#like i said minor amount of gore

[rottmnt-residuum]

Part 7 of Arc II (Part 33 - Gore)

leo behind you-! oh god he cant hear us his air pods are in

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[slashisms]

𝓦𝓘𝓝𝓝𝓔𝓡 𝓣𝓐𝓚𝓔𝓢 𝓐𝓛𝓛;

ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧＳ: Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

ＲＡＴＩＮＧ: E

ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ: MINORS DNI, all characters are 18+. dub-con, but not really, spanking, name-calling, overstimulation, (un)protected sex, anal, etc.

ＷＯＲＤ ＣＯＵＮＴ: 6k

ＳＵＭＭＡＲＹ: Billy and Stu have a disagreement regarding your sex life.

Ａ/Ｎ: special thanks to @blackterrae who sent me a lovely ask that pretty much motivated this fic.

Your relationship with Tatum and Sidney was cordial, for all its ambiguity. You challenge anyone to think of a fitting adjective for the person who unknowingly stole your boyfriend, but saved your life in the process because said boyfriend was planning to kill you gruesomely. None of the questions raised by Billy and Stu’s seemingly random decision to dump both their girlfriends one day mattered once the bodies started dropping.

You were supposed to be their first victim, a red herring before Casey Becker’s murder, but after a failed attempt neither of them will cop to– they decided to pursue you instead. The timeline had been notably suspicious and eventually led to your discovery of their ‘extracurricular’ activity.

With the amount of convincing it took to get them to direct their murderous intentions towards Billy’s adulterous father and stage the whole thing as a murder-suicide with Neil Prescott as the culprit, you figure that sort of makes up for your part in the breakup. When Sidney and Tatum got together some time later, you were hoping for an opportunity to move past any lingering awkwardness.

Mentioning it to Billy and Stu was probably a mistake. They could care less about maintaining boundaries with an ex and considering how Stu’s last relationship ended, they probably thought they were doing the girls a favor by giving them a chance to befriend you. It would move them to the bottom of Billy and Stu’s list of potential victims, at least for a while.

A few weeks after you bring it up, they suggest you go to Sidney’s place to hang out. Perhaps you had been a little naive in thinking the two of them would agree to spend time with their exes’ new girlfriend without any hidden motives. Taking one girl’s boyfriend is bad, but taking two is downright sleazy. You should have been more wary of payback, especially since they knew exactly what pushed your boyfriends’ buttons.

Honestly, it would have been less exhausting if they hazed you to hash things out.

It starts after the end of the gore fest Billy forced everyone to watch. You’re too wrapped up in their flirting to notice the way Sidney and Tatum glance at you before sharing a long look. Tatum yawns dramatically, reaching for the remote to pause the credits with a bored expression. “I think that’s enough sex and stabbing,” she says, rising from the couch and wandering to the kitchen. “Let’s do something fun!”

Sidney rolls her eyes as you try to get Billy and Stu to take their hands off of you long enough to pay attention to the blonde. The two finally settle down when you pinch them in the side, fixing them with a look that has them heeling like two trained dogs. She’s reluctantly impressed by your handling and becoming more convinced that you’ll be fine after they’re done stirring the pot. Tatum returns with a bottle of liquor, swinging it triumphantly as Sidney shakes her head in feigned disapproval. “It’s not a party without vodka!” 

Before you can ask her what she means, the doorbell rings. Sidney gets up to answer it while Tatum silences your protests, tugging you out of Billy and Stu’s arms as voices begin echoing from the entrance way. Stu laughs and Billy smirks at the look of betrayal you give them as she pulls you towards the stairs. Your eyes widen at the crowd of people suddenly swarming the front door, catching a glimpse of Sidney speaking with a nervous looking Randy before handing him a twenty dollar bill.

The next thirty minutes is spent fending off Tatum’s attempts to ply you with vodka and put you in increasingly revealing outfits as she applies mascara and lip-gloss to you while lamenting not having any foundation in your shade. 

You compromise on two shots and a tastefully revealing pleated skirt and crop top before she leaves you to arrange your hair to your liking. Billy and Stu are standing outside like two pathetic puppies when she opens the door and Tatum rolls her eyes. You were wasted on these idiots, she thinks before seeking out her girlfriend. 

Stu wraps his arms around your waist while Billy approaches you, tilting your chin as you pout up at him. “Way to give me a heads up,” you gripe. 

Billy tuts softly, moving your head back and forth as he peers at you. “And give you a chance to run? No way,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your glossy lips. 

“Don’t worry, babe, we won’t leave your side,” Stu promises

Unbeknownst to you, Tatum and Sidney were counting on it. 

They hover by your side like two gargoyles for the duration of the party, guarding your drink as you become progressively tipsier. By your third (and last) drink, you’re ripe for the picking when someone exclaims, “Let’s play truth of dare!” 

You tug your reluctant boyfriends along, sitting on the couch with one of them on either side of you. The game is fairly innocuous for the first round, prepubescent memories or equally embarrassing dares before it delves into raunchier topics. Billy and Stu quickly become bored of torturing their classmates, a direct contrast to the lovey dovey way they treat you that Randy points out with accusatory gagging motions. 

“I’ve got a truth for you Randy,” Billy says, a smug grin on his face. “Are you a nerd because you’re a virgin or a virgin because you’re a nerd?” 

Stu snickers into your neck, kissing your skin in a pointedly mocking manner as you fight down the blush rushing to your face. Randy would usually slink away from this confrontation with his tail between his legs or backtrack with his belly up, but he stands his ground with an uncharacteristic confidence. “I’ve got one too, not for you kind sir, but for our Juliet here,” he says, setting you on edge. “Is there a ranking system to your Romeos or are you left twice as disappointed?” 

When you consider Randy’s part in provoking Billy later, you really think he should have asked for more than twenty dollars to take the beating the two of them dole out. You try to stop him when he rises from the couch, but he shakes you off easily as Stu’s playful grin falls and he follows suit, stalking towards Randy. You sigh when Billy grips Randy’s collar and delivers two blows to his face with the back of his hand without a word, pushing him into Stu’s waiting arms. The party goes wild as the two heft him over their shoulders, tossing him into a rowdy crowd surf that ends with him crashing onto the coffee table. 

Yet as the two slink back to your side, the seed has already been planted. You’re guiltily holding back laughter while they size the other up, oblivious to the signals that you should address the issue and drunk enough to believe that kicking Randy’s ass has resolved everything. You miss the silent communication that seals your fate: an annoyed quirk of Billy’s brow, an obnoxious grin from Stu and a glance at you and the exit. “C’mon, let’s ditch this snooze fest,” Stu insists, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

Your protests are quelled by the look Billy gives you, though it doesn’t take long for you to realize something’s up as they silently escort you back to the car. Billy gets in the back with you, barely closing the door before he’s pushing you back onto the leather seat. Stu starts the car while Billy climbs on top of you, hands roaming over your body to grope at your curves. His voice is deceptively calm when he speaks. “Hey, babe,” he says, pressing a biting kiss to your neck. “What did you think about that loser’s question?” 

