’t even think about arguing.”

You groaned but obeyed, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat. “Happy?” you mumbled after finishing half the glass.

She smirked faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Getting there. But you’re not off the hook yet.”

The fever took a turn for the worse later that afternoon.

Your body ached, every muscle sore and heavy as if you’d been hit by one of Sevika’s punches. The nausea returned in waves, and the dizziness made it impossible to focus on anything. You drifted in and out of sleep, the world around you a hazy blur.

At some point, you must’ve started shivering, because you woke to find Sevika draping another blanket over you. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line as she adjusted the covers, making sure you were snug and warm.

“Sevika,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Shh,” she said, sitting down beside you. “Just rest.”

Her hand found yours beneath the blankets, her calloused fingers curling around yours. The gesture was simple but grounding, her presence a lifeline in your fevered haze.

“I hate being sick,” you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion.

“I know,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

A few hours later, the fever had broken slightly, though you were still far from recovered.

Sevika coaxed you into eating some soup, her patience unwavering even as you grumbled and complained. She sat close, her eyes never straying far from you, as if she was afraid you’d collapse again if she looked away.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked at one point, your tone teasing despite your hoarse voice.

She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. “Because I love you, dumbass. Someone’s gotta take care of you when you won’t take care of yourself.”

Her words hit you square in the chest, the warmth of her affection almost overwhelming. You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder, and for the first time all day, you felt truly at ease.

“Thanks, Sev,” you murmured, your eyes drifting closed.

“Always, babe,” she replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now get some sleep. I’m not letting you out of this bed until you’re back to 100%.”

The following days were a blur of recovery, Sevika’s care unwavering throughout.

She brought you meals, made sure you stayed hydrated, and even stayed home from her own work to keep an eye on you. Her gruff demeanor softened considerably, though she still teased you relentlessly about your stubbornness.

By the time you were feeling well enough to sit up and joke with her, you couldn’t help but smile at how much effort she’d put into taking care of you.

“See? Told you I’d survive,” you said playfully, leaning against her shoulder.

“Barely,” she replied, smirking. “Next time you decide to work yourself sick, I’m tying you to the bed.”

“Promises, promises,” you teased, earning a snort of laughter from her as she shook her head, just glad she had her healthy version of you back

A/N: This one seems a bit too repetitive to me, but I hope it was okay either way.

[bueckersbitch]

greenlight - paige bueckers x reader

☆ warnings : angst, sexual context, toxic!paige

☆ word count : 1.7k

☆ authors note : hi guys! a quick fic bc i loveeee tates new album, the last bit is inspired by her explaination of green light! part two out now!

☆ taglist : @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersfive @vamptizm

The door knob slowly pushes down, almost mocking the way your heart dropped when receiving the text, “I’ve been thinking, we need to talk.” The message wasn’t unexpected; in fact, you had been counting on receiving it after the last couple of weeks between you and Paige. Part of you still wanted it to be your overthinking getting the best of you again, a figment of your imagination trying to self-sabotage you, yet, it was something deeper: the way Paige’s demeanor changed in what felt like an instant, her loving, comforting words turning quickly into scowls of defense when you confronted her about her passive attitude towards your feelings. The doorknob seems to lag, separating the relationship between you two into two: before the conversation that was about to change your relationship, and after.

Her face is revealed after a moment; her normally perfect, slick-back bun is disheveled a bit; however, her face was numb, lacking any emotion. Her sock-clad feet slowly shuffled back when opening the door, silently urging you to step into her apartment, the one you had helped decorate when she had moved to Dallas. Your eyes flicker up to meet her cold, blue ones; her lips become tightly bound, letting out a sigh. You pick at your hangnails that had accumulated unwillingly after your thoughts about everything concerning you two swarmed your mind over the past couple of nights. You step inside, noticing the lack of the feeling of home: candles remaining unlit, tv that usually had a game on left dark, and the vase that rests on the center of her kitchen island, but instead of having purple irises gifted by you—Paige’s favorite flowers—it was clear, water even being drained since the last time you had given them to the blonde, when you were both happy. 

