#fighting the labor settings something fierce

[inserttemptitlehere]

I seriously downloaded the new steam version of Dwarf Fortress and then played it for 12 hours straight. Would've played for more but I have a work meeting I have to go to now.

[kishibei]

GUYS MY AGE ...

dilf! toji x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.6k words

summary: toji loves everything about his younger girlfriend, all except the overly friendly relationship she has with his son. to curb his unspoken fear of losing you, you fuck him.

cont: jealousy, possessive language, affectionate toji, missionary, mating press, no resolution, creampie per usual

Toji loved your body; he could never fight that little nagging thought sitting in the back of his mind— the one telling him to touch you.

Your boyfriend's hands were strong, holding a roughness that was tender in its own right— the honest pads of his fingers hardened from years of dirty work.

His fingerprints were practically committed to your memory, each one just a little different from the next. Uneven swirls and ridges winded into each other; tips tacked with scars and deeper indentations from his gunslinging days.

You could feel them all when he walked his hands down your body; even more so when he had you spread open across his thighs, teasing you with just a couple of fingers.

...

Toji appreciated the softer parts of you and paid more attention to them. Your chest, your ass, and the slight pinch of your cheeks constantly reminded him of your youth compared to his— a youth that appeared long gone when you'd met his gaze now; thin black eyes adorned with crow's feet.

His eyes held a vision that was faraway, a distant kind of look he'd always given when he was upset about something. That stoney face he wore never failed to betray his emotions, bearing them on his sleeves despite his best efforts at swallowing them down. There was only one thing that could've been bothering Toji; the same thing that had been eating him up for weeks— his irrational fear of losing you.

Toji really had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping you to himself. You were a one man kind of girl, ignoring the advances of any others who set their sights on you. He often scorned your younger peers, making fun of them without second thought, especially taking joy in tormenting the very man who introduced you to himself: his own son.

...

His first and only, Megumi was beyond fit. Clever, agile, and full of much more life than he was; Megumi was the spitting image of Toji in his younger years. Their striking resemblance was never quite something he saw as a bad thing, at least not until he began to date you.

It was the spoils of his own labor he envied— so much younger and almost perfect for you.

With the kind of drive that came with youth, Megumi easily had a long list of goals he fought fiercely to achieve; ones that he was never really shy to let you know of. He was shameless in this right, not even trying to hide his willingness to impress you in front of his father.

Toji would have been an idiot to not notice his son's infatuation with you. Only a fool would've choosen to ignore the longing glances, the lingering hugs, how the younger man always managed to look away whenever his father kissed you.

At times your boyfriend wondered if you’d prefer someone who wasn't this much your senior, mumbling his insecurities into your chest when he thought you’d already fallen asleep at night.

You had loved him just as much as he did you; your heart swelling with an appreciation for all things Toji. So here in his lap, you humor him; giving him a small reminder of just who you belonged to.

The man had softened up over the years but his strength still remained, thick corded muscle staying firm beneath the thinning skin he had cursed so much.

You hardly blinked; watching intently as he fingered the hem of the shirt he was wearing, peeling it off slowly to expose his muscular chest. His pecs were adorned with light blue branches of veins that shone through his patinaed skin.

Despite how perfect, almost god-like he appeared in this moment, the sight reminded you of his humanity.

You're not sure of what exactly he did before he settled down with you, how many people he’d really killed, or the curses that followed him in his lifetime; but it was a reminder that blood still ran thick in those veins of his, and that they sustained the heart that bled only for you.

“I love you…” he whispered, the sudden confession making you laugh. A giggle bubbled up in your throat before bursting forth into the air, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes escaping your lips. It was an infectious thing, lifting the corners of Toji’s lips to form a gentle arc that stretched from cheek to cheek.

He's impatient when he tugs your jeans off, not even bothering to remove his as he opens his fly just enough to pull his heavy cock out. You know he’s hard despite the fact it barely stands erect, his leaky head bowing under the weight of the rest of him.

You can't help but lick your lips as you stare down at it, eyes already lidded with hazy vision as he grips onto the base, slipping into you without much of a fight.

A shaky breath leaves Toji's lips as he settles in, hissing at how your hole flutters, already clamping down on him.

"Shit..” he sibilates, “so fuckin’ wet for me…”

The words seem to go straight to your pussy as you clench around him, whining a bit from the praise and the mind-numbing feeling of him sinking into you.

He’s so big, he knows he is. Toji’s fully aware of how he fills you to the brim, how deep he reaches, practically prodding at your cervix as he lowers you down on him. He’s teeming with confidence now, pressing down on your tummy to show you just where he’s sure the tip of his length reaches.

“Mm, you feel that, baby?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear your head enough to find the words to respond. Pushing past little whimpers, you stumble over all the syllables you need. Deciding it's best to give up on speaking, you nod profusely, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. Upon revealing your stupefied expression to him, he laughs like he always does; a low rumble that just drips in arrogance as it falls from his lips.

“That’s all me…” he purrs, deft fingers slowly caressing the rest of your body, stopping to squeeze at your soft chest.

His unyielding touch moves down to your legs; strong hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs as he practically folds you in half, pressing your thighs to your chest like nothing.

It's so much, and you can feel him even deeper now, every inch of him plunging into you at a disconcerting pace. You squeal as he pounds into you sloppily, pressing messy kisses to your cheeks, the tops of your ears, down the expanse of your neck, and just about every bit of skin he can get his lips on from this angle.

He loves you, this you know. And even if he hadn't said it earlier, the way he’s fucking you says it all.

“Ooohh, shit Toji!” you sputter, eagerly bouncing on the man’s lap as you try to match his thrusts. Your body shakes with the force of each pump, moaning wantonly as he slowly drags his cock out of you, ramming it back in your dripping hole again and again.

You seem to be growing dumber by the second, incoherent babbles and whines leaving your lips as he fucks the shit out of you. If you could focus on one thing, you would; but your eyes shift everywhere, rolling into the back of your head before meeting with the place where your bodies connected, watching in a trance as Toji’s thick cock disappears into your sopping wet cunt.

Toji grunts, his hips bucking wildly as he clings to you tightly, your back against his broad chest as he uses the force of his pounding to bounce you on even harder than before. He grits through his teeth, eyes shutting hard before they open again, his lips at your ears as a string of expletives leave them.

“Fuckin’ hell, ease up, you’re squeezin’ me…” he strained, jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might just break.

Toji looked like he was reeling, so close to the edge but still holding on, trying to push you over yours before letting himself go.

“Fuck…whose pussy is this?" he panted, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keeping his pace, his hips stuttering as he got closer to finishing now.

You couldn’t answer, mouth preoccupied with moan after the next as you tried anyways, babbling at him like an idiot.

“Mmngh! Y-yours! Yours, right?!"

It was difficult to even answer him straight, just saying anything, you jumbled up the first few words that floated into your hazy mind.

Toji laughed, taking in a shaky breath as he kept going, pulling your legs back even further as he slammed into you with a force that was overwhelming.

"Mine… all fuckin’ mine, you hear?!"

His pace was grueling and you were surely at your limit, crystalline tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he fucked you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, a deep familiar knot in the pit of your stomach just threatening to break.

“I hear! Hear you, Toji!" you yelped, mouth hung open in a perpetual 'O' as you teetered over the edge, right at the cusp of your orgasm.

“I can't! Can’t take any more, please!"

Toji amused you with a crooked grin, using his rough fingers to circle your puffy clit, the extra stimulation giving you just what you needed. You came with a cry, electricity coursing through your veins as you moaned wantonly, gushing around him with a shudder.

The force of your orgasm sent Toji straight into his own, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you, filling you to the brim with thick spurts of cum.

He huffed, chest heaving as he kissed you messily, slotting his tongue into your mouth just before he pulled away to speak.

“You’re so good… but just for me, yea?"

He pressed his lips against yours again and the corners of your mouth turned up in a satisfied smile, loving when he got like this. Toji grew soft, cuddling up to you as he slipped out of your cunt, a runny mix of both his and your fluids dripping onto his lap.

“Only for me…”

©2023 KISHIBEI do not repost, modify, distrib. or translate.

[jayden-killer]

Hi!

I love your stories, could you make one where the reader is dating Miguel and is also a part of the spider community. The reader helps Miles to escape and Miguel finds out and argue with her.

I hope that you will keep writing stories.

Have a great day !

omg omg hii! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, receiving these types of compliments always make my day :DD. And, i deeply apologise for taking this long to write your request; I've been so busy with my uni exams.. Anyways, here's your story!!

I HATE TO FIGHT YOU. (Miguel O'Hara × gn!reader)

warnings: Angst to light sfw (at the end)???, Miguel expressing his anger by literally destroying his lab lmao, VERY LONG ONE SHOT.

☆

Superpowers aren’t easy.

So it wasn’t a relationship with the leader of the Spider Society. Miguel was not an easy guy to argue with, you might call him stubborn, which was one of his main features. And even when Miles Morales, the newcomer to society, tried to change his mind, begging him to give him a chance to save his father, he hadn’t changed his mind. There was nothing Miles could do to change his mind. It was difficult with me, imagine with the others! But this is another story; Miles Morales was chased by an angry mob of Spider people, led by Miguel, flanked by me. The walls of the structure resounded with encouraging screams that every spider person gave himself, giving more charge during that chase. Miles was right in front of us, dodging webs and traps stretched by other members. There was something about that kid that maybe wasn’t something wrong.

He needed to be sent home and help him save his parents. I had not succeeded, and I would have avoided that another person (moreover a little boy!) would have gone through the same pain that I had to go through. Miguel and I split up, and that was my chance. With a perfect throw of my web, he managed to grab Miles' right arm and pull it towards me. The boy stretched his eyes, thinking it was the end for him. Only when I made a sign to him to become invisible and to hide behind a shaded wall, he understood. He hid me in turn, letting the angry crowd pass us.

Now it was the right time. "Miles". I called the kid with the labored breath and he returned to his normal form. He was exhaling and inspiring too, following the hunt we were giving him. Without wasting time, looking around if there was a person there, I took out my time clock, and put it on his wrist. " This clock will take you to your dimension. It’s already set for where you need to go. Don’t ask any more questions, go." Without giving him an answer, I left him there, in the shadows, his face confused and sweaty, while I waved him to go.

~☆~

"You did what?!"

"He’s a boy, Miguel!"

"You have no idea how serious the situation is because of you".

"Miguel, you have to reason. You can’t really thi-".

"The situation is far worse than you think, puta madre!"

Miguel’s scream rang out the second it left his mouth. I could compare him to an animal: panting, with his eyes reddened and grainy, studying every movement, his shoulders outstretched, ready to attack his prey, me, or maybe someone else. His fierce and intimidating tone made me shudder, close my eyes for fear that something might happen, or worse; I held my arms in place along my hips, biting my lip to channel the emotions I had inside. I didn’t want to show weakness before Miguel. Or better: he had already seen me as I was. Fragile, with doubts that twisted my mind, like a normal human being, yet in those situations I always tried not to show off... I wanted to have everything under control. The man didn’t realize that he was wrong, that he was blinded by this compulsive obsession with control. We were talking about a little boy, Jesus Christ!

I opened my eyes.

My thoughts were replaced by the still threatening tone of Miguel, my lover, who took a long sigh, pinching the tip of his nose. Then he shook his head, turning his back. The lab was upside down: the news of my help to Miles was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

"The consequences are serious. I can’t risk losing more people to a kid".

That was more a warning to him than to myself. "I need to think about it... I need to be alone".

"Miguel.." I tried to talk to him.

With one hand he stopped me from talking to him and shook his head slightly, not looking at me. " No." He said. "I know what you did. It was right. But now I need to be on my own" he repeated feebly, that I found it difficult to understand well what he wanted. Then I agreed, because I respected his condition and his well-being, so I left him alone in the now ruined laboratory, with the last words: "I only did what was right. He deserves a chance", then the doors closed. I swear I heard something from him.

"And I don’t blame you. But it’s not right that he can save his family, and I couldn’t do it".

[jocelyns-journey]

As you may know, Jocelyn was born 3.5 months early. I went into preterm labor due to a uterine infection I didn’t know I had. By the time we got checked in to the hospital it was too late to stop things. She was born via c-section because she was breech weighing only 2 lbs 2 oz. She was flown to St. Joseph’s Hospital in PHX and was cared for there by excellent nurses and doctors for the next 3.5 months. (Shout out to Melissa and Jamie, our primary nurses, Dr. Ulm, and Dr. Bristol!) They not only kept Jocelyn alive but they kept us alive as well.

On day 5 of life, Jocelyn had what is called a grade IV intraventricular hemorrhage. A brain bleed…to the most significant degree. It was a agonizing wait-and-see week. But she was a fighter and she was not ready to give up the fight for her life. I still marvel at how something so small and fragile could be so strong and fierce. It was truly miraculous. There were secondary problems to deal with because of her IVH. She developed hydrocephalus and required a shunt to remove the extra fluid pressing on her brain. There were many more obstacles and victories and miracles but on October 17th we brought our precious baby home.

We signed up for early intervention immediately as preemies often need support with their early development. As she grew we started to realize the implications her IVH had on her body. Her right arm was not as active as her left arm and her milestones like rolling, crawling, sitting, walking were all delayed. At age three she got the official diagnosis of cerebral palsy. More specifically, right-sided hemiparesis. We thank God the impacts have only been physical, not cognitive. She’s a clever and quick witted and spunky little girl.

We’ve been busy with therapies, surgeries, specialist appointments and treatments over the past 8 years. But Jocelyn is just one of the kids in our loving circle of family and friends. Sometimes she is frustrated by her limitations, but she is persistent and incredibly determined to do most things. I had come to accept that this is what life would consist of for her, the constant war with her body to comply to her will. Figuring out ways to adapt things to her ability. It could be worse, much worse. But then, at a routine follow up visit with her orthopedic surgeon this past spring, I was told something that would change what I thought was possible.

She said she thought Jocelyn might be a candidate for a surgery called Selective Dorsal Rhizotomy. A strange set of words she had to repeat three times and then write down for me. I was shocked that there was a treatment option for cerebral palsy that I hadn’t heard of before. I went home and researched and found story after story of life change after SDR. This lead to several evaluations and conversations with her specialists and in the summer she was approved for surgery. This all coincided with our big move to Georgia, not great timing. But we weighed our options and decided the best thing for her was to have the surgery with Dr. TS Park at the St. Louis Children’s Hospital. He is the leading expert and has performed this surgery thousands of times in his career.

