#it's cruel and.. a writing full of holes just screaming to be filled

[yuseirra]

Analysis- Kamiki's wish & Tsukuyomi's idea on "Fate"

I'm going to freaking kick kamiki's butt but let's note that there were a lot of things that he's done(within that brief moments of screentime that he's been getting) that are worth discussing about. I can say a lot about him while being unable to form a full conclusion about him, he is THE mystery element in this series for me, it's getting ridiculous, I just want solid answers and get it over with(but nope! I also don't want the conclusion that AI shouldn't have loved this guy because that's not just about this guy being insane, it totally undermines the point of the story)

this guy talked a whole lot about wishes when he came to meet the twins, and asked them what they wanted. I feel like "WISH" could be of the keys of understanding of this character's core elements, I think.. he has a wish he wants to fulfill and THAT HAS TO BE REGARDING AI. The song Mephisto was all about wanting for wishes to come true, and that wish was first bringing back their dead loved one back with their life -> warped into "becoming that person". I feel like that's EXACTLY the mindset of what this character went through with this, whole "feeling Ai" "wishing her presence" "carrying the weight of life" "sin" deal going about him. He even congratulated Aqua's wishes on coming true in 153!!! I feel he had himself a wish that he WANTS to fulfill, so that's how he's so keen about one.

Those black-crow looking clothes he wore when he made his appearance in the mountains when Yura dies (it's gonna happen in the anime huh? Yeah best way to leave the season on a cliffhanger btw, YOU KNOW, THE ONE REASON I THINK WHY THE MANGA IS SO CONFUSING RIGHT NOW THAT THEY DON'T WAN'T US TO KNOW WHAT HE'S EXACTLY BEEN DOING BEFORE THIS SHOWS UP THERE. It'd burst all the bubbles if we already know what he's up to, but we STILL don't know anything about him. We don't even know if he's the one who's pushed Yura and we still ACTUALLY don't know what happened on the day Ai was killed in a clear way!!!!) that resembles Tsukuyomis. I was pointed this a while ago from @aihoshiino.. I wonder if that means something, personally, I think this can be related to some things he's said about gods in 147,

if Ai's fate was dying there by a crazy fan in the young age on 20, I'm sure Kamiki would want to change it. What I'm thinking is that he cares about her life more than his own and I believe this could be backed up by what he thinks of Ai in 162 despite the mess of that chapter is, he only felt alive when he had Ai with him. So after her death, it was practically like he had no life at all. That's why he's so eager to give up everything for her. Tsukuyomi is the god that deals with fate and souls. She doesn't seem to look at Kamiki that fondly, so I think what he's getting at here by "god doesn't give us answers(...)if you come up with an answer after worrying about it so much, then you have to accept it, everyone does" is that,

He wants to change Ai's fate of death and even Tsukuyomi would have to accept it, even if she's THE god that deals with it. If there's something that could have warped this originally soft and timid person into the insanity that he is now, I believe it'd be this.

it also explains why he keeps going he's okay with dying and it's not bad several times (he DOESN'T have the will to live in the first place after he's lost Ai) but also goes Not yet/he has something to do BEFORE that happens.

If what he is going about is about "amplifying" Ai's presence, I feel like if it's sufficiently fulfilled, she could have actually been brought back in a sense. In that case, he HAS been doing something for Ai in a pretty.. practical manner despite it's what Ai wouldn't have wanted. This presence thing is basically actually him saying he wants her back alive and living. He wanted her to go on living. It's just phrased in a really confusing way so that we don't get to sympathize with this guy and misdirect our ways of thinking that he's totally insane(HE IS for sure, but at the same time, what he wants is what every person who's lost a love may wish for-not the method, but the way of thinking-the author doesn't want us to figure this out yet for some reason because they're hiding something about him continuously, I feel like there's going to be some sort of impactful blow that'd be coming related to this aspect)

I don't think Tsukuyomi supports this idea nor is too fond of him, I think she wanted Aqua to take him down because Kamiki would meddle with her ways, thus was keen about the "revenge" aspects of his mission. But Aqua later derives himself to a conclusion that his life wasn't about revenge the way Tsukuyomi wanted it to be, he came up with his own reasoning for doing what he's done. Keeping Ruby safe.

She had her eyes on Kamiki and watches his demise(I hope this isn't his end though because it's not a direction I'd be so fond with), maybe feeling a bit melanchoilc and a feeling of half-satisfaction that she got what she's wanted, although it wouldn't have been so happy for her either seeing a soul break that bad

BUT WHAT MADE HIM BREAK THIS BAD? Was this always in him in the first place? Is he a guy that could have always killed people? So did Ai choose the wrong man who'd become a serial killer for "her sake" out of desperation when it'd be nothing what she truly wants? Kamiki's feelings towards Ai is strong. It was always strong from their younger years and it's been the core of his character, no matter what I make of this guy, that would not change.

The important part for me now is just what pushed him to have this sort of belief and pushed him, shattering his personality even, (HE WENT THROUGH WITH THIS FOR AT LEAST 15 YEARS. If he was tended to and "saved" earlier, there is no way he would have broke this bad;;;) if there is one. THE SONGS IMPLY THERE IS SOMETHING. and he says these weird stuff about making offerings in 147(it's not in the English translations but I swear I see it in the versions I see, it happens when he talks with nino after having met akane) so there could be some other god that's convinced him that if he does what he asks of him, Ai could be brought back. That probably destroyed his soul, and seeing him like that, Tsukuyomi didn't want the same thing happening to Aqua so she told Aqua in advance that AI CANNOT be reincarnated back to life.(118)

What Tsukuyomi says in 118 is the COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF WHAT KAMIKI DESIRED. He wanted to believe Ai could still exist and feel her presence. I feel like what Kamiki wanted, and thought in that case, was :

"Ai is still somewhere." "I may be able to find her if I try hard enough." "She can be born again and she may be able to live happily somewhere." "Her story didn't end." "Death isn't death. There's still a chance." "Ai can still think, she can think about me and everything else."

"Ai can smile again."

Just flip everything Tsukuyomi says in 118 and I feel that's what Kamiki would have wanted to believe in and felt about Ai. That's what he intended to fulfill and could never give up on, that's why he couldn't die yet. He wanted to save her the way she did for him, he wanted her life back to her. It just didn't work. He thought about doing that till the very end (could have been twisted into him being able to feel her in the middle though)

why do I feel like Tsukuyomi either told Kamiki the same thing or she couldn't but wanted to, but he was already way past the line?

If there is something that's used him, and this sort of desperation he has, it led him to take these extreme measures he's been taking and it reaped him of his nobility.

That's extremely tragic and in that case, I can see how this character, out of all, is getting two songs with one being him becoming gradually warped into what he is now(Mephisto) and his current state of insanity(Fatal)

and why Ai wants to save him. He's terribly broken. I guess that whole part of Ruby just shows us how far he's gone, but like I say over and over, I don't think he would have been this person!!! He could have been a tender father who smiled and raised Ai and his children together, so I want to know WHAT HAPPENED.

[risuola]

Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty <3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

��Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

 “Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Maybe - Jeongin

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, best friend Jeongin, winter weather, angsty yearning

a/n: not proofread, just trying to live my delusions through writing (I am hopelessly down the rabbit hole)

masterlist

"Be careful. It's slippery." It's the bare minimum and you are aware of that but the tumble your stomach takes and the giddiness in your heart indicate that you definitely did not get it.

Jeongin came into your life like a Manhattan wind- strong, surprising and mind-boggling. He changed the course of your life in an abhorrently short time. Everything about him screamed your type, especially that damned dimple. And you were so hopelessly in love that the fact that he insists on referring to you as his "bestest friend" almost every day breaks your heart and stitches it right back up.

You watch as he brushes his hair away from his face, those smooth dark black fringes framing his face as he breathes out fog in winter. You have been admiring his features, his beauty and all of him since the wind was a welcome change to the heat. Now the wind sends a chill down your spine and you hug yourself a little tighter.

He leads the way, looking around excitedly like a kid. The frozen lake forms a scenery of serenity and calm unknown to the ever turbulent heart of yours. Winters have always been rough on you, the cold can be cruel to those without enough layers to keep them warm. This one might be different. Or so you hope.

"Y/N, stop dreaming and keep walking. Eyes on the ground." Jeongin tries his best to sound stern but the concern drips sweetness from his voice.

"Shut up, Jeongin. I'm completely fin-AH!" As luck would have it, right as you finished the sentence you stepped on some fresh ice and slipped. Giving up on pretending to be graceful, you let yourself fall flat on your ass.

"Go ahead and tell me 'told you so'", you groan, lowering your voice for the last three words in an exaggerated imitation of Jeongin's voice. Looking up you notice that Jeongin looks like he's having a seizure from all the laughing he is doing. You begin to pout, but the view is too good to even be embarrassed or disappointed.

His fox eyes are crinkled into two straight lines, dimples deep and cheeks flushed bright red. He's bending over in laughter, looking up and down, pushing away his fringe from his face. The big coat envelopes him, the sun sinking into the water behind him. Jeongin is a sight for sore eyes even on a regular day, but a Jeongin radiating pure bliss is a full-on painting you could sit and admire for days on end.

"Yaa! What are you staring at? Get up before you freeze to death." His voice brings you back to reality and suddenly the snow under you starts to make its temperature known and you get up as fast as possible.

Dusting the snow off you and straightening your clothes, you walk to join Jeongin who is a few steps ahead of you staring at the scenery.

"When will you stop falling Y/N..." He jokes silently.

You make it impossible to not fall every second I am with you.

"Only if you ever leave..." you say silently.

He turns to you with a questioning look and you smile as you shake your head and look at the impending sunset against the snow-covered park.

Maybe he'll never know how hard you have fallen for him. Maybe Jeongin will wake up one summer day realising that the sparkle in your eyes and the blush on your cheeks was not the winter's fault. Maybe he will fall with you one day. And maybe one day, your thoughts won't just be filled with maybe's. But for now, he's here. That's all that matters. You have him in your life, you get to love someone as radiant as the summer sun and as calming as the midnight moon. You have Jeongin. That's enough. "Innie, shall we go?"

"After you, Milady."