Paige doesn’t say a word, picking up the tv remote and turning on a game. Crashing to the couch, her fixed stare on the tv felt like a punch to the gut. Paige was good at communicating, something you admired even in the early stages of your relationship. The lump in your throat started to grow. Had she changed so much to the point she felt like she couldn’t tell you what she was feeling? “Are you serious?” You questioned, voice shaking a bit. Paige hummed in response, eyes still glued to the tv, making you feel like an afterthought, unimportant. “I didn’t drive half an hour for you to not tell me what you want.” You said, leaning on the kitchen island, tears starting to well now. “I thought it was obvious. We aren’t working, baby.” A tear fell from your eye now, taking your makeup with it to your neck. You knew that, you knew something wasn’t working, but what shocked you was Paige’s lack of effort to try and fix what was wrong. “Tell me what’s not working then, because I feel like recently whenever I try to get to you, what you’re thinking, you feel like I’m a nuisance.” It was different. You leading the conversation about talking about feelings, emotions were something you encouraged yourself to suppress. “I don’t wanna tell you though.” Paige says, resting her elbows on her knees as she turns her head with minimal effort to look at you. Confusion jolts through you, apparently evident on your face through your eyebrows and slight stutter of the start of a sentence beginning with “W-w-wha-” Paige rolls her eyes, cutting you off with, “Don’t you get it? I’m tired. I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t think I wanna fix us.” Your heart really drops, feeling heavy with the weight of her words shutting you down. “Do you hear yourself? Did the past four years mean nothing to you?” Paige scoffs, nodding her head as it dips between her shoulders, “You know it did. I just feel like I’ve grown. I’m not the injured girl you met in sophomore year anymore.” The mention of how you met tugging at your heart strings.

-

Four years ago

The lecture to your psychology class had finally ended, meaning it was time for a nice Friday out  with your girls. You gathered your stuff, placing your iPad in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Pulling your phone out, you start scrolling through the notifications of ideas for what you guys should do tonight. You walk through the tiled hall, a little too quickly it seems, because you brush past someone, hearing them grunt in annoyance. You whip your head around, to a tall blonde. You had heard about her injury, watched it happen even, how she was projected to be out for six to eight weeks. Her words sliced through your thoughts, “I miss when I could walk mindlessly.” Your eyes widened, baffled at your ignorance to your surroundings. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry-” Paige laughs. “I’m just teasing you. What’s got you rushing to get back though?” You let out an exhale of relief, smiling while telling the girl your plans for the night. Conversation ending with you carrying her stuff for her while walking her back to her apartment. Impulsive thoughts overcoming you, word vomit producing a, “You should totally come!”

-

Present

“Trust me, I know,” you manage to say through a facade. Paige’s brows furrow now. “What’s that ‘supposed to mean?” You exhale, similarly to how you had all those years ago, but this time, it was to brace yourself for what you were about to say. “I mean the Paige I knew back then, fuck, even a month ago, wouldn’t push aside my feelings like it’s something that’s optional in her life!” She leans back again, seemingly unphased by your confession. “I’m not about to pour my heart into something you don’t deserve.” Your mind was clouded now, something you didn’t deserve? If there was the bare minimum of what you deserved, it was an explanation, a reason why your soulmate had turned into someone that looked at you like a burden. “I’m just standing here trying to understand what you want from me, because I’ve tried, Paige, I really have, but it’s obvious that you think I don’t deserve a basic explanation as to why you’ve just shut me out.” You try to reason with her, not ready to accept the truth of what could happen. “I don’t want anything anymore. I don’t know why I gotta spell that shit out for you.” There it was, the admission that had you in a grasp of anxiousness. “So what?” Still finding it hard to accept that your loving, communicative Paige was acting this way, “So, it’s done.” 

Her words rang through your head like a stupid song you couldn’t get out of your head. Your keys gripped so hard in your hand they started to leave indents. Your hood was pulled up over your head, trying to avoid the receptionist that would greet you after the long journey of the elevator, plummeting like your heart had. You push through the revolving door, out into the soft water of the rain, almost like the universe was sad for you. Flinging yourself into your car, you start to drive back to your apartment in silence. You roll to a stop at a red light, finally letting yourself break down in the comfort of your own car.

