#he wasn’t trapped in there with them they were with him

[hurlingdown]

‎        ★ ❛ HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U ! ! ! ❜

synopsis. getting two sex-addicted hot demon bitches as your roommates wasn't exactly part of the contract, but they might just be the second best part of it. oh. and the best part? they are utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with you. wc. 5.3k

tags. top master! reader, bottom succubi! gojo & geto. reader has a cock. hardcore dom/sub. mean dom! reader, masochistic! gojo. threesome, womb tattoos, breeding kink, creampie(s), rimming, face-sitting, rough anal sex, multiple orgasms, riding, blowjob, male squirting, spanking, dacryphilia, somnophilia (slight dub-con), slut-shaming, degradation, praise kink, voyeurism, jealousy, felching, yandere! gojo undertones, aphrodisiacs, both of them are whiny, needy and hungry for your cock.

a/n. this might just be the filthiest thing i've ever written. do enjoy <3

In hindsight, you really, really should have known that your two roommates were promiscuous, sex-obsessed freaks before moving in with them. No, scratch that. You should have long known that they weren’t even entirely. . . human. 

Not that they were exactly being subtle with it. Once, you had walked in on Satoru naked in the middle of ‘certain peculiar activities’ with his door half-open, wings, tail and dark pink womb tattoo on full display, stretching across the expanse of his lower abdomen in obscene heart-shaped swirls. You were taken aback at first, sure, but you weren’t mean with it, even offering to keep his identity a secret—and he had taken your politeness for something more. 

Now, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. In point of fact, he flaunted it. 

Satoru would curl his tail around your thigh playfully whenever he would walk past you in the house, stretching his horned fuchsia wings while shooting you a sultry over-the-shoulder glance whenever you were behind him, even purposefully wearing shirts a size too small around you so that the fabric would ride above his waist whenever he had to ‘stretch’ or reach for something—perfectly showing off his pretty womb tattoo. 

It drove you insane with desire. And if that wasn’t bad enough for you, Satoru’s best friend, who also happened to be a succubus and your other roommate—Suguru, decided that the white-haired succubus accidentally outing himself was his cue to start courting you. 

You didn’t even know that succubi courted. You supposed there was always a first for everything. 

Suguru was far from being openly vulgar like Satoru was, but just as indicative of his wants. And that happened to be you. With long black hair, dark wings and a sharp, swift tail of the same colour, he was eerily gorgeous. He took his sweet time courting you, laying blooming red peonies all over your bed that worked as aphrodisiacs, spending his weekends making you wine-flavoured chocolates in the shape of hearts, hoping to get you drunk and all to himself. You would also constantly find missing pieces of clothing from the underwear section of your wardrobe, the distinctive mouth-watering scent of an aroused succubus left behind in their stead. 

Satoru and Suguru were beautiful in a way that most things were—poisonous and addictive. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t get swayed by their honeyed façade and fall into their trap. You had told yourself, but. . . 

The last thing you expected to wake up to was a wet, searing mouth on your hard cock. 

You groaned, shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure wracked through your body in overwhelming waves, reaching out blindly to hold onto something before it consumed you—fingers digging into the sheets so hard you heard it rip. You couldn’t explain why or how it felt so good, the pleasure almost other-worldly—the sensation of an incredibly soft tongue licking up your length, dragging a trail of heat and drool on sensitive skin. The air smelt sweet, like roses and cherries, the sharp sting of arousal zipping up your spine as you took a deep whiff. 

“D-does it feel good, master?” a voice panted, whined, “am I doing good for you?” 

You looked down to find two teary, dilated blue eyes staring up at you, and two you knew very well. “Satoru,” you managed, fighting down a shiver as his hot breaths smothered your shaft with unbearable warmth. Everything felt fuzzy and smelt too sweet, like someone had sprayed intoxicating perfume in your bedroom a thousand times over. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

He gripped your cock tighter with a pout, like he was worried that you would take away his favourite toy. “I just… I just thought I could make you f-feel better. Some de-stressing after a hard day, y’know?” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against your spit-soaked length, raised tail quivering behind him, shyly curling forward to show off the heart-shaped end of it. 

You couldn’t help but look. Satoru was dressed in a satin white shrug shirt that fully exposed his plump chest while allowing his wings to stretch out prettily, and you followed the tempting curves of his toned torso down to where his womb tattoo was pulsing and glowing red, as though showing off that he was eager to be bred. He was wearing the sluttiest, tiniest pair of lingerie underwear that barely covered his ass, the cute bulge of his cock visible from the front, his weeping cockhead poking out, strapped to his stomach. His outfit gave you the perfect glimpse of his soft milky thighs, before the rest was obscured by cream lace stockings that hugged his legs perfectly, leaving you wanting more. 

Sweet Lord. If this wasn’t heaven, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what heaven would be like. 

The succubus trembled under your scrutinizing, squeezing his thighs together as though he wanted to hide the evidence of his arousal. “A-are you done looking?” he mumbled, glancing at you through his lashes. “Can I continue? Please, I’ve been so good and you know it.” You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate even more when his gaze returned to your erect cock, a line of drool running down his chin as his throat bobbed, as though he were imagining what it would feel like to swallow your cum. 

“Hold on,” you breathed, carding your hand through his soft hair to gently stop him from getting closer to your crotch. “Does Suguru know about this?” 

Satoru’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his pout fading into something more. . . wary. “No,” he said, quietly. “He doesn’t.” 

“I’d thought so. Suguru wouldn’t—” 

“Stop talking about Suguru,” he whined, like he was actually hurt over this. “Suguru’s not about to suck your cock.” 

You frowned. And what gave him the right to sneak into your room and do blasphemous things to your body while you were sleeping, then? You tightened your grip on his hair, just enough to make him let out a low, pitiful whimper. “And you’re going to be the one to do it, then, Satoru?” 

His eyes widened like a guilty child. 

“I’m impressed,” you scorned, “You actually think you deserve it.” 

Satoru bit his lip, as though he was turned on by your sudden change in behaviour. “I… Master, please. I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been asking for it for ages, I just couldn’t wait anymore—I needed you so bad. Please let me make it up to you. Please, please,” he stammered, hands grasping your knees and thighs in almost desperation while looking up at you with a forlorn expression. 

You looked at him, steering your expression into something like a leer. 

“You want to make it up to me? Is that so?” You pretended to think, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp, and he moaned softly, leaning into your touch. “Fine. Get on the bed.” 

The succubus clambered onto the bed clumsily, settling on all fours as he looked at you over his shoulder with a deep flush, tail quivering with arousal. “L-like this?” 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you muttered, hands coming to rest on each of his asscheeks, kneading the flesh softly. Satoru whined, back pressing into an arch as he pushed his rump towards you, eager to please. “So, tell me, Satoru. I’m curious. What makes. . . a good slut?” 

“S-someone who listens to orders,” he replied, obediently. 

“That’s correct.” You whistled, hooking two fingers over the waistband of his underwear, slowly sliding it down to his knees until you completely exposed his leaking cock and hole, the latter clenching and dripping with… slick, like a pussy would. You went back to playing with his ass, ignoring it for the time being. “And does a good slut ever talk back to their master?” 

“No,” he whimpered. 

“What about,” you began, stroking his sensitive inner thighs, “taking what they want without permission?” 

“No,” he repeated, biting back a whine as a slow sense of dread filled him. “That’s what… that’s what n-naughty sluts do.” The words sounded strangely obscene in his mouth, and he flushed, ears turning red. 

“Very good,” you praised. “Last question, Satoru. You’ve answered every question perfectly so far—this one will be easy.” You flashed him a vicious smile, taking great pleasure in his ordeal. “Do you think naughty sluts deserve to be punished?” 

The succubus shivered in both fear and anticipation, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes,” he whispered. “They do.” 

Satoru didn’t even have time to beg for mercy because your hand fell hard on his ass, the force of it sending a loud smack echoing across the room, making him jerk forward with a pleasured cry. 

The pain was electric, and so was the pleasure, a white-hot burn curling in his lower stomach as his cock gave a violent lurch—Satoru doesn’t think he has ever felt pleasure this good before in all his years of being a sex demon. You were a hard hitter too. The skin on his ass stung pleasantly, and he moaned out loud at the thought of you slapping his ass again and again until your handprint was burnt into his flesh, wanting more already. 

“You really are a slut,” you whispered, almost in awe. 

“Please,” he whined. He would take anything you were going to give him—praise or punishment. He was yours. 

You gently massaged the bruised area on his ass, leaning down to give it a tender kiss. “Turn around for me, baby.” You opted for a softer tone, trying to coax him into letting you see his face after the harsh treatment. You couldn’t believe you ever thought that he was the danger here. Things were turning out in the most perfect way, you would believe it was a dream if not for how solid Satoru felt under your touch. 

Satoru parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue—but quickly remembered your words. The pain was good, incredibly good, but it was also fleeting. If this was his first and last chance with you, then he would make the pleasure last. 

He flipped over on his back, removing his underwear and quietly spreading his shaky legs for you. His cock gave a weak twitch as your gaze swept across his body with interest, letting a low whine. 

“Good boy, Satoru,” you muttered, eyes zeroing in on the heart-shaped swirls of his pulsing womb tattoo. Admittedly, you had looked it up on the internet and found out all sorts of things about succubi, terms that ranged from ‘breeding’ and ‘fertility’ to ‘cum-addiction’, and you couldn’t wait to experiment them on him. “Gonna open you up now.” 

You rubbed your fingers against his soft and wet entrance, slathering them in his slick, before starting to push two in, just to be mean. The succubus was already panting, mindlessly arching his back and pushing against your fingers. “Hah… Master… please, more…” 

“More what? Tell me what you want, Satoru.” 

Satoru let out a lewd cry as you rubbed at his sensitive walls, hips jerking. “P-Please!” he squeaked. “Want your cum… inside my womb.” 

You could feel a sadistic smile pulling at your lips. So this was his true objective. To be bred like a cockslut—no, an animal. An animal bound by divine instruction to reproduce again and again and again, brainlessly offering up its holes to be filled with semen until its belly swells with the early stages of pregnancy. Perhaps the rumours about succubi on the internet were true, after all. 

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted so easily, though. You weren’t that nice—he hasn’t earned it yet. 

“Greedy,” you settled for a simple comment, leer morphing into something more innocent. You made sure to crook your fingers at a certain angle while pumping them in and out of his drooling hole, searching for the spot that made his toes curl and back arch, a filthy wail forcing his lips to part. “You sure you can handle that, baby?” 

“Y-yeah,” Satoru moaned, “Breed me… please. Wanna carry master’s children.” 

His womb tattoo glowed brighter, scorching hot underneath your touch. Satoru looked fucked out already and the night was still young, lidded eyes unfocused and glassy while he continued to grind down against your fingers, as though searching for something wider, thicker, deeper. 

“Slut,” you snarled, and the word was barely fitting for how the succubus was acting. You pulled your fingers out, the emptiness making him ache. He gave a loud whine, his hips giving a desperate buck into the empty air, neglected cock red and hard, smearing pre-cum all over his womb tattoo. 

“‘m your good slut,” he babbled, slurred for how drunk and stupid he sounded. You were sure anyone standing outside your bedroom would hear him with how loud he was being. 

His mouth felt empty, you decided. A little too empty. You hooked a thumb into the stretchy side of his mouth before rubbing your fingers on his bottom lip, and he gave a soft keen, parting his lips for you to slide them inside, before lightly sucking on them—tasting his own juices. 

“If you keep this up,” you warned, “Suguru will hear. You don’t want him hearing me making you scream, do you, Satoru? Or are you more of a pervert than I thought?” 

“No,” he said, muffled by your fingers stuffing his mouth full, tears dribbling down his cheeks. 

“Good sluts don’t talk with their mouth full,” you reminded him, gently brushing away his tears. 

He shook his head quickly, whining. Satoru didn’t like to share, and you knew that. You were his bond, his human. You didn’t need another succubus. Right? 

You bit down a smile at his blatant jealousy, pretending not to notice the presence right outside your room, the rustle of fabric unmistakable—barely covered by Satoru’s loud whimpers. It was a little too early to reveal it, with how both of them were enjoying themselves. You would indulge them a little longer. 

You coated your fingers with his spit generously before pulling them out, a string of drool connecting the two, before reaching down and unceremoniously plugging them back into his needy hole. Satoru yelped, trying to snap his thighs shut at the sudden intrusion, and you took the opportunity to guide them to wrap around your waist. He flushed, stammering out an apology, but you wouldn’t miss this chance to tease him. 

“Look at you, Satoru.” You continued to scissor him, occasionally pulling out to slather your cock with his sweet-smelling slick. “I haven’t even put it in yet, and here you are, drooling like we’ve been at it all night. Messy cockslut.” 

“Your cockslut,” he whimpered, and it sharpened into a keen when you slowly drove forward to dip the head of your cock in his hole. It clenched around you greedily, and it felt incredible even with only the tip in, soft and wet and hungry, warmth oozing into you, making you burn with desire. What was even more incredible was the fact that Satoru was crying, tears spilling over red, flushed cheeks as he struggled to stay still for you, wanting to please, wanting forgiveness. “Hnngh… master…” 

He was right. Satoru was your cockslut. 

You leaned down to caress his wet cheek, the action only causing your cock to nudge deeper inside, the warm tightness nearly sending you into overdrive—making you moan. You had never been inside a hole this heavenly before. The snug stretch around your girth was insane, and if that wasn’t enough, his hole kept on fluttering and clenching around you, making delicious sensations bleed into you. 

So the myths were true, after all—succubi were demons crafted for the sake of providing pleasure. 

Your vision was growing hazy with lust, the heat in your belly growing. The pleasure was almost too much—but you held on. You would drain him before he drained you. 

Grabbing him by the thick of his hips, you buried yourself to the hilt in one go, and Satoru let out a wrecked cry, fingers bunching up the sheets at the sudden stimulation. His womb tattoo sizzled and pulsed obscenely, and you reached down to gently press your palm against it, making him whimper loudly. 

You didn’t know if you would be able to hold it in for much longer—with how the poor thing was squirming on your cock, sweet slick coating your cock with every thrust in and drive out, the carnal smell of it all making your appetite grow tenfold, making you want to strip him of all dignity and devour. 

“Satoru,” you murmured, thrusting forward, and he answered with a keening wail of your name. “It seems like… we have a rather eager spectator. Should we invite him inside?” 

“Wh-what…” Satoru said dumbly, whines interrupting his words as his eyes struggled to focus. “Spectator…?” 

“Yeah.” You grinned as he realised who you were talking about, stiffening and shaking his head with a cry. He wanted to have you all to himself for a little longer… you haven’t even cum inside him yet. This wasn’t fair. “Let’s see if he’s just as much of a cock-hungry slut as you are, mm?” 