This brings us to today. In a few short weeks we will be driving to St. Louis for this life-changing surgery. It is momentous. As we prepare mentally and emotionally for the trip we ask that you keep Jocelyn and our family in your prayers. For those of you who want to know more about SDR here is a link to great information from someone who had the surgery as a young adult.

I will use this platform to share her journey through surgery, recovery and rehabilitation. Thank you for listening to our story and for supporting her.

[blueskyscribeupdates]

Secure Own Oxygen Mask

Part 11

You are Soundwave, a free mech, Third-in-Command of an army.  When you were E-16 you sat obediently in alt mode and played whatever your masters wished.

There was a stage where you were something in between. Lifted to freedom, you understood at last that you had been a slave.  But what—no, who were you, if not Equipment #16?

"Would you care to come to my speech tonight?" Megatron asked one night, visiting you in recovery.  "Only if you are feeling up to it."

You pushed upright from your cot and nodded, then remembered you could speak.  "Yes."

The evening news sometimes mentioned Megatron's speeches ("the rabblerouser's incendiary rants"), but never played them; they were deemed too shocking. And so you went to the speech full of curiosity.  Its location was no grander than a street corner between two smoke-churning factories, but word had gotten around; the crowd (factory workers, a few uncasted, and two Seekers) gave a ragged cheer when Megatron stepped forward.

Incendiary. Yes. Something inside you was set alight by the thunder in his voice, the force of his vision.  

"They say that a speedster is worth more than a forklift, a forklift more than a jet, a jet more than a street-scrubber. They set a price on that which is priceless and set us to squabble!  I say NO MORE!  Your form does not define you, the same spark beats beneath all our metal!  Each and each, we think, we feel, we dream!" 

Naught but a few sentences in, you were already recording his words, disseminating them across the airwaves.  The first broadcast of your own volition.

"Name discovered: Soundwave," you told him afterwards.  "Megatron: will bring freedom. Soundwave: will help."

"Soundwave. That is a fine name." His brow furrowed as he looked at the display on your chest panel, showing the reach of the broadcast. "But I did not bring you here to wring labor out of you.  You do not owe me anything."

"Not obligation.  Choice."

~*~*~

You sit on your berth, your chin resting on your hands. For the past three hours you have been picking up the signal of an Earthen radio station. The Top 40 Hits slide through your audio systems without resistance.

You are Third in Command.  Yet what is it you contribute to the army?  You monitor the airwaves, block hackers and spies, schedule patrols.  Certainly you will jump in if a fight is dire, but it is not your forte. 

You sever the radio connection, your visor flickering as you play a recording. "Rumble was a loyal Decepticon, a fierce warrior.  His sacrifice shall not be forgotten."

Rumble would be so proud. But is it true?  Cassettes: Decepticons? Yes.  Cassettes: warriors?  No.

And though you wear a new shape on Earth, you are still a box that passively sits, records, broadcasts . . .

You stand up, fists tightening.  Your alt mode does not define you.  You do not have to remain a passive onlooker.  You will propel Megatron's dream, your dream, forward.

You access the schedule for the training rooms and block out two full weeks.  You summon the cassettes.

[lemonwrap]

Tongues & Teeth - Chapter 23

Please read the tags on Ao3 for this chapter.

Read it on Ao3!

Ghost is in the facility. 

“This isn’t something you can run from, you know,” Roba is saying. “I wanted to be sure of that.”

Ghost cocks his head, confused. What does that mean? 

“You won’t ever be leaving, Ghost,” Roba says with a finality that almost has Ghost believing him. Maybe he should give up on escaping. Nothing has worked so far, and he’s not treated as badly when he’s good, when he’s obedient and does what he’s told. He remembers each escape attempt, and how much they had hurt. When he acts like a good dog, he gets rewarded. Things don’t hurt so much. 

He feels Gilberto test the shackles holding him to the wall. Roba pauses his speech and picks something up off the tray in the far corner of the small room, and strangely enough, Ghost can hear the flick of a lighter. It sets off alarm bells in his head. Something bad is about to happen. He listens carefully, but hears nothing else, and then Roba turns around, holding something. 

He has a handheld mirror and a brand in his hand. Like something one would use on cattle, just smaller. Dread wells up in Ghost’s stomach like a yawning pit as he makes out the letters MR as the brand gets closer and closer to his face, red-hot, steaming, just waiting to be used on him. He strains and fights against the shackles, doing nothing but rubbing his wrists raw. Gilberto holds his head in place as he frantically shakes the chains, knowing what was coming. They were going to brand him. 

It touches his skin. For a moment, he doesn’t feel anything. And then it burns. He can’t help the shout that escapes his mouth as fire erupts across his face, right on his cheekbone, scorching his flesh, all of the agony concentrated on his face. He thrashes against it, sobbing, but it’s already too late. The brand eventually recedes and Gilberto lets him go, leaving him trying to catch his breath, the wound aching fiercely at every single minute facial movement he makes. His eyes water with tears. Of pain or despair, he doesn’t know yet. 

He calms down enough to breathe a little, and Roba steps forwards. 

“See, Ghost? You’re special,” Roba mocks. “I don’t do this for everybody. Not everybody deserves it, after all,” he laughs, cruel, slapping the brand. Ghost cringes away as far as possible, clenching his jaw around a scream. His tears burn the brand as they roll down his cheeks. 

“Take a look. I think we did a pretty good job, eh?”

Roba holds the little mirror up to Ghost’s face, and Ghost nearly passes out at the sight. There’s a brand on his cheek, reddened and nasty. MR. This time, he doesn’t clench his jaw shut. He screams in anguish at what Roba’s fucking done to him. To his face. He just screams. He keeps shouting until he jolts himself awake with his own sounds, hyperventilating. 

He’s in his new room at Soap’s house. 

He tries to breathe properly, but he can’t. He cries, tearing off the face mask he had fallen asleep in and clapping a hand to the brand, digging his fingers into the flesh, still feeling the burning of his skin. He can’t stand the sensation of it any longer. 

He staggers out of bed and towards the kitchen, panic coursing through his body, not bothering to turn on the light, haphazardly opening drawers and searching for something sharp. Anything. The moonlight shines down through the window, guiding his way as he finds the silverware drawer and picks out a small but sturdy knife. 

Ghost stumbles into the bathroom, flicks on the light, and gets to work, breathing labored. He needs to get it off. The knife is cold as he forces it through his skin, wincing at the sharp, shooting pain. He holds back a pained noise. 

Ghost looks at himself in the mirror above the sink. His vision is blurry from his tears. Blood beads up around the wound and rolls off his cheek as his trembling hands cut, but anything was better than the brand. He slices through his flesh, shaking, until the blade is through, red pouring down his face and dribbling all over the sink. Overwhelmed, his breath catches in his throat, so he closes his eyes.  

The brand is gone. 

“Si?” he hears Soap call out. He freezes and opens his eyes, still covered in blood. He doesn’t have enough time to shut the door completely before Soap is opening it, letting out a small gasp at the sight of Ghost hunched over the sink, bleeding, knife in hand. 

“Oh, Simon,” Soap whispers. 

Ghost feels his expression fall at the sympathetic tone, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall. Soap steps forwards and cups Ghost’s uninjured cheek in his hand, gently taking the knife from his hand with his other. His eyes are wide and concerned. Ghost stiffens and then melts into his touch, trembling, bleeding all over Soap’s bathroom. Soap is here. It would be okay.

“I’ve got you,” Soap says quietly, pulling him to his chest and stroking his hair. Ghost melts into his arms, feeling unbidden tears prick his eyes as he falls into Soap like a collapsing star. Soap lowers them to the floor and guides Ghost into his lap, who shudders but leans into him, aching, breath coming in heaves. 

“Breathe for me, Si,” Soap says comfortingly, holding his shaking hand as Ghost tries to be normal again. He can feel the blood still wetting his face and neck, but Soap doesn’t seem to mind the mess, instead pressing a gentle kiss to Ghost’s hair. Soap holds him until his breathing manages to even out. 

“Let’s get you patched up, yeah?” Soap says, pulling back to get a better look at Ghost’s face. His thumb traces underneath the deep cut, and Ghost instinctively jolts slightly and shuts his eyes, despite knowing in his soul that Soap wouldn’t hurt him. 

Soap pulls away, and Ghost finds himself missing his touch. He rifles under the bathroom sink for something, and pulls out a first aid kit. He opens it and takes out a handful of cotton swabs and some antiseptic. 

“What happened?” Soap inquires as he swipes the cotton across his cheek. It comes away crimson.

Ghost shrugs, averting his eyes, the cut on his face aching. I wanted it off.

Soap doesn’t ask any further questions. He just cleans Ghost’s wound with the antiseptic, his hands tender and oh-so-careful. Ghost lets it happen, his eyes shutting, trusting Soap to take care of him. When his cut has stopped bleeding and he’s cleansed of blood, Soap applies a bandage to his cheek. His eyes shine with worry as he gazes at Ghost, and Ghost wants to comfort him back, tell him that he feels better now that the brand was cut away. It was the last piece of him that Roba had owned, and now it was gone. 

“C’mon,” Soap says softly, taking him by the hand and leading him from the bathroom to his dark bedroom. 

 Your shirt, Ghost points out. 

“Can be replaced,” Soap says. 

He pulls off his bloodstained shirt and tugs Ghost by the arm into his bed, holding Ghost’s body close to his own. Ghost wants to be held. He wants to be comforted. He wants to be closer. He wants Soap. Ghost tucks his head into Soap’s chest, holding his hand tight, letting him calm his shaking. 

[angelamajiki]

PAIRINGS: Father! Yandere! Enji Todoroki x Daughter! Reader

CW: yandere, incest, soulmate AU, fluff, slight angst, nsfw, kissing, praise kink, virginity kink, size kink, bathroom sex

A BNHarem Collab!

AN: my longest piece to date! the prompt this month was sex work, so i decided to stretch the prompt and do sexual slavery. wanted to go for a softer version of daddy endeavor, so please enjoy <3

5.2k words

The mark on his wrist was one that was shared with yours. Enji had given up on finding his soulmate, deciding that his career and legacy were far more important than some silly marking on another’s body. Love was something he thought he could go without. But when he saw your bright eyes gaze up at him, your chubby hand wrapped around his index finger, his heart had fallen hard—such a sweet, gentle thing. No traces of fear, of disdain, of disgust for him as a human being. Just pure curiosity and unconditional love. His heart leaped for his little girl.

Enji was determined, then and there, that he would never fail you, not like he forgot the others.

Oh, what plans he had for you, his precious princess. He couldn’t wait to spoil you, to marry you and start a new family once you were old enough. Rei realized this as well. Her youngest daughter, her last hope at salvaging her broken family, was to be had by her husband. The thought frightened her, especially after seeing the adoring look in her husband's eyes when she saw him cradle you for the first time. It was so unlike the stoic nature he held for the other children when they were born, only caring to see that they were healthy before leaving off back to his agency, never giving them more than a fleeting touch. It was nothing like when he held you, snarling at any nurse who dared to take his soulmate from the grips of his arms.

Something that had Enji’s conviction more so than his career was something to be feared. Your mother swore to herself that she would not let her husband ruin you.

Once he fell asleep with you tucked in the crook of his arm, a social worker came and collected you to be sent to a foster home and be set up for adoption. It was better than falling into the hands of the monster of a husband.

After the death of Touya, the pair decided to have one more child in hopes of fixing their broken family, but Rei now knew it was for naught. Nothing could save them know, especially now that Enji had nearly burned the building down when he discovered that his little girl was gone, just hours after he had finally found you.

Rei alerted the commission as well for your protection, that utter bitch of a woman. They very well couldn't have the number two hero caught in an incestuous bond with his daughter, now could they. All information of your whereabouts was hidden from him, blacklisting him from working with any foster children, lest he loses his hero license. Enji may have lost you for the time being, but his patience grew as he did. They couldn't keep him from you forever. You'd be reunited one day; he knows it.

The first time he saw you again was when you were fifteen. It was your birthday and the day he had become the number one hero officially, plenty of reason to celebrate. Usually, he would have taken the time to sit near the rose bush he planted in your honor in his courtyard on your birthday, renewing his vows to find and love you to the best of his ability. Enji took great pride in keeping your memory alive with the bush for his beautiful little rose gone too soon from his grasp. But there you were, mere meters from him.

The foster home you stayed at took you out for dinner when he was meeting with Hawks after the billboard awards. Your eyes were unmistakable, a perfect cerulean just like his own. He was so close, yet so far. My, how you had grown since he saw you. Unlike him, you bore your mark proudly on your wrist, not ashamed to admit to the world who your soulmate was. Not like you actually knew who it was anyway.

Enji was prepared to leave Hawks at the table; a new flame lit under his ass, one far more exhilarating than the thought of being the number one hero. He was up and on his way to speak to you before Nomu attacked him. Damn villains, they'd pay for separating the two of you once again. But his conviction only grew stronger. It wasn’t hard to find you after that; he knew what city you were living in. Instincts lashed out at him, demanding that he go sweep you up and hide you away. No, no. That would make you frightened; he can't have that. He’ll watch from the sidelines, waiting until you were of age to make a move. He was curious to see just how life as a foster child was treating you.

Growing up in the foster system had been a nightmare from hell for you. A cursed child is what they saw you as when your skin sprouted flames every time it was touched by the human hand, burning everything and everyone who came in contact with it. From the moment your quirk manifested, you were an outcast, an untouchable, unlovable freak. Someone destined never to feel the touch of their new parents, their lover, their soulmate.

It wasn't long before you realized that you would remain in the foster system until you aged out. Who would adopt a child they couldn't hug when they cried, hold their hand when they crossed the street, snuggle up to when it was chilly outside? Any potential parent was taken aback by your quirk once you reached for the warm touch of mommy and daddy, only to singe their hand or burn a hole in their shirt.

You learned quickly that your touch was something to be feared, that you were something to be feared. You supposed that’s why you looked up to him so much. So much so that you thought about him late at night when the loneliness seemed to drown you in the sea of your insecurities.