-

Three months later

The delicate notification rang through your ears again, light turning green as you pushed on the gas. It had chimed a couple of times now, a specific notification sound you had only reserved for a certain blonde. You forgot you even did that, changing the setting when you were so young and lovestruck. Sure, the sound surprised you a week ago when you heard it for the first time in three months, but now? It was almost background noise to your daily tasks. She tried to work her way back, endless texts and voicemails that had her saying “I fucked up” and “Please talk to me, ma” and other things of the sorts. You would’ve gone running straight into her arms had it not been for what you found out. Another girl. One she felt so taken aback by that she felt the need to shut you out, to break up with you. You wanted to make sure she lived with the consequence of losing you. So now, you were on your way out to a restaurant, your therapist encouraging you to get back out into the dating scene again. Skylar, was her name. 

You sat across from the brunette girl, smiling with her as you both talked about your families. It felt nice, feeling like your presence was wanted. A voice rang through your ears, one that was too familiar, one that you had heard every day straight for four years. There she was, talking and laughing with her Wings teammates as she looked over the menu.

You broke. Something about having such a deep history with her coaxing you back to her, pressed up against the very door you had slammed shut in anger a few months ago. Her hands gripping your waist as she confessed how her admiration for you had never left, “Missed you so bad, you’re the only one for me.” Hands trailing past your waistband, finding the pool of arousal that awaited her.

She sweetly talked you back into her bed, but even after pulling three orgasms from you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of what you had found out she had been hiding from you. So, you found your clothes, taking in the way her wavy blonde hair framed her sleeping face, before slipping away in the middle of the night, attempting to avoid the start of a toxic back and forth.

-

One week later

The post sat unliked in your feed, taking a second to take it in. Paige’s new girlfriend. The girl she left you for, the one she was still seeing a week ago when she was fucking you. 

You were shielding your phone from Skylar. Of course, you tried to move on, but a part of you still believed you would get her back, your Paige back. It was wrong, and everyone around you told you to move on. Paige sure had. “Babe?” You quickly locked your phone, looking at your date in the passenger seat of your car. “You were so invested in your phone that you fully sat through that entire green light.” She laughed. You forced a fake laugh, suppressing the solemn feeling that the universe was mocking you through the situation. You sitting still at a green light, while the light is telling you it’s okay to go, is like everybody around you saying it’s okay to move on from Paige, but it still feels impossible.

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time… in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[crushmeeren]

Hiii I hope you’re doing well!! I was wondering if you could write Hitoshi shinsou x reader of him absolutely destroying our guts 😊

Thank you!!!

-🐞

♡ Master List Link

♡ Everyone is 18+/aged up — scroll or block if that bothers you.

﴿ Note ⇢ Hello friend! I am doing well and I can definitely write this. I hope you enjoy!

﴿ Another note ⇢ P.S. I write it as ꙳ ﹡ FEM READER ꙳ ﹡ unless specified, but I did try to refrain from using things like good girl, pretty girl, etc. because I wasn’t sure. I did however use female anatomy.

You slam the front door shut so violently the frame rattles, threatening to crack under pressure.

“Everything alright baby?” Hitoshi’s smokey timbre calls out cautiously from the kitchen. He was forewarned about your god awful day out on patrol, so he’s treading carefully.

Your fingernails sink into your palms, teeth creaking as you round the corner to your kitchen. There’s a fury boiling in your chest that’s about to overflow.

“What the fuck do you think? You know how to read, don’t you? Because I already texted you what happened.” There’s a nasty bite to your words, eyes narrowing as your lip curls upwards.

Silence hangs heavily in the air for a few beats.

Hitoshi’s face remains impassive as he stands across the island from you. Casually, he folds his arms over his chest, arching one singular eyebrow at your bitchy tone.

Hitoshi may as well exhale frost when he replies.

“Do you really want to walk down this road tonight?”

Apparently, you do.

When Hitoshi bends you over the side of your bed five minutes later, you’re entirely naked.

He’s got your arms bent and twisted behind your back in the most uncomfortable position as Hitoshi ties your wrists together with part of his capture weapon.