You turned your head to the door. “Suguru. Come in.” 

The door hesitantly creaked open, and Suguru stepped inside. Immediately, the sweetness of aroused succubi intensified in the room, a clash between Satoru’s sugary scent and Suguru’s honeyed one making you dizzy with want. 

“Master,” Suguru swallowed, a red flush on his cheeks. He was dressed in a revealing dark purple night-robe, a ravishing complement to the long, black hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He looked at the two of you calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the shine between his thighs, giving away how bothered he really was. “How long have you known?” 

“Quite a while. Get on the bed and prepare yourself,” you ordered, turning back to the other succubus who was currently grinding himself senseless on your cock, little whines and pleas plucked out with each desperate roll of his hips. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with Satoru.” 

Suguru listened obediently, laying down on the bed on his back, night robe gracefully falling open to reveal his purple womb tattoo, already throbbing and glowing with heat and need. He reached down between his parted thighs, rubbing and pleasuring his hole while watching the two of you, soaking the mattress with how much slick he was producing. 

You turned back to Satoru, the sight of his red, crying face sending a jolt of heat straight into your abdomen. “What?” You grinned, gripping his waist and starting to thrust into his tight heat again. “I did warn you.” 

“S-so mean,” he sobbed, arching his back at the pleasure. He was whimpering again, warm walls hugging your length firmly every time you drove in, and you could tell he was getting close again, had been close before you had so cruelly stopped to indulge someone else. Satoru turned his head to look at the other succubus, their simultaneous pants and whines serving to make each other even more aroused, Satoru’s slick drenching your cock while Suguru’s messily dribbled all over his hand, obscene squelching noises like heavenly music to your ears. 

“Gonna cum,” you announced, and both of them answered you with needy, high-pitched whines, Suguru fingering himself to your thrusts while Satoru laid there, moaning and sobbing, reduced to nothing but a pliable body made to take and take and take. 

The latter blinked up at you with glossy eyes, tears dotting on his lashes and crying out lewdly while you continued to pound into him like a rabid animal. Satoru loved it, how rough and careless you were treating him, your gentle hands telling a different story as they caressed his face, the contrast of pain and pleasure making him shiver. No one had been able to satisfy him like this before. You were perfect for him. 

“Please… your cum…” he pleaded, laying a hand on his pulsating womb tattoo, begging for you to fulfil his only purpose in life—to be filled and bred like the dumb slut he was. “I w-want it inside…” 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, his warm hole sucking you deeper in with every flutter, every clench, showering you in waves of stimulation to the point where it teetered between pleasure and pain. Just when stars began to float across your vision in hazy swirls, a sign that you were close to orgasm, you pulled out hastily, ignoring Satoru’s desperate, keening sob, yanking Suguru towards you by the hips before roughly plunging your cock into his needy hole. 

The startled moan that you pulled out from the other succubus was enough to drive you to the peak of your arousal, and you thrust a few more times before spilling into warm wetness with a loud, guttural groan. 

When you came to be, there were two kinds of noises rebounding in the room—Satoru’s cries and Suguru’s whines. 

“Master!” Satoru sobbed, bucking his hips into empty air as tears messily dripped down his face. 

“M-master,” Suguru whimpered, drooling and panting, stuffed so full of cum and cock he could barely speak. 

You moaned as you drew out from Suguru’s heat, watching as cum dribbled out from his puffy hole and onto the soaked mattress—and he let out a soft, needy whine, plugging two fingers inside himself to stop anything more from leaking out, as though to replace the fullness that he had felt before. You watched as he lay there shivering weakly, glowing womb tattoo tainted with streaks of white, and you realised that he had come just from you releasing inside him. 

You swallowed, feeling your cock fill out again. Suguru really was a good slut. Perfect, even. 

“Master…!” Satoru cried out again, gaze lingering on you and Suguru with an expression that could only be described as heartbroken, and you would feel sorry for him, if not for you catching sight of the softening cock resting against his heaving abdomen. The perverted thing had orgasmed from watching you cum inside someone else. If that wasn’t a sight. 

“I never promised you anything, Satoru.” You looked down at the mess you had created, smiling innocently. “Plus, Suguru’s a far better slut than you are, don’t you think? After all, he waited patiently for his turn to be bred, unlike you.” You slumped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, turning to Suguru and patting your lap. “Sit on my cock, baby.” 

Suguru rubbed at his eyes, compliantly trudging over and straddling your waist, the length of your cock rubbing lewdly between his cheeks. He bit his lip, raising his hips until the tip of it nudged against his sore hole, the growing stretch more pleasurable than anything. Your cum turned out to be the perfect lubricant, and the intrusion was met with little resistance, allowing him to slowly sink down with a hungry whine. 

“F-feels so goood,” he slurred, his eyes rolling back as you bottomed out, making the both of you moan. He mindlessly rubbed at his stomach, right above his womb, where you had gifted him a baby. 

“See?” You looked at Satoru lazily, the poor thing watching in a mixture of arousal and frustration. “Suguru’s been so good for me. What have you done?” 

Satoru wanted to cry again at your demeaning tone. This was too much. You were being so mean to him, when he was trying his best to atone for his wrongdoings! He didn’t deserve this treatment, not one bit. If Suguru gets a baby, then he should get one, too. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he snivelled weakly. “Please, master… I promise I won’t ever misbehave again. I’ll be a good slut… I’ll do anything you want.” 

You smiled. “Anything I want?” 

He nodded, desperate. 

“Sit on my face and I’ll think about it.” 

Satoru wanted to protest, yank Suguru off your cock and ride it himself until you spurted heavy into his womb, showing you that he could please you just as much as the other succubus did, maybe even more. You were his, and naturally, your pleasure belonged to him as well. Suguru might be his best friend, but that didn’t mean Satoru liked to share his toys with him. But. . . if this was his last shot at gaining your forgiveness, then he would do whatever it takes to please you, even if it meant suppressing his needs for the time being. 

He scrambled over to where you were lying, carefully placing one knee on each side of your face, trembling with effort as he slowly lowered himself onto your face. He let out a soft, whiny keen as his position pressed his hole directly against your parted lips, and he struggled not to rut against your face—holding himself back from chasing after the addictive pleasure. 

You gently lifted him by the hips to breathe, before pressing a light kiss to the twitching hole. Licking around Satoru’s swollen rim in an attempt to loosen him up, you rolled your hips up into the welcoming warmth of the other succubus, jolting out an erotic moan. 

“You can start riding me, Suguru,” you muttered, closing your eyes and letting out a drawn-out moan as he gave a filthy clench around your length at the mention of his name. “Don’t hold back.” 

“Yes, master,” Suguru whined, rolling his hips against yours in smooth, circular motions, and you could feel the slick leaking out from his hole, smothering your length with the abundance of it, sweet and sleek and thick. The succubus rode you like he was made to do it, his cock slapping against his womb tattoo messily with every bounce, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure—letting out a stream of whimpers and pleas while his hole fluttered around you tirelessly, trying to get you to cum inside him a second time. 

You returned to your task at hand—giving a broad lick over Satoru’s dripping hole to gather some of his slick on your tongue, making him sob out a whine. It was sweet and intoxicating, addictive flavour melting in your mouth like sugar, and you couldn’t get enough—shoving your entire tongue into him before eating him out in earnest. 

And sweet lord, did he taste good. He was squeezing around you deliciously, releasing so much slick that it dripped all over your chin and down the column of your throat, making a mess. It drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you were making animalistic noises against his swollen entrance as you made love to it with your tongue, the vibrations making him croon with pleasure. And by now, you were sure that succubi slick had aphrodisiac effects, because with every mouthful that you swallowed, you found it harder and harder to control yourself, wanting to just give in to your arousal and take. 

“Please,” Satoru was sobbing loudly, feeling wet and loose and dirty, thighs trembling with little restraint as you lifted him up and down your tongue with ease, reaching so deep one would think you were trying to plunder his soul. “Gonna… gonna cum already…” 

“M-me too,” Suguru chimed in with a moan, hips growing wearier with every lift, his impending orgasm making him weak, the fullness of cock giving him the illusion of heaviness, and he held his belly as though he were pregnant already. 

You continued to pleasure the both of them the best you could, tongue curling inside Satoru with precision to press against his sweet spot until he was shaking and whimpering with overstimulation—while rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s, feeling him needily clench around you every time you rammed up just right. 

You could feel yourself getting closer as well, the noises that your two obscene lovers were making serving to turn you on even more. Combined with the sinful pressure of Satoru’s sopping hole clenching around your tongue and the searing tightness of Suguru jumping on your cock, this was practically heaven. 

Reaching over to grip Suguru’s hips, you thrust up repeatedly into his tight warmth, leaving the other to ride your tongue on his own. You groaned your pleasure into Satoru’s hole, and the succubus answered with a keening cry of “Master!”, grinding down against your face with wild abandon. Both of their womb tattoos were glowing brighter than ever, screaming at you to breed them, take them, devour them—and you did just that. 

You rammed your hips up with a muffled shout, gripping Suguru’s waist so tightly you were sure it would leave dark bruises for days to come—unloading everything into his womb for the second time tonight—your seed, your love, your legacy. Suguru cried out loudly at the feeling of your cum filling him up, shuddering as his cock squirted all over the three of you—his stomach, your chest, Satoru’s back—while Satoru clenched around your tongue so tightly as his orgasm crashed over him like a hurricane, cumming all over your face and the mattress with a hoarse scream. 

You gasped for breath the moment Satoru slid off your face and collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, black spots swirling heavily in your vision—the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Succubi—no, your succubi really were something. 

Suguru was too tired to even protest as your softening cock slid out from his sheath, dragging out a trail of slick and cum. Yawning, he shifted to lay on the bed on his stomach, mumbling “Thank you, master,” before his eyes drooped shut in exhaustion. You watched him fondly, reaching out to card a hand through his silky hair, before a soft, almost petulant whine caught your attention. 

Satoru was glaring at the other succubus with jealousy. Sure, he had gotten a mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but he wanted you filling him up until he felt bloated with your cum, wanted to be bred. 

You let out an amused laugh. “You want my cum that bad?” 

He nodded his head frantically. 

“Well, then…” You turned to where Suguru had fallen asleep, cum trickling out of his asshole and sliding down his perineum steadily. You guess it would be somewhat of a waste to just leave him be. “Since Suguru took your share for the night. . . there you go. Have a taste.” 

Satoru’s face was slightly pale when you turned back to look at him, a sick grin stretching at your lips. He didn’t question you, however, quietly crawling over until he was kneeling between Suguru’s legs. His heart was pounding, your words earlier that night replaying in his head again and again like mantra—a good slut listens to orders. 

Making eye contact with you, he poked his tongue out, slowly leaning down before giving the excess cum a tentative lick. . . and swallowed. 

You were sure those were hearts exploding in his eyes. 

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 3

For those of you that saw the blip earlier, when I tried to post this but it broke cause it was too long, here is the real thing. Masterpost for earlier parts.

Sorry again. And slight tw for panic attack

Jason woke up slowly, taking in his surroundings as he adjusted to being awake. It was quiet, and a little humid. He was on a bed, could feel the sheets beneath him, and he wasn’t restrained at all. There was a moment of confusion, because when you wake up after being attacked like that you usually end up dead or a hostage. There was a creeping realization dawning in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He opened his eyes, not wanting his suspicions to be true. But he was in a holding cell in the cave, and he realized what must have happened. Then he was pissed. 

He let out a growl, pushing to sit up on the bed. He thought they were doing better. He thought his family trusted him again. His growl was angry, foreboding, telling of the danger and anger in his thoughts. But his head was pounding from the sedative. They knew he hated needles. Hated drugs. Why would they do this to him, trick him like this when they knew how he felt about it. The haze in his head, making his thoughts heavy, and doing nothing but reminding him of all the harm drugs have done to the people around him. He stopped growling, hoping the quiet would help. Much less angry, the clouds in his head starting to make him sad and breathless. He hopes the effects wear off soon. He can’t focus. There is something important that he is missing. He is forgetting something, the spiral of his thoughts and emotions starting to lean towards hysteria. He’s alone. Trapped and alone, mind heavy with fog. He can’t think, why is he stuck here? His breath starts coming faster, increasing while his heart starts to race. He tries to keep quiet, and calm down. A whimper escapes him as he finds a corner and slides down the wall. Then he heard a keen. Close, probably coming from one of the other cells. The sound cuts through the haze. Important, a strike of clarity hitting him with a pulse as he remembers the kid. There was a kid with him. 

Danny. Jason hears him call out again, a sharp keen of panic-confusion, and Jason needs to help him. Jason stumbles up, leaning on the wall for support. He heads towards the door, but he was familiar with how the cells worked. He reached it and of course it was locked. He attempted to manually override, but the pad inside the cell was locked down. The cell can only be opened once someone on the inside clears whoever is inside it. Created for instances where one of them has been incapacitated by a new strain of fear gas, or a new Ivy concoction. To hold someone until an antidote can be created. There was no getting out of here before the other came by. 

Hopefully, they’re on their way now, seeing him awake on the cameras. Jason has some choice words to be had about his situation, angry seething inside him as the panic from earlier recedes. 

Danny lets out another keen, breathy and biting and Jason hears him start to panic. Jason still has to do what he can. He can’t reach him, but he can try and calm him down. They’re in this together, and Jason is going to do whatever he can for the kid. He let out a rumble, steady and calm in response to Danny’s cries. His rumble is filled with annoyance, but still said okay-here-safe. 

Danny is silent for a moment before he hums back a confused-trust. It’s closer, louder, like Danny has moved to be right on the other side of the wall from Jason. This kid, who just had his world destroyed, came here alone and afraid, and he trusts Jason. Screw yelling at the Bats. Danny needs him, and priority one is getting Danny to a place he can feel safe. 

A soft churring sound leaves Jason, sweet and caring, and Jason hopes the kid knows that he is going to do everything he can for him. Then Jason hears Danny let out a short purr, a quiet susurration, that ends as quickly as it starts. Jason is stunned by how much faith Danny is putting in him. How much Jason cares for this boy he just met. 

The bats can pry this boy out from his cold, dead hands.

[soov]

RUMOUR HAS iT。 park sunghoon

princess fem reader & prince sunghoon ᗢ 1OOO words ━━ fluff ꕀ royal!au, arranged marriage, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing.

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?”

The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction. “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “I asked because I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If Sunghoon wasn’t right next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us…” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your title, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon…” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the boy felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i wish prince sunghoon was real

2024 © SOOV

[temis-de-leon]

Please make sure to take care of yourself 🥺 Write whenever you feel like it and when you have the time but don't force yourself to write 😤 - Romance Anon

Crush hugging him because of a horror movie - 500 F.C.