Endeavor was the only one who could understand you, understand your quirk. If only your soulmate mark could match him, maybe you feel the warmth of another human being without hurting or mauling them with your power. Abrasive he may be with the media, but there something about him that was so comforting and endearing to you. In your eyes, he was simply misunderstood, a gentle giant amongst the mass personalities of the other pro heroes.

Watching his interviews brought you comfort when you were lonely, his merchandise made you swell with pride and confidence, and his posters on the wall reminded you that you were never alone. It was a silly crush, but it made you feel better about your miserable life.

You even got to see him on your birthday! Well, not exactly. You happened to be in the same restaurant when your foster parents took you out for your birthday. It was apparent that they just felt bad for you, having looked after you for 15 years only to still have custody of your sorry ass. You were almost certain that they were going to kick you to the curb the morning of your 18th birthday.

Too bad they never had the chance. That fate would have been much kinder than the reality you faced now.

Once the Paranormal Liberation Front had effectively ripped society up by the roots and let the tree of life rot for the world to see, your foster parents packed their shit and left the country while you were at school. You’d been alone in the world ever since and were snatched off the streets, ready to be sold into slavery by the villains of the world. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being bought like a bitch from the auction floor.

Enji, on the other hand, was more than eager to do just that. After his public smear campaign by his allegedly dead son, he was dead to the world, finally abandoning his family for good in hopes of finding his beloved daughter. His life was dedicated to searching for you, having managed to track you down through his vigilante work. He likes to lie to himself and say that he’s continuing to fight for the greater good, but Enji does it just to have the chance to see your sweet face again. There wasn’t much to go off of, but he’d rather see his fiery end than to give up. That's how he found you at the auction.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Another auction night was approaching, which meant another night of humiliation and being displayed like a slab of meat for a crowd of degenerate wolves. Your quirk was the only thing keeping you from being sold; no one wants a fucktoy they can’t touch. It reduced you to physical labor for your captors, but you were better fed because of it. That didn’t mean they still didn’t try to sell you.

After being stripped down into nothing but a collar, leash, and a muzzle, you were brought to the stage and shoved in front of the ravenous, roaring crowd. You could feel their stares seep into your bones, the grime from the floor on your bare feet only adding to the overwhelming sensation of disgust you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The crowd’s excitement was raucous, jeers and shouts echoing off the halls of the underground auditorium. Masks covered their faces for the sake of privacy lest a vigilante break-in and hunt them all down. Even in the lawlessness of the world, heroes were still crawling everywhere to trail after even the slightest scent of villainy. Doesn't mean they’ll win, but hey, the death of a hero is just the same as the auction was to them.

“Up next, a darling girl with a fiery quirk!”

That was your cue. A handler had a fierce grip on your leash, giving it a few tugs for good measure as the crowd laughed at your stumbling. The auctioneer began to list your qualities and physical attributes, including your quirk.

“And she’s a virgin!”

Added for good measure, the crowd fell silent after listening to the abilities of your quirk. You couldn't hate it anymore; it's what was keeping you from being someone’s onahole until the day you kicked the bucket.

“Can I get $10,000?”

Ah the starting bid. The silence was relieving. Just a few more moments and you'd be off that damn stage.

“No? Going once, going twice, going-”

“One million.”

A booming voice came from the back row, the depths of the shadows to further hide the masked man who just bought your life. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Outstanding! One million dollars for the young lady!”

“Going once.”

It couldn't be.

“Going twice.”

This can't be happening.

“Sold for one million!”

No!

You were supposed to be unwanted, just like you have been your entire life! Yet some mysteriously familiar man outbid the entire auction for little ol’ you.

“Off the stage, bitch.”

The handler snarled, yanking you off the stage and causing you the fall and bruise yourself in the process.

“Watch it!” He spat, picking you up by the roots of your hair. “The merchandise needs to be handled carefully before reaching the customer. Let's hope he doesn't mind some bumps and bruises. For your sake.”

“That won't be necessary; I'll be taking her as is. Immediately, if you will.”

The mysterious man stood had already made his way backstage and behind you, standing formidably over your stark form. Your hair was released, dropping you back to the floor.

“Excellent, sir! I’m more than happy to get this welp off my hands.”

A brief exchange was made while you recovered on the floor, shaking in fear as the situation weighed heavily on your already broken self. The handler took the money and returned to the back room, leaving the two of you alone together.

The stranger crouched down to you and extended a hand to brush the stray hair out of your face, touch remaining tender and gentle when you flinched harshly.

“My poor girl, what has the world done to you?”

His coat enveloped your body as he scooped you up in his arms. The scent of him comforted you more than you would have liked to admit. Teakwood and coffee grounds filled your senses as he held you flush against his chest, leaving the auction house with a renewed sense of vigor.

You were placed in the backseat of a car before he dressed you in simple pajamas.

“Rest. You deserve it.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

At some point in the car ride, you let yourself fall asleep only to wake up in a cozy king-size bed wrapped up in a soft blanket next to a warm fireplace. The false sense of comfort lulled you for a few moments before your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The anxiety you'd had known your whole life had finally kicked back into gear, forcing you out of bed and into the rest of the house.

It was daybreak, the sunlight slowly trickling in through heavily curtained windows as you walked through the halls and into the kitchen. The man was standing over the stove, sans mask, dressed in a wife-beater and his pajama bottoms. It couldn't be-

“Come in; breakfast will be on the table in a moment.”

Now you were certain.

“Who are you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you buy me at the auction?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle flowed from the man.

“I think you know the answer to that, little one.”

His focus was retained on the meal in front of him. “I’ll explain myself over breakfast. Now sit.”

You couldn't help but feel compelled to obey him. While sitting, you took the time to honestly look him over for the first time in your life. Never did you think you would be so close to your childhood crush in such a domestic setting.

He had noticeably greyed but still possessed a majority of his red hair. Muscles were still taught and budging, but he had grown a little bit of a belly. Endeavor was as handsome as ever, aged like a fine wine that you couldn't wait to sip on.

The food was placed in front of you as he took the test next to you.

“Eat and have some water. Then we’ll talk.”

Once again, you obeyed him without question and refrained from eating like a rabid animal. It wasn't even a question, so much so that it is evident that you hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. You were still muscular from the labor you did for your handlers, though.

And Enji liked that about you. How resilient you were, he loved that you inherited his strength but still possessed Rei’s gentle nature. Not that he wanted to credit that woman for anything, but he couldn't deny the obvious. You were his strong, beautiful little girl who had to endure so much because his bitch of a wife decided to separate you from him.

But he was here now, ready to give all his love and protection to his only love. It took everything in his power not to swoop you up from your seat and hold you in his arms until his last breath.

Enji watched you eat, pride swelling in his chest at the thought that you liked his cooking. He couldn't help but wonder what your favorite meals were as well. There's certainly all the time in the world to get to know his little girl now that he had you. And he was never going to let you go.

Your breakfast was devoured quickly, both out of desperation for a real meal and answers to your questions.

“Why did you buy me from the auction?”

It was a complicated question, but you wanted a simple answer.

“I’m your soulmate.” His wrist was on display as he reached across the table to hold your hand.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Your one, shining hope was meant to yours and he wanted to be yours. You didn't even question how he knew at all.

His touch was warm and slightly rough, but it was welcome all the same. Even though your skin was lit aflame at his flesh against your, he paid it no mind. He was built to take your quirk, to take you.

“Endeavor…”

“Please, call me Enji.” His thumb rubbed over the palm of your hand. “I’m sure you feel better after having something to eat.”

“Why don't you go take a bath? It’ll help you relax, I can take care of your dishes.”

It was strange how insistent he was on taking care of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy the attention. He seemed to care for you in a way that went beyond caring for a partner, or in your case, a soulmate. But who were you to judge? It wasn't like you had a lot of experiences to use as a comparison.

Making your way back to the bedroom, you took the time to study the house you were in. A traditional, well-kept home, it practically looked like it was untouched. And maybe it was; buildings and homes fully intact were hard to come by these days, let alone ones that were clean and warm.

Enji seemed to lull you into an instinctual sense of safety, even though he bought you out of slavery. Just because he was your soulmate didn't mean that he had good intentions for you, but somehow, his presence alone filled a void in your heart that you had forgotten was even there.

Once you made it to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, you drew yourself a bath just like Enji had instructed you to do. It wasn't the wisest decision to let your guard down like this, but the man already had plenty of opportunities to fuck you up by this point.

The water was warm and inviting when you sank yourself into it; you couldn't remember the last time you had warm water to clean yourself with. It made you feel light and hazy, slipping into a headspace you had long forgotten—a place of safety and comfort.

Three raps on the door pulled you from your haze as Enji entered the bathroom with fresh towels. Despite the fact that he had already seen you naked, the intimacy of the situation only left you feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Let me help you.”

He kneeled next to you outside of the tub and pulled a lavender chamomile shampoo from the tub’s shelf. There was room to protest, but you couldn't find yourself willing to do so.

Water was poured over your head before he started a lather in your hair, gently scrubbing your scalp for a while. Even this simple touch made you shudder, it was a long time since you last felt the warmth of someone’s touch. And everything about this man was warm, for you at least. His words, his touch, his heart.

Conditioner was added to your hair as well before he moved onto washing your body. The scrub was gentle across your skin, his hand following after it to help keep the suds from rising too much. Strong hands massaged your back and your neck, both of which needed the much-deserved relief.

“So tense.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

There was a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as he massaged out all the knots and kinks that had built up over the years with your handlers. His touch should have made you flinch but you found yourself pressing into it. A small moan escaped your lips as he worked through a particularly tender spot on your neck.

“Are you enjoying this?”

His lips ghosted your ear as warm breath tickled your cheek and neck.

Your face flushed with a fiery warmth from a combination of the steam, your embarrassment, and the man whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands worked at your tired skin.

“Let me help you relax, sweet thing.”

Enji picked you up momentarily to slot himself behind you in the tub. Placed on his lap, you gasped when you could feel his erection hard against your back. Fear started to trickle into your veins as you squirmed slightly, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“Shhh, it's alright, you're okay.” His hand made its way to your throat and rested there gently, stroking over your artery with his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I've missed you.”

His touch made you feel alive, feel wanted for the first time in your life. You couldn't help but whine when his other hand made its way down your body, gently groping your breast as his lips were pressed to your ear.

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”

His fingers toyed with your nipples, obviously skilled.

“Do you trust me to make the sweetest love to you?”

Another whine caught in your throat as his hand went further, cupping your sex in his much larger hand. He kneaded gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple when you writhed in his grip.

“Please! Enji-”

Shushing you gently, Enji’s thumb made its way to your clit to stroke in small circles.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

You were used to touching yourself, but oh God it never felt like this.

“Good!” You managed to choke out in a wanton moan. “So good! Enji, please, I need-”

A warm pair of lips sealed over yours, silencing you once again. Enji knew how wrong this was, to take advantage of you like this without revealing the truth. But he wanted at least to just once to have you in his arms willingly and eagerly. He wanted to kiss you breathless, listen to your cries and feel your nails dig into his skin as he gave you all of himself without a fight from you. He can worry about revealing himself to you later.

The rough pads of his large fingers started to apply pressure to your clit as his middle finger slipped into your tight hole under the water.

“Don't worry, little one. I'll give you what you need.”

Soft kisses were trailed along your cheek and hand that was on his that was still holding your throat tenderly. Finger pumping in and out of you, Enji whispered sweet praises to you as he felt your hole clench around him.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Your breathy moans and whines only served to harden his cock. He felt like a teenager all over again, closing to cumming just from the sound of your voice.

Another finger slipped into your tight core, careful not to overwhelm you too fast. It was obvious you'd hadn't been touched before, not even by yourself. You felt full but greedy for more of his touch.

“Deeper, Enji! Please, can you?”

You were babbling at this point, writhing in his lap as he fingered you nice and slow with thick digits. Enji hummed as he pressed further into, curling his fingers into your G-spot.

Your cry was loud as he began to abuse your most sensitive spot, fully squirming in his arms as tears of pleasure breached your eyes. The sensation was too overpowering for you, making you thrash and arch in his arms.

“Shh, you're okay, sweetheart. You're okay; I'm right here.”

His fingers continued to stroke in a curled fashion, thumb still circling over your twitching clit. Enji kissed you again, deeper and more fierce as he began to fuck you earnestly with his fingers.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Squealing, you gripped his forearm and cried helplessly into his mouth. The build was slow and intense, allowing your orgasm to wash over you in waves of pleasure rather than a blinding, quick light.

“E-Enji!” You wailed. “Enji!”

You shook in his arms, holding onto the larger man for dear life as you experienced your first orgasm. It seemed like Enji knew your body better than you did.

No words were exchanged between the pair of you, but you could feel the tension of your desired hanging thick in the air. This man was going to take your virginity, here and now.

Enji removed his hand from your throat and between your legs in order to maneuver you to sit facing forward in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?”

His honesty made you flush even more. Biting your lip nervously, you hesitated to answer. Were you ready? It wasn’t like you had much of choice; the man could very well take you by force if he so chose to. But you felt safe in his arms, safe with him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Warm, large hands gripped your backside as he held you steady above his cock. Your hand reached down to line yourself up with his throbbing sex, lowering yourself down on it slowly.

It burned in the best way, stretching you out fully as you pressed your forehead against his chin.

“Good girl, taking my cock so well, darling.”

A pitiful whine left your throat at the praise, hands gripping the forearms that held you in place.

“Can...Can you hold me?” You whimpered. “Please?”

Enji’s arms enveloped you and pulled you flush against his, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock. Your breath tickled his ears, making him groan lowly once he bottomed out inside of you.

“Such a sweet girl you are, taking all of me on your first try.”

Another whine responded for you as you ground your hips down on his.

“E-Enji.” You whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer. “Enji!”

“Be still, little one.” Hands back on your hips, holding you in place near the tip of his girthy length. “Let me take care of you.”

Hips in place, the man began to thrust up into you slowly, holding you tight as he stood up from the water. You only gripped and nuzzled yourself into him further, letting out sweet whines and whimpers into his ear while he thrust into you.

Your back was placed against the cool tile of the wall when he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. Even in this position, he was still at least another head taller than you.

“Look at me when I make love to you.”

Through wet eyelashes, you gazed up at his eyes and let your mouth hang open as he rolled his hips into yours. His eyes shut briefly when he moaned, hissing at the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock so well.

“You were made to take my cock, little one.”