The sound of giggles fills the dense winter air as a boy and a girl walk side by side, unaware of how much they love each other in silence.

[kindaoptimisticsquirrel]

Trigun Bookclub Trimax Vol10 Part 4

Vol01: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Vol02: Part 1 | Part 2

Trimax: Vol01 Part 1Vol01 Part 2 | Vol02 Part 1Vol02 Part 2 | Vol 03 Part 1 | Vol03 Part2 | Vol04 Part1 | Vol04 Part2 | Vol05 | Vol06 | Vol07 | Vol08 Part1 | Vol08 Part2 | Vol09 Part1 | Vol09 Part2 | Vol10 Part1 | Vol10 Part2 | Vol10 Part3 | Vol10 Part4

God why is this volume so long and full of so many epic pictures

Commentary for chapter 6 and 7 of Vol10, will do the last one in another post!

While I'm doing this, reading each chapter and after that, doing my commentary, I notice the effect of the volume lessening...damn! I should read it in one go first and THEN write my thougths but I'm afraid I'll forget what I want to say. Vol9 and Vol10 are in a way really meant to be read in one go for the full effect.

Chapter 6:

Yes! Wolfwood trying to end this fight not with his weapon, but with his bare hands is so important! He's not fighting to kill, he's not EoM's puppet, he's trying to bring back a friend...I can't say why but also the fact that this obviously pains Razlo more than bullets also feels right. That's how it should be. And then...there's Vash.

Oh god and then there's Vash.

This is...one of the most cruel images of Vash yet. To me it is THE most emotional in the whole series. Pure desperation. Sadness for things lost. Vash allowing himself to break down while we only hear the punches of Wolfwood beating down on Razlo. Looking at this image makes me sad. Damn it Nightow for making Vash have to grief before they even had the chance to start their future together.

But again, props to Nightow for the storytelling.

Vash promised Wolfwood to leave Razlo to him BUT NOBODY DARE INTERFERE.

LIVIOOOOOOO

And just when we fought we had gotten rid of him and he couldn't piss us off any more he's coming back round to hurt our boy

THANK YOU RAZLO. There can never be enough bullet holes in this dead man's body.

I really really like that Livio is not treating Razlo like the bad guy here, but acknowledges that Razlo is also a victim in a way. A victim of having to live through the fucked up shit that Livio could not cope with, of having to deal with that. (I hope I worded that all right, since I don't really know anything about the medical condition of which Razlo is the result?)

You did it, man. You saved Livio. And now you're even a person he looks up to you. Of the feels.

CRYBABY LIVIO IS BACK BITCHES oooh you earned that cigarette, Wolfie

Chapter 7:

I just love the kids and Melanie and how lively it seems. Surely it was hard and filled with loss as everybody had lost their parents, but it must also have been a childhood filled with love.

Baby Wolfwood oh my sweet boy... Sometimes I have wondered how little Vash and Wolfie would have gotten along. Or well, I'm sure they would've gotten along. I just would love to see them interact as kids. Out there, little Wolfwood, a long time ago, was once a boy drifting in space who would later be your most trusted friend. And who would, not in every way, but in an important way, save you.

Ah, just below is the panel where it says "six years have passed since that day" that always confuses me?? Still now because 6 years is not possible? I will wait for any explanation that you, my fellow bookclub readers, will come up with.

Don't scream at him!!!

Vash wanting to explain it to them is killing me. And Wolfwood's expression here is so...unclouded. Completely honest. Vulnerable. No my sweet boy you are no monster, did that not get into your head??

With the little time left...maybe he's right, maybe he can not explain to the children what he is, all the complex stuff.

You know, Vash, Wolfwood is tired. This moment, he just wants to spend it with you, and isn't that enough?

Wolfwood saying this...and then Vash begging to GOD, praying to not lose that man.

I never really got the grip on what Vash means with "stupid things". There's been this theory that Vash denies Wolfwood telling Vash his true feelings, but I don't think so. I think they both at this point know how they feel about each other. I think Vash just...can't stand to hear the emotional talk now because it's simply too much. Maybe it would be nice if they could talk out their innermost feelins at last. But maybe, they don't need that. Have their actions not proven enough already by now?

Throw that confetti guys

If some of you are on twitter and have followed the trigun fandom there you might have stumbled upon the marriage tweet my friend made when she read this scene the first time. I have nothing to add apart from that it rips my heart and soul in two. Now, there's one more chapter to this volume but this arc kinda already concludes with this here...and so I just want to say: I have NEVER before read something that felt so deeply emotional and tragic like this whole...Wolfwoof dying scene. Or, I might have and I might not remember, but in my mind this is the most tragic thing I can recall. Because...it takes its time. It already starts in Vol08, with Wolfwood's inner thoughts, and then it goes on for the whole next Volume where the stakes are getting higher and higher, until Vash appears to save them and save Wolfwood but it STILL is not enough. And Vash is shocked, is in denial, is in anger and is griefing and then we get a short moment of breathing, before it hits us again. We're living this all through Vash, and...and he can't bring himself to smile in the end. He can't. He only stares blankly until he then slumps down. Oh, and I read in the Trigun Wiki I think that this scene here is the only scene where we see Wolfwood cry. Which....gives it also so much more impact.

And, all in all, I think this is not the worst ending for Wolfwood. Of course I am devastated. Reading so much fanfiction, seeing so much fanart, makes it pretty easy to forget that there is no future for these two in canon...not together. (which is WHY I read the fanfiction because good lord did I need something to cope) And when I think about how they never get the chance to live the life together as they both may have wanted...then the feeling of loss hits the hardest. But then, on the other hand: First, killing off one of your main characters while giving them a metaphorical wedding scene is a sick move. An evil, sick move. And second: it fits the series. Because Trigun feels so real, and in real life, things don't always turn out the good way. And Wolfwood, with his life, never really had any future...but the thing is also, he died while knowing that he was able to achieve what he always wanted: the orphanage is safe and he brought Livio back. It is all he ever wanted to do, and it is thanks to Vash that he was able to do it. Would it have been dope if he lived on and if he and Vash could build their own orphanage and be caretaker dads together? Oh hell yeah. But, within the story of the series...it was always unrealistic. Wolfwood died smiling- whatever we think about it, he was content with what he achieved. (I think so at least! The panels where he cries out, they always strike me as a defiance, not wanting to die, but that might be reading to much into it. The whole thing for him is so emotional, the confetti, which tells him they welcome him back, despite knowing who he is...it would be a wonder if he didn't cry. So it might just be the emotionality of the whole scene.

PHEW I'm sure I could say more if I thought a bit about it but I'm gonna shut up here now. Time to do the last chapter, though I'll make another post, this one is far too long already.

[dirtytransmasc]

Pitch for a self-indulgent fix it au that I'm too lazy to write but need for my own sake and sanity:

Because Aegon was close with Rhaenyra's boys, he gets very close to her. It's slow at first; he is still Alicent's child, and she can't help but feel some level of resentment towards him, no matter how cruel it is. But Aegon is still sweet on her and her boys; he still craves his eldest sister's praise and attention, he is still just a child, and she can't bring herself to resent him for very long. Once she comes around to Aegon, she starts to include Aemond in things around the palace grounds, and puts a stop to the bullying, because now that she's let one little brother into her heart, she can't leave the other out in the shit storm that is this family. She treats them like she treats her boys, especially after seeing how deep the trauma runs in both boys. She takes care of Aegon when he's made himself sick and lets him hold onto her after Alicent, or her father has had a go at him . she takes Aemond out on Syrax and helps him with his studies. aemond is most fluent in High Valaryian, so they can almost talk 'in code', and they do it to mess with the others quite often. She makes sure both boys have a safe place with her and her boys. Things are still rocky; they're still emotionally used, abused, and neglected by their parents, the whole kingdom is still filling their minds with poison, and they're angry. angry at the world, their family, fate. they take it out on Rhaenyra and the boys at times, but she never turns them away, she helps them. They're still struggling to keep their heads above the water, but Rhaenyra is there, she makes it easier; she holds them up the best she can as she begins to drown beside them.

Bad shit still happens, Aemond takes Vhegar and loses his eye, Luke is on the other end of the blade, and the fight in the hall still happens, but everything is easier. Because they were truly treated like kids, Rhaenyra had more to lose in that moment than Alicent could truly take from her; she doesn't allow Alicent to turn the attention away from Aemond and onto politics and petty feuds. She protected all of them. Aemond wasn't treated like a pawn and scapegoat, Aegon wasn't thrown under the bus, and Luke was forced to carry some of the blame (a healthy, child-appropriate load).

There's a rift, but it isn't as big. Aemonds doesn't grow up as angry, Aegon doesn't grow up to be as much of a cold and impulsive drunkard with the maturity level of a teenager, and they stay relatively close even as the family grows apart. The boys still grow up together, they still have their sister, and they are less susceptible to Alicent and Viserys's abuse and neglect.

When Aegon is supposed to be crowned he runs to the one safe place he's ever known, into his sister's arms, now with the additional protection of his uncle. Aemond and Luke have a confrontation, but Luke is willing to surrender whatever it takes to bring his uncle peace and Aemond can't do it. He never wanted blood, but he thought he should, as his entire life was surrounded by numb violence, his studies full of carnage, his family line had blood on their hands and were dead set on tearing one another apart. But as he looks at his nephew he just couldn't, doing it made him feel sick. Luke was still so little compared to him, still so young, yet willing to give it all up right then and there. It really just turns into a screaming match, both of them in tears, screaming at the world for putting them in this hell hole (they hug it out after). At the end of it, all of Rhaenyra's kids and siblings are safe at dragon stone (Heleana and her children included, I didn't know exactly how to tie her in, but she's here don't worry).

the 'war', though that's and over statement at best, a straight out lie at worst, is an attempt to out the 'king' back on his thrown. Rhaenyra won't give up her siblings, her supporters behind her, her husband and children both ready to fight rough and bloody for their family.

I can just imagine Aegon, who's always suppressed how caring he can be, standing in front of his pregnant sister, knowing she will fight and die for him if need be, because he won't let her lose anything else. He won't take anything else from her. He won't let someone else get hurt because he's a coward. Luke behind Aemond, Jace in front of Helaena and her kids. Deamon taking a stand next to Aegon, giving him a nod of approval. And even if this means war, this is one of the first times any of them has belonged to a true family.

how it ends I'm not 100% sure. full circle redemption, bittersweet end, something in-between. it could go in a lot of ways. I just know that I'm mentally ill thinking about it.