You blink, brain crashing to a halt as Billy makes room for himself between your thighs. The two were definitely different, but they were plenty skilled at satisfying you that it never occurred to you to compare the two. From the way Billy stares at you, brown eyes glinting dangerously, he’s expecting an answer. “Uh, I think he was pretty stupid to ask something like that without wearing a cup,” you reply, trying to diffuse the thick tension in the air.

He smirks, tilting his head to the side as his hand moves to the edge of your skirt, slipping under it as he hums softly. “Well it’s started a debate that only you can solve,” he says. “Stuart here thinks he screws you better than I do.” 

Your breath catches as he pinches the lace band of your panties, snapping it against your skin. His words ignite a fire in your gut kindled by the thumb he’s swiping back and forth over your pulsing core. He presses a kiss to your mouth before biting meanly on your earlobe. “He thinks he fucks this pussy better than I do,” he whispers in your ear, using two fingers to caress your slippery vulva. 

You let out a weak cry when he parts your lips, rubbing tiny circles over your clit as he sucks a bruise into your neck. “I don’t think words are gonna get through to that type of delusion,” he says, ignoring Stu’s scoff. “So we’re gonna settle this tonight.” 

You have a moment to cope with the dread his words dredge up, the idea of being chewed up like a toy to settle a score makes you wish Randy never opened his big mouth. Billy’s fingertip grazing your entrance distracts you from your thoughts as trails his lips over your chest. “Make sure to keep track, princess,” he orders. “I’ll be taking your first.” 

Your hands grip at the seat as he continues kissing his way down your body before lifting your skirt. He pushes your knees apart, tugging off your panties and tossing them up in Stu’s direction. Billy rolls his eyes when he sees him bring the moist fabric to his face and inhale with a throaty groan. You feel the shift of tires on gravel under your head as the car swerves and Billy curses, striking the blond on the back of the head.

Despite his warning to pay attention, Billy cups both of your tits roughly in his palms and tugs on your top and bra to create an enticing image that threatens to divert Stu’s gaze from the road all over again. The drive to his place feels like it takes forever as Stu has to listen to Billy eat you out. He can picture the way the other is trailing kisses up your thighs—and bites, judging by your yelp, before lapping at your opening, swiping his tongue over your twitching hole.

He spits on your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a messy slurping sound and licking at you with exaggerated noises. Stu grips the steering wheel until his knuckles ache at your whiny moans and Billy’s encouragement, his cock painfully tight in his jeans as it throbs against his zipper. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he hears Billy murmur after dragging his tongue over your slit for the nth time, groaning at your taste. “Just relax and cum for me.” 

Stu’s doing twenty-five over the speed limit and he’s ran the three last red lights, but it’s worth it when he finally pulls into his stupidly long driveway. Once the car’s in park, he whips his head around to see Billy’s hand moving under your skirt as he sinks his middle and pointer finger inside you to the knuckle. His fingers press into your quivering walls as he mouths lazily at your clit, scissoring you open.

You back arches, overwhelmed by the constant stimulation to your sensitive bundle as his ruthless fingers dig into your body. You thrash weakly underneath Billy as he brings you to orgasm with just his tongue and two fingers, trembling thighs wrapped around his head. Stu grinds his teeth when Billy pulls back, smirking at him triumphantly as he removes his fingers from your body and sucks them into his mouth. “That’s one for me,” he jeers.  

“Fuck off,” Stu says, climbing over the seat and launching himself at him. 

You’re too busy catching your breath to care about the ensuing scuffle, rolling over as they begin trading blows. They don’t pull any punches either, going at it like wild dogs. In the enclosed space, Stu has the advantage and he catches Billy off guard with a hand in his jeans and a biting kiss. He groans as Stu grips his erection, roughly thumbing the head as he pins him to the car door.

The brunet can only watch as Stu fumbles for the handle, nuzzling Billy’s chin with his own and grinning at the mix of fury and arousal in his brown eyes. “My turn,” he whispers, opening the door and shoving him out before locking the car.

“Uh, was that such a good idea?” You ask, glancing at Billy, who’s banging on the window and cursing profusely. 

Stu turns to you, grin stretching across his face. “Focus on me, babe,” he orders. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, that shit looked weak.” 

Before you can raise any concerns, Stu’s tongue is in your mouth, filling it with the coppery taste of blood. He grips both of your knees and pulls them apart, gazing down at you like he couldn’t care less that you were ruining his seats. One of his hands reaches out to glide through the mess on your thighs, coating his fingers before pushing two inside you. “As if he’s better at making you cum,” he grumbles, hooking his fingers and scraping them along your walls. “Look at how your pussy is sucking me in, she clearly likes me best.” 

You shudder, annoyed at how he manages to make his petulant whining sexy and Stu leans forward, smashing his lips to yours. “I’m gonna show you and him,” he growls. “Who owns this fucking pussy.” 

You gasp into his mouth as he fucks his fingers deeper into your body, smirking when you tighten around him. He leers at your bouncing chest, biting harshly at your nipple and sucking it into his mouth. You dimly hear the sound of the car unlocking as he moves on to the other nipple, but Stu just snickers. 

Luckily, Billy seems to have cooled off by the time he climbs in the front seat, opting to observe the way you fall apart under Stu. The man in question turns to him, pushing a third finger past your entrance with a satisfied grunt. He pounds into you with relentless force, licking his lips as he taunts, “I don’t even need to touch her clit to get her like this.” 

Stu uses his other hand to pin your flailing body down, smirking at the sob you let out when he does graze your clit. “Watch closely and take notes,” he says, the words nearly drowned out by your moans. 

If you didn’t look so debauched, there would definitely be another fight breaking out, but Billy just rolls his eyes, taking in your blissed out expression with an obsessive gleam in his eye. The spirit of competition was at its peak and you were in for a long night.

Convincing them not to completely wreck Stu’s car takes long enough that you’re able to regain some semblance of control. Not enough to stop Stu from tossing you over his shoulder and carrying you inside, but at least he takes you to his bedroom instead of the nearest flat surface in his house. There’s a temporary truce as your boyfriends strip away every article of clothing, leaving you and them bare.

Before they can start arguing about who’s next, you insist they cooperate before you dry up at their incessant bickering so they stick to alternating. Billy hovers over you, thick cock bobbing between his legs as the flushed tip leaks precum while Stu hovers in the back, stroking himself to relieve his tension. “He thinks he’s doing you a favor by ignoring your sweet spot, baby girl,” Billy sighs, giving you an apologetic kiss on your forehead. “Let me show him what that cute little clit’s for.” 

Billy slides down your body, grabbing your ankles and placing them on his shoulders as he moves forward. His hands cup your thighs and your cunt throbs under his stare, legs quaking when his thumbs spread your folds, revealing your glistening bud. His tongue darts out, flicking over it with pointed swipes as you bite your lip to suppress a wanton moan.

It doesn’t take long for him to work you to your peak, the simmering fire in your gut from your two orgasms easily paving the way to a third as he slurps at your clit before nudging at your opening. You let out a moan when he pushes past your entrance, groaning at the way you tighten around his tongue. His fingers come to play sloppily with your clit, the sound echoing in the room as he scoops you open. He hums in approval when you scream his name, pinching your clit between his fingers to make you scream louder.