It’s tight — you can barely wiggle your fingers, heartbeat thudding in your fingertips.

A brutal swirl of exasperation and anticipation churns in your stomach. When the underground hero yanks the material even tighter, a layer of sticky sweat gathers in the valley between your tits, and you spasm against the blankets.

“Hitoshi!” You squeak, sucking in air through your teeth. “That hurts, you jerk!” You rise up on your tip toes to try and pull away from his grip, but your shoulders only twinge in protest. Hitoshi looms behind you, snickering as he wrenches your bound wrists upwards and forces you to still.

“Too late sweetheart, you’ve been way too much of a brat tonight for me to care about your comfort. Now, I’m gonna teach you a lesson and fuck that shitty attitude out of you,” he says hotly, confirming what you already knew he was going to do.

A calloused palm presses down in between your shoulder blades, shoving you further down into the bed.

You don’t speak, clenching your jaw in frustration when a hot flush pours over your cheeks. The material of your current restraints dig annoyingly into your skin each time you flex your wrists.

Hitoshi’s hand rains down on your ass, a sharp sting radiating up to your tailbone. He made it his mission for that one to hurt.

A muffled scream of his name punches out of you into the sheets below.

“What is it sweetheart?” He snarls, teasing the soft tip of his cock between the lips of your pussy. “Can’t handle the punishment for being so fucking rude to me?”

Your breath catches, goosebumps taking over your arms. Your clit pulses, pussy eager to swallow his cock whole.

“Well?” He urges, yanking your forearms backwards until your spine arches, lifting your face from the blankets.

Your shoulders ache, throbbing dully and then suddenly a switch flips, all traces of your previous rage draining from your veins.

“I’m sorry Hitoshi!” You sob, voice scratchy and breaking. You shove your hips backwards, trying to get him inside you.

“That’s it pretty baby, good job,” he purrs, gifting you mercy and sliding his cock inside with one effortless motion.

Hitoshi starts fucking you as if he’s attempting to carve a space out inside your guts just for himself. Hips bouncing off your ass until your muscles are going taut, slick pussy suffocating his cock.

He fucks you until you’re a gooey, brain melted mess beneath him. Encouraging you to keep cumming for him, his husky moans dancing in the air when you curse his name.

Afterwards, once your chest stops heaving and your soul has returned to your body, you’re infinitely grateful for a boyfriend like Hitoshi.

“Hitoshi, thank you. I really needed that,” you mumble, throat raw as sandpaper. Hitoshi hums as he swiftly works to free your hands.

“No worries baby. I’ll fuck you into your place anytime you need it,” he teases, tilting his head back in laughter as you punch his shoulder halfheartedly.

Your wretched day is entirely forgotten as you climb into bed that night.

[oceantornadoo]

ch8 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: dubcon kissing (somnophilia), more pet play dirty talk, multiple holes are used, smut and angst in the same chap bc why not.

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Thankfully, your new boyfriend does not give in to the urge to punch your brother.

“Johnny!” You move out from behind John, in no way afraid of your brother. “You can’t just hit him!” You yell. Johnny’s still as red as a tomato, huffing from the punch he threw. You can tell the captivity took its toll on him, because you’ve never seen him winded from just one punch. Instinct takes over, you and Simon catching Johnny before he stumbles. The doctor from earlier rushes over, telling her radio that they need a wheelchair, stat. The anger slowly drains from Johnny’s face, replaced with a world-weary look. He seems ten years older, a jarring thought since you’re only three minutes apart.

“Johnny, let’s talk about it later, ok?” The wheelchair arrives and you help him into it, Simon fighting off the doctor who’s arguing he needs one too. You try to grab Johnny’s hand but he snatches it back before you can. It’s like a shot to the heart. He avoids eye contact as the doctor wheels him away. Did you just lose your twin?

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” John scoops you up from behind, turning you so you’re against his chest. It’s like a switch has been flipped as the tears flow. You messed up, shouldn’t have let John kiss you in front of your brother. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You wanted to give Johnny time to adjust, time to gain his strength back, before slowly broaching the topic in a controlled manner. You did not want a punch to be thrown at 5 am. It was simply too much to handle. John’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck, anchoring you to the moment. He’s so kind, even though he was just punched, and the thought makes you cry harder. 