Characters: Diavolo x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: Romance anon

A/N: Toni Colette, the woman that you are. And thank you Romance, for your never-ending patience <3

C/W: a bit suggestive there at the beginning, pinning, very vague description of Hereditary's ending

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He would be lying if he said having you so close to him, practically sitting on his lap, while moaning a myriad of ‘oh my God’, ‘please, God’ and, his personal favourite, ‘Dia, Dia, Dia…!’ wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. It was, and heavily; he just wished it took place under different circumstances.

Mainly because he was low-key freaking out too, although not as much as you.

Having seen a fair number of sinners, he knew some mortal minds weren’t simple or kind, which made the darkness of life and the suffering of others a rather pleasurable affair for them. It was fascinating, apparently, a broadly studied aspect of human society, and not just one of many media genres, that propelled the pharmaceutical and therapeutic intervention businesses; a cause and a consequence, something that should’ve been avoided or couldn’t have been helped.

And yet, out of all horrors, you chose a demonic possession movie? Were you trying to tease him?

Paimon wasn’t even that bad once you got the chance to meet him properly! He was an erudite whose knowledge covered all the arts, philosophy and science. A friend of Lucifer’s, keen on reciprocity foremost and eager to start a conversation with anyone who offered him the same amount of time and interest as he did. Unfortunately, Diavolo had the tiny suspicion you wouldn’t be in the mood to meet the captivating demon, nor his demanding dromedary, after watching the disturbing movie, but you should really give it a try!

He could still understand you, though.

“Oh, dear” he said in a quiet breath as the boy on the screen slowly turned around and miraculously missed his mother crawling on the walls.

Your eyes, which had been previously peeking between your fingers, closed shut. You turned to press your face against his chest again and he deeply hoped your fear kept you from noticing the rapid beating of his heart and the way his hand closed around your waist to bring you closer. His cheeks burned, not bothering to hide an enamoured smile. There was no use in doing so when you were trying so hard to disappear from the world amongst the creases of his uniform.

Still, you had asked him to watch the film together and he would be more than damned if he disappointed you in such a trivial matter, so he forced himself to look at the screen intensely, even when a naked man loomed from the shadows and the boy had to run away for his life, tripping and falling and barely climbing to the attic on time.

“I have to say, MC” he mustered, eyes open wide as the woman (Annie?) violently banged her head against the trap door while Peter cried in desperation from the other side. “I can’t understand the appeal of watching this. When you said you wanted a movie night, I thought you’d choose something… tamer”

More romantic is what he wanted to say. Diavolo had hoped to understand love from a human standpoint and see what you liked in order to do the same. Rose petals and champagne by the fireplace? Or shopping and dining in the most expensive places in the Devildom? Dancing in the rain? Stargazing? As observant as he was, he had no clue whether you reciprocated his infatuation, so, sadly, he preferred having your full attention on him whenever he showed his feelings; and at that moment not even an emergency would’ve made you let go of his embrace. It's not like he would ever complain about that, anyway.

“I didn’t want to watch the movie alone” you finally whimpered, letting go only enough to look up at him. “And I figured if someone could make me feel protected it would be you”

Your glassy eyes vaguely reflected his speechless expression and, suddenly, he was aware of everything. The weight of your body against his, bringing warmth and comfort, the smell of your clothes and the softness of your skin; your scared pouting and embarrassed blushing. Not knowing what to do with it anymore, he let his free hand awkwardly drop over your calves and immediately almost imploded when you instinctively tucked even closer.

There was no noise for a blissful moment, save for the heavy breathing and the buzzing coming from the speakers, and Diavolo briefly asked himself if a horror movie was still a good background for a love confession.

Then, a wet sound; a sawing motion.

You slowly turned to the gigantic TV, impending doom in your expression quickly morphing into heavy distress when the mother appeared once more on the screen. Your appalled scream almost made him cover his ears before you hid your face in his chest one final time.

“OH MY GOD, DIA, OH MY GOD”

Diavolo just hoped Barbatos wouldn’t ask any questions in the morning.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[authortelevision]

you’re mine₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,002 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆jealous george clarke, blow jobs, degradation, slut shaming, smut

you confess to george that you used to have a fan account about chrismd but when george finds the account himself you realise how possessive george can be and how much he wants you to know you’re only his

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

hello hello !! this could technically be a part 2 to jealous george but you can also read it on its own

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You were sitting cross-legged on George’s bed, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out beside you, scrolling through his phone. His legs brushed against yours occasionally, and though it was casual, the closeness reminded you of how much you loved being his.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice hesitant as you picked at a thread on the hem of your sweater.

George glanced up at you, sensing your unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly…” You exhaled, cheeks already heating. “It’s just… okay, you have to promise not to get mad.”

He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a good start. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” you said quickly, clutching a pillow to your chest. “It’s just… it’s something kind of embarrassing. About me. And, um… Chris.”

George’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “Chris?” he repeated, his voice just a bit cooler. “What about Chris?”

You winced. “So, in 2020, I, um… I had a fan account for him.”

George blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. And then, he laughed. But it wasn’t his usual easy, full laugh. This one sounded slightly forced, like he was trying to play it off.

“A fan account? For Chris?” he asked, his voice rising incredulously.

“Yes!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

George didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you peeked up at him, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“So, what kind of fan account are we talking here?” he asked, a little too casually. “Were you posting thirst traps of him or something?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, horrified. “It was just, like… appreciation posts! Pictures from his games, funny things he said in his videos, that sort of stuff.”

George let out a short laugh, but there was a tightness in his jaw that you couldn’t miss. “Right. Just a harmless little crush, then?”

“It wasn’t a crush!” you said quickly, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. “It was 2020. I was bored, and Chris just happened to be… entertaining.”

“Entertaining,” George repeated, his tone flat.

You groaned, throwing the pillow at him. “Oh my god, stop making it weird!”

“I’m not the one who made it weird,” he shot back, catching the pillow but holding onto it like he needed something to fidget with. “You’re the one confessing to having a fan account for Chris of all people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the edge in his voice. “George… are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, scoffing. “Of Chris? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the way he tossed the pillow aside a little too forcefully and crossed his arms said otherwise.

“You are jealous,” you said, a teasing grin breaking across your face despite your embarrassment.

“I’m not jealous,” he insisted, though his gaze flicked away from yours. “It’s just… it’s Chris. The guy who leaves his gym socks all over the flat and takes 45-minute showers. That’s who you thought was worthy of a fan account?”

You laughed, leaning closer to him. “It was years ago, George. I didn’t even know you or him back then.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, “if I’d known, I would’ve made sure to stop it.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “And how exactly would you have done that?”

His eyes finally met yours, and there was an ounce of something possessive in them. “By making sure you knew there were better options.”

Your breath caught for a moment before you shook your head, laughing softly. “George, it wasn’t that deep. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

He huffed, still looking unimpressed. “Good. Because if I have to hear one more time about how Chris is ‘underrated’ or whatever…”

“Oh my god,” you said, groaning dramatically. “I regret telling you this already.”

George’s lips twitched into a smirk, though the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “You know, I think I should make my own fan account. Post appreciation pictures of myself and see how you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss him lightly. “I’d be your biggest fan, George. You know that.”

His smirk softened into a genuine smile as he pulled you closer. “Good. Because I don’t want to compete with Chris for your attention.”

“You’re so weird,” you said, laughing as you settled into his arms.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, the words warming your cheeks.

Chris might’ve been entertaining once, but sitting there with George, having him kiss all over your face, you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anyone else. That was until now.

George had been distant all day. Usually, he’d find ways to hover near you, cracking jokes or stealing bites of your food just to make you roll your eyes. But today, he barely said a word. Instead, he spent most of the day holed up in his room or deliberately avoiding you in the flat.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having an off day, everyone had them. But when he brushed past you in the hallway without so much as a glance, it started to feel deliberate.

“George?” you called after him as he walked into his room, shutting the door behind him without a word.

Your patience finally snapped. You marched down the hall, pushed open his door without knocking, and slammed it shut behind you.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, arms crossed as you glared at him.

George was standing by his desk, his back to you, his shoulders stiff. When he finally turned around, there was something sharp in his eyes that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know what’s the problem?” he said, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “You. You’re the problem.”

You blinked, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “I found it, by the way.”

“Found what?” you asked, your confusion genuine.

“The account,” he said, his voice cold. “Your fan account. The one you swore was harmless.”

You stared at him, your heart sinking. “Wait—how did you—”

“I looked for it,” he snapped, cutting you off. “And you lied to me. All those posts, all those things you wrote about him, how much you wanted him…” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration boiling over. “And you let him flirt with you, knowing you used to feel that way.”

“George,” you said, shaking your head, “what are you talking about? I told you, it wasn’t like that—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “You wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?” George’s voice was sharp, accusing, the words slicing through the air like a knife.

“Excuse me?” you spoke back, stunned and furious. “That’s not fair, George. I never—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted again, his tone raising, his frustration spilling over. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you made all those posts about him, said all those things, and didn’t mean it.”

“It was years ago!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “It was a stupid, meaningless thing I did when I was bored and stuck at home. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking about it now,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Thinking about the way he looks at you, the way you let him flirt with you—”

“I don’t let him do anything!” you cut him off, your face hot with frustration. “Chris was just being Chris. I didn’t take it seriously, and neither should you!”

"Oh, come on," George scoffed, shaking his head, his jaw tight. "You're telling me there's nothing left from that ‘stupid crush’? That part of you doesn't like the attention?"

“George what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he exhales, forcefully biting his lip, enough to leave an indent. “Wrong with me? The only thing wrong with me is the fact I thought a relationship with a slut like you would ever work out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. A mix of shock and rage surged through you, your body stiffening as the full weight of what he’d just said sank in.

“What the fuck did you just say?” you fought back, your voice low and trembling, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

George’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you, his face hard and unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to take it back, but then his expression hardened again, his voice cutting.

“You heard me.”

“No.” You took a step forward, your anger blazing. “Say it again, George. I dare you.”

He stayed silent, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze flicked away from you, like he couldn’t bear to look at the fury in your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice breaking slightly despite your best efforts. “After everything, after all the times I’ve told you how much I care about you, this is what you think of me?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t you fucking dare say you didn’t mean it. You don’t get to throw a word like that at me and act like it’s nothing.”

George finally looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful that made your stomach twist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, George,” you shot back. “You don’t trust me. You don’t believe me when I say I don’t want Chris. And now you’re calling me a slut? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know! I just—”

“What?” you demanded, stepping even closer. “You just what? Go on, say it.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his voice rising. “I just hate the way he looks at you! The way he talks to you like he’s got a chance, like I’m not even in the fucking picture!”

You stared at him, your anger warring with confusion. “And that’s my fault? You think I encourage him?”

“I don’t know!” George burst out, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what to think anymore! I just—”

His words faltered as he looked at you, his eyes dark and stormy with emotions he didn’t know how to express.

“You just what?” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fierce.

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling to the surface, but before you could even form a sentence, George surged forward. His lips crashed against yours, the force of it silencing any protest you might have had.

You froze for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, your mind spinning. But then his hands cupped your face, holding you in place, and the desperation in the kiss pulled you under.

It wasn’t sweet or careful—it was messy and raw, all teeth and tongue as he kissed you like he was trying to prove something. You hesitated, the weight of your unresolved argument hanging heavy, but then his hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and you gave in.

Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, meeting his intensity with your own. It was chaotic, your breaths mingling as you stumbled together, his body pressing into yours until the edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees.

You fell back onto the mattress, George following without hesitation. His weight pinned you down as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, finding the soft curve of your neck. He kissed you there, the sensation sharp and hot.

His hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt just enough for his fingers to brush your bare skin. Every touch, every kiss felt frantic, like he was trying to erase the fight, the tension, and every trace of doubt you’d left between you.

“George…” you managed, your voice breaking as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop, didn’t let you finish. His lips pressed harder against your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin in a way that made you gasp.

“Don’t,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick. “Don’t say anything right now.”

And so you didn’t. Instead, you let him keep going, the messy desperation between you spilling over as he kissed you like he needed you to understand exactly what he felt, whether or not he could find the words to say it.

George pinned your wrists to the sides of your head, his eyes blazing with a primal lust. Your arms landed on the soft sheets, your heart racing as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow across your trembling form.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "And I'm going to remind you of that."

With that, he took both your wrists in one hand, using the other to rip your shirt open, buttons flying across the room, exposing your breasts. His hands, rough and calloused, cupped your flesh, squeezing and kneading, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

"Oh, George..." you panted, your nipples hardening under his touch. "Please..."

He leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently. His free hand trailed down your stomach, fingers tracing the outline of your underwear, teasing the damp fabric.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot on your sensitive breasts. "Tell me, who makes you feel like this?"

"You do," you whispered, your voice scratchy. "Only you, George. No one else can make me feel this way."

His hand slipped into your underwear, his fingers finding your throbbing clit, circling it and pressing down. You bucked against his touch, your hips rising off the bed, seeking more of his touch.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Only I can make you come like this. Only I can fuck you."

As his fingers worked, you felt your orgasm building quicker than usual, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. Your body trembled, and you clutched at the sheets, desperate for release.

"Please, George..." you begged, your voice a mere whisper. "Make me come... I’m only yours."

George's fingers quickened their pace, his thumb pressing against your sensitivity. "Come for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want it."

The pleasure became unbearable, and with a cry, you climaxed, your body shaking every feeling of ecstasy washed over you. George's fingers continued their relentless touches, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

As your orgasm subsided, George withdrew his hand, leaving you breathless and worthless. He stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a possessive gleam.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for someone to fuck you," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, get on your knees, and show me how much you’re mine."

You didn't hesitate. You wanted to please him, to submit to his every desire. Slowly, you rose to your knees, your eyes locked on his, a silent promise to make him feel good.

George's cock, already hard and straining against his jeans, made your mouth water in desperation. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you unzipped his fly, eager to set it free. As his length sprang forth, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, his voice rough. "Show me how much of a slut you are for me."

You leaned forward, your lips parting to take him in. His thick cock filled your mouth, and you moaned around it, the taste and feel of him driving you wild. George's hands gripped your hair, guiding your movements, controlling the pace.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently as his tugged at your hair laced around his fingers. "Take it all, take me deep into your throat."

You obeyed, your mouth working faster as his commands spur you on, your tongue licking the slit on the top of his head, tasting his salty pre-cum. His hand moved from your hair to cradle your face in his large hand forcing you to look up at him through your eyelashes.