Billy grinds against the edge of the bed as he gulps down your slick, sealing his lips over your cunt as he inches his tongue deeper. Stu curses as you toss your head back, eyes rolling back to your skull as Billy stops pinching your clit to strike it with a loud ‘smack!’ You whine as he pulls his hand back, landing a wet slap directly to the over sensitive bud. He pulls you further into his face and buries his nose in your mound, watching your tits bounce as you rut your hips against him.

He loves watching you chase your pleasure, forgetting to be self-conscious about how you look the closer you get. Your orgasm catches you off guard, the coil in your gut snapping after Billy delivers three stinging swats to your pussy, heat bursting between your legs as you weep. “Fuck!” You shout, convulsing as you gush into Billy’s mouth. 

Billy moans, slurping your cum into his mouth with his tongue as the rest drips down his face and onto the sheets. He reluctantly pulls away after a few more kisses to your throbbing clit and Stu approaches, staring down at your twitching body with a possessive gaze. Your heart pounds when they switch places, Stu prowling over you as his eyes dart over your face, breasts, and cunt. His fingers swipe over your puffy labia, hooking one inside to feel your walls ripple with the aftershocks.

Normally they would have been fucking you silly at this point, but Stu is determined to eat you out better than Billy, ignoring the painfully hard erection jutting against his belly. Though he can’t resist grabbing your ankles and pushing them towards your ears, lining his body up with yours to nudge his cock against your clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he sighs, tongue lolling out. “I’m gonna fucking destroy this pussy.” 

You groan at his words, staring at him with bleary eyes as he pulls back, sliding his hands down to cup the meat of your thighs. He holds you in place as he bends down to press his lips to your vulva, kissing it the same way he does your mouth, forcefully and with too much tongue. It feels like you’re being roasted alive as your ankles tremble by your face, your nerves overloaded as he pays almost punishing attention to your clit. 

After your third orgasm, the stimulation is almost too much. “Please, no more,” you plead. “Just fuck me already.” 

Billy curses behind you, the sound of you begging for their cocks has always been a weakness of theirs. Stu clicks his tongue, squeezing your thighs until you whimper softly. “Just be quiet and cum,” he orders, nibbling at the engorged bud. 

You have no choice but to obey, Stu’s iron grip on your thighs preventing you from moving an inch as he makes out with your clit, curling his lips around it and sucking as his thick tongue swats back and forth, making you squeal. One of your thighs falls onto his shoulder as he slides a hand to your entrance, poking and prodding before pushing three fingers in at once, smirking at the undignified howl you let out as he forces your body open.

He spreads his fingers, moaning at the feeling of your body giving way to his hand. You take in a shuddering breath as another orgasm builds, your clit pulsing against his tongue as he forces it out of you. Maybe that’s why it feels different and your brow furrows as you struggle to gather your wits to warn Stu. “W-wait, it-it feels like—”

You gasp as a hand covers your mouth, gaze flickering to where Billy is hovering over you, preventing any further arguments. You’re less than an active participant at the moment, they just want you to lay there and let them make you feel good. Your eyes squeeze shut as your climax crashes into you like an electric shock, leaving you jerking and squirming in Stu’s grip. 

“Oh fuck, dude, she just squirted,” Stu says with a shit-eating grin, pulling away with your cum dripping down his chin. “Shouldn’t that count for two?”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, you scared you can’t make her do it?”

You’re. Fucked. 

Stu cackles, swiping his tongue over the remnants of your cum on his face as Billy pushes him out of the way. “You’re gonna have to replace this shitty mattress,” he threatens as they swap spots.

Billy cups your cheek, glaring down at you like it's your fault they’ve reduced you to an overstimulated wreck. His other hand jerks himself off slowly, eyes moving from your face to your trembling body. “Look at you, cumming so easily after begging to stop,” he sneers. “I’m gonna pound this desperate little cunt until you’re begging for my cock.”

Despite his vicious words, he kisses you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth until you taste yourself. He kisses down your neck and both of you groan when he braces his arms on either side of you, sliding his cock through your folds with slow rocking motions. “Motherfucker thinks I can’t make this pussy squirt,” he hisses, gripping his cock and pushing the bulbous tip inside you. “Just wait, you’re gonna be gushing around my cock.” 

You’re speared open as Billy sheathes himself inside of you in a single motion, pushing past any resistance with a groan. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your walls clinging to every ridge and vein of his cock, slipping in easily after Stu’s fucked you open. His fists grip the sheets as he pulls out, slamming back in with a grunt.

His pace is savage as his hips slap against yours, carving a space in your body as he kisses you to smother your screams. Your back arches and your hands slap at his chest, scratching your nails down his skin when he grinds against that spongy knot of your cervix. Billy’s hand comes up to your nape and tilts your head, tapping your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his piercing gaze. “Look. Look at this greedy fucking cunt,” he orders, until you’re both staring at where his cock is disappearing inside you. “She’s gripping me so fucking hard, this tight little pussy doesn’t want to let me go.”

His hips never falter as he pummels into your body, his thrusts rocking the mattress until it’s creaking obnoxiously in concord with the ‘shlickshlickshlick’ of his cock thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. It’s impossible to gather a coherent thought as you watch and listen to the symphony of your bodies, but you vaguely hear yourself telling him you love it, begging him to go harder, deeper, to cum inside you so you can feel it.

You’ll say anything as long as he keeps delivering blazing jolts of ecstasy to your cunt, rendering any chance you’ve got at higher order thinking futile. Billy laughs at the glassy, dazed expression on your face as you fall apart underneath him. “Fucking cock drunk already, huh?” He laughs. “I’ll give you every goddamn inch since you want it so bad.”

He nuzzles closer to you to stare into your eyes, pulling your legs around his waist and bringing you in to meet his hips. You shake your head when he brings his thumb to your swollen clit, moaning at the way you milk his cock when he applies the slightest pressure. He squeezes your lips into a pout, shaking you like a rag doll when your eyes start to shut. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you fucking slut,” he hisses. “You’re gonna remember who’s making you cum like this.”

You can’t even remember your own name, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp as drool slides down your chin and tears pool in your eyes. They spill over onto your cheeks, dark tracks of mascara falling onto the sheets as Billy pinches and strokes your clit. “Aw, you’re such a crybaby,” he teases. “Beg me and I’ll stop.”

“Please, please, please stop,” you comply immediately. “I can’t–can’t take anymore, it hurts.”

“Good girl, you’re so pretty when you beg,” Billy coos with feigned sympathy before drawing in and out of you until it feels like you, or the bed frame. is going to break. You gasp, staring at him with wide eyes when he pulls out to the tip, tapping it against your clit before angling his cock back at your entrance. “Billy, you promised!” You whimper, glaring at him with tear stained lashes.

“I lied,” he says before slamming back in, listening to you cry out. 

He fucks you hard and fast, ignoring your hiccuping pleas as his fingertips glide over your clit mercilessly. Billy grunts with every roll of his hips, covering your mouth as he plants his feet in the mattress and jackhammers against your g-spot, sparks shooting up your spine until your pussy undulates deliciously against every curve of his cock.