-

John’s jaw aches, but not as much as his heart does. It’s hard to handle his sweetheart sobbing in his arms, especially since he hasn’t seen her in weeks. The kiss was not his best move, but he blames it on the early hour and lack of sleep. The mission was absolutely grueling, the kidnappers making themselves almost impossible to track. “Almost” because, well, he did get this job for a reason. But now his team is fucked and his new girlfriend has a broken heart he can’t fix. He couldn’t even blame Johnny because if it was his sister, he would have done the same thing.

Kyle went with the doctor, so now it’s just him and his girl on a godforsaken roof on a dreary London morning. He’s been rubbing circles on her back for a while now and can feel the tears slowly stopping, her breathing becoming even. “Feel better?” She shakes her head ‘no’ and he can’t help but laugh. 

“How’s your face?” She asks, pulling back out of his grasp to inspect it. Her eyes are puffy and there’s a bit of snot on her nose. She’s beautiful. “‘S ok. Not the first time I’ve been punched.” Soft fingers turn his jaw this way and that. She sucks in a breath as she inspects the damage. “You’re gonna bruise, John.” The bruise won’t show through his beard so he shrugs, then starts herding her into the elevator. He desperately wants to shower and tuck her under the covers, then maybe eat her out later if his jaw lets him. Hopefully an orgasm would make her a little less sad. 

Thankfully, John gets his way. He’s not a messy man, his cleanliness only rivaling Garrick’s, but his room is suspiciously much cleaner than how he left it. The floors are practically sparkling. When he asks, his pet mimes a zipper, throwing the key away. John picks her up, ignoring the creak of his joints from sleeping on floors for the past week, and throws her on the bed. “Stay.” She nods, eyes big and wet, and it’s a herculean effort to drag himself away. It’s the quickest shower of his life, a little toothbrushing, and he’s finally where he belongs. With her.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He tugs her on top of him so they’re chest to chest, her cunt on his lower belly. She’s taken off her sweatshirt and shorts, so it’s just two thin layers of fabric that separate them. “I missed you too. You sure you don’t want ice or something? I’m practically best friends with the nurses now, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He rolls them over so he’s between her tits, right at home. “‘M fine. Go t’ sleep.” She finally gets the memo and hums contentedly, fingers scratching at John’s scalp like he’s her cat. He loves it.

-

You wake up to the feeling of something scratching you. Your cat is so annoying.

“Bubbles…stop…” The feeling does stop, but as the fog slowly clears from your brain, you realize your cat is nowhere to be found. John’s beard is the culprit, wet with…spit? He’s pulled your shirt up and from the look of it, has been laving at your tits for a while now. “You mistake me for the cat, sweetheart?” You bite back a smile, shaking your head. “Was dreaming. Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Now that you’re awake, John can start giving you the full treatment. He sucks on one nipple, a callused hand squeezes it like he’s trying to get milk out. Your hips move of their own according, bucking against his hairy chest. The pain feels delicious as he bites and sucks. Your hand threads through his hair, grasping on strands for something to hold. He switches to your other nipple but keeps his hand on your tit, pinching one while sucking another. He’s so loud about it, wet and messy in a way that makes you want to hide your face. Your hips fight gravity as they move, the hair on his chest providing friction as you move up and down. You could come like this.

“John.” He gets the memo, his unoccupied hand gripping your waist and helping you grind against him. “Gonna come, baby?” It’s like a spark to your core, the coil inside you growing exponentially with every grind. He’s leaving marks that might bruise, every bite lighting your nerves on fire. Your cunt is sopping, legs straining with the effort of maintaining your grind. Removing his mouth, he pinches both of your nipples at the same time, the effect of it bringing your right to the edge. 

“Ya like that? Cunny’s all messy, baby.” You can only nod at his words. It’s desperation, your shirt hiked up to your chin, tits shiny with spit, cunt seeping. His beard is soaked, the hair on his chest matting with your slick. Both hands move your hips against his belly and he bites a nipple at the same time, the action sending you over the edge with a whine. Your empty cunt flutters against him, clit puffy from the friction of his hair. “Fuck, John.” He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, eating your face as you come down from the orgasm. 