"You're such a good girl," he growled. "Make me come right down your throat."

You paused for a moment to take him out of your mouth letting his cock rest on your tongue. George's breathing became ragged, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a sure sign he was close to the edge. You wrapped your mouth around him once more, sucking eagerly as he thrusted aggressively into your wet mouth.

With a final, powerful motion, George came, his hot cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed proudly, savouring the taste of him. He held your head in place, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

As he withdrew, you looked up at him, your eyes shining with satisfaction as you licked your bottom lip of the last of him. George's face was that of pure love, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You look so beautiful," he confessed, his voice husky. "You’re mine, you know that, only mine my love."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: thank you so much to @arthurhillmastermind for all your help on this fic !!

[mixelation]

i want to post something so here's some async. takes place after minato ambushes tori in her hotel

it's little disjointed because some of the scene were written ages ago, and i definitely want to smooth over and flesh some of it out. also there's a [...] break which is where kushina tells minato he is an idiot in various ways and gives him advice. however i have not written it yet

xXx

Minato went home and collapsed onto his futon, a huge smile on his face. That had been fun. It was nice, to face off against someone when the fate of Konoha didn’t hang in the balance. Like, yes, Reina had come closer to killing him than anyone had since that incident with Kushina and the Kyuubi, but also if she’d succeeded, it wasn’t like he’d be losing ground for Konoha or something. Minato was good, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to think he was irreplaceable to Konoha. 

She didn’t even try to kill me, Minato thought, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. That’s progress, right?

He’d figured she’d definitely have something up her sleeve when he showed up again, which is why he’d gone in kunai first. He’d had no idea what that would be, and he’d been excited for the surprise. All the fuinjutsu he’d found from Reina was insane looking and unique to her. He’d had no way to predict how she thought or what she was even capable of. If he’d hesitated again this time, she would have had that barrier up around her before he’d be able to do anything about it, and then who knew what sort of things she’d be able to do from the safety of her little bubble. 

Maybe I should have let her try, Minato thought, his stomach doing a giddy little flip at the idea. That’s what a good friendly spar was about, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about winning. It was about testing yourself against someone else, and letting them test out their own techniques against you. 

Minato did like winning, though, especially when his opponent was someone he actually had to try against. He had felt good in the moment, to have seen her trap and snuck around it. 

But he’d… somehow, after reviewing what had happened in his head, he felt a little guilty. He remembered how fast Reina’s heartbeat had been the whole time he’d had her pinned, how she’d been distrustful even after he’d used his most people-pleaser voice to promise he didn’t want to hurt her. 

Had he scared her? Maybe. He hadn’t really thought about it, when it was happening. He’d just spent weeks thinking about her face, how confident she’d been in her own victory. He’d forgotten how nervous civilians were around ninja. He could barely wrap his head around the idea that someone like Reina might be just as nervous about ninja as the next civilian. 

He’d wanted to ask more questions about her… experiments, or whatever she was doing. But he could tell she was upset despite him using his most charming smile, and so he’d left her. 

Minato’s plan, then, was to give Reina a week or so to calm down while he ran a couple of missions. He’d stop by the Yamanaka flower shop and get some advice on what type of flower he could give to a young woman he wanted to be kindling a friendship with. He had never needed to know it for any of his roles as a shinobi, but Minato knew kunoichi all got trained in flower language, and so he’d often hear women complaining or gossiping about faux-pas their boyfriends made. He’d gotten his fairshare of bouquets from admirers and then had Kushina decode them for him, a flirty little game they used to play before… well. 

Minato had no idea if Reina would know anything about flowers, but he wanted something pretty without accidentally telling her I love you passionately forever please marry me also you smell bad or something. 

As the days passed, however, Minato couldn’t help but check in on where her Hiraishin moved. He gave markers to teammates all the time temporarily, and Jiraiya usually had one on him, but… 

It was kind of exciting, to know where Reina was. He had so many questions about her, about how she saw the world and where she was going. Being able to concentrate briefly and see that she’d moved a few kilometers gave him no answers, and yet made him feel like he was learning something about her. 

And then, before he could ask anyone about flowers, one day Minato realized that the mark he had attached to Reina hadn’t moved in a while. This wasn’t unusual. There were a lot of reasons someone wouldn’t move around a lot, like sleep or sitting around for some reason. But he’d checked in on her a couple times a day, and she hadn’t moved in a very long time. Even if she was hunched over a new seal to kill him for hours at a time, she’d at least get up and move around eventually. 

Could she maybe not move? Had she been captured? Minato, to his own surprise, found himself worried. She was his project. And she was deadly clever, but she was still just a soft little civilian. 

Minato teleported to the marker. Instead of dropping in on Reina, he found himself in the middle of the air. His own marker trembled in the wind in front of him. This wasn’t at all what he had expected. 

Gravity worked faster than his brain. Minato was falling. The ground was so, so far away. It took him a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and he was lucky he was so high in the air, because he had time to think to teleport again. 

Hirashin kept the user’s momentum. Minato crashed painfully into the ground, hundreds of kilometers away in a Fire Country forest. His arm slammed down to break his fall, and pain seared through him on impact. 

She fractured my arm, Minato thought dully, sitting on the ground and staring down at his injured arm. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood flooded with adrenaline. 

The marker he’d gone to was definitely the one he’d stuck on Reina, because he’d been monitoring her. He’d followed her path. But it… she’d somehow removed it from her body and stuck it to sealing paper, and then hung the paper over the cliff. He… he had no idea how she’d done that. It wasn’t supposed to be possible for other people to remove his markers. 

Usually when he teleported to a marker sight-unseen, he was better prepared for surprises. He normally would have reacted faster. But “floating in the middle of the air” had been so far out of what he thought was possible right up until that moment, that he’d simply been unable to process it. 

His stomach squeezed oddly, making his toes curl in his sandals. 

Minato teleported back to the marker. Because he knew what to expect this time, he was able to keep his wits about him. He took two milliseconds to assess the situation: the paper with the mark hung by a fishing line, which in turn hung from a scraggly tree that had the misfortune of growing out from a tiny outcrop of rocks on a cliffside. The fishing line was over a meter long; he had no chance of grabbing hold of the tree, and without something to propel him sideways, he had no way to make contact with the cliff and use chakra to stop his fall. 

Minato grabbed the paper out of the air and teleported back to the forest, all before he’d built up enough momentum to injure himself on the landing this time. 

[...]

It took him over a week to find Reina again, partially because he took a mission in the middle of his hunt. Curly hair wasn’t common, and people noticed young women traveling alone, so her movements through towns weren’t hard to track, but he did have to do a ton of interviews. 

He was slowed down briefly where she appeared to wander off down a little-used road and switch to camping. Minato was as good a tracker as the next jounin, but it wasn’t his specialty, and he sort of had to rewire his gut instincts to follow Reina. She wasn’t a ninja and she didn’t cover for herself the way a ninja would. She didn’t travel through trees, and her average speed was extremely low.

He didn’t approach her immediately when he found her in a tent set up a little ways off the road. He had, after all, promised her flowers. Flowers would also maybe soften the blow of her fury if she tried to kill him again… maybe. 

Did he want her to try killing him again? It did seem a bit exciting, but he also did truly want to just talk to her. 

Spring hadn’t quite hit the northern countries yet, but Minato knew things further south were likely to already be starting. He teleported through a few places deep in the southern Fire Country forests before he finally found a squat little tree, heavy with dark pink flowers. He pulled off a whole branch since, assuming he could charm Reina into not attempting to him again, he wanted to see her do something with its chakra, and more tree meant more chakra. They were azaleas, he was pretty sure. That seemed pretty safe and generic. 

Maybe she can help me with senjutsu, Minato thought absently, teleporting back to where he’d left a marker just outside of Reina’s camp. 

She did jump to her feet immediately when he stepped into the clearing. But there was no deadly trap, and she didn’t look upset. 

“Wow, you are persistent,” she said. “Did you actually bring me flowers?”

She stared at the branch in his hands, nonplussed. 

“You broke my arm,” Minato said brightly. 

Reina lifted the gaze from the flower to his face, her eyebrows raised. 

“Er, it’s okay,” Minato said. He shuffled his feet nervously. “I talked to my… female friend, and she pointed out that I probably shouldn’t have… marked you. If I wanted to be friends. Sorry.”

“...apology accepted,” Reina said slowly. “Sorry I tried to kill you again. Are those rhododendrons?”

She held out her hands, and Minato passed the branch over. 

“I think they’re azaleas?” Minato said.

“Rhododendrons are poisonous,” Reina said, a huge smile passing over her face as she turned the branch over in her hands. 

Cute, Minato thought, unbidden. This was followed by: Wait, what?

[phantomyre]

The venom in Sephiroth’s voice was anything but subtle. Sephiroth could lightly regard anyone else’s plight in favor of his own. And while others would have spurned it all in the name of calling Sephiroth a full-bred monster, Vincent could understand Sephiroth’s point of view to some degree. However, he also knew that what Sephiroth knew of the Turks was only from the viewpoint of someone who had no understanding of kindness, of sympathy, a conscience, or simply moral dilemma. One couldn’t have a set of morals without an opposing side to compare it with. There was no point in correcting Sephiroth’s opinions in that respect.

“I cannot speak for the other departments. But as a Turk, the only way to leave Shinra is death. To defy ones orders could also lead to the same punishment.” The Turks were like walking secret databases. They were a huge liability to the company. The only free Turk was a dead Turk. Once a Turk, always a Turk.

Perhaps to Sephiroth, death was indeed a choice. But for mortals, it was the end of everything. Yet knowing this, Vincent had chosen to defy Hojo. He should have been dead. But instead, he had received an even worse punishment. Neither of them had the choice of becoming a monster. But unlike Sephiroth, Vincent did have a choice stepping into Shinra and submitting himself as a permanent employee of Shinra. He had a choice to become complacent and allow Hojo to work unsullied. He would have probably been high up in the ranks, and still be human, well respected within Shinra as head of the Turks. But now he was a killing machine, Sephiroth was a monster, and Lucrecia’s existence hung in the balance. If death could be considered a choice, then technically Sephiroth was correct. Knowing what Vincent knew of the Jenova cells, death was a luxury to even Sephiroth. The man was indeed a prisoner to the inevitable. It was tragic… something Sephiroth was quick to remind Vincent about. What was more blood on top of blood already spilled?

Vincent knew there was little he could do to explain the reasoning behind his motivation to spare the life of another. A soft glare crossed over Vincent’s face as Sephiroth trivialized his past murders. At this point, he couldn’t tell if it was Sephiroth or Jenova trying to worm their way under his nerves. Either way, he could feel a trap once again being laid. It was just a ploy to get him to do even more killings. “…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?” Sephiroth had killed more than all the Turks combined. He was the most feared being in the entire planet, outside of Jenova. While one could argue Sephiroth had committed the greater evil, the flip-side could also be stated that Sephiroth saw himself as a savior. The Turks were ‘just doing their job’. Sephiroth was ‘just doing what Jenova wanted’. The sharp gaze from Sephiroth didn’t visually affect Vincent, but he felt it very keenly all the same. It was fleeting, but that response was coming from the depths of a hurt boy buried long ago. As Sephiroth drew his gaze upward, his second comment caught Vincent a bit off guard. Was Sephiroth admitting he had wished he had perished those many years ago…? Vincent wouldn’t have doubted such a dark thought had crossed his mind. It had certainly been one of his own wishes as well. The question made the gunslinger grimace and look away, diverting his gaze towards some of the gaping caverns where the winds were swirling. He wasn’t any better than Sephiroth. But at least he had something to anchor his sanity onto-- For now at least. He was merely a step away from becoming no different. “To kill the son of the woman who loved him” Vincent spoke more to himself than to Sephiroth, his fist tensing slightly at his side. "Or to let him live, knowing he would suffer." The guilt-laden gunslinger lifted his eyes, finally meeting Sephiroth's dagger-like gaze; his own eyes reflecting something akin to sympathy and less malice. "You were robbed of a normal life, yes." "...But should I have deprived you of a chance to live, as well?"

The night wore on, and as the two made there way up the mountains through the snow, morning had begun to break, eventually casting a light glow over the land. However, it didn't give off its usual warmth. Even the sun's warmth was in competition with the impending terror that was wading through the snow and towards the Whirling Maze. Even the planet itself seemed to tremble the closer Sephiroth and Vincent approached their destination. It seemed all but certain the planet would meet its demise. Vincent could feel the planet's pulse grow stronger, tugging at his chest as if begging him not to move further. But if he were to spare the lives of those he cared about, he had no choice but to follow the planet's most feared enemy, knowing he was also now an accomplice.

All the while, neither of them spoke a word even though both were hyper aware of one another's presence. One was tirelessly hastening towards his goal with reckless abandon, while the other was feeling the weight of every footstep getting heavier, and more blood stained the closer their destination became. Vincent's mind was trying to puzzle the pieces together, contemplating what all would befall Cloud and the others once they did meet up.

No matter how one could spin it, the fact that Vincent was now serving as a protector of Cloud's and the planet's worst enemy, not to mention his friend's murderer... it spelled betrayal on a level that would have put Cait Sith aka Reeve to shame. If the entire party turned against him, so be it. Perhaps it would be better in the long run for their sake. Vincent had sworn to never get close to anyone again. But here he was worrying about the bond he had with his friends, especially Cloud-- the fragility of life, friendship, and forgiveness. If things went exactly the way Sephiroth and Jenova intended, Vincent would lose them all, including Lucrecia. Even if they managed to defeat Sephiroth and Jenova, the planet was already on the verge of death. Sephiroth was merely enabling and hastening the inevitable. And once the planet had had enough, he would still be left alone, and Lucrecia's spirit would be lost to the abyss along with every other soul Vincent had ever cared about. So why was he going through with this...?

At this time, the snow had all but vanished, being exchanged for some more harsh winds that threatened to cast off any and all over the depths of the canyon. No sane individual would cross such a dangerous path. The essence of death was growing stronger from within the caverns of the Maze, indicating to Vincent that several had made this place their resting place. He could already tell it would soon become a tomb for countless hooded figures, should they dare to venture further in pursuit of Sephiroth.

Vincent's thoughts were diverted once he heard Sephiroth's voice, guiding his attention to the large edifices and winding path before them. Though he had never ventured into this place before, Sephiroth’s words told him everything he needed to know when it came to how close their destination was. The sinking feeling was more keen than ever.

Vincent watched as Sephiroth turned towards him, crimson and mako colors clashing in a brief moment of mild confusion. The question wasn't exactly surprising. But the genuine curiosity got Vincent's attention more than the question itself. Why did Sephiroth care? Was this just a ploy to pull out any weakness from the gunslinger? Or was Sephiroth actually curious about what made Vincent a sympathizer instead of a cold-blooded murderer?