Billy curses when your teeth sink into his palm as you finally cum, eyes rolling back into your skull. His hips keep moving even as you clench around him, jaw aching as he fucks you through your orgasm. “C’mon, give it to me,” he growls, brutalizing your walls. “Soak my fucking cock, nasty girl.”

Your fifth orgasm is an out of body experience, your throat scraped raw as you yell against his palm, lower body exploding in a rush of slickness. “That’s it, baby,” he moans, balls tightening as he ruts his cock into your cervix before spilling inside you. 

You shudder at the warmth of his cum, moaning into the kiss he gives you as you come down. Billy slips out of you, reluctantly allowing an impatient Stu to take your place. You blink at the sensation of his shadow falling over you, vision blurry with tears as you look up at his dark expression. “Shit, babe,” he breathes softly, pupils blown as he caresses your overwrought form. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

You would laugh at the idea of being sexy while laying there like a wet noodle if you could manage to gather any air in your lungs. Stu leans forward, nuzzling your chest before swiping his tongue over your nipple. He grabs your trembling thighs and pulls your limp body into his lap, tongue moving over your chest and collarbone, groaning at the taste of your sweat. He cups your face with both of his hands, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he grinds against your pussy.

Stu shivers at the feeling of cum dripping onto his cock, the wet glide of your bodies finally providing some relief to the ache in his balls. Watching Billy fucking you without joining in was torture and his patience is wearing thin. He gives you a moment to catch your breath then slides his hands down to your thighs, lifting you slightly in the air before dropping you straight onto his cock. 

He laughs at the squeal you let out as your head knocks against his shoulder and your body curls into his chest, practically strangling his cock. He grips the globes of your ass, yanking you off and slamming you back down. Stu fucks into you like a rabid animal, teeth pulled back into a snarl as he bites and sucks at your neck.

He grins as you sob into his shoulder, impaling you on his cock with a loud squelching noise before jerking your hips up and down to meet his, shivering at the sensation of thrusting into your cum-filled hole. “Yeah, it’s good, huh?” He taunts. “Then take it, take it–take it all, you fucking bitch.”

He bounces you in his lap like a flesh-light, grinning at Billy as he spreads your cheeks wide enough to reveal your puckered asshole. The brunette’s gaze is drawn to the winking flesh as Stu inches one of his slender fingers towards it, pulling a nervous whine from you. “We should fuck you here too,” he purrs. “A whore like you isn’t satisfied until all your holes are filled.”

You moan softly and Stu smirks, smacking your ass and watching the flesh jiggle reverently. You let out an anguished cry of pleasure when he swipes his hands through the mess of cum dripping from your cunt to slick up a finger and slips it past the tight ring of muscle, curving his finger into your ass. You nearly bite down on your tongue when he sinks in a second finger, scissoring them using Billy’s cum as lube.

Stu groans as your entire body locks up, squeezing around him in a vice-like grip as you’re pushed to the edge from being penetrated at the same time. He hitches your hips into his, grinding deep into your gummy g-spot. You’d never thought you’d despair at the thought of your clit being touched but when he lets go of your hip to paw at the nub furiously, you think you start crying again. 

“Billy was right. You are a crybaby,” Stu coos, swiping his tongue over your salty tears. “Too bad it only makes me wanna see you cry harder.” 

You have to hold onto his shoulders or risk toppling over as he pounds into you, his thighs quaking as he propels his hips into yours. Your entire body is starting to feel like an exposed nerve, overloaded with a depth of sensory information that you can only process by crying out lewdly and drooling onto Stu’s skin. 

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” Stu hisses, informing you of your orgasm before you even realize it’s approaching. “Such a selfish pussy, cumming all by yourself. I guess we’ll see if you break the record tonight.”

You claw at his shoulders, back bowed and cunt pulsing around his cock as you quiver in his lap, drenching his waist as stars erupt behind your eyelids. You barely register the sound of Stu and Billy’s voices, an imploring murmur from Stu and a warning hiss from Billy is your only warning before you feel Billy’s length poking at your asshole.

You let out a weak protest that Stu hushes. “Billy wants to feel how tight you are, sweetheart, just let him put the tip in,” he croons softly, slipping his fingers out so Billy can slide the mushroom head of his cock into your body. 

“Fuck,” Billy sighs, tossing his head back at the heat enveloping him. “I love this slutty body, it’s still so tight even when we fuck you stupid.”

He pauses, a bruising grip on your hip and jaw clenched as Stu rocks your body back onto his. He gasps as you slowly sink onto him, moaning with every jerk of Stu’s length against the thin barrier of flesh separating them in your body. He swears, brows furrowing as you choke back a pitiful wail when another orgasm follows immediately, torn out of you almost involuntarily from their ruthless treatment. “Shit, she’s coming again,” Stu chuckles, pinching your clit as you whine. “I guess we’ll share credit for this one, but I’m still in the lead.” 

Billy kisses his teeth, pushing you further down as his breath catches at the friction of their cocks fucking in and out of you. He kisses your nape before biting at your shoulder. “How many times is that, princess?” He questions, gripping your chin and turning your face towards him. 

They both moan at the spaced out expression you’re wearing and Billy shakes your head to get your attention, waiting for your teary eyes to slide over to his face. “How many times did this filthy pussy cum, huh?” He repeats. “I told you to keep track, didn’t I, princess?”

You shake your head, burying your face in Billy’s palm, mumbling, “Don’t know, can’t remember, please, I can’t take anymore.”  

Billy slaps your ass until his palm stings, cursing when you seize around him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing,” he snaps, relishing in your pained mewl. “Dumb whore can’t even count when we’re fucking her.” 

Oh no. You’re starting to feel like a minor villain about to be conquered through the power of friendship, the preclude to your defeat stemming from the epiphany of two rivals that cooperation will yield better results.

Torturing others was a pastime that brought Stu and Billy together and you were no exception. If your tongue wasn’t heavy as lead in your mouth, you’d try to say something to dissuade them from doing so at any cost, but you can only hold pathetically onto Stu and hope for the best. 

“The fuck does a virgin like Randy know?” Billy growls, gripping your waist and lifting you off of their cocks before slamming you back down. “You love fucking both of us, don’t you? You cum harder when we paint your insides together.” 

Okay, maybe this was an opportunity for a quick resolution. You nod emphatically, eeking out breathless ‘uh huh’s and ‘mhmm’s that seem to satisfy Billy. You can only hope they’ll forget the competition and fuck you to completion together because you couldn’t take much more.

Stu’s breath trembles and his thighs tense as he covers Billy’s hands on your hips and shoves his cock into the hilt, sliding the hand on your clit to your stomach. “Fuck, you feel that, baby?” He moans. “I’m gonna cum here, right in this thirsty womb.”

You take a moment to be grateful for birth control as Stu buries himself in your cunt, pulsing one last time before shooting inside, moaning as Billy’s cock grinds into his from behind. You’re almost convinced that you succeeded in distracting them when they both slip out of you with a groan and Stu maneuvers you gently into Billy’s chest before getting off of the mattress.