John drops your hips, letting your cunt envelop his cock, still in his boxers. You whine at the pressure, a pitiful noise. “Lemme eat then come on you, yeah?” You nod vigorously and he chuckles at the sight. 

He licks you from ass to clit, smiling when you jump at the overstimulation. Your body is on the edge of orgasm, an almost continuation of the first. John eats sloppily, tounging the bud of your clit then flattening his tongue over the whole of it. He nearly drags you off the bed so he can be on his knees on the floor, tugging out his cock with one hand while he holds you steady with the other. That hand holding you steady grips the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to somewhere else. He prods at it, looking at you for confirmation. You nod tentatively and he slides a bit of his thumb in, giving your clit a good suck at the same time. There’s so much pressure and despite being empty you feel full, like you’re about to explode. John won’t shut up, speaking in between occupying his mouth.

“Y’r so trusting, pet.”

“Bet you were lonely without me.”

“Jus’ one more, yeah? Then I’ll let you sleep.”

You nod at the last one, feeling on edge. He slides his thumb in to the first knuckle, keeping the same pressure on your clit, and you lose it, walls spasming at his touch. Your second orgasm washes over you, your body flopping against the bed as the coil releases. John crouches up with his thumb still in you. His cock is hard and glistening in his hand, the sheen of precum all over it. You tug your shirt up from where it’s fallen and he smirks, his beard making it more pronounced. 

“That’s a good girl. Good pet f’ me.” His cum is thick and creamy, landing on your sore tits as his thumb slips out, the pressure finally releasing. “Jesus, John.” You're soaked in sweat and cum and slick, courtesy of the man in front of you. He leaves and quickly comes back with a warm washcloth, wiping down your body, then his own. “We can shower later.” You nod, making space for him in the bed. You’re both sweating anyways, so he tugs off the comforter so it’s just you and the fitted sheet. 

“You did so good.” He murmurs as you tuck yourself into him. “I like this boyfriend treatment.” You whisper back. He kisses your forehead softly. “Good, ‘cause yer stuck with me.” You kiss his pec, then snuggle in for a few more hours. John holds you until you’re asleep, then quietly slips out and takes a quick shower. The sight of you in his bed almost makes him stay, but there’s someone he needs to talk to.

-

“Ye here to discharge me?” Soap’s all bravado, but it’s hard to sound intimidating in a hospital gown. John lets him have it, picking his way through the room to sit in the chair near Soap’s bed. “‘m not apologizin’.” Soap mutters. John huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t ‘pect you to, Soap. Glad you’re doin’ better.” 

Severe dehydration. Not starved, but close to it. Bruising on wrists and ankles, likely from cuffs. One bruised rib. That’s what the doctor said before he walked in. Simon got the same treatment and he’s resting in the room over, Kyle keeping him company. The outcome is better than he expected, to be honest. Most captors would love to give Soap a beating for every quip, but John suspects being near Simon calmed him down. Another thing he has to thank the Lieutenant for.

The room is silent. There’s only one thing to be said.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me.” Soap doesn’t answer, focusing his gaze on the door. “We met the night ‘fore she came to base. Would’ve seen her again no matter what. Yer sister or not.” Soap blinks and John takes that as a sign to go ahead.

“I know y’ve got a special connection. ‘M not here to break it. ‘M askin’ for the chance t’ love her too.” John laughs to himself. “Well, not really askin’, Johnny. But you an’ I have got a life bond too and I’m tryin’ to respect it.” It’s the first time John’s ever called him Johnny. Obviously, being around his girl is starting to affect him.

“Ye love her?” Johnny’s voice is gravelly, not at its usual level of honey-coated confidence. “I do.” Johnny gives a nod of approval, a minuscule dip of his head. “Christ, ah tried hookin’ her up with Gaz.” His captain frowns. “So Kyle’s good ‘nough but not me?” Finally, Johnny locks eyes with him. “Gaz wouldn’t break ‘er heart. Ye would.” John gives him a sour smile. “She rejected me right before I left to find you, actually. She’s been sayin’ we couldn’t date for months an’ I’ve had a ring in my drawer the whole time.”