For a moment, Vincent stared at Sephiroth, a hint of surprise in his eyes before he decided to answer. "Not all who bear the mark of Shinra are mindless killers. Humans aren't that simple." Vincent began, looking off the side to look at the canyons around them, or perhaps he was sparing himself Sephiroth's gaze. "Sometimes... they don't have a choice when it comes to committing atrocities. Just like when you didn't have a choice to become what you are today." Perhaps Sephiroth could understand that much, but even then, Vincent knew it would have been ludicrace to hope for Sephiroth to have any sympathy for humans at this point.

"If I didn't spare them, then it would be easier to take the lives of many more." In essence, he would become numb to killing. He furrowed his brow and shut his eyes for a moment, keeping some thoughts to himself, the wind tossing his hair and cloak in a chilling breeze.

A moment later, he lifted his head and allowed their eyes to join once again, a slight hint of determination in his gaze. "...and should I fail to quell the beast inside, I would become no different... than you."

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You reunite with the Autobots and decide to become an official member of their team.

Warnings: none, except Ratchet being the angry worried grandpa.

Chapter 20 (Final)

-------------------------------------------

After calling in the Autobots and asking for a ground bridge, you drove through the vortex and arrived at the welcoming sight of the bots and the kids. You stopped to let Emily out before transforming and removing the face plate. The kids ran down the steps to greet her. “Emily!” Miko and Raf hugged her, making her smile and hug them back. 

“Hey! Kids! I wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” Emily asked. 

“It’s really good to see you okay. We were dead worried about you,” Jack said. “The cons didn’t hurt you did they?” he asked. 

“Nah. I was hiding most of the time. I only got a couple of bruises from falling from high places but nothing serious,” Emily assured. 

Ratchet then stepped toward you and grabbed your shoulders. “What were you thinking?! Following the cons to their ship on your own! You are lucky to have come back at all!” he shook you, startling you. 

“Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if you got caught?!” he yelled at your face. 

You recovered from the sudden shaking and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. I wasn’t really thinking when I followed the cons, but I don’t regret doing it. I couldn't just stand there and let the cons take her, especially when it was Airachnid who took her. It’s a good thing I did because she intended to do something horrible to Emily,” you explained calmly. 

“Yeah, she wanted to dissect me and put me in a tube,” Emily backed you. 

“So… considering that. It was a good thing that I followed them. She wouldn’t most likely be here if I didn’t,” you added. 

Optimus placed his hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Seeing them both return safely. I believe this is the best outcome we could have hoped for. (Name) had a reasonable cause to follow the Decepticons and now she had managed to return Emily and herself with no severe harm done to them,” he said. 

Ratchet relaxed under his words. “Very well. It’s good to see you both back,” Ratchet patted your shoulder. “But do not think you will be leaving the base anytime soon,” he said with a serious tone before releasing your shoulders from his death-like grip. 

You smiled. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you said as he returned to the main computer. 

“If I can ask, how did you escape the Nemesis?” Arcee asked. 

“It…. “ You tried to think how to explain it. “It was in the heat of a moment. When Em was captured again, I caused a diversion with the drills, shocked their medic unconscious with the shock rod thing, and then hid Emily in my chest, and then I used their ground bridge console to bridge us to a random location,” you explained. 

“Oh, don’t forget how you used the Holly to make them follow the hologram you into a different location before trapping them there and then using the ground bridge yourself,” Emily added. 

“Yeah… the Vehicons were a bit close so I used the first ground bridge to make them follow my hologram before closing the bridge and then using a different bridge to bridge myself out of there,” you explained. “I managed to blend in with the walls, so they didn’t notice the real me,” you added. 

“You got the Holly to work more accurately?” Raf asked. 

“Yeah. The ship was full of vehicons with a similar face. It was an opportunity I took,” you replied. 

“Show me,” he said. 

You activated the Holly. The device then created a perfect replicate of you standing next to you. You waved your hand and it followed your motion. 

“Woah!” the kids said in marvel before you turned off the Holly, making the hologram disappear. 

“That’s so cool. You were like twins,” Miko remarked. 

“Yeah. However, I do not think the cons will fall for that the second time if we ever meet again,” you crossed your arms. “They might also be aware of my existence now,” you added. 

“Taken the circumstances it might have been inevitable. However, you should be safe as long as you decide to stay in the base,” Optimus said. 

“I think I will be staying at the base for now. That was way too much excitement for my taste,” you stated. 

“Well, it was not a useless trip. While I was hiding in the vents, I decided to take the chance to do some recon and managed to capture a lot of pictures of Nemesis” Emily said as she took out the memory card from her camera. She then handed the card to Raf who then inserted it into the slot in his computer. His computer then connected to the main monitor, showing pictures of different parts of the Decepticon warship. “From those pictures, we could construct a map of the Nemesis, so we know where to go in case we have to make another visit for some other purpose,” she explained. 

Then came the picture with you and the datapad you asked her to take. 

“Oh, there was this picture (Name) asked to take. The content of that datapad seemed important so I took a few,” Emily explained. 

“Those are locations of energon mines,” Ratchet explained as he zoomed in. “A few of those are active while some of them are unconfirmed energon veins,” he added.

“Seems like you were on the right track (Name),” Emily smiled toward you. 

“Well, It seemed important because I read ‘mine’ and ‘energon.’” you explained. 

“This could actually work out in our favor taking our depleting energon supply,” Ratchet said with genuine surprise. 

Bulkhead laughed. “Seems like (Name) hit a jackpot for us!” he said, giving you a rough pat on the back. You smiled, slightly flustered. 

You then remembered what Steve said about dark energon and the prophecy that was supposedly occurring soon. 

“That’s not all. “ You started. “When I blend in among the vehicons. I came across something that mentioned dark energon, and when I asked about it, they told me about this prophecy that said something about Unicron and his awakening. Do you know something about that Optimus?” you asked. 

Optimus was quiet at first, thinking what you said. 

“Like who is Unicron? I recall hearing that name before,” you asked. 

“Unicron is the opposite deity compared to Primus. He is the harbinger of chaos and destruction while Primus is the giver of life. He was defeated by the thirteen original primes and cast out from Cybertron,” Optimus explained. 

“So, he’s like… your version of a satan?” you asked. 

“Correct. And the prophecy you mention tells about the planetary alignment though how it involves Unicron and his awakening I do not know,” Optimus said. 

“Should we be concerned about that?” you asked. 

“Perhaps in time, the prophecy will become clearer. For now, let us rejoice in your and Emily’s safe return,” he said. 

You nodded. 

Bumblebee beeped, saying something you didn’t understand. 

“Bee’s right. You have a lot of guts and brought back more to us than yourself and Emily,” Bulkhead said. 

“You know you have what it takes to be an Autobot,” Arcee added. 

“About that… “ you said and they looked at you. “I thought about it and… I would like to join you guys officially,” you said. 

“Really?” Bulkhead asked. 

“Yeah. I mean the Decepticons are an active threat and Earth is my home. I can’t stand idly by if they threaten the people I care about. So, I would like to contribute even just a little. I’m also not good at doing nothing when there’s something I can do,” You explained. “So… would it be alright for you guys if I became a member of your team?” you asked. 

“Absolutely!” Bulkhead slapped your shoulder enthusiastically. 

Bee whirled something but it sounded approving. 

“Fine by me. We could use an extra hand,” Arcee said with a rare smile. 

You then looked toward Optimus. “Is this truly what you wish?” he asked. 

“Yes, Optimus,” you nodded. 

“Then we would be honored to have you (Name),” he smiled. 

“Awesome!” Miko yelled. “But now, we need to do you a complete makeover. Time to give up the vehicon look,” she said. 

You glanced at Emily and you two shrugged with a smile. 

With a few tips from the bots, you left the base with Emily and Miko to scan yourself a new vehicle mode. It took a while but you found a car model you preferred and scanned yourself a new paint job in colors you liked. There were still some similarities you shared with the vehicons, but now you were designed in your own image. With the Autobot symbol on your chest, you glanced at Emily and Miko who gave you thumbs up for your new look. You then transformed, allowing them to step in, and drove back to base, officially starting your new life as an Autobot. 

[sarcasticallyexplicit11]

The Curtis parents were buried on a cold, rainy day in January; the weather outside perfectly matching the emotions of the East side. The house was quiet, far quieter than it had been in 13 years. 

The kitchen table where Darry was covered in paperwork: bills, custody papers, deeds, more bills. Steve and Soda were curled up on the recliner, Soda’s head laying on Steve’s shoulder while he whispers to Soda about something no one else could hear. Ponyboy, Dally, and Johnny sit together on the couch, silent tears rolling down Pony’s face and Johnny running his fingers through his hair. Dally sat with his arm around Johnny’s shoulder, the unoccupied hand twirling his switchblade. 

They had all been like this since the funeral, no one saying much of anything to anyone. “He hasn’t cried,” Ponyboy whispered. Johnny and Dally looked at him in confusion, confused by the suddenness of the statement. They knew exactly who he was talking about without having to ask. Darry had been a rock at the funeral. He handled the arrangements, held his brothers while they cried, gave the eulogy, and spoke with the distant relatives who decided to show up. And he did all of it without shedding a single tear. “He ain’t said nothing but I know he’s hurtin’, he’s gotta be,” Pony says before burying his face in Johnny’s chest and beginning to sob. 

Soda hadn’t said a word since they got back from the cemetery. Hell, he’d barely said anything while they were there. He only talked to Steve and his brothers, no one else. Steve looked at him and pinched his brows together in worry. A quiet Sodapop was never good. Steve could almost see the gears in his head turning, like there were words trapped in his mind that just wouldn’t come out. Soda buried his head farther into Steve’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “What’s on your mind,” Steve asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer. The question just came tumbling out of his mouth. Steve felt hot tears on his neck, Soda’s body shaking from crying. “Shhhhh bud, I gotcha.” 

Darry wanted to get up and comfort his brothers. He wanted to wrap them up in his arms and tell them it would be okay. No matter how much he craved holding them tight, it was like he couldn’t get his legs to work. His brain knew what he needed, his body just would not cooperate. All he could do was stare at the papers in front of him, none finished. Looking at the clock, Darry took a deep breath and stood up for the first time since they’d gotten back to the house. “I-I’m gonna start on dinner,” he murmured to himself. No one in the living room acknowledged him, but both Soda and Pony heard the waver in his voice, the uncertainty that filled his mind.

Before he could open the fridge, the front door creaked open and Two-Bit’s whistle came through it. The boys in the living room look up and Soda smiles a bit, for the first time since their parents died. “Heya Two,” said Soda without moving his head off Steve’s shoulder. 

Two-Bit walked behind the couch and ruffled Pony’s hair, who ducked his head to get out of the way. “Hey y’all,” Two replied, “my mom made lasagna for us so that you don’t gotta cook Dar.” 

Darry froze in his spot in the kitchen. He sucked in a deep breath and promptly collapsed onto the floor in tears. Everyone stared at him in shock, unsure of what they were supposed to do. The shock took a second to wear off. When it did, both Soda and Pony lept out of their seats and were at their big brother’s side before anyone could blink. “I’m sorry, God I’m so sorry,” Darry stammers, tears streaming down his face. No one says anything, everyone afraid of making a move in case they disturb the rare vulnerability of the gang's eldest. 

Two-Bit sets the food on the kitchen table and drops down on one knee in front of Darry. “I didn’t know a bit of Italian would make ya cry Muscles,” he states from his spot on the floor. Darry chuckles a little bit, then leans further into Soda’s shoulder. Darry continued to murmur a mixture of I’m sorry’s and other apologies while Soda and Ponyboy held onto him. 

The only sounds heard throughout the house were Darry’s sniffles and the quiet shuffling of the boys in the living room, unsure of what they should do. Neither Pony nor Soda dared to move to make sure Darry takes the time he needs to get all of his emotions out. Dally, Steve, and Johnny begin to make their way into the kitchen, all of them settling somewhere on the floor near Darry. 

After what feels like hours, Darry’s tears finally stop. He swipes at his eyes and says, “Glory y’all I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve broke down like that.” 

Two-Bit shakes his head, putting a hand on Darry’s knee. Soda wraps his arm around Darry’s shoulder and squeezes it. “You don’t gotta apologize, you don’t gotta be strong all the time,” Soda replies as he tugs Darry closer to his body. Darry fought the urge to disagree with him. He had to be strong, he had to be. Someone had to pay the bills and take care of the gang. Someone has to keep the lights on and food on the table. Darry had no choice but to be strong for everyone. 

They stayed on the floor together until Dally stood up to stretch his legs. “Alright, some of y’all,” Dally says pointedly at the Curtis brothers, Darry in particular, “haven’t eaten all day. And I happen to know Pony here gets cranky so let’s eat.” Pony gets up and shoves Dally with his shoulder, who just wraps an arm around him and laughs. The gang get up, Darry grabbing plates and silverware while Two opens up the dish. 

Everyone gathers at the kitchen table, with Steve hopped up on the counter eating his plate. Darry takes a seat at the head of the table, smiling now that he knew everyone was in the house, fed and safe. 

[ohmydiva]

#in this universe too, pt 1

synopsis . . . based on act 3 episode 9, ekko saves jinx and basically what could have happened during the timeskip, before the war between noxus and p&z.

words count . . . 2,257.

“i learned from someone very special,” he said softly, “that no matter what happened in the past—”

curiosity sparked in her, though not enough to make her pull her finger away from the trigger of the bomb. it was enough to make her blink, the effort almost foreign, as if her body had forgotten how to react to the simplest things.

“... it’s never too late to build something new.”

her gaze stayed locked on him, her lips twitching. a faint, almost imperceptible scoff tugged at her mouth, but she swallowed it down, too tired to entertain the thought of mocking him.