Billy shifts your bodies off the undeniably soaked sheets to a dry spot and tangles your legs together. Stu grabs a water bottle from his mini fridge and your eyes open when you hear the twist of the cap. He holds the bottle to your lips until you gulp down half of it before setting it on the nightstand.

Your eyes widen as he pulls out a condom, glancing at Billy who takes it from him with a Cheshire grin. You watch as he tears the packet open with his teeth before sliding the condom over his throbbing cock, gripping it at the base. “We still have to settle this fair and square,” he says at your doe eyed gaze, lining himself up with your swollen pussy. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t lend each other a hand. Every magician needs an assistant, right babe?” 

Okay, so you’ve been sufficiently fucked over by two scheming lesbians, but it’s nothing less than what you deserve.

[munsonburn3r]

Oh, Camellia, won't you take me away? - A Hanahaki!Eddie Munson story (sneak peek!)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson had been a constant during your short time in hawkins, indiana, which made it that much harder when you had to leave. four years and a clinical trial later, you'd thought you'd conquered an otherwise fatal disease. what you weren't expecting, though, was the man that nearly killed you to walk back into your life, threatening to undo all of the progress you'd made towards healing - both physically and emotionally.

cw: hanahaki!au, angst, descriptions of light gore, childhood trauma, sexual themes and content

a/n: here is a snippet from the hanahaki eddie fic that has been bouncing around in my brain over the past week. feedback welcomed!

Water flowed out across the floor in a surge that mimicked crashing ocean waves. You cursed as you scrambled to right the plastic Procona and liquid sloshed awkwardly, lapping at your fingertips. It was a surprising amount from a relatively small bucket. 

“Everything alright out there?” called a gruff voice from the back office. 

You sighed. “Just fine, Bill! Minor spill. Nothing major.”

A muffled grumble could be heard from the owner’s space behind you, but you paid it no mind. It only took a few steps for you to grab the mop and start cleaning up the water all over the workspace floor, and to your relief, it really wasn’t as much as it seemed. 

The nearly four years you’d spent at Indiana Floral Company had seemed to fly by in a blink of an eye. You weren’t expecting an on the spot interview when you’d first stopped into the shop, but the owner Bill had been impressed at your willingness to learn and your natural eye for design and hired you immediately. Probationary, of course. 

So under Bill’s tutelage, your floral design skills blossomed. The basic knowledge of plants you’d brought from years of spending time gardening with your Grandma grew. You went from simply identifying lilies to knowing the difference between Asiatic and Oriental and their best growing seasons. You could identify roses based on subtle color differences and had learned how to take the most tightly closed bud and blow it open with a little humidity, a plastic bag, and very careful preening. And though you didn’t like to brag, you could match corsage ribbon to prom dresses better than anyone in town. 

As time wore on, Bill had shared that years of design had wrecked his body and that it was time to begin passing the torch. Since Indiana Floral Company was one of the top floral design studios in town, the responsibility embedded in passing said torch was sobering. But after a year and a half of earning your stripes, you landed a head designer role and began training to take over the small family business.

Humming a nondescript tune, you refilled the earlier bucket with water and flower food before chopping the ends off of a bunch of de-thorned roses with the guillotine-like stem cutter. A clunk thrummed out when you dropped the two dozen stems into the water. Each blossom peered at you with a center like a curled eye — delicate sandy cream — perfect for the event you were designing later this weekend. 

A ring of the bells on the front door broke your focus. You wiped your hands on the rag shoved haphazardly into your apron and turned at the sudden sound of Bill’s voice. 

“The 1:30 initial wedding consult must be early. You mind taking this one, kid?” His head peeked around the office door. “I started the file – it’s on the cash wrap.” He looked tired; the man should have retired two years ago. 

With a slight smile, you nodded. “Got it.”

It was impossible to see who had entered due to the amount of plants, gift items, and displays you’d designed around the small space (“customers shop with their eyes first, kid; you gotta draw them in before you let them see the price tag” Bill had said). But as soon as you rounded the front display, your stomach dropped clear out of your body and onto the floor. 

Maybe it was the habitual need to weave around the labyrinth of flora and gifts that had lowered your defenses. Or perhaps it was the fact that this was a typical boring Wednesday afternoon in April. Hell, it could have been the questionable sandwich you had for lunch that you found at the back of the minifridge. 

But one thing was clear: you hadn’t expected to see Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham hand in hand looking around at the array of merchandise you’d set out in preparation for Mother’s Day. 

“Hi!” A saccharine voice matched the sickeningly sweet smile on the strawberry blonde in front of you. “We’re here for a wedding consultation at 1:30. Sorry we’re a bit early — we didn’t want to be late!”

Time stood still. Or maybe that was just you — frozen as you stared the couple down with a look of surprise plastered across your features. You didn’t think you could move (or even speak, for that matter).

However, for the first time in almost four years, you felt your chest tighten and a sharp prickling sensation snake up your windpipe. You licked your dry lips (hadn’t you just put on chapstick?) and attempted to swallow with no success. Instead, your throat constricted, and there it was: an involuntary, yet ever so familiar metallic cough.

image credit: pinterest dividers: @saradika-graphics

tagging some moots that might be interested: @chickpeadumpsterfire @voyeurmunson @joshlmbrt @mediocredreams @littlexdeaths @anamelessfool

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 - Need | Chapter 6

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 6.7k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

It had been a few weeks since you and Sukuna had talked. You had continued attending various meetings and hearings alongside him to snoop in people’s minds. Word had already spread of your presence. A woman with a shirt adorned with gold buttons sat beside the king and gave him notes. Notes that led to death. When people came in with their heads down, you could feel their gaze linger when they realized you were there. The way they grew tenser, their thoughts becoming a dark jumble. It was fun really, the amount of fear you and Sukuna put into people when together.

When it came to you two, he kept to his word of taking things slow. He often showed up at your door to take you to his chambers to share dinner. You hadn’t had sex but you had been teasing each other. Your ass “accidentally” grinding into him at night or you “not noticing” your boob had slipped out of your nightgown during the night. Him whispering your name into your ear in the morning, voice gruff, and arms wrapped around you. Or the way his tongue danced along your neck before he would bite you, one hand pulling in your hair, two on your hips, and the other resting beside your breast. His scent would completely encapsulate you, his touch would make your body forget how to breathe. You both pushed but neither had broken. It almost felt like a competition now, a stupid one that you weren’t sure was possible to actually win. That’s why you were sitting in a meeting with the King, thighs clenched together and thoughts a mess. Messy thoughts telling you to use cursed energy to tease him, touch along his body. Caress all the places you couldn’t. If Uruame wasn’t there you really might’ve. Instead, you sat frustrated and waited for the meeting to end.

When everyone was finally dismissed from the room, you let out a groan. Sukuna turned his head to look at you, his smile growing evermore. “You may look up now, since you’ve been such a good girl for me”, he said. Gods you hated it when he first called you that, made you feel like an animal. Now that asshole had made you subconsciously like it. You looked up at him, eyes carved by features of anger, but irises soaking with whispers of lust. You wanted to tell him to break, to touch you, but if you did then you would be the one to break. So instead you moved yourself into his lap, legs straddling him, breasts pressed against his chest, arms around his neck, and head resting above his heart. You thought about when he fucked you like this, his extra mouth moving between your clit and nipples as his cocks hammered in and out of you.