Johnny groans. He tries to cover his eyes but he’s still hooked up to the IV. “Can’t believe you’ll be my brother-in-law, Cap. Yer so old.” John scoffs. “Could hook Gaz up with y’r cousin an’ we’ll all be related.” That’s what breaks the ice. Both of the men laugh and John reaches over to squeeze Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s the only punch I’ll ever let you have, Soap. Keep that in mind next time you have a twin squabble.”

Johnny’s brows furrow at the mention of his twin. “I need t’ talk to the lass.” John squeezes his shoulder one more time, then stands up. “I’ll find ‘er for you.”

It’ll be the most important conversation of their lives.

-

We got john pov! I hope the switches between John and Johnny weren’t too confusing lol.

Just one chapter left…thank u guys for all the kind comments it means the most <3

-

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[hoe4hotchner]

Child abductions | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 1.1k  | CW: Angst, no use of Y/N.| Summary: Hotch yells at you and you get sad and a little scared so you retreat. Hotch come to apoligize once he cools down. |

A/N: This is kind of inspired byt Hotch and his little temper tantrums in Gabby…. God I love when he gets angry.

It had been a long case. The kind that gnawed at your spirit and left a dark weight hanging in the air. A child had gone missing. The team had been running on fumes for days, chasing down every lead with increasing desperation. Hotch had been especially on edge, cases with children always hit him the most, the pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders. Every dead end, every false lead - he took it all personally.

You knew he cared deeply for every case, but this one was hitting him harder than usual - even more so for a child abduction case. The little girl’s face was plastered across every screen, her eyes a constant reminder of what was at stake. You’d been there, trying to support him as best as you could, offering quiet reassurance when he needed it. But you knew it wasn’t easy to get through to him when he was like this - focused, intense, burdened by the responsibility of finding her in time.

You’d seen him upset before - frustrated, tired, worn down from the endless stress of your work - but this was different. The raw fury in his voice when he’d been interrogating the unsub had left everyone on edge, including you. When the team returned to the precinct, there was a heaviness in the air as Hotch began debriefing. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in a way that made everyone stand a little straighter.

You tried to be helpful, stepping in with a small observation about the evidence, your voice gentle but sure. Before you even finished speaking, though, Hotch snapped.

“Not now!” he barked, his eyes blazing with an anger that wasn’t meant for you. “Just - stop. I don’t need you interrupting right now.”

The sudden harshness of his words cut through you like ice, freezing you in place. You stood there, stunned, feeling the weight of his anger crash over you like a wave. He had never raised his voice at you like that before. Your heart pounded in your chest, your throat tightening as you nodded quietly, retreating from the room without a word. You didn’t want to make a scene, but the sharp sting of his outburst lingered, burning in the pit of your stomach.

The team fell silent, watching you go, but no one dared to say anything. They could tell Hotch was too far gone in his anger to realize what he’d just done.

You found a quiet corner away from everyone, sitting down as you tried to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling in your mind - Hotch had never spoken to you like that, and the way his voice had cracked with frustration scared you in a way you hadn’t expected. He had always been your steady, composed rock. Seeing him like this, so consumed by his anger, made you feel small like you’d done something wrong even though you hadn’t.

Time passed in a blur as you sat there, staring blankly at the floor, trying to push the hurt away. It was hard to shake the sting of his words, though, and harder still to quiet the nervous flutter in your chest every time you thought of facing him again.

It wasn’t until later, when the case was starting to wrap up and the tension in the precinct had lifted, that Hotch realized what he’d done. The anger had drained out of him, leaving only exhaustion in its wake, and as he replayed the events of the day in his mind, his heart sank. He remembered snapping at you - remembered the look in your eyes, how you’d gone silent and withdrawn so quickly. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

He searched the precinct, looking for you, dread building with every step. When he finally found you, you were sitting alone, your arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to make yourself smaller. His heart clenched at the sight.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. His voice was gentle now, but you stiffened at the sound of it, your eyes darting up to meet his before quickly dropping back to the floor. “Can I… Can we talk?”