"wow, deep. are you writing fortune cookies now ?" was what she wanted to say, but her words stayed trapped behind her tired eyes.

her gaze flickered to the boy’s side, where something unfamiliar caught her attention. she glanced down at his new accessory.

a bag ? no, not really. it had small windows glowing faintly blue. inside, a shimmering ball floated in the center, casting a soft light that danced along the edges of the bag like a miniature sun.

but that wasn’t what made her breath hitch. it was the toys—those monkeys toys. the tiny, plastic remnants of her childhood, lined up like little soldiers inside this impossible machine. her breath hitched—those weren’t just any toys; they were unmistakably hers. indeed, they were perfect replicas, or maybe they were the real ones, somehow stolen from her.

what is that ? what’s his deal ?

he noticed her reaction, glancing down at his new invention before looking back at her.

eager to know more but not quite ready to move, the blue haired girl’s eyes scanned the boy, studying him. he looked like he’d just wrestled a tornado and lost. dirt smeared across his clothes and the blood marking the crease of his forehead caught her attention the most. then, his shoes, untied and dragging on the floor, looked as defeated as he felt. he was a mess. a total mess.

what did he get himself into ?—fuck it. just pull the trigger. the thought flickered through her mind, distant, automatic. who cares what this wannabe rebellion leader has to say ?

but something about the way he looked at her, all wide eyes and desperation, made her pause. like he knew. like he’d seen something she hadn’t.

say it.

he fumbled for words, relief flooding him despite knowing the situation wasn’t won yet. this was his best shot—he had to get it right, had to keep her attention. he couldn’t let her pull that trigger. couldn’t let her give up on herself.

fuck it, what do i say now ?

her finger twitched, the small movement betraying her desire for him to say something—anything—that could pull her back from the edge. she wanted to be saved. she wanted him to save her.

“what—what’s even preventing you from trying?” he asked, voice stumbling but earnest.

i’ve tried too many times, she thought, but the words stayed buried, tangled in the fog of her mind.

“look—” he cut through her thoughts, his words tumbling over each other while his eyes were wide, almost pleading. “i, too, think of the past, but i—i don’t let those memories control my future ! i have my part to play too—”

she blinked, but the words blurred into nothingness, her eyelids heavy as if she could no longer hold them open. the sound of his voice faded into the background, like white noise.

shit. she’s bored.

“everything that i’ve done, the firelights, that tree—i mean, just staying alive, i did it for everyone !” the boy’s voice cracked as he spoke louder now, desperation growing in his words with his hands moving in the air aggressively.

her eyes flicked to his hands, frantic in their movements. then back to him, her brow twitching with frustration.

say more.

“for… benzo, and for—” he hesitated, a sudden awareness dawning the boys stopped mid sentence, mentally slapping himself. he’d almost named the dead—her family. he didn’t want to tread on that raw ground, didn’t want to accidentally make it worse. but now it felt like he was suffocating in the silence between them.

her sigh broke the moment.

it wasn’t like she wanted to be interested—she lied to herself—it just ... happened. something about his words had a way of slipping past her defenses. no. it’s not like he knew exactly which threads to tug to make her listen. on the contrary, she still found the boy pretty cheesy … but that was probably it. it’s the boy, her old friend—her childhood crush—, not just his words.

she hated how easily he drew her in. yet, somehow, she also felt relieved.

“i did it for you too,” he added, his voice soft but steady.

how cringe.

her gaze lingered, her eyes tracing his gestures as if trying to piece together the puzzle of his sincerity.

she saw it then : his hand, cautiously extending toward her, palm up and fingers looking steady inside his thick glove.

her breath caught as the scene felt painfully familiar.

it was a quiet offering, no words attached, just a simple motion that carried more meaning than he realized. the light was different, the faces older, but the moment was the same. the memory hit like a punch, the scene overlapped in her mind, the past bleeding into the present : the same hand, years ago, reaching for her, trembling with unspoken words she hadn’t been ready to hear. she’d refused it then. turned her back. walked away to stay with silco.

she lifted her head, bringing her gaze back to his.

“last time i refused to take your hand, things didn’t end well, huh” she muttered, her voice tight.

taking my hand ?

she was mistaken. his hand had been outstretched not to pull her in, but to pull the danger away. to take the bomb, the burden from her hands before it consumed them both, again.

it was an awful realization—the kind that scraped against his chest and squeezed his lungs.

he chuckled, trying to ease the tension, his voice soft and playful. “so … you gonna let the boy-savior save you this time ?”

a short laugh escaped her—sharp, breathy—as she shook her head.

she reached for his hand, the bomb still in her grasp, before allowing the boy to wrap his hand around hers, instinctively pulling her closer before he could second-guess himself.

shit. too close.

their eyes met, the awkwardness hung in the air, thick and palpable, as if he’d made the wrong move, but couldn’t take it back now.

the proximity felt too much, too soon, and yet—there was something strangely comforting about it. neither of them spoke, the silence settling over them as their smiles faded. it was a closeness they hadn’t expected, and yet there was something oddly comforting about it.

panicked, the boy looked down at the bomb, still clutched in her other hand. he reached for it, giving her one last glance, a silent plea to let go. to let him take it from here.

slowly, she relented, handing him the bomb with a familiar pout curving on her lips.

“just, spin its head and take it off” she instructed, her voice slowly regaining its raspiness. he didn’t hesitate, the boy did so immediately, letting go of her hand.

now ?

he glanced around. the boy eventually walked away, inviting her toward her desk. every step was careful, like they were walking on fragile ground that might crack beneath them while the atmosphere was still pretty awkward.

"you know," he started, his voice nervous, but sincere. “something crazy happened to me ... you won’t believe it.” he caught her eye for a second, then quickly looked away, the tension still palpable.

“oh yeah, what kind of crazy, ekko ?” she smirked, her voice teasing, as though mocking the awkwardness between them. her tone had finally returned to that familiar rasp, distancing herself from the vulnerability she’d just shown.

ekko’s eyes lit up.

for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to dream and maybe, the friendship—and little romance—he enjoyed with jinx in an alternative universe, could still happen in this one.

[tamwritesstuff]

for the last couple of days, all i could think about was how lucanis would react to rook getting trapped in the fade prison so of course i needed to write a fic about that. here's a little snippet of it!

Lucanis had known they were doomed since the beginning. After all, what chance did any of them have of defeating ancient elven mages? And yet, fool that he was, as time passed he had let himself believe in the team, in her. He should’ve known better. Memories of Tearstone Island come to him in bits and pieces. Some are hazy, slightly blurred at the edges, like his mind was too anxious to focus on anything else that wasn’t the fight ahead of them. Others are more solid, the horrors they encountered burned into his mind forever. If he closes his eyes he can still feel the desperation imprinted in every memory, the fear and anguish. Death, hanging over them like a shadow. Magic in the air, a red sky, the sound of Antaam’s war drums. Harding’s voice, whatever it takes. The feel of his feet hitting the ground as they raced to stop the ritual. Spite’s voice in his head urging him on. Rook’s eyes meeting his as she gave him the lyrium dagger. The relief as he pierced Ghilan’nain’chest with it and then — (He can’t think of what came next without grief choking him) — then Rook pulled the dagger from Ghilan’nain’s body and vanished. Lucanis stared with unseeing eyes, time slowing to a crawl. He blinked once, twice, heart beating loudly in his ears. He stood there, paralysed, arms outstretched out to her, her name stuck on his throat. “Rook?” he said, hating how shaky his voice sounded, how lost. The others didn’t take long to reach him and then Taash was yelling and Emmrich was frantically moving his hands, magic swirling around them while Lucanis could only watch, shock morphing into fear. “Lucanis” Davrin said putting a hand on his shoulder. He would’ve appreciated the gesture if he could think of anything else besides the fact that the woman he loved had just vanished before his very eyes. His breaths were coming more quickly and he had to clenched his hands hard enough to hurt to bring himself under control. “Lucanis” Davrin said again, more firmly. “Bring her back” Emmrich’s expression was pained, “I’m trying to—” Spite’s fury couldn’t be contained any longer. “BRING. HER. BACK. NOW”

[sweetdreamz2]

Entangled Bonds - S. Gojo x S. Geto

synopsis: caught between two powerful sorcerers, you find yourself trapped in a dangerous and controlling relationship.

pairings: yandere! S. Gojo x S. Geto x f! reader

word count: 1.8k

content: MDNI!! kidnapped reader, coercion, emotional abuse, slight signs of reader exhibiting stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation

You were seated on the couch, unmoving while your trembling fingers nervously played with the hem of your shirt —well, not your shirt but one of Satoru's —ending at your thighs. 

The oppressive silence in the room was putting you on edge, but alas that was broken only by the faint rustling of fabric as Suguru shifted by the window. His posture was firm, arms crossed against his chest tightly, and his gaze was anything but soft. It was sharp, unrelenting as his dark orbs slowly flickered towards you. 

It wasn’t always like this—at least, not in the beginning. You never expected that meeting Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto would upend your life in ways where you could never break free. 

You met them years ago, though for you it felt like another lifetime. At the time, you were but an apprentice—a healer specializing in rare techniques that’s been passed down for generations in your family. Your days were reticent as you spent most of your time treating small ailments alongside learning how to channel energy into restorative power. It wasn’t glamorous, but you were content with your life and it was yours. 

Then Satoru Gojo walked into your clinic. 

There was no way you could miss him—the towering man with snowy white hair, dressed in black from head to toe, a white blindfold hiding what you later discovered were piercing, unnervingly beautiful eyes. He was injured, but he waved it off like nothing and instead flashed a lopsided grin towards your direction.

“Looks worse than it is,” he spoke casually, his frame leaning against the doorframe as blood drenched the side of his uniform.

You merely blinked, taking in his flippant attitude and the faint sparkle of power that radiated off him like heat. 

“Keep walking around like that and you’ll eventually bleed out,” you retorted all the while reaching for your supplies.

Satoru smirked. “Oh? You’re worried about me already? We just met.” His tone was full of teasing.

At his reply, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, not bothering to answer him and motioning with your pointer finger for him to sit down. He sighed dramatically, dragging himself to the nearest chair as if it were an incredible effort.

You began to clean and patch up his wound until you found yourself distracted by the strange energy he carried, your movements halting. You could tell he’s a sorcerer, but he was unlike any you’ve encountered before. The power he was exuding was overwhelming, suffocating even, but he carried it effortlessly, as if the weight of it didn’t bother him the slightest. 

“You’ve got steady hands,” he said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, though his words made your cheeks heat.

“I have to,” you replied back softly, shaking your head to gather your thoughts to focus back on your work. “Healing can be tricky and isn’t forgiving of mistakes.”

The white haired male tilted his head as if studying you. “A perfectionist, huh? I like that. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, reluctant to share anything personal, but his disarming smile made it hard to resist. You finally told him your name, your orbs focusing on his wound —or what’s left of it. 

“Well, Y/N,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

After you finished treating Satoru, another man stepped through the clinic door - Suguru Geto. His presence was the opposite of Satoru’s; where Satoru was loud and attention-seeking, Suguru was quiet and composed.

“Making a mess already, Satoru?” Suguru’s tone was dry while he glanced at the blood-soaked chair. 

“It’s not my fault she’s got a cozy little place here. Can’t blame me for wanting to stick around!”

You looked between the two, confused yet slightly uneasy. They were a strange pair, both carrying an aura of danger you couldn’t ignore.

“You should be more careful,” you said, addressing the two males. “I don’t know who—or what— you’ve been fighting, but it’s reckless to be out and about in this condition.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his lips slowly stretching into the faintest smile.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue for a healer.” 

You narrowed your eyes, shooting a small glare. “It’s called common sense,” you retorted, though your voice wavered slightly under his intense gaze.

From that moment, your life began to intertwine with theirs. They returned to your clinic again and again and again, sometimes injured or sometimes just stopping by for the heck of it. Satoru always teased, pushed at your boundaries, while Suguru observed quietly, his eyes never missing a thing. You weren’t sure why they’ve taken such an interest in you, but you couldn't deny the pull you felt towards them despite how dangerous it felt.

-

Now, years later, you were tapped in their web, your once - peaceful life a distant memory as you were brought back to reality by a voice.

Suguru’s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and cold. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you? Do you think this is some game? That you can do whatever you want and we’ll just overlook it?”

Your stomach churned at his tone. It wasn’t the first time he’s spoken to you like this, but each time it sent a pang of guilt right through your chest. You remembered the soft smiles, the promises they made about protecting you, and how you once thought there might be a way out. But you knew better.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Sugu. I just thought—”

He interrupted you sharply. “Thought?” 

Suguru took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing. “You thought stepping outside, exposing yourself to god-knows-who, was a good idea? Do you realize what could’ve happened? Or do you not care?”

You shut your eyes, flinching at his words as you felt your heart sank. You didn’t want to make him angry— didn’t want to make either of them upset. You didn’t mean to disobey them, you just wanted some space.

“I do care,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I really do. I just.. I didn’t think it would—”

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think.” He snapped, his tone growing harsher. His dark eyes bore deeply into yours, disappointment and anger twisting the knife of guilt even deeper. 

“After everything we’ve done to protect you, this is how you repay us? By being reckless?”

“No, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Stop.” Suguru interjected, his voice colder now. “No more excuses.” His fingers dug into his forearms, and his face remained unreadable, but the distance between the two of you felt like an ocean.

“You should know how dangerous the outside world is, Y/N. You’ve been with us long enough to understand the stakes.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you instinctively reached out towards him, desperately trying to calm the storm you unleashed unintentionally.

“Suguru.. I’m sorry. I really am. Please, I—”

“Enough.” Once again you were shut down, his voice like a wall slamming down between you.

Your throat tightened as you dropped your gaze to your lap, the heavy weight of guilt eating you alive. You felt like a child being scolded by their parents. You never intended to disappoint Suguru or Satoru. All you wanted was space, air to breathe again, but now you felt like you were suffocating.

Satoru, who was sitting quietly from the other side of the living room, finally spoke up. “Whoa, whoa, hey, let’s not make this more dramatic than it needs to be.” His voice was soft and light, though it held an undertone of seriousness. 

He stood up from the chair, sauntering over and stepping between you and Suguru with ease. Crouching in front of you, he tilted his head to catch your downcast eyes. 

“You’re scaring her, Suguru. You know how sensitive she gets when you use that tone.” Satoru spoke while a small frown tugged at his lips, giving a look towards the other male. 

Suguru kept quiet for a moment, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while rolling his eyes at the comment. 

“She should be scared. Maybe then she’ll finally start thinking before putting herself in danger. It’s not about coddling her, Satoru.” He finished off, his jaw tightening as his dark orbs flickered briefly over towards you.

For a moment, there seemed to be something unreadable in his gaze— frustration mixed with something softer, but it disappeared almost instantly.

You glanced at Satoru, seeing a smile replace the frown from earlier as his hand gripped your thigh gently underneath his fingertips. The touch was soft and gentle, his fingers squeezing your skin ever so often in a way to comfort you. 

“Toru.. I didn’t want to make him upset. I didn’t want to upset either of you. I just.. just needed a bit of space. I thought… maybe I could have a few moments of normality.” Your voice trembled slightly, tears beginning to stream freely down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Satoru softened slightly as his hand reached out to brush away your tears. 

“You don’t need to apologize for wanting some space, sweetheart. We get it, really. But next time, let us know, alright? No more running off and getting into trouble. We just worry about you.” His words were playful, though it held an underlying seriousness that made your chest tighten.