Arms reached up to wrap around his neck as he thrust into you, taking his time to make his strokes slow and deep. His hips were flush against yours when you asked him, “Kiss me, please? I want all of you Enji.”

Your bold proclamation stunned him for a moment before yielding, placing a deep kiss and a hot tongue against your lips.

His thrusts became faster as he kissed you with more passion and vitality. For an old man, he certainly had his stamina up to par. Your fingers thread through his red and grey tresses, tugging him closer to you gently as you moaned shamelessly into his mouth.

The pleasure in your core was more intense, fiercer this time around as his thrusts became hard and fast. The sounds of both of your moans and skin slapping against skin echoed off the tiled bathroom walls as the both of you felt your orgasms coming.

“Enji, fuck!” You whined, beginning to squirt on his fast-paced cock. “I-I’m cumming; I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, princess.”

With a choked sob, you creamed yourself all over his cock, which continued to pound into your hole before he groaned your name and came deep inside you.

Nothing but the sounds of the water sloshing and your labored breathing could be heard as you both came down from your highs.

After a moment of rest, Enji pulled out and wrapped you in a towel before laying you gently on the bed. A towel was wrapped around his own waist as he looked at you fondly, brushing stray hairs out of your eye sight as he sat next to you on the bed.

“I must ask, how did you end up at the auction site?”

What a loaded question, but the intimacy you two shared allowed for it.

“I was kidnapped off the streets after my parents abandoned me when the prison break happened.”

He sighed gruffly and took your hand in his.

“What utter fools, tossing aside a beautiful rose such as yourself.”

His thumb traced over your soulmate mark. You still had yet to know how he knew before ever meeting you.

“It's alright; I never considered them my family. I just wish I could have met mine, but at least I met my soulmate.”

A crinkled smile adorned his face.

“You've done more than meet them.”

What could that have meant?

“I’m your father and your soulmate, little one.”

A rock hit the pit of your stomach as you retracted your hand from his.

“That isn't a funny joke, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” His hand was quick to snatch your back. “What could I possibly gain from lying to you?”

“P-Prove it.”

“Our soulmate marks, I saw yours the moment you were born in the Hosu hospital before my wife separated us all those years ago. I can recite your birthday if you'd like me to, for good measure.”

Fuck, he really wasn't lying. A lump formed in your throat as tears sprung in your eyes.

“Why would you do this to me?” You whispered, barely even able to hear yourself.

“Because I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. Ever since I saw you for the first time in the hospital, my entire life has changed because of you. All I ever wanted was you.”

Enji was quick to shush your cries, using his free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Will you forgive me for being selfish?”

The disgust and horror filled everyone of your senses, especially when you came to a realization that he was everything you've ever wanted.

What came out of your mouth next stunned the both of you.

“You can apologize by begging on your knees and cleaning me up with your tongue, Daddy.”

TAGLIST: @tomurasprincess @bonesoftheimpala @sightoru @cxnicalsweetheart

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Patch Me Up

Pairing - Vampire!Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW, Blood kink obviously, marking kink, biting kink, sharp teeth BARK BARK, fingering, semi public sex??? I mean you guys were in a different room but it was still in a public establishment lol,

Word Count - 1.9k

Other Comments - Bro this idea was just way way way too good to pass up shout out to the anon who requested this because you know what's up; you got some good ass taste. And yes this does have Twilight vibes, what about it.

Ask - VAMPIRE DILUC SMUT I FUCKING BEG YOU

Diluc was a very secluded man, always keeping up thick walls, borderline impossible to penetrate; but there was something about you. You enraptured him, always wearing a bright kind smile when you saw him. Most people found his stand off-ish personality jarring, to which they regarded him with side eyes and cold shoulders unless asking for alcohol.

He looked forward to when you would come into his tavern, it was easy to spark up conversation. You quickly became one of his regulars when you first came into the tavern a few months ago. At first he regarded you with the same cold yet professional tone he regarded most of his customers with; but when you weren’t put off by it and asked how his day had been he was surprised to say the least. After that it was always a high point of his day asking you how your adventures were.

Today was different. You strolled into the tavern at your usual time, but when that door opened a strong delicious scent washed over Diluc. It made his mouth water and his throat burn. When he looked up to see what was going on, to see the cause of his bodily reactions, he saw you limping in; bruises and cuts covering your exhausted body. This was bad. You smelled way too good.

Diluc’s hands became clammy under his gloves, and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He wanted- no, needed, to taste you. To drink you. You smelled almost candy-like, similar to when all of the sweet flowers came to bloom; but better. Diluc’s fists curled into tight balls behind the counter as you approached. He wanted to tell you to leave, to stop walking towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Were it anyone else and he would’ve quickly been able to shut down the issue by telling them to go see someone who could patch them up first, but this was you. There was something else too, something in the back of his mind. He was worried for you.

“Hey, how’s my favorite bartender doing?” Your voice was raspy, from what exactly Diluc didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised from seeing your current state. Something in him warmed when you said that though.

“Uh, fine. More importantly, shouldn’t Barbara be patching you up? Why are you in my tavern bleeding on my floors.” Diluc tried to make his voice harsh, but it came out more sarcastic and joking. You chuckled in response to his statement.

“What, you can’t help me?” Diluc stiffened. You wanted him to help you? Why? He has shown no knowledge of medicine, let alone any real concern for you.

“I have no knowledge of medicine, why would you want me to patch you up?” Diluc was more than confused. There were so many other people you knew who were so much more capable of helping you. He was starting to get irritated, not particularly by you, but by your scent. It was driving him crazy and he was surprised he was able to keep his composure as well as he was right now.

“Listen you need to get help before you come in and drink (y/n). Not only are you obviously tired and hurt, you smell.” Shit. Shit you were gonna get suspicious of him and-

“No shit I smell! I’ve been sweating up a storm fighting things, Master Diluc.” Diluc was taken aback by your words, which seemed to be a running theme tonight. You just wouldn’t stop saying the oddest things.

“You’re not going to leave unless I help you, aren’t you?” You smiled victoriously as you shook your head ‘no’. Diluc sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just had to get through this, then everything would stop. All the saliva, the burning of his throat, the sweating, the desire for you.

It was only when Diluc retrieved a few bandages from the emergency kit he had prepared and he began bandaging up your various cuts, did he notice just how attractive you were. Diluc had removed his gloves, and your skin was so soft under his surprisingly delicate fingers. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any discomfort to you, so he treated you like a thin sheet of glass.

There was a softness to him that he didn’t think existed anymore. He didn’t think he was capable of being so gentle with someone. You somehow brought out the best in him, in just the short time you’ve known each other. He never thought he would be able to get so close to someone again. Fuck he really liked you.

“Diluc, you don’t have to be so gentle with me; clearly I can take a beating.” A chuckle rumbled deep in the man’s chest, his crimson eyes never leaving the injury he was dressing.

“Pardon me for wanting you to be comfortable.” You giggled, and it was the most melodic noise he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear you laugh more.

Despite the soft atmosphere, there was still something primal deep within Diluc. He could feel it grow with the more time he spent taking in your delicious scent. If Diluc could blush, he was sure his face would be deep red by now. He wanted to take you right here and now, in the cellar where he kept all his beverages that weren’t needed behind the counter. He delicately moved some of your hair out of your face so he could get to a small scrape on your left cheek. He saw a blush rise to the high points of your cheeks, which only egged on his desire for you. All he could do was stare deep into your eyes. You were breathtaking.

Within seconds both or your lips collided together in a heated kiss. It was fierce and heartfelt. His hands grabbed at your body for purchase, and vice versa. It had the both of you panting, with each intake of oxygen you sent wafted over him stronger than ever before; you were like an addictive perfume. Without thinking Diluc pulled away, staring at your flushed face.

“Let me taste you, fuck I need to mark you up. Make you mine.” You nodded your head feverishly. Diluc’s mouth attacked your neck within seconds of your response, and suddenly his teeth punctured your skin. You blood landed on his tongue and he was addicted. You were his new favourite drug. You tasted exactly like he’d imagine, sweet and light; something he’d never get enough of.

“D..Diluc what-” Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc’s mouth unlatched from your neck, some of your blood smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit (y/n) I apologize, you just.. Fuck you taste so good. I mean you smell so sweet but you taste even better I couldn’t control myself.”

“Diluc, are you like a vampire or something?” You chuckled a little, voice still a little breathy. By the tone of your voice, Diluc knew you meant that as a joke but when he didn’t respond the look on your face changed. The silence weighed heavy on top of Diluc, borderline suffocating. Diluc couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Keep going.” Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, as you moved your head to expose your neck even more. Diluc’s gaze snapped back up immediately to yours, then down to your neck. Then his gaze drifted further down. He was hard.

He attacked your neck once more, getting taken away but how good you tasted. After a few moments, a small moan escaped your lips, so quiet that Diluc would’ve missed it were he not have been hyper aware of your breathing. Once again Diluc’s mouth left your neck, but this time his hands started to roam down towards your pants. He stopped just before unbuttoning them.

“Is… is this alright (y/n)?” You didn’t even respond verbally, just nodding enthusiastically before gripping onto his shoulders. Without anymore hesitation Diluc unbuttoned your pants and almost ripped them off of you. He quickly pinned up against the wall of the cellar, as he pulled your panties to the side and rubbed your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat, before a low moan escaped your lips.

Fueled on by your noise, Diluc retracted his hand from your clit and shoved two of his fingers into your already sopping cunt.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” His fingers worked you open, as his dick strained against his uncomfortably tight slacks. He was becoming impatient, but he wanted to make sure you were nice and open so he didn’t hurt you. After a few more minutes of fingering, he could tell you were starting to become impatient as well.

“Diluc please, I need you. I need to feel you deep. Ah fuck Diluc please.” The strain in your voice when you said please shot straight to his dick, and who was he to refuse you? A dark smile graced his usually stoic features, and you shivered with anticipation. Diluc pulled his fingers out of you, before he licked his fingers clean. Everything about you was just so fucking delicious. Soon enough Diluc freed his hard cock from his pants. There was precum beading on the tip.

He picked you up, lifting you over his cock, before slowly lowering you down. Once you were finally sat right at the base of his dick, your back was once again pressed up against the wall, as he started to finally thrust in and out of you. It was slow for only a few moments, before he began a punishing pace. His hand had already gone to cover your mouth, muffling your loud moans. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, you were so tight, but it seemed you were in a similar boat, as your walls constricted around him.

Your moans were growing in volume and pitch as you got closer and closer to the edge, and Diluc’s breathing was becoming labored, letting out low groans and growls. Before either of you knew it, both of you were cumming. Before you could finish, Diluc sunk his teeth into your neck one more time. He rocked both of you through your orgasms, before pulling away and setting you back down on the ground. He made sure to keep an arm around you though, just in case your legs decided to give out.

Slowly but surely both of you began to dress yourselves again; attempting to make yourselves presentable. After a few moments of silence, you spoke.

“So you’re a vampire. Do you have any cool powers?” You had a lopsided smile on your face, as Diluc chuckled and softly nudged your shoulder. You really were something else.

[braineater444]

Bonus Chapter: The Nameless Woman

[Back/Next] [Table of Contents]

(featuring the Haitani Brothers)

18+ MDNI

A/N: Since a few people really like this series and I have no kinktober event... I wrote this chapter about a girl that happens a before Sanzu captures the reader. My writing is significantly better here (I think) and I'll try to maintain this quality in the future; I've been lazy. This a cannon to the series universe, I just wanted to give a little background ;)

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Snuff (like literal murder), Implied stalking, Object Insertion, Piss, Guns, Knives, Rindō is misogynistic, and Blood, Forced drinking, No Y/N here just a featureless woman who you can project on to...or not [I feel like I'm forgetting something, pls tell me!!]

[3 MONTHS BEFORE YOUR ABDUCTION]

“Please let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone!” She struggles fiercely against Ran’s grip, nails sinking into his arm, body thrashing against his, and yelling when he doesn’t let her go. The girl hopes someone can hear her and come to her rescue. It’s hopeless. She’s tearing up. That painful lump in her throat is forming. She doesn’t realize what’s going on.

“Help! Someone please!”

It’s late afternoon in a national park. Someone has to be there to save her.

“Shut up!” Ran wasn’t one for all the dramatics, but the bitch was screaming so loud she must’ve not heard him. It’s okay though, he’ll get her to be quiet.

The way she’s thrown onto the rock-protected ground has her body aching. She hadn’t even noticed Ran slammed her down until she was on her hands and knees with rocks cutting deep into her skin. She doesn’t even know these men. What could she have done to them to deserve this?

On her scraped and bloodied hands and knees, she tries to crawl away. She hears a laugh, but she doesn’t know which one of them it is — she doesn’t care who it is. She just wants to getaway.

Her head slams down into the rocks as Rin yanks her knees from under her. The tormenting feeling of her body being dragged along the rock-covered ground, her trying to grab onto something—anything. The tall man laughing, her throat getting sore from her useless screams; it’s all too much. She tries to pull her ankles from the mulleted man’s grasp, but it’s like trying to remove her feet from dried cement.

“We already got you in your panties. Why are you still fighting?” Rindō says as he pulls her onto a blanket they had set out before she’d even showed up.

She was quick to turn around and ready herself to run, then there was a distinct clicking noise at the back of her head.

“You get up again without me telling you to and I’ll shoot you,” Rindō was serious. As much as he loved for girls to fight and cry, he couldn’t stand her running. He’s waited months to use her and get his dick wet. This was his idea; these are the fruits of his labor. She’s going to let him collect his winnings, dead or alive. “Now lay down on your back.”

She does as he says, turning around to face him and his gun as his brother watches on the side.

“Please don’t kill me.” She rasps, tears streaming down her face before she could even register she was crying.

“Don’t what?” Rindō asks as he settles between her legs. Ran takes the spot above her head where they’d set out two folding chairs.

“Kill me.” She whines.

She flinches when he presses the hollow tip of his gun to her chin. A malevolent smile blooms across his face as he watches her freeze and stare back at him in wide-eyed fear. His body hovers above hers, and she was just too afraid to move. This is how he thinks women should be; scared. There’s nothing that turns him on more than a woman with fear in her eyes and hate in her heart.

“Kill you?” He presses the gun further into her skin. “You want me to-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before she frantically pushed out a “No-no-no” and shook her head.