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

[emolooswrld]

The Hate You Give

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: slight angst, a hint of unrequited love (not for long tho), mature language, slight mention of bullying, mean!Eddie (don’t worry he fixes himself), that’s pretty much it lmk if i forgot anything!

Note: ahhhhh! this is my first time posting a fan fic. im really insecure about it so please be nice! but also feel free to leave any critiques! i will write a part two if you guys like this one. it’s really short, i know. also this is not proof read.

Eddie Munson. The sour tang that fills ur mouth when his voice registers through ur ears, is unsettling. Eddie Munson had been nothing but cruel to you for the past 3 years. You had no idea why. You had even tried to be his friend, but that was three years ago and you didn’t want to relive that moment.

You could sense his hateful stare on your back from across the cafeteria, something that wasn’t foreign to you. Ever since you moved to Hawkins, Eddie had hated your guts. Why? You had no clue. You had never called him any mean names, only approached him once.

It was sophomore year and your first day at Hawkins High. You had no friends and you were feeling particularly lonely. You watched the boy from your corner of the cafeteria. The way his chocolate brown curls bounced as he got up from his seat. The way his usual puppy dog, doe eyes turned into one’s full of pure anger and hate as he stared down one of the jocks. The way he climbed up on top of his table and screamed at that same jock from across the room. Watching as he made devil horns and stuck out his tongue and made devilish noises. It had made you giggle, you thought he was brave for that.

You hadn’t even realized you had ended up at his table. Your feet had almost carried you there before your brain could process anything. “What do you want?” he barked at you, braking you from your trance. “I-I” you couldn’t even get the right words out. He was so intimidating, but you liked it. “If you came here to make fun of me, you should save your breath.” He looked at you with his big brown eyes, something was behind them but you couldn’t quite tell what it was. “No! I just wanted to say what you did back there was really brave and really cool of you” you finally managed to get out. There was a beat of silence before Eddie was back on his feet, staring you down only inches away from your face. “Yeah well I didn’t do it for you so you can fuck off” the pure hatred in his eyes had caused you to back up and almost run out of the cafeteria, tears welling up in your eyes.

Little did you know, after you left the cafeteria one of the boys at his table had spoken up. “That was really harsh Eddie” it had been Dustin Henderson who had dared to speak up against the dungeon master. “Yeah” Mike Wheeler had agreed, along with all the other boys who sat at Eddie’s table. “She was probably just like the rest of them, if I had indulged she would have just played some stupid fucking joke on me” Eddie had replied with a tint of sadness and regret behind his eyes. “Had she been genuine?” He thought to himself. He was soon filled with nothing but guilt and regret.

Ever since that day, it seemed as though Eddie felt nothing but hatred towards you. Always burning holes in your back with hate-filled daggers from across the room, always whispering hateful things in your ear whenever he could. It had been three years and you had had enough. Usually you returned his snarky comments, giving the same energy back to him. But today was different.

You had already been having a rough day. First, you had gotten in a fight with your parents, over nothing particular, just them being complete and utter assholes to you for no reason. It didn’t end there. Once you got to school, you had over heard some cheerleaders talking about you. Normally, their cruel words wouldn’t have effected you, but today it left you with a bitter taste in your mouth and a heavy heart.

You had made your way to the girls bathroom, only to end up sobbing against the bathroom floor with your head in your hands. God knows how long you were in there before finally getting up and trying your best to fix yourself up in the bathroom mirror. By the time you got to class, you could feel the tears you had tried so hard to push away trying to escape your eyes once more. You hadn’t even realized someone was talking to you until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to look at whoever was attempting to talk to you. There he was, the last person you wanted to deal with today. Your glossy, red eyes met Eddie’s hate-filled, brown ones. “Damn y/n who’s got you looking like such a mess today?” You only glared at him in response. “Was it Jason? Or was it Andy? Or maybe it was Patrick? Too hard to keep up with all the guys you let between your legs.” Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered you, but the effect his words had on you today was so strong you felt the tears you had tried so hardly to conceal, making their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks. “Fuck you Munson” you had said, grabbing your bag and making your way out of the classroom, completely ignoring your teacher calling your name.

To say Eddie felt bad was an understatement. He felt absolutely horrible. The second he saw the tears in your eyes, his heart sank. Truth is, Eddie didn’t hate you. He actually really liked you, he just didn’t know how to express it. He had never been shown love as a kid, giving that his mother left when he was just a baby and his father never even cared about him in the first place. Wayne had been the only person to ever show him affection. Even then, Eddie had never been able to reciprocate it.

Eddie had thought about you every single day since your first encounter is the cafeteria. He wanted so badly to go back in time and change the way he had acted towards you. But it was too late. So Eddie did the only thing he knew how to. It was easier for him to pretend he hated you than to face the feelings he really felt towards you. But seeing you cry because of him filled Eddie with nothing but regret, guilt, and sadness.

After class was over, Eddie had made it his mission to find you and apologize. It was the least he could do, he thought to himself. After what felt like hours of searching the school with no luck, he was about to give up. Until he heard a door open. He turned around only to be met with the saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Your hair was up in a messy bun with stray strands framing your face. Your cheeks were bright pink while the rest of your face was pale like a ghost. Your eyes were completely bloodshot from crying with bags underneath. Still, Eddie thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

The second you saw Eddie, you turned on your heels and made your way to exit the school. “Y/N wait!” he called after you. You continued to make your way towards the door, his footsteps getting closer and closer behind you. You were halfway to your car before you felt his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around in one swift movement. “What Eddie? If you’re just going to call me a slut or a whore or some other mean name just save it! I’m not dealing with this today.” The genuine pain behind your eyes left Eddie feeling even worse than he did before. “No, you’re not a whore or a slut. I just came to apologize for what I said back there. I crossed the line and I’m really fucking sorry.”

You were taken aback by his sudden apology. Eddie had never apologized for anything he said to you before. The usual hate in his eyes was replaced with worry and concern. His hand was still on your shoulder and you swore it was burning a whole into your skin. After what seemed like hours, you shook his hand off your shoulder and turned to walk away from him. But just like that day in sophomore year, in the cafeteria, your feet had carried you back right in front of him before your brain could even process what was happening. “I have never done anything to you Eddie. I have been nothing but kind to you even though you make my life a living hell every single day! Why? What have I done to make you hate me so much? All I ever wanted was to be friends with you. But you fucked that up just like you fuck up everything else in your life!” The words left your mouth faster than your brain could keep up.

Instant regret filled your head and you were about to walk away until you felt Eddie’s strong hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your eyes met his and before you knew it his lips were on yours. You were stunned at first, but eventually you returned the kiss. He tasted like cigarettes and weed, but you didn’t mind. His lips were soft against yours. As cliché as it sounds, it felt as though his lips matched perfectly with yours, like they were meant to meet. The kiss had your toes curling and your brain foggy. You didn’t even realized he had pulled away until you heard him speak.

“I never hated you and I never will. I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve liked you ever since that day you came up to me in the cafeteria. I’m just an idiot and I convinced myself you were playing a joke on me. I couldn’t believe a girl like you could ever possibly like someone like me. I’m so sorry y/n.” You looked up at him in complete and utter shock. Silence filled the parking lot. It wasn’t until you heard birds chirping in the distance that you were brought back into reality. You digested his words and spoke your own.

“I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you in the cafeteria that day in sophomore year Eddie.” You looked up at him, trying to read the look in his eyes. He responded by pulling you close to his chest. One hand on the back of your head and the other placed firmly against your back. He held you like that before speaking again. “I’m so sorry y/n. For everything.” He whispered in your ear. “I forgive you.” You said, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Can we get out of here and do something? Just us.” You asked, without even thinking. “Of course, I have a few ideas in mind.” Eddie had said with his signature shit-eating grin. And with that, you both made your way to his van, hands intertwined.

[susiequaz12]

Immortal Whumpee- Vampire AU

This is technically part 3 of my Immortal Whumpee series, though this is in a different universe. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2 if you want to read more of this Whumpee, who now has a name! It’s Lo, short for Marlowe. Anyways, enjoy! And thanks to @whumpy-writings who inspired me with all their fantastic vampire whump.

CW: Immortal whumpee, nonbinary whumpee, vampire whumper, starvation, blood, vampire feeding, manhandling, intimate whumper, noncon touching and noncon kiss (nonsexual).

Lo didn’t know how they had been found.

It had been weeks of starving, running, hiding, all in a panic, all in an attempt to stay hidden. To stay out of their way.

But even though starvation, dehydration, and the affects of the weather couldn’t stop them, they couldn’t keep running for forever.

“I knew I smelled you out here. I’ve been tracking you for weeks.” The figure loomed over where they lay, their shadow hidden in the dark. “How are you still alive?”

They chuckled, pulling their knees into their chest. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

“Won’t you come out?” The creature teased.

“No- I don’t think I will.” Lo retreated further back into the bushes where they had been camping out, but before they could protest anymore, their ankle was grabbed.

“It wasn’t a question.”

The creature growled as they were dragged away from their safety, pulling them out into the open clearing. The moon glowed in the sky ahead and Lo quickly realized just how small they really were compared to them.

The creature was dressed in a black robe, almost like something out of a fairy tale. Their figure seemed to grow larger and larger as they stood to their full height, dragging their captive by the ankle behind them.

“Oh I have been starving.”

“Let me go!” They cried.

In a flash of swift movement they were pinned to the ground. Lo could feel the weight on top of them, their wrists held together in a single, stronger grip.

They were thrashing about, trying to kick the creature off of them, and then their hair was grabbed.

Lo screamed as their neck was wrenched to the side and they saw the sharp fangs coming towards them before they dug into their neck.

The vampire gave a hum of satisfaction as they sucked in the blood. It was their first feed in nearly a month. Humans had been getting more scarce and harder to find, which led vampires to get more greedy, more vicious and cruel towards each other.

The vampire knew that they should probably share. They should take this human back to their camp and let the others have a turn.