You gave a weak nod, but the guilt still lingered. Suguru’s disappointment was still evident, and despite the reassurance from Satoru, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you only made things worse.

Suguru’s gaze hasn’t left your form, still as unyielding as ever, but a subtle change flickered in his eyes.

“You can’t keep doing this, baby. We’re here to protect you, but you have to let us. It’s our responsibility to keep you safe. You belong with us.” Suguru’s voice was calmer, yet firm as he stepped closer towards you and Satoru.

You glanced between them, heart torn in two. Satoru’s words felt like a balm—comforting, reassuring— but Suguru’s felt more like a chain, tying you down tighter with every passing moment. They were right, and that’s what hurt the most. You never really gave much thought about how much danger you could be in, how much they had already given to keep you safe.

“I’m… not sure if I can do this,” you whispered.

Satoru reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry. We’ve got you. We promise you’ll never be alone.”

You closed your eyes at his warmth, though guilt still lingered deep within you. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, though it was more to yourself than to them. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.”

Suguru’s gaze softened just enough to let you catch a glimpse of the concern buried beneath his stern exterior. He sits down next to you, reaching out to grab your hand in his and squeezes softly.

“I’m only angry because I care, Y/N. We both do,” he finishes off while Satoru leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your temple.

You closed your eyes, the weight of their words pressing down on you like a chain you could never break.

[superbat-lmao]

Damian would kill him if Jason ever told him this story.

He’d seen the kid bringing Titus in from a walk, a long scratch down the side of the dogs side. They were in a hurry for Damian to patch the injury and he overheard the brat asking Alfred if he could set up motion detectors for different types of animals. Like say, raccoons.

So Titus had a nasty run in with a raccoon and Jason had a jogged memory about something he hadn’t thought of in years.

He was avoiding the brat and the dog now because the image wouldn’t leave his head. Like a scratched record it kept playing behind his eyes, the needle trapped in one phrase of the song.

It had been 7 months into his stint living on the streets. He’d been testing out sleeping in warehouses and abandoned buildings, finally having the nerve to trespass vertically and inhabit the rafters.

He’d taken his belt and looped it around on of the supports he’d decided to sleep on. It wasn’t every protected, but it required you to walk across a narrow beam to reach him. Most adults would have lost their footing.

He’d woken up to loud shouts beneath him and nearly startled himself off the beam.

Below, there was a wire ring with dozens of shouting people surrounding it. There was movement in the middle and a row of cages in another section of the warehouse.

There was a distinct sound of barking.

Jason had unlatched his belt to go take a look at what was going on. Jimmy, one of the older kids, had told him about fighting rings. How you could make easy money doing dirty work, if you knew who to talk to about the fights. The hardest part was finding them since locations got moved so quickly.

When he’d approached one of the bookies, the man had laughed and told him to find Francis in the green jacket. He’d show him the ropes.

There weren’t very many people around the wire fence, but they were all closely packed together, so Jason had a hard time seeing what was happening. When he found Francis, he was given gruff directions and made sure to nod and keep up.

Jason hadn’t spent much time around animals. There was Señora Imelda’s cat in the apartment down the hall that he got a tamale for catching in the winter when it was too cold to let it stay outside. And he’d seen a couple of strays on the street before, but they were usually the type of animal you ran from, not pet.

So when the noise of the crowd surged suddenly and then broke like a wave, Francis was darting in front of him, grabbing the still standing mutt with a long stick that had a loop on its end.

Jason was told to grab the dog lying on its side.

He was quick to approach but his breath caught when he got a good look at the animal. It was covered in scratches and bite marks, missing an ear, and matted with blood. It was whining softly and staring up at Jason with unfocused eyes.

Francis kicked him to keep moving and Jason whispered an apology under his breath as he all but dragged the dog out of the pit.

Francis led him to a pile of unmoving bodies and Jason almost bolted right there. Easy money doing dirty work, said Jimmy’s voice in his ear and he dragged his burden to the small heap.

It looked like there had only been 3 matches so far, including the dog from the last one. And Jason could see at least 10 full cages off to one of the other sides of the pile.

He swallowed down bile.

Francis was already heading back to the action, but Jason couldn’t get the sound the dog was making out of his head. It was a soft whining followed by wet gasps. It made his chest tight.

Carefully, keeping his hands away from the dog’s mouth and open wounds, he gave it a soft scratch on its head like he’d seen a little girl in the park do to a chihuahua last June.

The dog blinked at him, brown eyes unfocused but moving.

Jason kept scratching its head, softly petting down its neck until its eyes stopped moving. He closed them and then went to go find Francis.

The next match, when he went to collect the fallen dog, it stared back with already vacant eyes.

Jason closed those too.

He made $40 that night and never sought out another animal fighting ring.

There was nothing easy about that kind of money.

[magical-reid]

The Party

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader (Slight Garreth x Reader but nothing serious)

Warnings: Reader kisses Sebastian before she breaks up with Garreth

Word Count: 2.5 K

It was a typical Saturday night at Hogwarts, and the dungeons were alive with the hum of chatter and the occasional explosion of laughter. The air was thick with the scent of butterbeer and the sweet tang of Firewhiskey. Students lounged on plush sofas, some huddled together over a bewitched game of Exploding Snap, others laughing too loudly as enchanted candles floated overhead. Somewhere in the chaos, Garreth Weasley had disappeared, leaving you to sip your drink alone, uncomfortably aware of the crowd pressing in around you.

This wasn’t your scene. Not by choice. You weren’t the type to slip into one of your finest robes, let alone sneak out after curfew to join the loud, secretive parties that Slytherins occasionally threw in the abandoned rooms near the dungeons. But Garreth had insisted.

Garreth wasn’t the type of boyfriend who made an effort to get to know you, not in the way that really mattered. He didn’t listen when you talked, didn’t notice when you were upset. He wanted a trophy to show off. He wanted someone on his arm to laugh at his jokes and redirect attention when one of his potion experiments inevitably exploded or went awry. And so, here you were—again.

Garreth had gone off to mingle with the crowd, leaving you stranded at the edges of the party, where you nursed a glass of something strong and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You weren’t in love with him. You knew that now. Perhaps you never had been. But walking away wasn’t easy—not when you had been so tangled in his life and his world for so long. Hogwarts might’ve been vast, but its walls felt suffocating when you were trapped in the wrong relationships.

The music was too loud, the laughter too forced. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes scanning the room, looking for a way out. But before you could make a move, you felt a pair of eyes on you.

“Looking for Weasley?” came a voice, smooth but laced with a teasing note.

You glanced up, finding Sebastian Sallow leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and dark eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. There was something in his gaze, a mix of curiosity and something sharper—almost protective.

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s lost.”

His lips quirked upward in a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice laced with dry amusement. “Doesn't look like you’re having much fun.”

“Not my idea of a good time,” you admitted, surprised by how easily the truth slipped out. “Garreth's probably off spiking someone's drink with one of his concoctions. He's too busy being the center of attention to even notice I’m gone.”

Sebastian's smirk softened into something almost sympathetic. “You’re not the only one here for the wrong reasons, you know.”

You looked at him, intrigued. “And why are you here, then?”

Sebastian’s gaze flickered over the party—his eyes darkened just slightly, a spark of distaste flashing in them before he returned his focus to you. “I’m here because I don't let people like Garreth think they own the place.”

You raised your eyebrows at the bluntness of his words, but before you could comment, you heard a voice behind Sebastian.

“Sebastian, if you’re going to hover by the doorway all night, at least—oh. Hello.” Ominis Gaunt, his usual expression one of weary exasperation, appeared at Sebastian’s side, his wand raised slightly as if guiding himself through the crowd.

Sebastian chuckled, shifting slightly to make space for Ominis. “I was just saving our friend here from a party she doesn’t seem particularly thrilled to be at.”

You couldn't help but laugh, though it was quiet. “You’re not wrong. I was just about to leave, actually.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, taking a small step closer. “You mean sneak off quietly? Alone?”

Before you could answer, Garreth’s voice rang out from across the room, loud and obnoxious as ever. He was perched on a table, holding a bottle of Firewhiskey and recounting an exaggerated story. The crowd erupted in laughter, and yet Garreth didn’t even glance in your direction.

Sebastian's eyes followed the sound, then flicked back to you. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The idea of escaping was too tempting. Without a word, you followed him, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor as he led you toward the castle corridors. Ominis trailed a few paces behind, his usual air of exasperation now tinged with amusement.

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders as the chill of the night air washed over you.

Sebastian glanced back, his mouth curving into that familiar mischievous grin. “I’ve got a better idea than sitting in a crowded room watching Garreth charm his way out of trouble.”

“That’s not exactly a high bar,” you muttered, earning a quiet laugh from Ominis.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the quiet halls as Sebastian led you through winding corridors, and after what felt like an age, you found yourself standing at the base of a narrow staircase that wound up toward the Astronomy Tower.

The crisp, cool air of the night made your breath come in little clouds as you climbed the steps, your eyes tracing the star-filled sky above. When you reached the top, Sebastian conjured a thick, soft blanket from the air, laying it out on the stone floor beneath the open sky.

You settled on it, pulling your knees to your chest as the distant hoot of an owl echoed across the vastness of the grounds. The stars shone brightly against the inky black sky, the tranquility a sharp contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind.

Ominis, ever the pragmatic one, muttered something about avoiding the “third-wheel” situation and made his way back toward the dungeons, leaving you and Sebastian alone.

“Better than the party?” he asked after a few moments, his voice low but soft.

You nodded, your fingers brushing against the edge of the blanket, feeling the tension in your body begin to unravel. “Much better.”

For a while, you both sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant calls of owls. It was peaceful—an oasis of calm after the noise and confusion of the party.

For a while, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars. The distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of leaves in the wind were the only sounds. It was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening.

Then, after what felt like hours of quiet contemplation, Sebastian finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “Why do you stay with him?”

The question caught you off guard, and you looked over at him, surprised by the rawness in his tone. There was something different about the way he asked it—something that suggested he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You tensed slightly, unsure how to answer. The words felt too heavy. “It’s complicated,” you murmured. “Leaving isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

Sebastian’s gaze softened, but there was a hardness behind his eyes. You could tell he didn’t like the idea of you being stuck in something that made you unhappy. “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” he said, his voice firm, yet gentle. “You deserve more than someone who only sees you as a prop in their little drama. You deserve someone who actually sees you.”

His words struck a nerve. It was the second time tonight he’d said something that felt like a revelation. But this time, there was something more in his voice—a conviction that tugged at you, drawing you closer to the truth of his meaning.

You shifted slightly, the blanket beneath you rustling as you wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to create distance between you and the intensity that was building in the air. “I don’t need saving, Sebastian,” you said, a little more sharply than you intended. You felt the weight of his gaze on you, and you weren’t sure if you liked how it made you feel—exposed, vulnerable.

Sebastian seemed unfazed by your defensiveness. He leaned back, his arms folded across his chest, but his eyes never left you. There was a tension there, an unspoken understanding between you. “I didn’t say you needed saving,” he replied quietly. “I’m just saying you deserve better than what Garreth gives you.”

His words lingered in the air like smoke, and for a long moment, you said nothing. You didn’t want to acknowledge how much truth there was in them. How much it hurt to hear it, even though part of you already knew it.

Finally, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t even know what that looks like anymore,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. “I’ve been so busy being something for someone else that I forgot who I really am.”

Sebastian's eyes softened, the usual sharpness in his gaze melting into something warmer, more understanding. He took a small step closer, his voice quieter now, almost like a confession. “I think I’ve always known who you are. And I think, deep down, you know too. You’re just… afraid to face it.”

You felt the ground beneath you shift slightly, and you turned toward him, your breath catching in your chest. “What do you mean?” The question was barely a whisper, but it hung in the space between you, fragile and heavy.

Sebastian’s gaze never wavered as he leaned in, his eyes searching yours for a moment that felt far too intimate. “You’re not the person everyone thinks you are,” he said quietly. “And neither am I.”

It was a vulnerable admission, one that made your heart skip a beat. It was as though he was offering you a glimpse into a part of him that he rarely let anyone see. And you knew, deep down, that you wanted to understand it—wanted to understand him—more than anything.

The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, both of you caught in the gravity of the moment. There was a shift in the way you saw him, a sudden clarity in the way he saw you. In that silence, everything seemed to come into focus—the distance between you, the hesitation, and yet the undeniable pull.

He leaned in just slightly more, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words threading through the space between you like a spell.

You froze, your pulse hammering in your ears. You knew what was coming before he moved, before his hand reached out, brushing gently against yours. It wasn’t a forceful gesture, but it held an undeniable weight, a quiet invitation that you were both too scared to ignore.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. It was soft at first, a moment of hesitation, but when he responded—when his lips parted just slightly, and the tension between you seemed to unravel—it felt like the world had suddenly come alive.

The kiss deepened, and everything around you faded into the background. The noise of the party, the weight of your past decisions, and the confusion of your feelings—it all melted away. All you could feel was the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, and the way your heart seemed to race with a rhythm that was entirely his.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you could barely catch your breath. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for that,” he whispered, his voice thick with the weight of what had just transpired.

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you could barely manage to speak. But when you did, your voice trembled with the truth. “You’re not,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his. “I’ve been waiting too.”

The smile that stretched across his face was softer than you’d ever seen, and for the first time, you saw not just the boy who often seemed too reckless for his own good, but someone more—someone who understood the complexities of your heart.

In that moment, everything felt like it had fallen into place. The walls that had kept you apart, the doubts and fears you’d held onto for so long—they all crumbled in the face of this simple, undeniable connection. It was as if the stars themselves were guiding you to this point, and now that you were here, you knew you couldn’t turn back.

Sebastian didn’t say anything else, but his hand found yours once more, and he didn’t let go. It was a quiet promise, one that neither of you needed to speak aloud.

“You belong here,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, and in that moment, it felt like home.

Three Weeks Later

The Astronomy Tower had become your refuge. The chaos of Slytherin politics, the lingering tension with Garreth, and the whispers of students who noticed you pulling away—it all faded in the quiet moments you spent under the stars with Sebastian.

You hadn’t officially ended things with Garreth, but it was clear to everyone, including him, that your heart wasn’t in it anymore. And that was something Sebastian had known from the start.

[n0cturn4]

The Beauty who killed the Beast

Character: Jason Todd x Reader Summary:A deformed creature, marked by pain, battles between its inner beast and the memory of what it once was. He seeks her, offering her refuge. For a moment, she responds, but soon falls, succumbing to her end. He remains, trapped in pain and farewell. Word Count: 2458 Triggers: Blood

The laboratory doors opened with a metallic creak, echoing through the cold walls. Jason took a deep breath, trying to control the weight pressing against his chest. He had followed the clues for weeks, each darker than the last, until they all converged to this place. A decaying space where the smell of death and chemical experiments filled the air.