“Aw, why not?” He put the gun down on the floor near her head. Fake sympathy riddled his tone, but she played along with him as best she could.

“I don’t want to die, sir.” She looks him in the eye, searching for compassion within him. She came up with nothing. His eyes were far gone, and he wasn’t seeing her. She was the equivalent of a piece of meat to him.

He’d paused.

Sir?

“Ran, you hear her? ‘Sir’” He looks up at his brother and smiles a wide, sick smile, almost as if to confirm what she’d just said. He couldn’t believe his ears.

Ran shoots back a smile and a curt nod before saying, “She’s cute. You made a good choice this time.”

Then, almost immediately, his attention was back on her.

“You don’t want to die?” His hand came up to her breast, pinching and pulling her nipple. Once again, she was shaking her head. Her hand came up to grab his wrist when he’d twisted her nipple too far. Pain shot through her chest and she couldn’t take it, even if it was something as mild as this. She tried to push his hand away, but it didn’t work. He only let go when he wanted, and that was to use the same hand to slap her silly before telling her that not wanting to die isn’t a good enough reason for him not to kill her. “But don’t worry, baby. I’m not gonna kill you.”

Ran moves the gun out of her reach when Rindō reestablishes himself between her legs, dragging the pads of his fingers hard against her clothed cunt. She doesn’t move, she just freezes, or rather... she lays there on the blanket, sniffling and shaking. Rindō takes out another weapon; a pocket knife. He cuts away only one side of her underwear, leaving the fabric clinging only to one of her thighs.

She refuses to watch as he strokes himself to full hardness, but she knows he’s doing it. All she can stand to do is stare up and hope this isn’t real. This couldn’t be happening, right? But the tears on her skin feel real? The burning on her hands and knees feels real? His gun felt real? Oh, and his fingers sinking deep into her cunt feel too real. It’s not fake.

Another wave of intense emotion comes over the woman, and she’s whispering for him to stop. Rin thinks her barely audible pleas are her just trying to convince herself that this is some sort of nightmare she can talk herself up from. Fortunately for him, it’s not. He punches the air out of her lungs and it has her lurching upward with a scream harsher than anything she’s let out so far and crashing back down onto the fabric below her. He could’ve come.

That dull ache in her abdomen will convince her this is real if nothing else could.

He fingers her more for his own pleasure than her comfort. He really doesn’t believe in foreplay at all. Women, to him, shouldn’t feel good; sex is for men’s enjoyment, right? Right. Rindō wholeheartedly believes that this is what women are made for. Ran wouldn’t stop him in his tracks for thinking or saying such a thing, but he also wouldn’t agree with him. They’ve talked about it before, and as much as Ran doesn’t agree, he’s not trying to change his little brother.

Rindō pumps in and out of her slowly with his fingers and when she doesn’t react to him being so kind to her, he apologizes? He pulls his fingers from her walls and he’s back over her with that same hand, grabbing her chin with her juices and telling her how sorry he is. She stays rigid as his soft lips press against hers; as his tongue explores her mouth like this was consensual. There’s a dull taste of beer on his tongue. She recoils at the taste, and he feels it. He only let out another sick laugh into his forced kiss. Then he lets up, but only for one reason.

The next laugh comes from him when he feels her kicking under him, when he slams his full length into her without hesitation. Rindō is not a considerate or patient man. He hardly gets time off to do things like this, so he’s going to do it the way he likes it. When she screams bloody murder, he knows he’s doing something right. It’s music to his ears. He loves girls screaming because of him.

His thrusts are brutal. He’s slamming into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her with no discretion. He’s fucking her like he hates her and she doesn’t even know him. She puts her hands up to push him off of her, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. The hold he’s got on her is incredibly sturdy. He just pushes his lips against hers for another disgusting, wet kiss.

Rindō’s a messy kisser. He kisses like a drunkard; like he’s trying to smother her. When he kisses her, it’s like he’s trying to absorb her into him, and she wants nothing to do with it. Rin, though? He moans deeply into her mouth like this is romantic or worthy of such pornographic moans.

When he lets her out of the kiss, both hers and his lips are shiny with spit, she feels ashamed. She tells him to stop.

“Or what?” He asks. “You’re fucken worthless, anyway.” His hand comes down hard across one of her tits, but it’s nowhere near as painful as him continually beating her cervix. “You’re so loose it’s pathetic that you’re acting like this hurts.” He was a liar. He was snug in her walls. Rindō also knew she’d been by herself and had fucked no one for at least the past few months since he’s been watching her.

God, she was such a fucking loser. It’s not Rin’s fault. It’s hers. If she had friends, this wouldn’t even be happening, would it?

“Dammit- I’m gonna cum- fuck.” It’s all the warning she got before he was cumming inside of her abused cunt. He gave it a few more pumps before he pulled out.

She hadn’t even thought to get away from them. She was so broken she could barely move. All she could do was turn over and hide her face in the blanket.

Rin tucked himself back in his pants and joined his brother in the chair next to him, cracking open a beer from the cooler they’d brought with them.

Maybe they were talking about something. Whatever it had been, she was too distraught and out of it to listen. She was in her own world, crying into that blanket. That only lasted for three minutes.

Something cold tapped her on her head and she’d paid it no mind. She was in no position to acknowledge any outside stimuli. Her body had started to shut down.

STARTED.

She wasn’t given the chance to become completely unresponsive because, a second later, Ran was towing her back up by her hair and bringing the beer to her lips with his free hand. She chugged it without hesitation; it was all gone in less than a minute. She’d do anything for them to leave her alone.

She’d never see the true end to this torture, though. Ran had her sitting up between his legs drinking beer after beer while he and his brother talked. He felt a little sorry for her. She wasn’t going home tonight.

Might as well be drunk for that, he thought.

His palms were so soft on her chin, as gentle as a lovers touch, as he held her head up to pour the beers down her throat. He’d acted like he wasn’t even aware of her all while getting her intoxicated. Ran knew he was the last nice man she’d ever meet.

“Imma g-go,” she slurred out before trying to move away from the two men. It was the first time she’d talked since Rin had stopped violating her. The seven beers she was forced to down in ten minutes had taken full effect; she was slow at moving and dizzy. Ran only pulled her back by her hair before she could even properly stand.

“Call your mom.” He ordered, handing over her phone that he’d taken from her pocket when he’d stripped her earlier.

“Why?” she whined, turning to meet his eyes and gagging a bit. It was like she was looking through him. “I have a ca-aar~? I can drive?” She hiccuped. Her bitching and moaning was what made him regret getting her drunk.

He’d only thumped her on the forehead and told her to do it. Her mom would need to find her daughter, right?

“Mo-om? Thi-this guy hurt me real real bad and he’s saying I hafta call you. They’re saying I can’t drive. Pick me up.” She whined into the phone. Ran thought she sounded so drunk her mom could probably smell it through the phone.

Her mom panicked out of her mind when she called. All she could manage was to tell her where she was. The girl was too drunk to give details, even when her mom asked for them. The girl had been stupid enough to not even describe even one of their features.

They had about thirty minutes with her before her mom made it there.

They made good use of their limited time.

“Stick your fucken tongue out, make sure you lick my balls.” Ran demands as she slobbers all over his dick. He wrenches his fist tight in her hair as he moves her head back and forth on his shaft.

She’s too dazed to take orders the first time. The girl just sat there on her hands and knees, letting him control her movements. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop these two by now.

“I said stick your fucken tongue out!” He yanks her up from his dick and makes her look at him while he slaps her twice. She’d only made a small noise of pain. Her mind was too far gone to react fully at that point. She only stuck her tongue out as he instructed after taking her lashings.

He shoves her back down as soon as she gets the message. He’d gone back to using her head as a fleshlight. She gagged drunkenly and drooled all over him. He didn’t mind it.

Rindō had moved behind her. She didn’t notice him. What she notices is one of the wide ends of a beer bottle pushing into her cunt. She jerks up to yell in terror and agony as she feels the intense pressure against her walls, but Ran’s hand was already on the back of her head, pushing her down.

“Fuck, she’s bleeding,” Rin beamed as he forced the big bottle in and out of her tearing cunt. It’d only gotten more painful by the second. The drag was intense, and she wasn’t wet enough to accommodate it. All she could do was try to wiggle her hips away from him. She wasn’t getting very far, though.

She squealed and wept around Ran’s dick, but they paid her no mind. They chuckled together at her agony.

The bottle had gone still inside her, but its presence was ever-marked by the searing pain that accompanied the stretch. Ran had gone back to fucking her throat.

“Tongue out!” This time, she did as he said. Her tongue came out to lick his balls while he was lodged uncomfortably far down her throat. It was a struggle, but she was making it work.

Meanwhile, Rin collected blood from the taught and tearing the perimeter of her hole to use it as lube. He rubbed himself hard with it and then pushed himself right into her asshole.

Ran hadn’t prepared for her reaction. Ran let her pull away from him, but caught the front of her hair before she’d gotten too far away, pulling her right back down to be at face level with his dick.

She reached behind her to push Rin’s hands from her waist, wailing and begging him to pull out as he abused both of her holes. His grip on her sides had been abusive enough. He would do no such thing. It felt good like this.

He felt her cunt pulse, right under where he was thrusting inside of her. He could even indirectly feel the bottle that stretched her out. It caused him to go a little crazy. He’d have to do this again someday.

Ran jerked himself to completion and came on her crying face. His moans were low, just like her cries, and she was humiliated. A viscous glob of his cum got in her eye, and she was quick to react. A dirty hand came up to her eye to rub at it viciously.

The burning and stinging in her eyes and her brutalized holes had been enough for her drunken state. Ran watched on in surprise as her body went limp and her eyes closed. He let go of her hair and she fell to the floor like a rag doll.

“Guess she can’t take it…” Ran muttered to himself blankly as he put himself away. He rested his boot on her cheek and she regained consciousness not soon after. She’d only been out for about twenty seconds.

When she woke up, Rindō was still deep inside her and the uncomfortable weight of Ran’s heavy boot greeted her on her cheek. She could hardly move. She laid there and grunted, waiting for this to be over, but it was seemingly eternal.

“Arch! Dumb bitch!” was all the warning she got before Rin’s fist came down over her back. She obeyed and the only thing that came of it was Rin strengthening his assault on her asshole, and Ran’s sole grinding into her cheek as he called her a “good girl”.

When Rindō spilled into her for a second time and pulled out, it relieved her. She thought it was finally over. The air that surrounded them changed, so it must’ve been over?

“Out. Take it out.” She whined as Ran lifted his boot off her face and flipped her onto her back. Rin’s response? A chuckle before driving the bottle deeper into her. She wailed one good time, and he stopped.

“Stop playing around. Give me the knife, Rin.” Ran said, bored as he kneeled behind her and propped her head upon his lap. They were in a time crunch. He wanted to use the minutes they had left well.

She watched with wide eyes and was terrified as Rin passed his brother the knife.

“Wait- no.” She tried to sit up in protest, but to no avail. Rindō barely pushed at her chest and she fell back into his brother’s lap. With her pounding headache and many injuries, she was in no position to stop them. “You said you weren’t gonna kill me?!”

Even Rin could see that her eyes could barely focus. How drunk is she right now?

“I’m not. He is.” Rin smiled as he pressed her arms to her stomach. His full body weight rested on top of her, knees digging into her thighs, forcing them into an awkward and painful split as he held her down.

“No-” she whined, thick tears running down her face. Rin loved this. She was the perfect woman right now. He wanted to kiss her, but he held back. This was Ran’s time.

“You ready?” Ran asked Rin. Still, she countered by shaking her head as Rin nodded above her.

Rin was giddy. He watched as his brother’s thin, long-fingered, veiny hand came to cup her chin and forced her to look up at him. She struggled against him, trying to regain her arms, but he pressed down even harder and told her to stop. He watched impatiently as she begged for him not to do this.

With his other hand, Ran brought the cold, hard knife to her throat and got to sawing at it. Ran wasn’t applying enough pressure to kill her instantly or even cut that deep the first few times; he liked things like this to be drawn out. The elder Haitani liked her still trying to talk him out of this while she could. If he wanted her done faster, he would’ve stabbed her, but that would be a boring waste of such a sharp knife and pretty girl.

She screamed for help for the last time. It was clear no one was coming to save her as blood poured from her wound. Ran had nearly decapitated the girl before he stopped. She was still alive, but she was going to die soon. No person could live for too long, having to hold their head up with their own hands. Her mom would definitely find her a goner, without a doubt.

The last few things she could remember of the brothers was Rin stabbing her in the stomach at three agony-inducing times and the putrid stink of his urine as he pissed on her fading face before disappearing with his brother.

“I called you three fucking times! Where are you?” Sanzu’s voice boomed through the speaker after Ran finally picked up.

“We were busy. It’s our day off.” Rin responded, turning on the car.

“I don’t give a fuck what day it is. We have an emergency and everyone is here, except you two dickheads!”

“Yeah… we’re on our way…” Ran said before clicking.

[elriell]

Two Mates? Elriel & (El)ucien Theory.

These are just a few of my thoughts compiled together regarding having two mates, the signs and breadcrumbs Sarah has incorporated. If you know me you know am a Lucien fan so this is nothing hateful towards him and we will be looking at his place within it all as well, that being said this will have bond rejection/misalignment talk so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and you can skip this! As always I would love to hear everyones thoughts so long as we are all respectful ♡

Let's start by discussing the where the two ships align and parallel mates behaviour, and then we will discuss where their arc's veer from each other...

“TOUCH HER, SMELL HER, TASTE HER– THE INSTINCTS WERE A RUNNING RIVER.” (Lucien in ACOWAR about the mating bond.)

“Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.”

“Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.”

“They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. ”

“He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. ”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. ”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like.”

“This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.  

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. ”

Now you can easily parallel this to any of SJM's mates, like Feysand or Nessian. But for the sake of brevity I will leave you with the original link to the wonderful @suelky post where it was pointed out w/ Feysand quotes as well. [source]

Also "The instincts were a running river.” sounds a little like “Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea."

The Bonus POV has a lot of typical "Mates" behaviours manifesting between Elain and Azriel, and it would make sense this would be a extreme POV shift as we have never been inside either of their heads before so we were bound to have a major learning curve, especially with Az who is so reserved with his emotions.

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—”

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck  someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."  Azriel snarled softly.”

There are countless main trio parallels but most of you are aware of which one is my favourite...