You didn’t respond at first, your hands gripping the edge of the chair like you weren’t sure what to do. He could see the sadness etched on your face, the way your shoulders were tense, and it broke something inside him.

He crossed the room slowly, careful not to crowd you. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean it. You didn’t deserve that—none of it. I was angry, and I took it out on you. That was wrong.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “You’ve never… you’ve never yelled at me like that before,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know what to do.”

The pain in your voice was like a knife to his heart, and he knelt down in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “I know,” he said, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you understood. “I was an idiot. I never want to hurt you like that again. You mean too much to me.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the regret in his eyes. The weight of his apology settled over you, easing some of the hurt in your chest. Slowly, you nodded, your body relaxing just a little.

“I just… I didn’t know what I’d done wrong,” you admitted, your voice small. “It scared me.”

Hotch’s expression softened, and he reached up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he murmured. “I let my emotions get the better of me, and I’m so sorry. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the silence between you softening as the tension eased. You leaned into his touch, your heart finally starting to slow, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything come between us. Not even my own stupidity.”

A small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you nodded, letting yourself sink into the comfort of his presence. “I love you too.”

Hotch pulled you into his arms, holding you close, and you felt the last of the fear and sadness melt away. You weren’t afraid anymore, not with him holding you like this. And as the two of you sat there in the quiet, you knew that no matter what, you would always find your way back to each other.

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt Idea: Dangerous

Cassandra's main thing is being able to read and understand body language. Yeah, to a degree all of the Bats possess this skill but Cassandra takes it to a whole new level. Nobody is better at it than she is.

In a way she sometimes reminded herself of a machine the way the information filtered into her brain. The way it categorized each and every person she came across. On the street, in her house, even in the mirror. Everybody had something.

So to come across a person who outwardly looked normal on the outside that she couldn't read she didn't understand. Yes, he has data but the data isn't making any sense!

He's just sitting there texting on his phone, chuckling harmlessly.

Yet every instinct in her body and everything 'harmless' that he was doing was a red flag. It was strange and wrong. But the biggest problem is that she couldn't even identify what about him was so dangerous.

Texting Somebody: Dangerous.

Laughing: Dangerous.

Relaxed Posture: Dangerous.

He wasn't even looking around! He was completely drawn in by whatever was on his phone, having absolutely no care in the world as the bus continued and this kid - who was probably no older than 14 - was just texting away.

It wasn't until the bus suddenly screeched to a halt and the doors were smashed open by some low legal thugs that those signals made sense. They made sense because while everybody else complied with the commands of the men - even Cassandra who might have alerted Oracle before she got to her knees on the floor.

Yet this kid stayed in one place.

"Didn't you hear what I said, kid!? Get on the damn floor!"

The kid didn't even look up before he reacted.

The once non-existent tension in his body changed with no outward sign as he shoved himself forward, shoving the barrel of the gun upwards before punching the man in the jaw so hard that Cass heard it snap out of place as he was thrown backwards against a bar in the bus aisle and dented it. The other two men who were in on the attack were caught off guard as this kid flipped the safety on the gun locking it and in the same fluid motion threw the gun at one of the men, smacking him square in the forehead.

Cassandra was still wrapping her mind around this reckless action before the kid pulled another, rushing towards the final man, grabbing another one of the aisle bars and swinging himself, kicking him in the chest and knocking him right back out the door they'd entered through. The gun went off as it was dropped, but all three men were disarmed and the kid picked up the guns. Dropped the clips into his hand, emptied the chamber then discarded them on one side of the bus before he simply tossed the clips out the nearest window, the clips slipping directly into a drain without any bit of aim.

"What the hell are you, kid?" Groaned the first man, "A bat?"

"Bat? No way, man. Anyways, thanks for the lift Mr. Bus Driver." The kid then promptly walked out of the door, jumped over the man on the ground and made his way down the street.

Cass couldn't wrap her mind what just happened but she understood the warnings.

That kid was dangerous.

She had to get him on the team.