Inside, the lights flickered faintly, casting grotesque shadows projected by abandoned machines. In the center of the main hall, there was a cage. The metal bars were bent, some broken, as if something monstrous had forced them out of place. Dried blood stained the floor, tracing the path Jason now followed.

He found you at the back of the laboratory. A hunched creature, its muscles deformed, covering its body with pale, torn skin. Its claws, thick and sharp like obsidian blades, were dug into the concrete floor, leaving deep marks as it moved. The thick fur covering its body was tangled and stained with blood, mixing with the exposed flesh where the skin had been torn, as if the transformation process had destroyed everything human in it.

Its face, still vaguely human, was twisted by primal fury. Its nose had elongated into a wild snout, with sharp and irregular teeth jutting from its open mouth. The eyes, those eyes Jason recognized, were covered by a golden, fierce glow, as if the beast was always on the verge of losing control. The jaw, now exaggeratedly large and full of fangs, trembled slightly as a black, rough tongue passed over the teeth, staining them red.

The ears, once small and delicate, were now elongated, pointed like a wolf's, twitching with every sound that echoed through the room. The creature breathed heavily, its chest rising and falling with an almost animalistic sound. Every movement it made seemed like a warning, an imminent threat, as if its body were just waiting to strike. The claws, ready to tear through anything in its path, were deeply embedded in the cold, hard floor.

When you turned to face him, your four-fingered paws scraped against the metal with a sound that marked the room, as if the creature wanted to imprint its presence on the environment. A low, guttural growl escaped its throat, vibrating in the dense air, almost breaking the heavy silence. It was on high alert, a beast facing an intruder — but at the same time, something else seemed to shine in its eyes. Something Jason recognized. It wasn’t just savagery. It was a silent scream, a plea.

The muscles of its body, deformed by the transformation, contracted with a threatening force, and its posture showed off its sharp fangs, ready to pounce at any moment. The fur, mostly blackened and stained with blood, bristled with each heavy breath, forming a dark cloak that covered it entirely, hiding any trace of humanity. The creature before him was no longer the person he had known, but something pain and experience had forged — a monster whose origins he still tried to understand.

Fresh blood dripped from its mouth, painting its jaw with vivid red, a sign of its recent brutality. But as Jason looked closer, he noticed that its eyes, though glowing with inhuman intensity, still carried a spark of something familiar. A trace of what it had once been. Something within you was still there, hidden, fighting to break free from the beast it had become.

It lunged with a fierce roar, its feet smashing into the floor as its claws dug deeper, but Jason did not retreat. Instead, he stood firm, his breath slow and controlled. He knew that what stood before him wasn’t just a wild creature. It was you. The pain and loss of everything that had made you human were still there, latent, waiting to be touched.

"I know you're still here," Jason murmured, his tone soft, almost like a plea. "I see it in your eyes... I know you remember."

The creature hesitated, its growl softening, as if unable to understand what was happening. Its claws, once ready to strike, relaxed a bit. The internal struggle was visible in its posture. It wanted to attack, but something else inside it was holding it back. Maybe it was the memory. Maybe it was the pain.

Jason took a cautious step forward, steady, without rushing. His gaze locked onto its eyes, searching for the spark of humanity that still remained. He knew he couldn’t be impulsive. He needed you to know that there was still a chance.

Slowly, he raised his hand to its head. Its fur was rough, almost painful to the touch, but Jason didn’t mind. He let his hand rest there, a timid but genuine caress. The creature’s muscles relaxed, still tense, but less threatening. Its body slightly bent, as if something in its essence was beginning to give. The growl, once so fierce, now seemed more distant, more contained.

Jason kept his hand there, feeling the resistance of its body, but also the fragility of the situation. He knew the beast was still there, but for that brief moment, it seemed less wild, less uncontrollable.

"I won’t let you die like this," he whispered, his voice soft but full of conviction. "I came back for you.. and I won’t lose you."

He stood there for a few moments, his hand still resting on the creature’s head, watching it with a mix of compassion and caution. The silence that filled the space was heavy, as if even the air had frozen, waiting for a movement, a sound, something to guide them.

The creature, for its part, seemed to understand the gentleness of the touch, which somehow calmed it. Its muscles were still rigid, but now there was a small change. It leaned slightly, as if desiring his presence, a silent attempt to reconnect with what it had lost.

"I know you didn’t want this," Jason murmured, more to himself than to it. "I know that... this isn’t who you are."

But the words were still not enough to make the pain disappear. With each passing second, he saw more clearly how torn it was, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t just a creature transformed by violence; it was a soul still struggling to understand what had happened to it. The internal struggle was obvious, and Jason felt his heart tighten as he realized how deep the abyss was that it was trying to cross.

It took another step forward, its golden eyes fixed on him, trying, with all its strength, to communicate something. The sound it emitted this time was clearer, but still a mumble of pain and frustration. "Jason... it... hurts..."

Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The words came out with such clear pain that he almost felt it physically. It was trying to speak to him, trying to say what it needed, but the creature it had become made any attempt at clearer communication difficult.

"I know... I know it hurts," Jason said, his voice softer, trying to give it some comfort. He knew the pain wasn’t just physical. It was the internal battle to hold onto a piece of itself, a soul crushed by the beast that took over its body. "But I’ll help you, you’re not alone."

The creature shook its head, as if trying to deny it. The sound that came from its mouth was a low hiss, more like a sigh of agony. "I... can’t... go back?"

It was a silent question, more a wish than a doubt. Jason felt his throat tighten with the sadness that poured from those words. It wanted to go back. It wanted to be who it was before, to escape from that monstrous form. He could see it in its eyes, a desire to rescue the humanity it had lost.

"I don’t know if we can go back to what we were," Jason replied honestly, though the weight of those words felt like a sharp blade. "But I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever it takes."

It took another hesitant step, as if trying to reach him, searching for something. But fear and pain still dominated its movements, and it stopped again. Its eyes glimmered with deep internal conflict, and Jason could see clearly what was happening inside it. It was a brutal fight between the humanity that still remained and the monstrosity that threatened to swallow everything.

The silence stretched again, heavy like an endless night. Jason didn’t know what to do besides stand there, offering the only thing he could give — his presence, his silent promise not to abandon it. But he also knew that this struggle, between what it had been and what it had become, couldn’t be resolved all at once. It was a long journey, perhaps even one without end, and he would have to walk by its side at every step.

So, without more words, he lowered his hand and moved a little closer. The creature, though still cautious, did not retreat. On the contrary, it seemed to breathe more freely, as if simply being near him was the relief it needed, even if it didn’t know how to explain it. Jason slowly knelt down, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I won’t leave you alone in this," he said, with an unexpected softness. "It may not be easy, it may not be fast, but I’ll be here. We’ll get through this together."

The creature, with teary eyes, slowly nodded, as if accepting the promise, even though the words were still out of its reach.

Jason then extended his hand once again. And this time, it didn’t hesitate. Though its fingers were still rough and its claws sharp, it touched him lightly, as if trying to anchor itself in that moment, in that touch, as if it were the last anchor of humanity it still possessed.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat as the creature’s rough hand brushed against his, a fragile connection in the midst of chaos. He could feel its desperation, its silent plea for something more than just survival. But before either of them could react further, the sound of boots pounding against the cold concrete echoed in the distance. A harsh, commanding voice followed.

“Take her down! Now!”

The first shot rang out, the noise deafening in the still air, and Jason’s eyes snapped to the soldiers, their rifles raised. The creature flinched, its body trembling with fear and rage, and in a split second, its claws dug deep into the ground, propelling itself forward.

With an inhuman growl, it seized Jason in its arms, lifting him as though he were weightless. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the world spinning as the creature darted toward the shadows, moving faster than he could comprehend. The soldiers’ voices grew frantic, shouting orders to each other, but the creature moved with a singular focus: escape.

Each step it took sent tremors through the floor, the air thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder. Jason gripped its fur, trying to steady himself, but the creature was already pushing its limits. The sound of footsteps grew louder—closer. They were gaining on them.

His mind raced. He couldn’t let them catch up. But the creature was slowing, its labored breathing becoming more erratic. Jason could feel it weakening, fighting against its own exhaustion and the overwhelming fear of being hunted.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “We can make it.”

But the creature’s grip tightened as it leaped over a broken staircase, darting through a corridor of darkness. The soldiers were close now, their heavy boots echoing in the narrow hallways, and Jason knew time was running out.

They had to make it out.

Jason’s voice, raw and desperate, cut through the air in a whisper no one could hear. His breath was ragged, each word a plea for mercy, for an end to the chaos, but the soldiers remained deaf to his torment. The pounding of their boots echoed like the slow, inevitable approach of fate. “Please,” he murmured, the word barely escaping his lips, “don’t shoot...”

But the creature, its limbs trembling with exhaustion, didn’t falter. It kept climbing, pushing through the darkness, its every step a cry for freedom, a final act of defiance. The sound of gunfire began to fade into the distance, drowned out by the weight of his own helplessness. The beast’s body pressed closer to him, like a silent promise, though they both knew the truth — the end was coming.

Up, always up, as if the highest point of Gotham could offer them a reprieve, a brief moment of peace before the inevitable. Jason’s heart ached with the understanding that there was no salvation for them. Not here, not now. The towering heights of Gotham stretched far beyond them, the city that never stopped breathing, never stopped hurting.

The creature climbed, its breath shallow, but its grip on him tightening with a primal urgency. Jason could feel the tremors in its bones, the fading flicker of something human beneath the monstrous exterior. He wanted to believe there was hope, that they could find a place to hide from the world that hunted them, but the truth hung heavy in the air — they were both beyond salvation.

And as they reached the highest rooftop, the city sprawled beneath them, the lights flickering like distant stars, Jason whispered into the night, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry... I couldn’t save you...”

The silence that followed was deafening. A world too far gone for redemption. The creature’s eyes, wild and desperate, met his one last time, as if asking him to understand. But there was no time left for understanding. Just the cold, merciless pull of the end.

They looked at each other for one last moment, a look that said more than words ever could. Jason felt the creature's pain, a pain that had become his own, as if their souls were entwined in an impossible fate. There was something in her eyes — resignation, a final spark of something that had once been human, now lost in the abyss of her own destruction.

And then, the creature, with her wounds bleeding and her body weakening, could resist no longer. Her feet faltered, and in a slow, almost resigned movement, she unraveled before him, her weight colliding with the concrete of Gotham's tower. Jason tried to reach her, but it was too late. The beast fell, dragging the last breath of her existence as if the wind of the city had finally carried her away.

The silence that followed was deep and vast, swallowing everything around. Gotham continued to breathe, but for Jason, in that moment, the world had stopped. The sound of her fall, the collision with the distant ground... everything mixed with the echo of his own failures. He stood there, frozen, his vision blurred by pain and loss, knowing there was nothing more to be done, no words that could save what was already lost.

[cigsaftersuh]

૮ trapped ྀིა .ᐟ

without another word, jaehyun turned and walked out of the living room, the sound of his footsteps heavier than they’d ever been. his shoulders were tight, and his breathing shallow, a mix of frustration and the overwhelming sting of everything jia had spewed out about his marriage.

“honestly, this is what happens when you rush into marriage,” she said, shaking her head. “he’s so young, so naive. getting married at his age was such a reckless decision. i don’t understand why you both allowed it.”

“allowed it?” jaehyun’s dad scoffed, his tone sharp. “jia, they’re adults. it wasn’t our decision to make, it was theirs. and you know what? they’ve been doing just fine.”

“fine?” jia’s voice pitched incredulously. “you think this is fine? him storming out like that? he can barely handle a conversation. he’s too young to carry the weight of a marriage, and y/n isn’t helping matters by running off with her friends every chance she gets.”

his dad’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “there’s nothing wrong with y/n spending time with her friends. she has every right to maintain her relationships outside of her marriage — just like jaehyun does. that’s how healthy relationships work.”

jia rolled her eyes, setting her cup down with a clink. “healthy relationships? please. they’ve barely lived life on their own. how can you call it healthy when they’ve never even experienced life apart? they’re just clinging to some childhood fantasy, and one day, it’s going to fall apart. mark my words.”

“that’s enough,” his mom snapped, her voice finally rising. “you don’t get to come into our home and tear apart our son’s life like this. jaehyun and y/n have built something solid, something real, and your constant need to belittle them says more about you than it does about them.”

but jia wasn’t finished. “oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “i’m not the bad guy here. i’m just pointing out the obvious. you let him get married too young. you let him tie himself down to someone who clearly doesn’t know what it means to be a wife yet. and now look at him, storming out of the room because he can’t handle the truth.”

“stop,” jaehyun’s dad said firmly, his voice rising. “he walked out because he’s tired of you tearing apart his life, we all are. this isn’t about honesty… it’s is about you trying to pick apart something you don’t understand.”

leaning against the hallway wall, jaehyun ran a hand through his hair. the weight of the argument taking place on the other side allowed him to hear each of the harsh words leaving the elders mouths.

did i trap her? the thought struck like a hammer, unrelenting in its force. is this what she really wants? he stared blankly ahead as the questions churned in his mind. you were out with your friends right now, probably laughing and enjoying yourself, while he was in here, replaying every word jia had thrown at him. what if she feels like she’s missing out because of me?

his throat tightened, and a lump formed he couldn’t swallow. this isn’t fair to her. maybe jia’s right... maybe we should’ve waited. maybe i should’ve given her more time to just... be her. the guilt coiled tightly around his chest, squeezing until he could barely breathe. he blinked rapidly, but the tears blurred his vision before he could stop them.

she deserves so much more than this... more than me. his jaw clenched as the thought lingered, cutting deeper each time it resurfaced. he hated the effect jia’s words had on him, how they planted seeds of doubt where there had been none before. but the guilt wouldn’t let him push it away.

he sat there, lost in his own thoughts and fighting back tears, when he suddenly heard the faint jingle of your keychains against the doorknob.

against the doorknob to his house, yet everyone knew you were always welcome. you would always be welcome, in his home, his heart, anywhere pertaining to him.

it was a sound he knew too well, one that he’d grown used to and always brought him comfort. no one else would ever make that sound at this door. only you, his wife,

the familiar noise made his heart beat faster, and before he could even register the moment, the door creaked open. he didn’t need to look up to know it was you.

the warmth of your presence flooded him like a wave, but the storm of emotions crashing inside him only grew stronger. his stomach twisted, guilt and doubt churning inside.

prev. 𐙚 next

ㅡ my forever only.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

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