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

"Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he'd find himself on his knees, begging her for touch, for anything."

And on to where they go their separate ways from a textual perspective;

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“Rhys kissed the hollow of my collarbone, and my core went utterly molten. “My brave, bold, brilliant mate.”

“You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look—which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.”

“And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.”

“Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.” He kissed my brow one more time, my blood thrumming and boiling in me, howling to draw blood.”

I think finding freedom and power from within is something that the books have emphasized through Feysand and Nessian's journey's. Which is so interesting considering Lucien and Elain are both feeling tied to each other, as if in a cage of sorts.

Elain herself has been stuffed in to a box of other peoples making throughout most of the series, it quite prevalent she might feel caged by their opinions of who she is.

"Maybe she was never given a chance to be that way." I whipped my head towards him. "You think I stifle her?" Rhys held up his hands. "Not you alone."

“Nesta had been right. It was like a prison, this place.” [Graysen's Manor]

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

And as for Lucien I think his duty and honour to her is what is caging him;

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.”

“Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Godbless Azriel for respecting Elain's privacy.

I think we would see/understand a lot more if we got a chance inside their heads but the one time we did see Lucien's POV we got a good glimpse at how he feels about his situation with Elain and it wasn't particularly positive and reminded me of Rhy's parents.

"She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.”

“...to remember that she picked it. Picked me. That it’s not like my parents, shoved together.”

Not using the word cage per say but the implication isn't much better.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

I don't think the debate is really whether Lucien is deserving of her, or even Azriel for that matter, it is a question of who is actually right for her and vice-versa, who has she been consistently written to thrive and smile alongside. And that is Azriel.

Why does Sarah constantly put Azriel in the picture, from day DOT. She was screaming "hey look Azriel is here, and they would work magically together"

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.”

There are several instances/evens that occur throughout the series that set both Elucien and Elriel's relationships apart, and I think it is highly intentional on Sarah's part...

“I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.”

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Or we can look at both Solstice's and the clear differences in how their relationships are growing, and also how well one and other know each other.

“Tell me when you knew,” he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option  of leaving if it became too much.  Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.”

&

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

“Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.”

GIFTS REFLECTING THEIR RELATIONSHIP MILE MARKS

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” “And torn up by thorns,” I mused,”

“I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.”

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Not only is she visibly uninterested which is painful to watch, it also highlights how little he knows about her. SJM is creating a visible gap in their dynamic.

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. ”

“My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.”

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta … ”

“She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

“I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples,”

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.”

“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid.  Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

See yet again a very thoughtful and funny gift on her part. Now at it's core even just simply comparing their general reactions says a lot about the story Sarah is putting forward.

"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."  

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly."

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. "

The writing is nothing if not clear about the discomfort both Lucien and Elain feel in regards to each other, though they lay under different reasons.

We are given multiple incidents in which we are told about how mating bonds are not perfect and we are given clear examples of it repeatedly, about woman enduring out of obligation, and do not forget this is heavily discussed literally in regards to Elain and her circumstances.

“She’d been revealed as his mate, and endured the miserable union mostly from gratitude for her unharmed wings.”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. "

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room,”

“Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around,”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.”

VS

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

What if ”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.”

The romantic subtext is there and has been for quite some time, they prove it book after book when SJM continues to grow their bond and nurture it whilst breaking her connection with Lucien further apart, and for what reason?

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some… preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” [...]

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”

“The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

It is remarkably interesting to me that we are told about what Rhys suspects/believes is responsible for mating bonds, paralleled alongside Azriel questioning it all, I also think it is abundantly clear from his answer to Feyre he doesn't truly know for sure.

We also have several lines of dialogue talking about the sisters and fate, their reason for entering the IC's life. Not only that but we get a glimpse at Azriel's personality and how despite the world (Rhys and the mating bond in general) telling him to despair, he still found it in him to have hope the Cauldron could be wrong.

This is so significant, and she has carefully woven his character throughout the series to make this incredibly plausible.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“And then he said to my sisters, “We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we’ll find out why.”

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.”

“Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but …”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

As you can see even back in ACOWAR she was weaving the web for Elriel's journey and an upcoming Blood Duel/The threat of one.

“Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I think it is pretty clear from all the quotes above that Lucien is no her ideal spirit and vice-versa to be frank when you put it side by side his budding relationship with Vassa or hers with Azriel they are clearly very different.

“On the continent, there are territories that believe the females literally belong to their mate. But not here. Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond.”

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.  Offer and permission.  He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. ”

Elain is choosing Azriel, choosing their bond over the one assigned to her time and time again... Back to mating bonds;

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

“The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

"She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.”

“Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

"Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

“Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”

Are you telling me that Madja saying a mate would know, would sense whatever is going on with her, and as it turns out Azriel was the one to sense and uncover it is solely what, a coincidence? Also to emphasize what she said about "A bridge between souls..." Where else have we heard that terminology? The Truth-Teller scene.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Not to mention this scene is simply iconic for a multitude of reasons, how poetic Feyre describes them, the clear soulmates/ying-yang subtext and him giving her something he has given no other but that's another story.

Azriel has also been displaying some very protective fiercely so mating vibes towards her,

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. ”

“Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.”

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

“Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

I think there are some mixed opinions on Lucien and whether he deserves her (and vice-versa in this fandom) but I don't think that is what this comes down too, they are both handling it in the way they think best/following their instincts.

Lucien is hurting throughout this process as well, but I think ultimately it is honor and loyalty binding him to her not any genuine emotion for her as a human being fae. I think realising they are not meant for each other and supporting each other developing true bonds with other people will be their journey. And it would be a completely fresh and new view of a mating bond.

Smaller pieces of dialogue that need little explaining and a rather oddly specific choice of words in the latest book that is meant to set up the next one in the series:

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

“Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

"I'd never do such a thing. you must be thinking of your other mate."

Honestly? At this rate I have no doubt Elriel are endgame and everything within canon text spells that out but I truly believe he will be her second mate/the will form a bond via some circumstance that shall arise due to these little hints.

I would love to hear your thoughts and/or additions because I by all means didn't do a massive deep dive and there are most likely tons more examples to add but I didn't want it to become overwhelming to read!

Hope everyone has a spectacular and magical evening <3

[extasiswings]

MORE finale-spec because I hadn’t written a Buck POV yet.  Also, wow, I need the new episode so I have something else to think about...

There’s a moment that happens sometimes before disaster strikes.

The world slows, and everything is thrown into stark clarity—Buck can remember it right before the ladder truck, the tsunami, Eddie’s well collapse—that feeling of being outside of his own body for a few seconds knowing suddenly that something terrible is about to hit.  He remembers.

They’ve just finished a shift when it happens. Buck’s walking out to the parking lot with Eddie when Bobby calls him back—

“Go ahead,” Eddie says. “I told Christopher I would pick up ice cream on the way home anyway, so—we’ll see you at the house?”

“I’ll be there,” Buck promises. “I—I’m glad that—that we’re doing this. I’ve missed—” You. Both of you. “—him.”

Eddie’s lips curve up and his eyes soften.

“He’s missed you, too,” he replies quietly.

Buck’s heart flips in his chest.

Bobby calls him again. He turns away. Eddie continues walking to his truck—

Buck glances back over his shoulder when he reaches the garage—

The world slows. Everything goes cold.

A gunshot rings out.

Across the parking lot, Eddie collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

Buck’s moving before he can even think, only to be abruptly yanked back into the safety of the garage. He fights the grip—everything around him is white noise, his focus narrowed to Eddie’s prone form on the ground—

His throat is raw. He thinks he might be screaming.

“Buck. Buck!” Bobby shouts right next to his ear. “It’s not safe—”

“Fuck safe,” Buck spits out and finally wrenches free, sprinting across the parking lot and dropping to his knees when he reaches Eddie. Eddie’s breathing is labored and blood slicks his hands where he’s holding pressure on the gunshot wound.

“Buck,” Eddie chokes out. “You shouldn’t be—sniper—”

“If he wants to shoot me, he can shoot me, but I’m not leaving you here,” Buck replies. He covers Eddie’s hands with his to help hold pressure, barely holding back a shudder at the unhelpful reminder his mind offers up that he isn’t trained for this, doesn’t know what he’s doing, and if Eddie dies—

Fuck, it would have been better if their positions were reversed. And Buck would do it if he could. Would take a bullet, a hundred, a thousand bullets if it would make Eddie magically fine, if it would send him home safe and sound to Christopher.

“Was supposed to get the ice cream,” Eddie murmurs, and his eyes are distant, focus slipping in and out. “Chris has been—been looking forward to tonight—all week.”

“Eddie, look at me,” Buck demands. There’s ice in his stomach and Eddie’s blood is warm on his hands—the contrast makes his head swim and his throat tighten. “Look at me, okay? Focus.”

Eddie makes a small, hurt noise and closes his eyes when Buck presses down a little harder, but when he opens them again Buck can tell he’s more present. Over in the ambulance bay, there’s shouting, and an engine starts up, but Buck’s gaze doesn’t leave Eddie’s.

“I promised—promised I wouldn’t leave him again,” Eddie says. “I promised—”

“And you’re going to keep that promise,” Buck replies fiercely as the ambulance pulls up right next to them, the doors opening and providing the faintest amount of cover. Hen jumps out with a backboard and together they get Eddie onto it and loaded inside.

“Buck,” Eddie tries to say again, except then his face pales rapidly, a terrible choked wheeze leaving him, and his eyes roll back.

“What’s happening?” Buck asks, his voice high with panic.

“I think one of his lungs collapsed,” Hen says, her own voice painfully controlled as she sets to work. And Buck just keeps holding pressure and lets her go.

When they get to the hospital—

Buck stands frozen in the ambulance bay outside the emergency room doors staring blankly after the gurney as the doctors and nurses wheel Eddie inside and into a trauma room. There’s blood rushing in his ears, he’s freezing—

And Eddie’s blood is on his hands, drying, staining his skin—

He gets sick in the nearest trash can.

“Buck.” Hen’s voice is quiet, her touch gentle when her hand curls around his shoulder.

He’s shaking. He can’t seem to stop.

“You’re in shock,” she says, and Buck realizes he must have said that out loud. “Come sit down.”

“I should be doing something,” Buck replies, even as he lets her lead him back to sit on the edge of the ambulance. His voice is distant to his own ears. “I should—I should call Isabel—Christopher—”

“You don’t have to do anything right this second.” Hen presses a water bottle into his hands. “Except drink that.”

Buck picks at the label instead. His mind is racing too quickly as well, skipping from thought to thought and not really processing any of them.

“He’s going to be fine, right?” He asks. “He has to be. Because I can’t—I can’t—”

Fuck, he can’t breathe. It’s like he gave Eddie his own lungs to keep him breathing. If he’s numb it’s because his heart is beating in Eddie’s chest, keeping him alive, and that makes sense to Buck because if Eddie dies—

He lost him to Ana. He did. Months of barely seeing each other outside of work. Months of barely seeing Christopher. Months of feeling like he couldn’t pick up the phone or drive over and use his key to just drop in because it suddenly felt...intrusive. And then Eddie broke up with Ana and they were finally supposed to get back to being them again, and now—

Buck would rather lose Eddie to a hundred Anas than lose him like this. At least before he still had physical presence, the half-life of proximity a few times a week at work. He could live with that, no matter how much it felt like hell.

“He has a great team working on him,” Hen says. “They’re going to do everything they can.”

It’s not an answer. Or it is. But not quite. But then, Buck’s pretty sure Hen doesn’t want to lie to him.

He shudders again. His eyes blur.

There are words trapped in his throat. Words that he hasn’t let himself say, has hardly even let himself acknowledge in his own head. But he’s fraying, fraying, fraying at the seams and his heart is in a trauma room and there is still blood on his hands—

Buck hunches forward, elbows on his knees, curling into himself.

“I’m in love with him,” he whispers. Just to say it. Just once.

Hen wraps her arm around his shoulders, gently encouraging him to lean against her.

“I know,” she admits.

And Buck turns his head into her shoulder. And breaks.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

The Cliff

Content Warnings: merman whump, storms, washed ashore, trouble breathing, injury, bruises, heat whump, exhaustion

Blue’s Tag List: @deluxewhump @midwinter-wump @briars7 @0idril0

Author’s Notes: I’ve been sitting on this one for a while...it was sitting 99% finished in a google doc that I forgot about. :’) Not my best but hey...I wrote, right?

It was loosely inspired by this image (CW - image contains gore and partial nudity) but changed a lot once I started writing.

----

Weak keens fill the misty morning air over the ocean.

They go unheard. Unanswered.

The water is fairly calm, waves lapping gently against the rocks that jut out here and there, starting small and growing larger the closer they get to the cliffside.

But the night before they were anything but calm. The hurricane had raged for hours, stirring the sea and whipping the trees on land about. By morning debris was strewn across pebbly beaches and floated on the water’s surface.

Some creatures did not make it, a handful of unlucky fish and birds. But most had seen it coming and sought shelter.

One unlucky creature, though, had neither found shelter in time nor been killed. Either one would have been more merciful than this.

Blue is strong, and a good swimmer. His confidence in this was his downfall; he stayed too close to the surface for too long, even when the skies above grew dark and every creature around had fled. By the time he started to head for home it was too late. The churning water picked up speed and force. He tried and tried to swim away but was no match. Soon he grew exhausted, until he had no choice left but to give in to the surging ocean.

The waves lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, tossed his body mercilessly about, his tail a flash of blue against ominous gray. In their relentless course towards land, they brought the half-conscious merman towards the rocks.

The first violent slam of his back to hard stone knocked him out cold. This was at least a small mercy. He slid with a moan back into the grip of the waves only for them to lift and slam him again and again and again, battering his limp body.

As the storm picked up, the waves grew higher and higher until they crashed against the side of the cliff. They carried the merman with them, and with one roaring wave, threw his body into the hard, uneven surface.

When that wave subsided, Blue was not pulled back down with it. Instead he had been thrown into a crevice between large chunks of rock, wedged at his hips where his tail is thickest. The force of each new wave only served to keep him there until he was firmly stuck.

The storm raged on.

And then it slowed, and slowed some more…

And then dawn came.

And then Blue woke.

----

The first thing he registers is the harshness of daylight even through his shut eyes. He groans and tries to turn away from it, only to find himself unable to move. The attempted motion sends a sharp twinge up his back.