“Who gave you permission to crawl on your King like this?” His voice was teasing, he knew how much you wanted him right then. He wanted it too. He had already been caught on multiple occasions with his pants forming a tent. Just yesterday he was in a hearing without you and ended up growing hard during it. The peasant talked about how he was starving and blah blah blah. All he could think about was being inside you again, hearing you call out for him as he fucked you until he was satisfied. He thought this little game you two were playing was stupid, but he also refused to lose. He wouldn’t let you know he wanted you as much as he did. His hands let themselves free to explore your body, purposely getting close but not on the spots you wanted him. He chuckled as your body responded to his touch, arching into it in a plea for more. A chuckle that made you immediately get out of his lap.

“Asshole”, you said while straightening your clothes out.

“Asshole? And here I was calling you a good girl and letting you sit in my lap. If you want me to touch you further, all you have to do is ask. I won’t even make you beg.” He remained seated on his place on the floor but pulled you closer as he spoke. His face was just a few inches from your ever-clenching cunt. As you looked down at him you thought back to when you told him you wanted to ride his face and drown him in your cum. His face would look so shiny and pretty. You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes rolling closed as you massaged his scalp, before leaning down next to his ear.

“That’s where we differ then, Sukuna, I will make you beg to touch me. To stick your fingers inside me, to let your tongue taste the effect you have on me, to put your cocks back in their warm cozy homes, to feel them suck you in and drench you in my cum.” You punctuated your last whispered sentence by biting his ear. A small puncture wound opened up and blood began rushing to escape. You pulled away as the first drop beaded and prepared to descend. You gathered it on your index finger before sliding it into your mouth. Blood trailed on your bottom lip as it slid in and your cheeks hollowed as you pulled it back out. A loud pop resonating in the air. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and let your eyes roll back as you sucked the remaining blood away. A small moan reverberated through your chest, muted by your closed lips, but loud enough to be effective. The very obvious bulge in his pants twitched from the show you were putting on. His hands gripped tighter on your body, his eyes dark and drooping with need. You pulled from his grip and told him good luck with the rest of his schedule. He watched as you walked out the door, wanting to rebuttal or tease you back, but his voice was overshadowed by the war raging between his ego and hormones.

You walked along the palace halls feeling a little better. You were still extremely horny, but you felt a bit better after making sure he was equally miserable. You could already see the sun setting through the windows, the back-to-back meetings you sat through these days had messed with your sense of time. You stretched your arms over your head and attempted to yawn away your body's growing ache. The cushion you sat on in your meetings was an absolute poor excuse for a seat. You wondered how Sukuna sat on his for hours day after day without any signs of pain. Maybe he had a better one, you’d have to check next time. If it was, you would have to steal his until he got you a new one. You turned the hall to your room and were greeted by fewer servants than usual. Two of your male servants were missing from the ensemble and the remaining women looked down in fear.

“Where are Itto and Hiro”, you asked as you stopped in front of them.

Their figures all seemed to stutter at the question, bodies tense and breathes withheld. “T-they have been moved to different jobs ma’am”, Aoi said.

You blinked a few times at Aoi in disbelief. If you had to guess, Sukuna was killing of any possible threats to his courting you. Which part of you found hot, but the other part was pissed that you just lost two perfectly good servants for nothing. You gave a stiff nod to the remaining servants and entered your room. Orange light whispered across your floor as a notice of the sun lowering in the sky. You pulled out a bottle of sake Sukuna had gifted you and poured yourself a drink. Being with Sukuna was fun and of course came with endless perks, but also felt a little suffocating. With him killing your servants, you began to wonder if you were going to be segregated from men altogether. He had promised to try not to be possessive, but here he was doing the exact opposite. You sighed before taking your glass to a seating area in front of one of your windows. You looked out across the palace, the intricate architecture, neatly kept foliage, hurried servants, and river that outlined one side. It was grand. Most people would kill to be where you were, to have the King “properly” courting you. The way he had started to dote on you by giving you his time. The way he actually listened to you and was actively trying to respect your boundaries. The big scary monster he was known to be taking off a mask that not even he knew he wore when he was around you. However, most people that challenged him were slaughtered on the spot, never giving him the chance to truly learn how to interact with another.

There was a lot in common between you two, but he was definitely more bloodthirsty. Not that you had never killed over an insignificant reason, but you did it a lot less than him. You wondered if you would grow to be more cruel as you aged. From what you had heard, Sukuna was at least over 100, which would make him roughly 3 times your age. In the 27 years you had been on earth, you had been through a lot and there were definitely times you thought about annihilating every being that infected the surface. When you met Ieiri, that was exactly your plan actually, but she changed it. She made you realize there are some people that actually deserved to live. Then you meant Kento and it solidified your thinking. They became two unexpected lessons given to you. You would never hurt them, in fact, you would show the depths of hell to anyone who dared lay a finger on them. Like the guy who tried to force himself on Ieiri or the drunk patron who attempted to break a bottle over Kento’s head. Two lowly parasites that believed they had a right to harm those under your protection. Two vile infections that still lay in your realm being tortured and healed without stopping.

You took a drink as you thought of Sukuna’s threat to them. The night of the incident, you had sent a very eager Miro to inform Ieiri to keep her guard up and not to slack on training her energy with Kento. You had also sent various curses to help protect and prepare them for an event that might never come to pass. But should it, you would be ready. You ran your fingers across the smooth clay container. Anxiety and anger swirl inside like the liquid in your glass. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. Sukuna would probably come for dinner and there was no use getting into a fight over an issue that had already been as resolved as it would get. It would only make things tense between you two again and there was obviously no benefit to that. You opened your eyes and leaned back into your chair, the plushness of the cushions enveloping your body in the warmth of comfort. You rested your drink in your lap as your lids fell with the sun. You knew you should stave off the urge to curl up and instead get ready to meet with Sukuna, but something about falling asleep when you weren’t supposed to made it all the more inviting.