But as the warmth of the blood soaked through their fangs, washing down their tongue and throat, they couldn’t stop.

The whimpers of the human soon died out and it laid there beneath the vampire, eyes wide with tears, chest heaving with trembling breaths.

They pulled away, glancing at their first meal in ages.

Little streams of blood began to seep from the two, tiny puncture holes. They had stopped struggling so much, so the vampire let their arms fall towards their sides to the ground. The human’s mouth uttered a single plea- a mercy not to drain them. But the vampire had made up their mind.

They cradled the back of the human’s neck in one hand, and lapped up the blood that had spilled around their marks. It tasted so good- so rich, and filling- but they needed more.

The human let out a strangled cry as their neck was punctured once more, and the vampire continued to drink.

Eventually the body beneath them became lifeless. The skin was pale and colorless, and not an ounce of breath whispered from their lips.

The vampire licked up the last drops of blood and wiped their mouth clean. They sat back against a nearby tree, sighing, feeling full for the first time in what felt like forever.

It was still dark outside when Lo came to. Their head was pounding and they felt extremely cold. Almost colder then that time they had froze to death. Their breathing was shallow, so they lay still for a few moments before trying to get up and look around.

“Shit.”

Lo’s heart leapt into their chest.

“I thought I drained you?”

“Shit-” they whispered. “I thought you were gone.” They let out a groan- trying to scooch away from the vampire but their body felt so tired.

The vampire crouched in front of Lo, and gripped their chin in a pale, cold hand.

“How did you not die? Did I not drain you fully? But even so you’re not even pale, or-”

“Don’t touch me-” Lo pulled themselves away, but instead the vampire gripped the back of their hair, and stood to their full height. Lo was forced to rise up onto their tiptoes, barely even coming to the vampires shoulder. “Let me go!”

They felt themselves rising above the ground as they were flung over the vampires shoulder and they began to march out of the clearing.

“You’re so light.”

“Put me down!” They screamed, pounding against the Vampires back.

“No thank you, you’re the first human I’ve come across- the first human my whole camp has come across in over a month. I’ll drag you back there kicking and screaming if I have to.”

Lo was going to take that as a challenge.

“You little piece of-” The vampire threw Lo to the ground as they kicked and cried, trying to wriggle out of their grasp. They rolled across the dirt and grass, trying to crawl away back into the bushes but it was no use. The vampire was much stronger and faster then they were.

Once more Lo found themselves pinned underneath the creature, trying to gasp for breath as they were crushed under the weight.

“I really should’ve brought some rope or something.” They gripped the human’s hands as they tried to hit and scratch, screaming and wiggling the entire time. They pinned Lo’s hands down by their sides on the ground, using their knees to keep them restrained. Leaning over the human they gripped the back of their neck, tilting their head back, and gripped their chin in the other hand.

“What are you doing! Let go o-”

Lo’s words were muffled as the vampire’s mouth covered theirs. They could feel their fangs poking behind their own teeth, a long tongue keeping their mouth pried open. Lo tried to turn their head away- to squirm and get their mouth away from the unwanted attention, but they were so much weaker compared to them.

They began to choke as a thick, sour substance began trickling down the back of their throat. Lo’s eyes grew wide and their chest heaved as they tried to breathe, but the vampire refused to move.

The vampire pulled away for a brief second, enough to let Lo breathe for a moment, but their lips still brushed across the human’s as they spoke.

“You need to swallow damn it.”

Their mouth was back over Lo’s, injecting more of the substance from their fangs, and eventually the body beneath them began to involuntarily relax as they swallowed.

The vampire pulled away, sitting back from where they were straddling the human’s hips, and watched as their eyes glazed over, their vision turning glossy and their breaths deepened.

“What’dyou- what did you do to me?” They asked. Their words were mumbled together, speech sloppy.

The vampire shrugged, rising to their feet.

“I had to find some way to restrain you. You weren’t being very cooperative.” They wiped their mouth off on the sleeve of their robe. “There’s more where that came from so I suggest you comply from now on, okay?”

“W-what?” Lo’s world was spinning as they were scooped off of the ground and flung over the vampire’s shoulder. They closed their eyes tight- everything was fuzzy- their head pounding, and limbs heavy.

“Venom.” The vampire chuckled at how light and easy they were to carry now. “It’s enough to hopefully last until we get back to camp before sunrise.”

Lo shook their head- watching the ground begin to move quicker underneath them as the vampire began walking through the trees.

“I-don- don’t wanna go- don’t-” They felt sick.

The vampire chuckled, gripping their captive’s legs tighter as they stepped over a fallen log. “Oh don’t worry, everyone is going to love you.”

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @whumpsday

[mypoisonedvine]

can you please write some daddy! stucky x little! reader with some cockwarming and spanking and just being a cum slut for daddy’s special milk

okay so I took this amazing suggestion and REALLY ran with it... this is so nasty im putting the whole thing under a cut wowww... very nsfw, very heavy ddlg, very aggressive punishments with mean!daddy stucky, lots of cnc and pain kink and degradation plus dp and painal... it's wild

"dada pwease... I'll be good, I pwomise..."

bucky sighed, crossing his arms in disappointnent as he looked down at you. "you had your chance to be good, pumpkin, but you were naughty instead. now papa and I have to teach you a lesson."

you turned to your papa, steve, and your heart broke to see him looking at you with stoic sternness, his hands resting on his hips judgmentally. "pweeease papa, don't spank me... s'gonna hurt..."

"sorry baby but you more than earned it," steve sighed as he took a seat on one of the dining chairs nearby. "your dada's gonna help you take off your pull-up, and then you need to come over here and bend over my knee before I add five more spanks onto your punishment."

"yes, papa..." you mumbled as you felt bucky's hands relieve you of your diaper before you stepped out of it and crossed the room to where steve waited patiently, patting his knee for you to lay on. you squirmed a little in anticipation of the punishment but overall managed to avoid more of his anger.

"I'm gonna give you fifteen, and if you lose count we have to start over."

"but papa I can't count that high!"

"yes you can, stop acting stupid and count them for me, loud so we can both hear you."

loud wasn't a problem at all. he hit you hard enough that just the first one made tears sting your eyes instantly. "o-one!"

you looked up at bucky as you kept counting, little whines and whimpers turning quickly into real cries, each slap making you choke and sob louder. you were hoping he would take pity on you, but instead you saw his cock getting hard inside his jeans.

"I think you need a paci to keep you quiet," bucky decided after you could barely managed to say 'nine' due to the force of your crying. but he didn't go get your favorite pink glittery one, no, he was reaching for his belt to get his cock out and rub it on your lips. "go ahead and suck on it, pumpkin," he encouraged gruffly as he shoved it into your mouth, and you forced yourself to hold back the tears so you could focus on sucking him properly. suckling at his leaking head did help with the crying, to be honest, but it did little for the pain itself.

"looks like dada's trying to make you lose count..." your papa taunted. thankfully they were merciful enough to give you breaks from choking on dada bucky's cock so you could count for papa steve, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you reached fifteen and bucky knelt down to wipe your tears away.

"good job pumpkin, you took it well," bucky soothed you, stroking your hair gently as you let out weak little sobs. "you're almost done."

"a-almost?"

"you need a bigger punishment than just spanks, babydoll. you need to learn about patience."

and that you did: specifically, you learned that patience is awful.

"p-please let me move dada!" you begged, squirming on his lap as best you could while he held you down, his cock buried in you but not giving enough friction to provide any pleasure.

"I told you pumpkin, you can't move til I say so."

he held you still for what felt like forever, while papa kissed your neck and played with your tits and your button, whispering about how you were a good girl but you needed to l learn your lesson. you were right on the edge but you couldn't get there without your dada's cock moving in you.

"go ahead and move, pumpkin."

"thank you dada, thank you soooo much," you sobbed with relief, sighing and moaning when you got a chance to lift yourself on top of him. you didn't get much of a chance to do it yourself though, he was already lifting you effortlessly and moving you up and down himself, before quickly moving you to your hands and knees so he could fuck you more aggressively.

you looked up at your papa as you came, tears welling in your eyes from the intensity of the pleasure bucky was giving you.

"papa... I'm hungry..." you whimpered.

but this wasn't the way you said it when you wanted a snack. this was something else, and you knew he knew it. he grinned as he looked down at you. "what are you hungry for, babydoll?"

"wan' daddy's special milk..."

"yeah, I bet you do... if you do a good job and make papa feel good, you'll get lots of milk... is that what you want, sweetheart?"

you nodded and licked your lips, already salivating at the thought. you loved your daddies' milk so much, you craved it almost all the time. the only thing better than tasting and swallowing it was having it put as deep inside you as they could reach, and plugged up so it stayed. thankfully, with two daddies to take care of you, you never had to choose.

steve stuffed your mouth with his cock, holding you by your neck and fucking your throat.

being used at both ends made you feel incredible, you loved being your daddies' special little girl and making them feel good. you moaned happily when papa came all over your tongue, groaning and praising you as you swallowed every drop and sucked diligently to make sure you got all you could.

when he pulled out and you thanked him like always, you addressed bucky immediately. "please come in me dada, wan it in me..."

"yeah? are you daddy's little cumslut?"

"yes!! love it so so much, dada, please put it so deep in me..."

"I'm gonna fuck you really really hard, okay? but only because you asked me to come. no crying if it hurts."

"okie dada..."

you didn't cry, but you nearly screamed when he began to pound into you senselessly, slamming into your cervix with each thrust.

"it's too deep isn't it?"

you nodded, making him laugh. "oh baby, is dada ruining your tiny little pussy?"

you nodded again, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.

bucky growled as he came, pumping into your abused hole and painting it with his release. you winced when he pulled out, feeling his come mix with yours as it leaked down your thighs

"poor thing, are you sore and achy?" steve cooed, grinning when you nodded. "it's not time for a break yet, I wanna get inside you too, baby."

"can't, papa, too tired."

"that's okay, then we'll just play a game instead. do you remember how to play horsey?"

"I like horsey!"

"good! you get to ride papa like a horsey, isn't that fun?"

well, it wasn't as fun as it sounded, because when you straddled steve on the bed and sink down on his cock, soreness burned between your legs. "hurts, papa... too big..."