One by one each ache makes itself known; his back, his horribly bruised chest, ribs, one shoulder, one side of his face, his hips, all along his tail. The scrapes and cuts that sting in the open air...

Air...

He forces his eyes open, flinching with a sharp gasp as one swollen eye only opens partway. The throb in his eye and cheek spreads to his head, making it pound relentlessly, and the sunlight isn’t helping.

But why - why is he in the air, not water…

When his blurry vision clears he feels a terror he has never known. Not only is he out of the water, but he is high above the ocean.

The merman panics. His gills - barely damp by now - flare wide and retract, searching for something they will not find. After a moment of terror as he starts to suffocate, he remembers to breathe through his mouth and takes a ragged gasp.

His squirming and labored breathing set his injuries ablaze. Opening his mouth hurts his battered face; expanding his lungs sends sharp pangs across his bruised ribs and chest.

Stuck and scared and hurting, completely helpless in the open air, he keens. His cries are sorrow, regret, a call for help.

Of course no one hears him. No merfolk would be near the surface when they could be hunting in the aftermath of the storm. Even if someone came, what could they do for him? But it doesn’t stop him from wailing until his throat is raw.

Soon the sun is above the horizon and beating down on the merman. As if his bruised and broken skin hadn’t been through enough, the light and air dry away what little moisture the final waves had left him with. He draws shallow breaths no matter how they hurt, fighting to survive.

Blue gets a small reprieve in the form of clouds blocking the sun. He is still far too dry, his skin aching fiercely, but the absence of blinding light doesn’t go unnoticed. He opens his weary eyes and tries to look down, to see how badly he is stuck, and how far away the ocean is…

The first thing he sees is his own battered tail. Each slam against the rock scraped and tore at scales, leaving raw, bloody patches of skin here and there. He whimpers at the sight.

At the upper part of his tail, just below where skin ends and scales begin, he is pressed between the rocks - tight. The pressure is a pain all its own, breaking the scales and bruising the skin beneath them, throbbing dully and making him shudder.

He got in, so he should be able to get out...right?

But still there is the matter of the landscape below: slivers of ocean wrapped around jutting rocks. He can hear the sloshing waves, smell the salty air, it’s all so close and too far. His dry skin longs for the cool touch of water.

Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm Blue. He’s still worn from fighting to swim against the building storm the night before, and now on top of that are his injuries and the suffocating heat. His head lolls, his eyes drifting shut and popping open. The pull of unconsciousness, of an escape from constant pain, is so tempting...but the merman fears if he falls asleep he may never wake again.

Trying to free himself from the crevice is his only option. At the same time, moving is the last thing his sore body and weary mind want to do. And if he gets free, there is still the risk of falling onto one of the rocks below.

Blue takes a few wheezing breaths of dry air. His chest is tight with fear, but he has to try. He begins to squirm his hips and push against the rock with his elbows.

Immediately injuries that had numbed down to a dull ache flare up with a vengeance. His head spins; his body trembles and throbs.

He can’t give up.

It takes several more squirms and pushes and shifts of his weight. The pain threatens to overwhelm him. His breath nearly gives out. His movements become weak and desperate.

One final wriggle does it - his body is freed from where the rocks pinned him.

For a moment the only things holding him up are his wobbling arms. They quickly give in and the merman drops.

Blue passes out before his battered body crashes to the waves below. He’s tossed about before finally sinking down into the water.

New dangers might find him here, and he’s badly injured. But for now he drifts carelessly, rocked by the shifting currents, cradled by the ocean’s cool embrace.

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

If you want to be tagged lmk!

[pink-flame]

Like You Could Love Me

So...the Angry Flower Squad was making me SO soft over gifs and @mamirugbee wanted porch fluff with kissing and I remembered that @thedeathdeelers and @missjoolee liked my idea of using this post as a Juke prompt and here we are. I wrote this from 12-2am so it’s quite possibly incoherent and I’m not checking for mistakes until tomorrow so take it for what it is, a late night labor of love. Enjoy! 💜

Julie hadn’t slept for almost 48 hours. 

Her school was hosting a Los Feliz High After Dark event for the lower grades who didn’t get to attend prom. It was pitched as being just as exciting as the dance but in practice was known to be little more than a glorified sleepover in the school gym with PTA members for chaperones. Flynn had been determined that that year would be different, and had talked Julie into joining her on the planning committee. 

The good news was that Flynn had a real flair for party planning and decorating when she was actually invested (see the difference between the dance they tried to forget and the way she had helped Julie’s dad throw together an epic garage party in less than 24 hours). So by the time Julie and Flynn and the other volunteers were done the gym was fully immersed in a carnival theme full of cute booths filled with potential activities and cute backgrounds to take pictures in front of. It was definitely an improvement over the year before which had been an under the sea theme which had consisted mostly of a few blue streamers and Mr. Weaver walking around in an inflatable Nemo costume. 

The bad news was that it had taken a lot longer than they had anticipated and they hadn’t fallen into bed the night before the event until close to 2am. Julie hadn’t been able to sleep even after she slipped into bed next to Flynn and heard her best friend start making the small whistling noises that indicated she was out cold. Julie had been kept up with thoughts of what her bandmates were up to without her and if they had lingered a little longer on what Luke in particular was doing right then, well that wasn’t that surprising. 

She loved Alex and Reggie but neither of them had attempted to hold her hand and remarked on their “interesting little relationship” or suddenly developed the ability to touch her and instinctively joined her in reaching out to gently cradle the other’s face. 

No, Luke was different, not that she wanted to say that in front of him unless she was sure he felt the same overwhelming feelings she did Oddly enough she was much more concerned about the possibility that he didn’t than she was about the fact that he was still..well, a ghost. It wasn’t that she was unaware that his ghostly status could lead to heartache for her later on, of course she was. It just didn’t seem so important suddenly. After what had happened with her mom, what had almost happened with the guys only a couple of months ago...anything could happen at any time. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed anyway so why deny herself happiness now if she could have it? If she could have it. Because that was still the question. 

Because Luke obviously liked her but did he like her? That sounded so juvenile but to call it anything else...well, that was really scary. Evil ghosts and the looming possibility of their return had nothing on the insecurity that came with not knowing exactly how the boy you lo...liked felt about you. 

So Julie didn’t get much sleep that night, Flynn’s alarm seeming to go off only moments after she finally drifted off. She had dragged through school that day, trying to match Flynn’s excitement for the night’s upcoming festivities though her own enthusiasm had quickly drained out of her altogether along with her energy. In the end it had been as fun a night as it could be with Julie spending most of it in a semi-exhausted haze. She and Flynn had played some of the games they had set up, and danced to the music they both agreed would have been better if it had been either DJ’d by Flynn or performed by Julie’s band, and when Carrie had sneered something about how tacky the theme was even that had been half hearted and without any real bite. 

So it was a pretty good night all things considered and Julie was in a good mood despite her complete exhaustion by the time Flynn’s mom dropped her off early the next morning. Ok, so maybe part of her good mood was actually because of her exhausted state by that point as she found herself feeling giddy and her mind had gone sort of pleasantly fuzzy. That was her excuse for how she found herself half-skipping up the path towards her front door, singing to herself. 

We create...perfect harmony 

“Somebody had a good time.” 

Julie’s head snapped up to take in the figure of the boy who leaned against the pillar of the porch in front of her, a small smile bordering on a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Luke.

What was he doing there? 

Was he waiting for her?

She had to play it cool. 

She had to be normal. 

She had to not give away all the feelings that had been swirling around inside of her for the last couple of months since they first gained the ability to touch each other whenever they wanted and promptly both became too awkward to touch each other at all. 

She had to…

“I missed you,” She blurted. 

One of Julie’s hands flew up to cover her mouth as she took the last few steps up onto the porch, trying and failing to ignore the way Luke’s eyes widened even as that vaguely infuriating smirk grew larger. 

“I didn’t mean that,” She insisted once her hand had dropped back to her side. “I mean...I didn’t not mean it but...I just meant it would have been fun if you could have come. Any of you. All of you. Um...yeah.” 

Luke let her dig herself deeper, waiting until her stream of words had come to a complete stop. When they finally dried up he pushed off of the pillar with one of his signature little bounces, letting his momentum carry him to within a step of where she stood awkwardly on the porch. 

“Did someone spike the punch at this dance?” He asked her, amusement clear in his tone. 

Julie shook her head a little too fiercely, indignant despite the fact that she couldn’t exactly blame him for suspecting that she was drunk. 

She felt a little drunk. 

Not that she knew what it was like to be drunk but she was pretty sure it was similar to this. 

Not the point. 

“It wasn’t a dance it was a school sanctioned slumber party,” She corrected, focusing all of her energy on not slurring her words or otherwise embarrassing herself. “And nobody spiked anything. And actually nobody drinks punch anymore. Just so you know.” 

Luke held up both hands as though he were surrendering but that smirk of his was impossible to deny at this point, a fact that both made Julie incredibly irritated and simultaneously fighting the urge to lean up and kiss it right off his stupid face. 

Ok, that was not helpful. 

“Not a dance, no punch. Got it,” Luke said, his voice just soft enough to keep her annoyance more or less at bay. 

“Why are you out here anyway?” 

Julie hadn’t meant to ask that but it felt like any filter her brain generally had was long gone at this point. 

Luke tilted his head slightly and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“Oh, you know, just taking in the view.” 

Julie frowned skeptically. 

“Taking in the view?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, gesturing out at the plant filled yard. “Just communing with nature you know? Honestly, I forgot you were even out last night.” 

“Oh.” 

Julie dipped her head a little so she didn’t have to look directly at Luke as disappointment rushed through her. She was pretty sure she was too tired to keep the evidence of that emotion from being completely visible. She was so frustrated with herself for caring at all. He wasn’t her boyfriend after all. Why would be be waiting for her?

“Julie.” 

She reluctantly raised her head to meet Luke’s gaze which was fixed insistently on her. His smirk had fallen away leaving behind a look at once more open and somehow harder to read at the same time. 

“I’m kidding,” He told her as he took a half-step closer to her, so close that she had to tilt her head up further to maintain eye contact. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Oh,” She said again, very aware that she seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else. 

She reached deep down inside and mustered up the strength to pull out one further word. 

“Why?” 

His eyes somehow managed to soften even more and his voice was oddly breathy when he answered. 

“Because I missed you too.” 

And Julie knew that the most prudent thing to do was tuck that phrase away as something warm, and happy and precious to examine more closely when she had slept and had the mental prowess to actually determine what it meant for their interesting little relationship. 

She knew that. 

But she was exhausted not only from lack of sleep but from months spent questioning where they stood. She was happy to hear him say that he had missed her, of course she was. But she also found herself feeling strangely...angry. 

How dare he look at her with those big soft eyes and stare at her like that if he wasn’t ever planning on actually putting her out of her misery by telling her how he felt or didn’t feel?

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” The words burst out of her without her permission. 

Luke was clearly taken aback by her words, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know,’ She hesitated, just enough awareness seeping back in to make her realize what a truly stupid thing she was about to say. “Like you could love me.” 

She watched as a whole range of emotions rushed over his face too quickly for her to decipher exactly what all of them were. 

“Julie…” 

“Forget I said anything,” Julie interrupted, turning towards the front door with every intention to flee the situation. “I’m just really tired.” 

“Julie!” 

He said her name more forcefully that time and she froze. She didn’t turn back to face him though, the pounding in her chest and the heat spreading across her face giving her all the incentive she needed to keep her head facing away. 

Luke wasn’t having any of that though. 

He reached out to gently tug her back towards him, one hand settling on her cheek while the other rested on her waist. 

If she hadn’t been blushing before she certainly was now. 

“Do you not want me to look at you like that because...because you don’t feel the same?” 

Luke’s voice shook a little as he gave voice to that question, his thumb seeming to stroke across her cheek without his permission. 

Julie was reeling, everything feeling surreal and dreamlike anyway because of her lack of sleep but when combined with Luke’s gentle actions it felt more and more unreal. She couldn’t help but remember the last time he had touched her face, how they had clutched at each other thinking it was the only chance they would ever have. Now they had new chances every day and they had been wasting them. 

Why had they been wasting them?

“Wait...feel the same as what? Feel the same as who?” She asked as her brain finally caught up with what he had actually said. 

He visibly swallowed and she took some comfort in the fact that apparently he was nervous too. 

“The same as I feel,” He paused. “About you. I...I love you, Julie. And if that makes you uncomfortable I never have to say it again, ok? But it’s how I feel and I just wanted to say it. Once or whatever.” 

“But…” Julie felt a giggle rising up inside of her as exhaustion and the pure absurdity of the moment settled in. “But I love you too.” 

Luke’s thumb froze on her face as his eyes lit up with something close to hope. 

“You do?” 

Julie nodded, the giggle finally bursting out of her only to be met with a grin from Luke so radiant she wished she could capture it in a photo to look at later. 

“You love me,” Luke said again as though he needed to confirm beyond any shadow of doubt. 

“I love you,” Julie repeated agreeably. “And you love me?” 

Luke nodded, bouncing a little on his heels as he somehow managed to step even more into her space. 

“I love you.” 

“Well…” Julie sighed happily. “Well, that’s great then.” 

Luke let out a bark of laughter that probably would have been loud enough to bring her dad to the porch if anyone but her had been able to hear it. 

Before she had time to remark on how obnoxiously loud he could be he was crowding her back until she bumped into the pillar he had been leaning against when she got home. The moment her back made contact with its firm surface he was bringing his other hand up until he was cupping both of her cheeks. She barely had time to adjust to that very much welcome sensation before he was lowering his head and aligning his lips with hers, pressing them together in a chaste peck that was still enough to send her heart racing. He started to pull back as if to gauge her reaction but she was having none of that. She had been waiting for this for so long and as previously established she had absolutely none of her usual ability to deny herself what she wanted. 

And what she wanted was her hands on Luke Patterson right then. 

She reached up and latched one hand on the back of his neck and the other threaded deep into his hair giving it a little tug just because she could. She had been wanting to touch him so badly ever since that night in the garage when she’d almost lost him and she’d been wanting to touch his dumb, messy hair ever since “I’m Luke by the way”. So she did. 