Your eyes open but are greeted with the abyss. You go to touch them but a loud rattle of a chain echoes throughout the space. The smell of musty pine overwhelms your senses and panic sets in as you realize where you are. Underneath you sprawls a plush bed covered in various body fluids. You have no idea how long he has kept you in his private room this time. How long doesn’t matter here. Nothing matters here. Even if you died it wouldn’t matter. No one would ever know, ever cry. Just another human discarded by their fellow people. You hear footsteps awakening creaks in the stairs— his footsteps. “Oh Angel” “My Little Dove” he calls out. Pet names given for your appearance. An appearance you’ve never even seen. Apparently, one that screams pure, one that makes others want to defile you. The handle jiggles on the door and you feel the air change as it opens. You want to start crying and were internally screaming and wishing you could run. But if you cried or screamed it would simply enhance his pleasure. He liked the sounds you made for him. If you got out and ran it would be pointless. You had no idea where you were, nor could you see, and you had nowhere to go anyway. He would just find you and laugh as he punished you. Mock as you reached out blindly to try and shield yourself from his attack. You could feel the dip in the bed as he got on and began his nightly onslaught. You drifted off into your mind, disassociating from your physical being. You walked into the darkness within yourself, but this time you saw light far away. Your eyes widened and your pace quickened as you charted towards it. As you grew closer you saw colors, colors outlining shapes you didn’t recognize. Each with different layers. It was beautiful. But in the middle stood a girl. Her hair was dark and crawling in the air. Her eyes were a deep black that mimicked endless voids. Her jaw drooped to the point it pulled her cheeks taut. Her head tilted toward the side as she noticed you. She beckoned you closer, not with any motion, but with a feeling deep inside you. You slowly approached her and she gestured towards the lights around you. You looked around at it all and realized these shapes were people. You began to feel the colors, the feelings embedded in them. For the first time, you felt like you could actually see. You looked back towards the girl and noticed she was already staring at you. Her mouth didn’t move but you heard, “Let me in”, from a raspy voice of a woman who seemed much older than the one before you. Apprehension crossed your thoughts, but what was the point of being scared? What was the point in fearing the unknown when the known wasn’t worth being in? So you said yes. The world around you started spinning, your hair whipping in your face as hers erratically lashed the air. Her face glitched between a hanging mouth and a smile dripping with black goo. Fear crept in you before you were pulled back to reality. Before you, the man assaulting you was in view. You could see the outline of his form and the emotions that made up his psyche. You could see his hands reach out to touch you. You were no longer in the dark, but seeing didn’t resolve the fear and pain you felt currently.

Sukuna walked up to your door, eyes dismissing the servants, as he reached out his hand and knocked against the wood. He listened closely but there was no answer. He shifted on his feet, eyebrows knitting his features into a confused look that was losing patience. He knocked again and called out your name, but again there was no answer. A frustrated breath slipped through his lips as he decided to just open the door. He called out for you again as he entered the room, but quickly silenced himself as he spotted you curled up by the window. You sat in your chair, legs outstretched, hands meeting in your lap to hold a glass, hair falling in erratic waves left from being up the whole day. Your lips lay slightly parted as calm breaths filtered in and out. All of Sukuna’s previous frustrations melted away as he watched you. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you, and he was shocked that he didn’t see it as an opportunity to attack you. Instead, he found himself wanting to be at your side and guarding you so that you could sleep in peace. He slowly approached you and knelt down. He could see the slight wear under your eyes that had appeared after your coming here. He wondered how tired you felt and how differently you lived prior to the palace. He knew bits and pieces from when he had Uruame stalk you, but not enough. He wanted to see what happened throughout your day when you were fully unrestricted. What made you laugh, what made you cry? What trouble did you get into and what were the kind of people that you spared? He knew you could be just as evil as him, but he also knew you could be more benevolent than he saw the need to be. A few days ago he watched from afar as you healed a cat and then proceeded to bring it food and water the following days. But he also watched a servant’s legs snap the wrong way when they tried to run the cat off. Such an unpredictable anomaly that had walked into his palace and turned everything upside down for him. He reached to move a stray group of hair out of your face but was abruptly stopped by your hand. It pulled his wrist while your other reached up for his throat, holding him close with a death grip. He looked into your eyes and noticed they were vacant of the color he was used to, instead they were blacked out completely. Just like when you threatened to kill him.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you”, he said as he looked into the voids. Your grip loosened as you blinked. The black receded until all that was left were the same tired eyes he was used to seeing, slowly lighting up in realization.

“Oh shit sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to”, you scrambled to say as you let him go. You had never done well when people unexpectedly touched you while you slept. Especially when you were having flashbacks.

Sukuna watched you as you let him go and your face flushed with embarrassment. You weren’t usually a jumpy person or one to easily spook, but there seemed to be an exception when you were sleeping. He didn’t know much about your past, not even Uruame could find anything out, but you had mentioned being owned previously. Not that he knew how anyone could overpower you, but there were few stories where people enjoyed being owned. He was sure it tied into that somehow, but he wouldn't press the matter.

“No, it's my bad. You know what they say about poking a sleeping bear”, he said with a smile as he rubbed his wrist. Had he been a human or even a lower-grade sorcerer, he was sure it would be cracked if not fully broken from the force you applied.

You smiled back at his joke before your eyes widened in surprise. You felt wet fabric cling to your leg and realized you must have spilled your drink in all the commotion. “Awh, dammnit���, you said as you got up and observed the wet spot going from your upper to mid-thigh and a little on the floor.

Sukuna also noticed the mess and got up with you. “Here I’ll clean it since I’m the one who scared you”, he said as he went to grab a towel.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault for freaking out anyway”, you said as you followed him to get a towel. You tried to reach to grab it before him but he instead grabbed your hand and used another to grab the towel.

“Let me do it”, he said as he looked down at you. You wanted to rebuttal but nodded instead. There was a certain softness in his eyes almost akin to pity. You didn’t exactly appreciate pity nor did you understand why his eyes were so full of it so you just looked down. He led you over to the bed and put one towel beneath you before leaving your side to clean the spot on the floor. You watched as he knelt down and sopped up the little bit of liquid. It felt weird seeing him clean. The fearsome King knelt down on the ground cleaning up a mess you made. Once he got it, he walked back over to you and felt the wet spot on your pants.

“You probably want to take these off. They’re too wet for the towel to dry”, he said while his hands moved to the small tie on the side of your pants. He pulled the string and started pulling them off your hips, telling you to lift up to let them pass under you. You did as he said and were left with your bodice and underwear. He sat between your legs and wiped the towel across your skin. His hand grabs your leg and moves it up to get your upper thigh. You could feel your clit start throbbing as he neared it. You looked down at him, the care he applied when cleaning you. The way his eyes gave off no motive other than rectifying his mess. You reached down and cupped his face, gently nudging it up to look at you as your hand moved under his jaw. You garnered the attention of all four of his eyes as your thumb caressed his face.

“What is it”, he asked as he looked up at you. He had never seen you look at him the way you were. Lust swirling in your eyes but an unfamiliar emotion dancing with it. It was akin to need but not in the same carnal league as the lust. It was deeper, he could feel it radiating from you. Like it was welcoming him in.

“It is still sticky. I think it needs to be cleaned up differently,” you said as your thumb slid across his cheek to his lips. You wanted him, but you needed him to take it at your pace this time. You wanted to stay in control in order to fight the feeling your nightmare left behind to eat away at you.

His eyebrow quirked up as he caught your meaning. He tossed the towel to the side before rubbing his thumb along your thigh. “I think you’re right, it is still pretty sticky here darling”, he said while grabbing your hand and kissing it before leaning down to your thigh. He had never felt the need to care for someone, to show them love, but right now that feeling swelled in him until he couldn’t help but let it flow out. He didn’t know if it was because he was feeling your feelings or if it simply stemmed from him, and he didn’t really care. He looked up at you before licking a long stripe up your thigh. The face you made for him and the way your breath hitched had him wanting to stop time. To stay in the moment that you looked at him as if he was the only one in the world, the only man for you. He wanted everyone to know that these moments with you belonged to him, that you belonged to him. He didn’t care if some people saw it as a weakness. Anyone that dared state is as one would be thoroughly re-educated by you and him together.