"yeah, I know it hurts, but papa wants to play horsey so you need to be a big girl okay?"

you started to pout and cry a little as he pushed all the way into you, shifting to try to relieve your discomfort but only making it worse.

"now just rock back and forth, sweetheart... did you forget how to play like a dumb little baby?"

"n-no..."

just as you were trying to adjust to moving on top of steve, bucky's finger poked at your other hole, a stinging pain shooting up your back when he pushed it in.

"ow, dada!"

"why are you whining, pumpkin?"

"you hurted me!"

"sorry baby, but this is gonna hurt a lot less later if you let me hurt you a little now..."

you tried to be good and take his fingers, but every time it went from hurting to almost feeling good, he would put in more. finally he took them all out and you hoped he was done, but then you felt him pushing his cock against your hole.

"won't fit..." you sighed.

"'m gonna make it fit pumpkin, now hold still..."

you shivered and hissed and scrunched up your face as he pushed into you, trying to squirm away but failing. "dadaaaaa!" you sobbed loudly. "hurts, dada, please stop!!"

"it's supposed to hurt, princess, that's how you know it's working. it means this big cock is stretching out this itty bitty hole for dada. you do know all your holes belong to dada, right?"

"b-but I don't like it..."

"I don't care if you like it. let me use your dirty fucking hole and shut your mouth, you hear me?"

you bit on your lip and nodded weakly, your chest burning with shame from the cruel way bucky was treating you (even though it made your insides tingle with arousal as well).

steve took pity on you though, leaning up to wipe one tear with his thumb before kissing away the other. "is it too much to have both your daddies' cocks in you at once?"

you nodded again, sniffling quietly.

"but you like it anyways, don't you? you like being an obedient cocksleeve for us?"

"yes, papa..."

"and I know you love being full of our special milk... you can get more if you just ask nicely."

"please papa, please dada, wan more of your milk in me..."

"I bet you wanna have your own cummies, isn't that right babydoll?"

you nodded and gasped when steve played with your swollen button again, and you felt your insides tighten around both of them. you couldn't believe you might actually be able to come in spite (or because?) of all this pain.

"dirty little slut. look at you riding two cocks like the filthy whore you are. like the needy little cumdumpster we turned you into. remember when you were all innocent and stupid, baby? when you didn't even know if we would fit? now you're begging for more, drooling and moaning and coming all over your daddies' cocks... taking me up your ass and fucking loving it... desperate bitch."

"bucky," you gasped quietly, taken aback by his words.

"too much?" he whispered back right against your ear.

"no... just right. keep going," you encouraged.

"god, if only you could see how wide your little holes are being stretched right now," he continued, his voice lower than before. "if only you could see us tearing up your princess parts."

"close, dada... gonna have my cummies..."

"go ahead and come, baby, show us how tight you can get, go on, clench real hard for us."

"fuck just like that, gonna fill you up baby"

"you'll be full for days just from this, so full of our milk you won't even be able to think."

when you came you went limp, melting into their arms and losing your ability to do much of anything including say more than a few words at a time. you were totally cockdrunk and exhausted and braindead. bucky said sometimes that you didn't need a brain anyways...

they kept using your exhausted and overstimulated body until they were done with you, putting their come deep in you and finally plugging you up this time (in both holes, of course-- even your mouth too if you count the paci they gave you to nurse while you drifted to sleep on your papa's chest)

"such a good little baby, such a sweet girl for us..."

"get some rest pumpkin, we're so very proud of you"

"you're papa's favorite girl, okay? dada's little angel."

[pleasantanathema]

Zeke Yeager | Give and Take

Pairing: Zeke Yeager x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Spitting, Degradation, Established Relationship, Smoking Cigarettes, Zeke has leather gloves 

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. 💛

          “I’m going to devour you,” the leather was cold, the black stitching methodically tracing over naked skin, “piece by little piece.”

           Gloved fingers pressed into your cheeks, “Open your mouth.”

           But you liked denying him, got the same sick pleasure brewing in your stomach that he did from the chase.

           He had you on your knees—again. He always liked you in some subservient position, something that made it look like you were willing. You could still smell his cigarette smoke from your place on the floor, the cherry burning like hellfire in a dark room. Zeke leaned forward on his couch, thighs spreading wider, thumb sinking deeper into your soft cheek.

           “Open your fucking mouth. And I swear to god if you say ‘make me’ I’ll unhinge your fucking jaw.”

           You reluctantly did as you were told, even letting your tongue loll out of your mouth just how he liked. The taste of leather, of pine and tar and something chemical, hit your tongue, his gloved thumb and index finger pulling at the wet muscle, “and I want you to say thank you, this time.”

           There was no time to protest, the muffled sound of swishing hitting your ears just before a string of spit pooled against your pulled, awaiting tongue. It tasted like smoke and ash, like the menthols he smoked. It always tasted the same, tasted like Zeke.

           He released your tongue and you made a show of swallowing thickly, letting that gulp satisfy him.

           You didn’t give him thanks. You didn’t want to, just like you told yourself you didn’t want him.

           “One day you’ll do as you’re told,” his glove wrapped around your throat, thumb pressing below your jaw as he pulled you up, had you clambering into his lap.

           He was fully clothed, pristine dress shirt untucked from designer pants, brands only a conceited business man wears in winter. And that’s just how he liked it; he felt the power in having you strip in front of him and kneel before him naked. Even if it meant your drooling pussy would leave a stain on his trousers before he was done.

           “Why don’t you see how you taste?” You pulled at his blonde head, fingers tying in his hair like knots.

           Glasses glinted in time with his glare, something snarky ready to spill from curling lips, only to be stifled when you plucked the cigarette from his mouth to puff on it yourself. Smoke filled your lungs and nicotine made your head feel high, fuzzy, just enough to cement your courage.

           “Open your mouth,” you mimicked him, pads of your fingers pressing into bearded cheeks.

           “Dangerous game you’re playing, kid.”

           “What? Afraid you’ll like it?”

           You didn’t wait for his smart answer. When full lips parted, you pushed your open mouth against his, letting spit drool onto his tongue and spill from the sides of his mouth. The leather of his gloves warmed against your hips as he gripped you tighter in response, hard cock straining against his belt.

           The cigarette in your hand felt heavy as you kissed him, sloppy with spit and messy with mewls and groans. For a moment you thought about ashing the smoldering stick against his skin, to watch him burn and hiss. But you weren’t mean, not like him. Instead you let it drop carelessly into the wood of the floor, left to fade out as you two came alive.

           “Think you’re clever,” Zeke purred into your mouth, coarse hairs of his beard scratching at your cheeks, his fingers skimming over your hips, thumbs circling over your lower stomach before venturing farther south, “stupid little whore.”

           He didn’t even prep you, he knew he didn’t have to, already knew you were wet and willing as he pushed two gloved fingers inside of you. You gasped as he breached that first tight ring of muscle, your hand in his hair twisting as your back arched from the pleasure. He pumped the digits a few times, letting your slick coat and stain expensive leather. Those long fingers curled inside of you, felt both foreign and familiar as the thick textile petted your most sensitive, spongy spots.

           “Fuck, that’s not fair,” you whined as his other hand wrapped around your breast, leather creaking as he toyed with your nipple.

           “All’s fair in love and—”

           Your nails scraped against his face in warning, “Don’t finish that. This isn’t—” you lost your words when his thumb swiped across your clit. Hot, piercing pleasure raced down your legs, making them shake. Your knees sunk deeper into the cushions and you held on to slim, broad shoulders for balance.

           “Oh please, you love my fingers stuffed in your cunt,” your head fell as he spoke, panting against his neck as he continued his assault, “and let’s not forget how much you love my cock.”

           You were ready to melt, little drips and pulls of ecstasy blooming over your body and following his cruel fingers. He spread his fingers apart inside of you, slick sloshing and squelching with every push of his hand, lewd sounds making you whimper as you tried to tighten your muscles and hold back an impending orgasm. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of making you cum on his fingers—again.

           “I feel you squeezing. Fuck, want that tight pussy on me. Unbuckle my belt.”

           Your hands acted on their own accord, sliding down his chest as he continued to play with you, your hands fumbling with the metal frame before pulling at his button and zipper. You masked the hitch in your breath by sucking at his neck when your hand snaked around his fat cock. It was unfair that he was given something so big to back up his attitude.

           “Getting needy?”

           You didn’t have to answer, he got his satisfaction from feeling your teeth bite into his throat when he replaced the thumb on your clit with the heel of his palm, letting you grind down against him for friction as his fingers speared up into you. You were so close, so, so close to falling off the edge, the steady build of orgasm ready to burst with just the right touch.

           But Zeke had the power to take away that pleasure, and he did, removing his fingers from your hole and swatting your hand away from his cock so he could pump the shaft and smear your slick across the head. Just as he was able to take, he was able to give, not wasting time to pull your hips down to have you start sucking in his cock.

           “Z-Zeke,” it was just a hot breath mumbled into his throat, your sanity fading as he slowly started to fill you. Your pussy burned from the spread, every thick vein pumping against your walls and making you crazy. He always felt so good, like liquid sin, like something that crawled out of Pandora's box that you weren’t supposed to have.

           “Like how my name sounds in your mouth,” he grunted, head falling back against the sofa as his gloved thumb found your clit as your pussy fluttered around half the cock inside of you, “say it again and I’ll let you cum right now.”

           You, however, hated how his name filled the spaces in your mouth, hated how it felt too heavy on your tongue, hated how it was so stupid that his name was just Zeke. Not Ezekiel. Not even fucking Zachary. Just Zeke and all his arrogance and pride and unbearable hubris. But you’d be damned if he didn’t have the best, most filling cock, one that was making your mouth go dry even as he continued to sink inside of you.

           Your lips found his again, letting his eager tongue lick at your teeth and swallow your sounds.

           “Please, Zeke, pl-ah,ah,” he drew fast circles on your clit, open and ready for him to abuse from where it was spread over his cock.

           You broke within seconds, screaming, clenching, clawing at his shirt as you were punched in the gut with euphoria. You felt too tight, like you were wringing the life out of him as you went numb with pleasure and creamed around him.