He let out a little pleased sound that was cut off when she stretched up to press her mouth back to his, this time with twice as much force and no intention of separating anytime soon. To his credit he took the hint pretty fast, his hands dropping from her face to wrap around her waist tugging her body to press against his as he moved his lips insistently against hers. And wow...that was something, the sensation of almost all of her pressed up against almost all of him. 

He wasn’t warm, not exactly, but he wasn’t cold either like she had feared he would be. It was more like his body was mirroring back exactly her own temperature, leaving it hard to determine where one of them began and the other ended when her eyes were closed as they currently were. 

Or maybe that was just them. 

Maybe it was like that quote she always saw floating around online about souls being made of the same stuff. 

When she was well rested and thinking rationally she had always rolled her eyes a bit at stuff like that but now...she was beginning to see the appeal. 

Julie massaged absentmindedly at the back of his neck as she drew his lower lip into her mouth, the sound he made in response enough to have her pulling back with a giggle. 

“Come back here,” He mumbled, his lips chasing hers even as she turned her face away leaving him to press soft, wet kisses to her cheek. 

“Now you sound drunk,” She told him, turning back to face him and looping both arms around his shoulders. “My dad will be up soon and I have no idea how I’d explain...this...when he can’t even see you.” 

Luke groaned as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m right,” Julie echoed. 

It was true but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. 

They stayed like that for another minute or so, just enjoying being this close to each other with nothing to hide. They might have stayed like that longer but Julie suddenly let out a yawn she couldn’t contain directly into Luke’s face. 

Luke pulled back sharply but the soft smile that seemed to always be reserved just for her remained in place. 

“You need to get some sleep,” He told her firmly. 

She wanted to argue but all that came out was another yawn. 

Ok, so there was no arguing with that. 

“Goodnight,” She told him, suddenly feeling shy as she backed towards the front door wanting to keep him in her sight just a little longer. 

Luke gestured around them to the soft light spilling around her yard. 

“Good morning,” He corrected with a grin. 

Never one to let him have the last word, certainly not when she was too tired to be embarrassed, Julie leapt forward to press one final lingering kiss on his lips, retreating before he could do more than return the pressure.

Julie backed towards the front door, the grin now firmly on her face and a rather dumbstruck one adorning his. 

“Band practice later,” She reminded him. “Don’t be late.” 

Then she slipped into the house and up to her bed, incredibly tired and pretty sure of exactly  what she would be dreaming of. 

[mostly-mundane-atla]

@gayfertilitygoddess i've thought about it pretty extensively. Before I got popular-ish for being a real life eskimo in the fandom, i made a passing coment about the headcanon and it was my most requested topic until people started asking more cultural questions (names and language-related questions seem to be more popular now).

Funnily enough, and I do try to keep this blog otherwise drama free, this was springboarding off of discussions about headcanons with Jin in sex work, which got an absolute brat calling me a "pathetic, sexist loser" in a reblog of the post. I kept it off the main tag and tagged it "sex work mention" (as I do with all of these posts) so I have no idea how she found it to make gross accusations at me. I reblogged to say that her insisting that objective discussions of sex work were inherently slut-shaming was really hurtful as someone who had to consider it from a young age (home isn't always safe and favors/cash are useful at -30°F, we'll just leave it at that). She sent me asks to say that she "didn't mean to be hurtful" but also wouldn't apologize for what she said. She didn't have a damn thing to say about headcanon'ing Jet resorting to sex work, despite it having much more to do with his personality and the way he presents himself than with Jin, where it was entirely about her circumstances as someone in the poor side of a big city. She's since been blocked.

But yeah, Jet's most marketable asset to civilians who just want to escape violence is his charisma. His own comments and Smellerbee's suggest he promised that he'd stop fighting and stealing for the time being. He tells Zuko-as-Lee that "We [outcasts] have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will." Zuko had his uncle to be his rock and managed to rely on the kindness of strangers when he went on his own. Jet had two friends whom he felt responsible for as their leader. We don't even get canon confirmation that he's fully literate. All of these things combined make finding any kind of employment very difficult, and that doesn't even take into consideration that he can't set down roots. He's trying to get to safety. He can't be obligated to stay in any one place that isn't his destination. There aren't a lot of options.

I feel like this would add to him needing to get out of territory that could be occupied by thee Fire Nation, given the comics explained that Firelord Sozin was a homophobe and worked that into the law. "You know what they've done to boys like me this past century," Jet would probably say. "And those were the ones on their own side." I can't imagine it wouldn't add to the amatanormative mess I write between him and Smellerbee. He shouldn't have to do this at all let alone by himself, and she tries to offer to help, to pitch in, but he scolds her for it so harshly that she cries. He apologizes later and and tells her she needs to just let him worry about it. Girls are supposed to like it when boys are fiercely protective and self-sacrificing, right?

Another thing about this headcanon is sex workers do and historically have done a lot more than most people tend to think. It's one of the reasons phrases like "selling their body" are grossly inaccurate. There is a lot of emotional labor involved. Some people who hire sex workers do so mostly for the company. Not in an "ahem [*eyebrow wiggle*] company, if you catch my meaning [*wink*]" way, like just actually having another human being in the room. Talking, smiling, laughing at their jokes. People get lonely, so it's only natural to pay someone for intimacy. Sometimes, more often than you might assume, they end up using that time more for emotional intimacy than physical intimacy. Sometimes that's the intention.

I wrote a scene with a situation like that. Jet is hired by an old widow because she claims he looks just like her husband did when they were that young. She holds his hand and kisses his cheek, laughing about how that was the farthest the old man had let her get before they were married, and asks him to help her make dinner. She sings and talks about how they used to walk by the river and how handsome he was, how very shy. At some point she stops saying "he" and starts saying "you," addressing Jet as if he was the man she married all those years ago.

"Am I still pretty?" she asks absentmindedly. "Am I as pretty as you'd say I'd be with lines on my face, a hunched back, and hair like clouds?"

"Of course," Jet says. "You're beautiful."

And she looks at him, but that seems to shatter the illusion. She mentions something about making too much food. That she hadn't had to cook that much since.... Silence. The sad kind that seems to suggest another tragedy. She tells him he should take some for his friends and thanks him for all he's done.

(There was also an OC concept I had who was a gay sex worker sharing his home with queer artist friends at the tail end of Firelord Sozin's reign, but this post is already long enough)

[angelamajiki]

Can I request something?!

We try to escape Overhaul but he catches us but as a punishment seeing as we don't like him he gives us to Rappa so he can do what he wants to us for a week and in the end we go back to him and he has you never wanting to even step out your room.

Is that fine? Anyways stay safe, drink water, wear a mask, and keep up the great work!

PARINGS: Rappa x AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, watersports, noncon, facefucking, teasing, manhandling, scumbag rappa

AN: thank you nonnie!! <33

Kai had caught you trying to escape. Or rather, Rappa was the one who actually caught you, laughing and jeering at your cries and the pounding of your small fists on his back. Your captor was not amused in the slightest as his henchman emerged into his office with you tucked a little too snuggly over his shoulder.

“Caught your lil’ scrub tryin’ to escape, boss.” Rappa cackled, sitting you down on the chair in front of the yakuza leader’s desk. “Damn, does she squeal like a pig.”

He clapped his hand over your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The man had taken a liking towards you, meaning to say that he enjoyed watching Kai dole out punishments for when you tried to escape or otherwise upset him, which wasn't hard to do.

“Yes, she does.” Kai sighed, brows furrowed deeply in irritation. “What am I going to do with you, pet? Do I not provide for you, care for you? How can I get you to behave, hm?”

Tapping a finger against his forehead, he signed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape because anywhere else is better than being here with you, Overhaul.” You spat venomously, squirming under Rappa’s tight grip. The man behind you just chuckled darkly.

“Say, boss...if the little lady here is so unhappy with you, why don't you put her on loan to someone for the time being? Let ‘em show her how good you are to her, eh?”

Kai quirked a brow at Rappa, immediately picking up what he was throwing down. He had half a mind to punish Rappa as well for his blatant display of insubordination and to dare to think he’d willingly give up his precious pet to him like she was a mere stray.

Ah, but the man did have a point. His pet needed to be taught how kind her master is, and Rappa is the perfect opposition to do so. A degenerate at heart, his underling, was rowdy, filthy, and above all, a bigger sadist than Kai was.

He knew the man loved nothing more than to watch him spank the poor thing until she was a sobbing, blubbering mess of “I’m sorry, Kai!” gasping and panting for air like she was on the verge of death. What a drama queen he had on his hands. But he treated you like a queen nonetheless, but your attitude was simply out of control at this point.

“I think Rappa’s right, dear. Why don't you spend the week with him? Take a break from me if I’m so intolerable.”

Ice ran through your veins as Rappa unceremoniously scooped you up from your chair, opting to throw you over his shoulder. Kai’s chuckle and Rappa’s jeers mixed with your protests as you squirmed and squealed in his monstrous grasp.

“I thought you said anywhere else would be better than being with me. Remember, this is the choice you made, darling.”

“Rappa, you're dismissed.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, your fate was sealed. The bulkier man nodded and smacked a large hand over your ass.

“You and me? We're gonna have some fun, little piggy.” ——— •

Settled on Rappa’s bed, if you could call a sparsely covered mattress that hadn't been washed in god knows how long a bed, your nerves were set ablaze watching the man undress. And he certainly made a show of it, flexing his muscles and winking at you all the while.

“Like what ya see, sweets?” He groaned, striking a pose in front of you in nothing but a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. Oogling couldn't be helped; the man was built like Adonis. Strong, fierce, and big. Much, much bigger than you were.

“I hope so, cause I definitely do.” He smirked, licking his lips as he stalked over to you. “Don’t ya about a thing, little piggy. Papa’s gonna take real good care of ya”

Climbing over you, he pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used the other to feel you up.

“Yeesh, yer stiff as a board. Maybe a little game will help loosen you up, piggy.”

Fingers crawled their way up to your torso and to your mouth, leaving a searing heat in their wake. His fingers snatched your tongue from your mouth, shoving themselves down your throat to choke you.

“This little piggy wants to choke on my cock.”

His insenstant cooing and grinning had your stomach turning in knots, helping the fingers in your throat gag you even further. The thumb pressed down on your tongue before spitting a glob down your throat.

“This little piggy wants to be squeezed real tight.”

The sing-song tone in his voice only served to heighten your fear. Of course, the bastard thought this was all a game to him and you his toy.

His grin only got wider as his hand crept down your throat and ghosted itself there, barely touching before lunging. A panicked yip flew from your mouth as he pinned you by your throat.

There was hardly any pressure, just a cage of fingers keeping you locked into his impossibly firm grip. The hand was more than large enough to circle your neck. You smell the grim on his fingers, the labor of his love for the Shie Hassaikai.

“Almost got ya, piggy!” He teased, licking a long strip up your cheek. God, his breath stunk.

“Keep up now; the fun’s just starting.”

His fingers seemed to leave a trail of grime as they traveled down to your exposed breasts. They groped and gripped at your tender flesh without finesse or technique. So rough and worn from all the fighting he does. Your right tit was cupped in his hand before he gave it a hard squeeze.

“This little piggy wants to be milked.”

Onto your left, giving your nipple a good tug and pinch.

“This little piggy wants to be sucked.”

Your squeals and cries only made him laugh harder, grunting when you squirmed against the leg in between your thighs.

“Aw, is baby girl gonna cry? Cause I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Every touch of the pads from his fingers made you even sicker than before. You could feel every place he touched, the disgusting filth they left in their wake. The continued down your stomach, stopping to tickle you softly on your sides.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Your laughter couldn't be contained as he got rougher and rougher, chuckling along with you as he pressed his face close to yours.

“Stop it! I-I’m going to pee!”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.” He grunted, pressing his elbow hard into your bladder all while tickling you. Shame and piss flushed out of you as he groaned, grinding his knee up against your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Look at that! Piggy’s finally rolling around in filth where pigs belong.”

“I can't wait to make a mess of you.”

Humiliation flushed your face and your body, feeling even more disgusted as you felt your own piss on your lower body.

Rappa stood up and took a good look at you, admiring his handy work. A flushed, tearful expression that could be fucked up even more, his favorite face to see. Especially on someone as beautiful as you.

Sitting you up, he sat behind you and took your hair into two separate ponytails before trying them off.

“There, perfect for gripping.”

A rough push landed you on the floor, naked and afraid. One hand grabbed both your ponytails at the same time and steered you to be seated facing his crotch.

“Open wide, piggy.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough for one evening.

“Are you deaf? Open up, you bratty little bitch. Don't make me ask again unless ya fancy fighting me instead.”

Now that was a truly horrifying thought. The man could quickly kill you with a single punch and let Overhaul bring you back to life, only to do it again and again. Those men, especially Kai, had no qualms about taking your life when you decided to misbehave.

Considering your choices, you cut your losses and nodded, opening your mouth slowly and braced yourself for a brutal facefucking.

The man sunk himself into your throat, sitting there when he bottomed out. His hips twitched as you choked and gagged around his massive dick.

“Yeah.” He groaned, pulling out only to slam back in. “That's what I’m talkin’ about. Finally got ya to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Hips thrusting, he set a brutal pace into your mouth. Heavy balls slapped against your chin as your spit and tears made a mess of your face. He paid no mind to your shaking and struggling, only moaning when you choked particularly hard.

“Guess I gotta let ya up to breathe, huh piggy?”

Pulling himself out, he gave you a few seconds to cough and gulp in the air before nudging his way back into your warm, wet mouth.

“Can’t spoil you too much now.” He chuckled.

One hand gripping each ponytail, he tugged them tight and fucked your mouth with vigor. His hips slammed against your cheeks, sure to leave bruises as they started to sputter.

“Y-You’re just so cute, piggy. I can’t last long when you look at me like that.” He grunted, pulling your hair even tighter.

His cock hurt your throat horribly. You could feel the burn of every stroke and spasm into your mouth, tears streaming down your face even more from the pain. Your hair felt like it was going to be ripped out from the sheer amount of strength he was pulling it with.

His thrusts increased in pace as he chased his orgasm, opting to hold the back of your head flush against his crotch when he finally did cum. Making sure to swallow every last drop, Rappa didn't let you up until he was completely finished.

“Such a good girl for Papa.” Rappa jeered, picking you up off the floor by the throat and pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth.

Tossed onto the bed, he spread your legs wide and pressed a thumb to your dripping hole.

“And this little piggy wants to get fucked all night long.”