           Zeke was caught up in your waves, being drug down into your current, even though his cock was barely seated inside of you.

           “Holy fucking shit, s-so good, fuck, fuck.”

           Your body took from him just like he took from you, the pride draining from his face as you milked his cock from the strength of your orgasm alone. You were sure that your bliss extended just from the sweet burst of victory you felt in your chest, a smile breaking over your face as your high spiraled.

           “God, you’re so fucking weak,” you chided, feeling his cum start to leak down his cock to pool in blonde curls. Your wet cunt finally took all of him in, making him groan from the sensitive feel of having you envelope him fully. His glasses were slipping down his nose as he stayed silent, chest full of deep breaths.

           “I’m just getting started,” he rocked your hips in his lap, cockhead brushing your walls, “want you dripping with my cum for days.”

[primasveraas-writing]

“and the world went away"

The title is from West Side Story. The full song lyric is “I saw you and the world went away.”

I listened to Billie Eilish’s “The End of the World” on repeat while writing this. It fits the theme very well, and I recommend listening while reading.

Exu Calamity spoilers lie ahead! And angst!

WORD COUNT: 1729

XXX

Zerxus is restless.

Sleep is plagued by nightmares, and his waking moments are filled with worry. Anxiety drowns him- he is busy as First Knight of Avalir, but there is still enough time for dread and worry to creep in during whatever quiet moments he stumbles into.

He tries not to think about his nightmares. The Replenishment approaches, and there is much to do. He will see Elias soon.

He tries not to think about his son. There is Avalir, bright, front, and center, and yet-

There is a dark pit in his stomach. There are holes in his heart. Some will never be healed, but his son- he is close, and his forgiveness alone could bring Zerxus back into the light. He could fix it all, if his sweet son had the strength in his own heart.

If Zerxus let him. If Zerxus truly wanted to heal.

And of course, that thought leads to greater fear and anxiety, and the underlying horror of what if he hates me? There are the nightmares, and the call to duty, and the still-throbbing loss of Evandrin, and underneath that, there is a quiet, thready pulse of my son my son my son- I’ll see him soon, and even if he hates me, I’ll see his face again.

He tries to picture his son, older- (You know I won’t look like this when you come home)- but all he sees is the young boy he had left behind. All he sees is Evandrin’s face, his eyes and his hair and his face, and although Zerxus can imagine his son, he cannot see him.  

Quiet of his own making surrounds Zerxus. A part of him, that died years ago, misses late nights and early mornings with a newborn. Misses gentle snores and deep breaths in bed beside him, aches for the nonsensical chatter of a young child. He has not had a home since Evandrin died, and if his heart were whole, he might know the loss of one, noise and laughter and all.

The grief- what he feels and chooses not to feel- threatens to swallow him.

His nightmares get worse.

The Replenishment approaches.

Something is coming.

--

Something does. He hears his husband’s voice, sees his face, and pulls the Lord of Hells into Exandria.

There is chaos, and death is around every corner. The Ring of Brass is scattered and confused, and Zerxus cannot help them. He cannot think, cannot understand the magnitude of what he’s just done. But in all of it, in spite of everything-

Zerxus is foolish. When the world begins to end, he is relieved that his first thought is of his son- a cruel voice whispers that it took the end of the world for Zerxus to think of Elias before Avalir. A good father would always consider their child first.

Zerxus is not sure he’s a good father, but as the fires and screams begin, Zerxus fights his way to his son, before anything else can happen.

He makes his way down, down, down- through fire and smoke and death, to see his son. To warn him. To ensure his safety. To say goodbye.

He won’t recognize you. Not because your grief has shaped you, aged you, but because your soul has been blackened. You have changed, Zerxus Ilerez, and you are no father that Elias would know. 

But nonetheless, his feet hit the ground- real ground, he is back on the earth, far from the clouds, for the first time in seven years-

Eaedalus greets him in the crowd of scrambling people, asks after his brother. He’s alive, Elias is alive-

“See him yourself,” Eaedalus says, and Zerxus finally does.

There is Elias- older and taller, and still so young in the face, but sorrow and wisdom and many more years of life shining in his eyes- and overwhelming love hits Zerxus, as strong as the first time. Love so powerful it chokes Zerxus, brings tears to his eyes, makes him stumble and his heart thud to a stop in his chest. Love like I cannot believe one person can feel this much and I think if I loved you any more it would destroy me.

(I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.)

Then he recoils in shock and fear, and Zerxus remembers that he is a monster, that he is covered in blood and gore, and worse still, there are horns sprouting from his head. He is marked by evil-

-and his son, 13, looks at him, and goes: 

“Daddy?”

He is still a boy. Barely a teenager. Far from a man, no longer a child- until Zerxus looks in his eyes, and sees Elias, young and afraid, sees his son at five years old, before his world was shattered with grief and pain.

“Dad?”

“It’s me.” Zerxus is a traitor, a monster, to his city, to his people, to his son. “Just look at my eyes.”

There is no time. His city and the world are dying- Zerxus doesn’t have time to be here; there’s not enough time even for this rushed goodbye.

Elias deserves far more. He has deserved more his whole life.

You cannot choose him now. You are mine. You have dedicated years to this city, to your grief, to your own selfishness. You get minutes with your son. But you are mine for the rest of eternity.

“I have to go.”

Zerxus has only minutes. He got to see Elias’ face one last time.

His son stares at him, and there is fear and sorrow, and little else. He looks confused, and Zerxus doesn’t know what to do, how to comfort him- father and son, strangers-

“This is for you. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me and your father, it’s here.”

A book, instead of years of joy and time together, for the boy he loves but doesn’t know, hasn’t known, betrayed, left behind, failed. His husband’s flesh and blood, an echo of the person they both loved, and the only true remnant of the life they had together. 

By dawn, Elias will be alone again, and that life will be truly gone.

“Dad, Dad- wait- I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

There is so much regret, and it belongs to Zerxus alone. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do.”

In his hands, Elias holds a spell kite, complete and unsent.

They didn’t get to say hello, and now this is goodbye. Elias couldn’t bear to face his father, the man who abandoned him to grief, and now Zerxus is leaving again.

“I don’t know why I didn’t send it.”

I do. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I know why, and it’s okay. It’s okay.”

I have broken your heart a thousand times, in all the ways that parents do, and in so many more.

I’m going to break your heart again.

Please, please, understand, if only one far-off day.

“Elias, I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Everything I’ve wished for you to know about me, it’s in this book. Take it with you.”

I have kept so many of my thoughts and dreams and wishes for him in this book.

My son, I loved your father so much that when I lost him, I forgot how to live.

I should have lived for you.

You were just a child.

When Zerxus looks at his son now, older and taller, sorrow and wisdom and years of life shining in his eyes, he still sees the boy he knew long ago, when their family was whole and happy, and things were right. That is the boy who begs for his forgiveness, who sees his father and what he has become and loves him.

He can’t breathe. He didn’t think anything could be worse than meeting Elias again. The love he feels, fresh and raw and renewed, was enough to kill him, and now it is mingled with endless grief, and it chokes him.

Elias- thirteen, seven, five- stares at him still.

“You will always be five years old to me, no matter how much you grow.”

My son, my son, my son.

All I will ever know is that I loved you.

“Dad!” 

“I have to go.”

He tears himself away, and he feels his heart break over again the second Elias leaves his sight. Tempus nuzzles him, and then Elias is right behind him, holding the journal and spell kite and feather.

"Dad, tell me that you're going to be all right. Why do you look like this?"

Or: I cannot lose you too. What’s going to happen?

Zerxus cannot tell the truth, and cannot muster the strength to lie to his son, either.

“What you see on the outside doesn't matter, my son. Just remember what's here.” He looks at his son- young and beautiful and so much like his father. “Then you will always see me for who I really am.”

Before I was a monster, I was your father. 

You will always be my son, no matter how far- how changed I am. And that matters

Tempus flutters his wings, and they lurch into the air. Zerxus hears Elias cry out, but he doesn’t look back until he is far above, watching Elias be dragged towards the ships until he disappears beneath clouds and smoke.

Avalir needs him now. If he helps the city, the world- then he gives Elias a better chance, too. 

Avalir needs him now. He has failed his city, but there is an hour left.

There is nothing he can do and so much he can do. Dawn approaches. His son will live to understand, the Ring of Brass will die, and if Zerxus too lives, he will face a far worse ending.

Perhaps. Perhaps that is their fate. Perhaps there is more.

Zerxus turns to the sky and glimpses the last of the stars shining far above. Horns weigh heavy on his head.

The stars are bright before the break of day. He pictures how the next night will look, from the ground of a ruined world instead of high above on shining Avalir. Still, he knows that the night sky, hidden behind smoke and ash, will be the same bright and constant view when he finally sees it again.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.  

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af​ @corishirogane3​

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin. 

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well. 

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar. 

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump. 

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest. 

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

                         *          *          *           *          *          *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!” 

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice. 

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo. 

What the hell are you doing at a fire station? 

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched.  You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?” 

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus. 

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though,  you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones. 

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.” 

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry. 

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders. 

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him. 

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions  running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees. 

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” 

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively. 

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being. 

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs. 

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges. 

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?” 

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it. 

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder. 

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?” 

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin. 

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips. 

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body. 

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek. 

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you. 

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker. 

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.” 

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you. 

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours. 

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck. 

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.” 

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles. 

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what? 

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-” 

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

I don't know if you write for Aizawa but I could use some good Aizawa smut. He doesn't often have good smut🖤🙏🏽💛

So sorry this took so long this went from a headcanon to a full fic before I knew what happened.

The beast tames a brat

You decide to get revenge on your boyfriend only for it to backfire.

Shota aizawa x female reader

TW: degradation, OVERSTIMULATION, slight PREDATOR KINK, fucked stupid.

Word count 1477.

You were definitely in a mood today. You had been restless and horny all morning and when you texted your boyfriend to ask when he'd be home he had given you a one word response of "eventually". This was not a good idea on his part as you immediately started planning your retaliation. After a quick shower you started your plan. You took pictures in your towel, took pictures of you slowly slipping it off frame by frame but never letting the full sight of your breasts or pussy be in the shots. You put on makeup and pulled out some of your favorite lingerie. 3 absolutely mouth watering peices that had never failed to have shota pushing you against the nearest hard surface. It took about an hour but you completed the most sexy solo photo shoot that you had ever done. You made sure to include a variety of toys and positions that would have shota losing his damn mind.

Once it was around the time the school broke for lunch you started sending your pictures to his phone. The first one received no response, just the icon showing he had seen it. So you sent the next one, each picture was sent 20 minutes after the last as you tried to give him time to respond. He never did so when you ran out of the sexy yet tame pictures you sent one of the most naughty ones you had taken. Within 5 minutes he was calling you. You let it go to voice mail before sending another picture even more naughty than the first. He called again and this time you picked up. You didn't even get a chance to say hello before his deep, frustrated voice came through the speaker.

"Princess when I get home you better be ready for your punishment. If you wanna act like a slutty bitch then I'm going to treat you like one. Your gonna remember not to fuck with me even if I have to spend all night reminding you why."

He hung up the phone while you were still in a daze. You were definitely gonna get the raw fuck you were craving tonight. You thought for a moment and smiled, you still had some more pictures including the one you had take with your ass spread showing the plug in your and the dildo stuffing your pussy. So being the brat you were you sent it giggling at how shota was definitely going to get you for that. You ended up not having to wait very long for him to get you as an hour later he came home. Shota stalked through the apartment like a beast, throwing off his clothes as he went. You looked up at him as he came into the bedroom more than a little shocked to see him so early. The corners of his mouth turned up in a cruel almost sadistic manner that you really didn't want to call a smile.

"What's the matter princess? Afraid of the consequences for teasing your man?"

He launched himself on the bed grabbing your ankle as you made to scramble off the bed. Pulling you back towards him with one hand he caught the front of the black lace lingerie set you had yet to change out of, using only two fingers he tore it right down the middle leaving you bare except for the tattered scraps. Keeping his hold on your ankle he rubbed his thumb against the pulse point he found there before trailing slow kisses down your leg. When he reached your inner thigh he paused staring up at you until you locked eye's. Once he knew you wouldn't look away he kissed your thigh gently, slowly sucking on your dampening skin. Then he grinned and bit down making you whimper and buck at the slight pain. You whined his name as he moved on to your pussy,kissing all around your lips without ever touching where you really needed him. Reaching down you grabbed his hair as you begged him to touch you properly. Relief swept through you as he made to do just that. It was short lived though as shota took that chance to begin mercilessly fucking your needy hole with his tongue. The pleasure was intense enough to have you panting and pulling on his hair, but it wasn't enough to make you cum. Over the next hour no matter how much you begged, pleaded, and threatened him he just continued to keep you on the edge of release.

" I told you baby your gonna remember why you shouldn't fuck with me. I already called your boss on my way over your not working tomorrow. Not that you could with the jelly legs I'm going to give you."

Whimpering you desperately tried to wiggle out of his grasp more than a little regretful of your bratty actions from the afternoon. Shota decided to give you a little taste of what the rest of the night would be like when he locked both his arms around your thighs and sucked your clit into his mouth. You didn't even last a full minute before you were coming against his lips. But he didn't stop, he kept sucking your clit. Shota had latched on to your clit, sucking hard until he got what he was working for. You came for a second time in less than five minutes squirting all over his face with a squeal. He drank and licked your squirt, making sure to get his fill. Sitting up shota flipped you to your back while you still panted and twitched form the overstimulation. Kneeling behind you he pulled your hips back to rest on his thighs. Adjusting his grip on your hips shota chuckled darkly.

" I hope your ready princess because your kings about to give you everything you were begging for. I'm going to fuck the brat right out of this slutty little cunt."

With precision that no man should have he began ramming his cock inside your still twitching hole. His every thrust was angled to hit your gspot, he continued to hammer it as he fucked you with only six or so inches of his thick cock. You were so fucked out already that all you could do was lay there moaning and mumbling gibberish. Shota continued his pace relentlessly his mind sinking into a feral place where his only thought was to pull as many orgasms from you as he could. Growling as his release came closer shota finally gave up on his torturous game to instead fuck you like the beast he truly was at his core. Griping your thighs tighter he pounded all his ten and a half inches of cock into your already over stretched pussy. Your back was arched as you sobbed out your pleasure, shota's heavy thrusts keeping you in a constant state of orgasm with no end insight. This was what you had been wanting, what you had been needing. To be taken animalisticly by your man, your king, your unchained beast. Seconds turned to minutes as shota finally let himself go, shoving his cock head flush with your already bruised cervix he let out a primal shout as he came. At his core the man who called himself your king was cunning beast, but one that loved and lusted after you unconditionally. The sound set something off inside of you that made you want to find a way to submit to him even more than you already had. The heat of his cum set you of into your final orgasm. You screamed, your eyes rolling back in your head while your pussy milked his cock for every drop almost as if it was trying to suck his seed into your womb. Pulling out of you shota grabbed your phone off the bedside table and turned on the camera, recording a few seconds of your hole gapping open, grasping at nothing before his cum slowly started to leak from it. He let a little drip out , catching on your clit before pushing it back inside of you.

" you did so good for me baby. I know your gonna do even better on our next round. I need that tight little hole milking me again already."

You sighed as he placed sweet kisses down your back. The little part of your brain that was still functioning knew what you were doing when you sent those pictures for sure but from the looks of it you might need to be a little more patient and less brash the next time you teasing your beastly king. But for now you were gonna nap while he kissed and massaged your spent body. You had more rounds of fucking coming and you really did wanna be good for your king tonight.

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Can you write something where a Supervillain was an absolute jerk to hero, but when she finds him, tortured, sick, and left to die, she helps him anyway?

Thank you!!!

Sure thing! Sorry this took a while. I had a million ideas for this and had to focus in on one.

Dear Diary

Warnings: fevers, delirium, left to die, betrayed, Stockholm Syndrome (implied, not directly stated), fungal infection, exposed bone, broken ribs and nose, starvation, implied neglect, bathing, stripping of clothes (non-sexual), blood, crying

~

Hero sat down at her desk, illuminated by a small lamp and pulled out her worn, leather notebook. She opened the first thirty pages to an empty one, taking brief notes of the way the pages were clearly, neatly filled out top to bottom.

Then, she took her pen- an object of sentiment, nearly as old as her, and gifted to her by her late grandfather- and wrote, as neat as the previous pahlges, in her cursive sign:

Dear Diary,

Then she stopped writing and glanced over at the sleeping figure in the nearby bed. His brown hair tousled, but neat. Old injuries securely bound by more bandages than Hero cared to admit. His once flushed and feverish skin, now placid and evenly moist, was completely neutral with no signs of that agony that brought screams that still haunted Hero at night.

Smiling, she changed her writing to a more easy going print and started writing.

I apologize for not writing recently. It's been so hectic that I think I need a vacation. So, before I tire my hand out complaining, let me tell you about the past couple weeks...

Two weeks ago:

Hero drove smoothly over the recently tarred road. It was night and the sky was absolutely glamorous with stars and constellations of all sorts of celestial bodies. She sighed, contentedly, and aimlessly tapped her fingers against the black steering wheel. She hummed no song in particular as cheery eyes scanned the long, expansive track in front of her.

Until suddenly, the monotonous road was broken by a Ford stranded across the center. Thankfully seeing it immediately, Hero flashed the lights on top of her patrol car, and stepped out with her gun in hand.

A F250, manual with only two seats, but it was empty. Hero raised her gun again and stalked to the other side. Nothing, just an eerie, sporadic vehicle in the middle of a county road.

She whisked open the door. The acrid smell of tobacco and liquor plummeted into her nose and she grimaced. But, like the exterior of the whole truck, there was nothing in the cab.

"Hmm." Hero shrugged, and slammed the door shut, slightly annoyed. She was about to call it in when she heard a tiny, pained whimper.

She tensed, bringing her gun back up again, and spun around. Nothing. Not even a deer or a racoon.

Then, the whimper sounded again.

"Who's there?" Hero asked, but she was starting to think it was just a young fawn or a toad or something.

But it sounded so human.

"Help."

The plea, the breathless plea, sounded the still air. Hero, now completely able to locate it, bounded to the bed of the truck and looked in.

To find a man, bloodied and bruised, with sweat glistening across his dirtied face. He seemed to be conscious- at least awake enough to call for help, as weak the call was- but his eyes were half-lidded and dazed. Blood, still fresh, streamed from a very broken nose.

"Sir?" Hero asked, lowering her gun and putting it in the holster.

The man's eyes opened slightly and he looked at Hero with wonder. A small smile formed on parched, ruined lips. Tears seemed to flood his eyes and he started to cry.

Baffled, Hero climbed into the truck and gathered the man into her arms, mindful not to hurt his neck or spine.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, concern evident in her voice. "Are you okay?" No, obviously.

"She-she left me," Supervillain rasped. "She left me here." He started to sob, clawing at Hero's shirt. "Villain left me."

Wait Villain? The stuck-up, obnoxious, feminine bastard that acted as if the world bowed down to her? Hero looked down at the shivering man. Villain, as arrogant as she was, wouldn't hurt a person to this grave extent, unless...

Unless it was...

"Supervillain?" Hero asked. The man turned his head and only then did Hero recognize the sharpness of his jaw and those dashingly handsome golden brown eyes. He let out a hoarse whine and pressed his face back into Hero's leg, chest rattling with broken ribs and mucus.

It was him.

Hero pushed the man off her lap and scowled. He didn’t deserve comfort, or love. Heck, he deserved whatever catastrophe Villain wreaked upon him.

But, after that cruel shove, Supervillain started to scream from the pain of both his horrific injuries and the fresh feeling of betrayal again. He curled his battered form into himself and started a nonstop crying session.

Feeling awfully guilty, Hero laid her hand on his hot shoulder and sighed. She took it back, no matter how mean or terrible a person is, they didn't deserve this.

Before Hero knew it, Supervillain was asleep in the back of her car. As she drove home, night shift forgotten, she thought of her plan. He needed a bath to wash the injuries out and to see the full extent of them. And then he probably needed stitches and a few bones set.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at the limp body. He was breathing, but very subtlety. If it wasn't for the periodic moan or a distressed cry here and there, one might've mistaken him for dead.

Hero shook her shoulders out and looked back at the road, slightly paranoid that she would stumble across another hazardly placed truck. Specifically a manual F250 owned by a certain woman named Villain.

But of course, she didn't. She arrived at home safe and sound, turned off her car, and gathered the now unconscious supervillain in her arms.

"Okay bud," she whispered, hauling him in a bridal carry as she made it to the door. If he wasn't so starved and lightweight, he would've been a big problem to lift.

She opened the door, then immediately in a sudden instinctual rush to hurry, locked the door. She took Supervillain to her bedroom and laid him across the floor. Then, she took off his shirt to reveal a whole menu of wounds.

He had, across both his sides, large purple- nearly black- bruises around his ribcage. They greened at the edges, leading to his torso where cuts and puncture wounds made up a revolting soup. His broken ribs barely had anything in the terms of flesh or muscles on them. Only skin.

His abdomen was sunken in, remnants of days without food, revealing high, pointed hip bones. Hero winced, running a finger lightly across a particular large cut. It was so deep that it revealed the ivory bone beneath. Supervillain, even in his unconscious state, stiffened and whimper pathetically.

Sleep was not an escape from the pain.

Hero stripped the rest of his clothes off. Even his legs and lower body were covered in those red and purple marks. She picked him up again and carried him to the bathtub where she delicately showered the dirt and grime out of infected wounds and off his face.

When it was over, Hero was dumbfoundly shocked at the lack of color in his ghostly face. He didn't wake throughout the process; he was throughly exhausted and sick. Fever raged behind those closed eyelids, appearing in his hot breaths and lolling head. Hero put some old shorts of her's that she bought at a garage sale a couple months ago. They were way too big, but maybe a bit of foreboding told her that they may be necessary one day.

Then she scooped him back up and carried him to her room, laying him on top of the bed, and got to work on stitching and bandaging the wounds.

Supervillain stirred when the needle accidentally pricked a bruise. The second his eyes opened, he screamed and tried to thrash away.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" He yelled. "Villain? Villain! Help me, please!" He started to sob, pressing his cheek into the pillow. "Please... V-vill...ain."

"Shh, shh," Hero laid a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and made a blubbering sound. "You're safe, okay?"

"No, no... I-i want Villain," he sniffled, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. "I-i need her."

Hero felt her heartbreak at the desperation taut in Supervillain's voice. She gently placed her hand on his forehead in an attempt to comfort and check his fever. He was hot, super-duper hot.

Supervillain pulled away from the touch, watching her with wary eyes. Hero gave a small smile and stepped away. He didn't trust her and her presence might freak him out more. So she stepped away and went to her desk, back facing him.

After a while, his sniffles ceased. Hero took the risk and glanced at him to find him asleep. She sighed, the poor guy was so sick and hurt and tired...

Hero walked back over and went to work again. She applied some antibiotic ointment on some of the more severe wounds, hoping the infection wasn't too deep.

She was about to get to work on tending to his legs, when something in his hair caught her eye. It was a tuff.

Curious, she went over and gently pulled on it to find that it just fell out. A feeling of nausea rose in her throat as more and more hair fell loose. Crunching her brows together, she cleared a hole spot on his scalp to reveal reddened, puffy and dry skin.

A fungal infection. She recognized this from when she took zoology classes in high school. They went on a field trip and the staff gratefully allowed them into the vet area.

Hero rummaged through her medical supplies and found an antifungal cream for athlete's foot. She hesitated, not knowing if something for feet would be good for scalp.

But it was all she had, and something was better than nothing.

So she spread the cream on Supervillain's head, watching as the rose colored flesh glistened with newfound moisture.

Then, she went back to work on stitching and cleaning the wounds of his lower body.

When that long feat was done, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a towel and placed it on Supervillain's forehead. Even unconscious, he whimpered and relaxed into the new, relieving sensation.

Hero started to pace. As the minutes ticked by, his breaths seemed to get shallower and shallower and then would increase in a sudden gasp. Periodically, his eyes would flutter open, but only for a moment before he passed out again.

She ended up sitting on the other side of her bed, far away enough to not scare him if he ever regained consciousness enough to be aware of her, but close enough to monitor him.

Hero felt herself dozing as she watched Supervillain's chest rise and fall, but suddenly he awoke fully. She started backwards, then froze. Maybe he would fall asleep again...

But he stared crying, mucus filled lungs heaving. Then he started sobbing, then wailing.

"Villain!" He cried, loudly. "I-i need you." He pulled his legs into himself and Hero did nothing to stop it- too petrified about him hurting himself if he got too spooked.

"Please," he mumbled. "Please, please, please. Don't leave me. Leave me... please no. I don't want you to, I love you please."

Hero's heart broke at that.

Supervillain went silent, apart from nonstop screams of fear and incoherent begging. It got to the point where Hero had to roll him over and gather him into her chest.

"Hey, shh, shh," she cooed, rubbing his back. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay. Deep breaths... that's it. Breathe in, breathe out. Good job."

Supervillain calmed down and clutched at Hero's shirt. He buried himself into her and fell back asleep.

[writernomore]

My sunshine.

Anon said; Don't imagine sbi with a sister who's like three years older than Tommy taking his death super hard. Don't imagine her holding his body waiting for him to wake up. Don't imagine her calling phil dad for the first time after Tommy's. Especially don't imagine her singing to him like when they were little. I haven't been listening to I'd Give my Life for You from Miss Sigon wdym 😭😭😭

A/n: I think I just might:) Alot of you guys liked my fanfic Worn off lights yesterday and it just makes me so happy and proud of how far I've come! Thank you! <3

Warnings: Spoiler to the latest stream, Angst, Character death, denial.

You tried to be faster.

But you were already too late....

"Let me through! Let me through!" Screaming at Sam to let you through and see your baby brother, as the lava slowly falls and the bridge is set you see on the other side with wide eyes.

Dream and...there he was..Tommy in Dream arms with his mask on his face, his body limp as Dream braids his hair humming a song.

Running to the other side you take him away from Dream and bring Tommy close to you, taking off the mask carefully you see his beaten up face.

Sam is behind you, staring down at you and Tommy, solely focused at Tommy's face, he had a black eye, blood coming down his nose, tears in his eyes.

His eyes once filled with fire and determination, you stare as lifeless orbs stare up at you.

"I'm sorry" you whisper.

Eyes start to fog as tears spill and onto Tommy's face as you pull him to you once again into a hug and sob.

You had first lost Wilbur as he was murdered by your own Father and now you had lost Tommy as you tried protecting him from the brutality of this world but...

The world was cruel..

Sucking in a breath you let out a scream and cradle your dead brother's head as you caress his cheek.

Tears falling like a waterfall, you stare up at the man who had done all this and see him just smiling at you as green orbs stare at you, closing your eyes a broken sob leaves your mouth.

A hand placed on your shoulder you stare up at Sam, he was crying, "Let's get you and..Tommy out of here." he stands in full height and stares down at Dream before making his way out of Dream's cell .

You let out a shaky sigh and proceed to carry Tommy in your arms.

Walking out Dream's cell you take one last look at him then proceed to go out and walk to the main area of the prison.

You had told Sam you would bring Tommy to your house and..patch him up.

Walking to your house you smile down at him saying "Don't worry Tommy we'll get you cleaned up in no time!"

Opening the door they open the lights in the living room then gently place down Tommy on your couch and went to grab a cloth to clean his blood and an ice pack to help his black eye.

Getting a small water basin you proceed to carefully wipe the blood off his face as to not...'disturb' his sleep..

He looked so peaceful when he's asleep!

You put the cloth back into the water basin and gingerly place the ice pack on his eye.

hearing a knock on your front door you stood up and went to answer it.

"Techno!" You smile and give him a quick hug before looking up at him and asking "What're you doing here?"

Techno was silent before moving to the right to show "Phil! It's nice to see you again! What brings you guys here?"

"We..uh..heard what happened in the prison? We thought we'd give you a visit and ask you how you took in everything."

You were confused Phil went to talk again but you cut him off "Oh! You mean Tommy? He's fine I just patched him up and he's just sleeping!"

Techno and Phil looked at each other with worried faces "Why don't you guys come in? but please be quiet Tommy is sleeping- as mentioned before- and have some tea?"

You make your way to the kitchen after leaving the door open for them to enter your house, they both stare at the lying figure of your dead brother, his eyes closed and looking peaceful as ever with brand new clothes on.

You come back to the living room with two glasses in hand, giving them to Techno and Phil.

"Techno." You say handing him his tea and "Here you go Dad! have some coffee since I remembered you didn't like drinking tea much." You say as you smile at him, he looks at you with somber eyes and take the mug from you after mumbling a 'thank you' .

"Ooh! I should look for the story book I always read to Tommy when he was little."

"A story book?" Phil says.

"Yup! I would always read it to him when he couldn't sleep and then sing him to sleep! I always did it so it became a routine because I didn't know what to do with Tommy when he didn't want to sleep." "You always knew what to do but you weren't around much so I barely had time to ask." You continued.

Phil wasn't much around with you, Tommy and Wilbur, he was always going on adventures to anywhere with Techno so basically Wilbur was always parenting you and Tommy but you helped him sometimes because you didn't want Wilbur having to deal with alot of things on his own all the time, he was a kid too.

"Are you going to sing it now?" Techno asked.

"Sure if you want me too!"

Techno and Phil didn't say anything and accepted your mourning, you took Tommy's death hard but you would have to face your brother's death soon but for now they'll let you be in your little bubble of euphoria for a while.

They understood why you were in obvious denial, Tommy was your younger brother only being three year older than him, Wilbur's death took a toll on you but Tommy's just made a gaping hole in your heart.

He kept you intact with the world, he was the light that shone through this cruel world that you guys live in.

It was like a solar eclipse had dawned upon you and you would never see the sunshine again.

It was a false sense of hope that Tommy would come back alive, but you were clearly in pain as you waited for Tommy to wake up.

But they needed to make it clear to you that..He's not waking up Y/n.

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Ayyyy we got another one done!

I got another angst fic in the bag so you guys wait for that one!

Anyways;

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