You looked down and watched as he lapped at your skin. Your skin sank into his mouth as he sucked on certain spots, dark little marks blooming in his wake. You couldn’t help a moan that fell out when he bit one spot, his tongue quickly cleaning up the blood that greeted him. “You seem to be making more messes rather than cleaning”, you said as your fingers threaded themselves through his hair, pulling it tightly earning a low groan from him.

His lids lowered as his gaze kept yours. “My deepest apologies. I suppose I will have to take more time focusing on every inch of your skin. Assuring there is absolutely no mess left behind”, he said in between strokes of his tongue. The mouth on his hand joined to suck the sensitive skin right before where your thighs met your pelvis. His thumb and forefinger held the seam where they did.

“Naughty King. You’re making an even bigger mess with what you’re doing”, you said as you scratched his scalp tenderly.

“Hmm is that so? Where is said mess baby girl? I’ll make sure to clean it too”, he said as he kissed over the bruised areas and massaged his thumb right beside your pubic bone.

“You seem to have gotten my underwear wet, Kuna. Too wet to be dried. I think they need to come off and the area beneath needs to be cleaned.”

He looked up at you and smirked. “Is this your way of admitting defeat by asking me to touch you?”

You raised your eyebrows in faux shock and exclaimed, “Oh no, of course not. This is simply you sticking to your word and cleaning up the messes you’ve made. Are you saying you’re the kinda King that goes back on his word?”

“Ohoho careful there brat”, he said as he ripped your underwear off. He pulled you close and sank his lips down to around your clit. He sucked in sharply without warning as his tongue started swirling rapidly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and arched your back to increase the suction being applied. “You should know better than to question me as a King. I think I am being more than generous right now, no?”

“I think you’re focusing on one spot for too long. Such lack of diligence when it comes to cleanliness”, you retorted while pulling his mouth off of you. “Put your tongue out flat.”

His tongue darted out to gather the mess you had left on his lips, “Such a bossy little brat tonight”. He laid out his tongue as you instructed before surprising you by stealing a lick across your spread labia. The sensation only lasted a minute before you were using his shoulders to lift yourself with your legs, one hand balancing you on the bed and the other in his hair as you pushed your cunt against his tongue. You let out a slow moan as you started by slowly sliding yourself up and down across his tongue. He groaned as he watched you use his to pleasure yourself, something the King wasn’t used to happening. But the way you sucked on your bottom lip as your hooded eyes watched where you two connected had him more than happy to be used by you. He watched the way your stomach muscles flexed as you moved on him, felt how you twitched against his tongue and smelled the arousal that began to pool on his chin. You were so breathtaking like this. He felt the emotions you had wrapped him in begin to change as the uneasiness you originally felt faded away. Sukuna had given you control of the situation and didn’t fight you on it. He didn’t make you cower before him or wantonly obey him. He wasn’t perfect, but fuck it was so attractive that you could see him trying to change for you. The emotionless monster showing you sides that didn’t exist before you came into his life.

Your grip tightened on his hair as your pace started to quicken. The sensation of his soft yet textured tongue constantly touching every part of your folds and rubbing your clit bare and through the hood was driving you insane. Your vision felt like it was spinning, you were starting to have a hard time focusing as the tension inside your abdomen grew. You were close and you both knew it. When your thighs started to shake and your rhythm started to falter, Sukuna’s hands found their way to your thighs and waist as he helped stabilize and guide you through your orgasm. Small cries left your lips as the pleasure took you over, Sukuna’s tongue working to milk every last drop of his orgasm. When your vision returned to normal Sukuna was still lapping up your cum. Tongue dipping into you to pull it all out and venturing to your other hole on occasion. You tried to pull away as overstimulation seeped into your muscles, but he kept you in place. “Hold still baby, I need to show you how serious I am about keeping my word”, he said in between licks.

You whined a little in protest but he just smirked at you. His fingers rubbed where they held you in an offering of comfort as he continued to absolutely devour you. He alternated between greeting every crevice of your labia and clit with his tongue, to swirling his tongue around your ass and pointing his tongue inside. The sounds in your ears started to blend into a high-pitched ringing tone as your cheeks grew red with warmth. Your legs were visibly shaking on his shoulders and your hips bucked without order from your mind. Your orgasm began to creep up on you again, but you halted it by pulling Sukuna onto the bed and flipping him under you. His features contorted in confusion as he looked up at you, face glistening as your juices dripped down his chin.

“Fuck, Kitten. I thought I was the one cleaning you. Why did you make me switch? Don’t tell me you grew too hungry for the taste of my cocks that you couldn’t wait”, he said as he looked down at you. He had propped himself up on his elbows and stuffed your pillows behind your back so he could watch you. His hair stuck up all kinds of ways from where you played with it, his lids were heavy with lust, and his ever-darkening eyes peered through them to watch you.

“I just thought it was unfair to make you do all the work. You are my King, after all, it is only fitting I assist you however I can. And your poor pants looked like they were about to tear from all the strain”, you said as you rubbed him through the fabric. You could hear his breathing pattern become interrupted as your fingers traced the shapes. Your nail lightly raked over the bottom one, following the engorged muscle that protruded from the bottom side. A growl reverberated throughout his chest, followed by slightly profane praises for your work. You looked up at him as you slid your body along his crotch until your mouth found the string holding his pants up. You reached your tongue out for it, the tips grazing the lower part of his abs making them suck in. You felt him twitch against your chest as you gripped the hindrance with your teeth and pulled it undone. He watched in lust-clouded awe as you began you pull his pants back. Your mouth kissing, sucking, and licking at the newly found skin. Once you pulled back to the point his cocks were almost revealed you told him to lift his hips so you could get the rest of the way down. “Oh? I thought you said you were going to assist your King yet here you are barking orders to me”, he said while smirking.

You raised your eyebrows and tongued the inside of your cheek before letting out a small chuckle and ripping his pants off. His lips almost managed to form words, but yours found your way to his cocks before they could come to fruition. Tatters of his pants flew across the room as you laid yourself between his legs and started licking his bottom cock. Your tongue traced the outline of it over and over while your lips sucked on the tip. Heavy sighs and low groans reverberated through him as you continued your work. You turned your head and pulled in the underside of his cock and started moving your head up and down. Spit fell from the corners of your mouth as you looked up at him. (E/C) irises swirling with lust and untold plans as your lips peeked from both sides of his cock. After a few pumps like this, you pushed your mouth down onto his tip and filled your throat up. His cock completely cut off your air supply as you sank down deeper onto him. You used your hand to stroke the parts of the base you couldn’t fit and watched as he started to play with his other cock. He pushed it down slightly so that your face ran along it as you pleasured the other. You pulled away from him and used your energy to pull his hands above his head and pin them there.

You moved yourself up to eye level with him, cocks brushing against your dripping entrance and boobs draping against his chest. You licked along his jaw and neck, cleaning yourself off of him before moving back over his face. You playfully kitten-licked his lips before saying, “Keep your hands here or I stop what I am doing, okay?”

His head pushed up as he quickly took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting and pulling it back before releasing it to pop back to its original position. “Such a brave brat ordering me around like this. Does fear never visit you”, he asked while meeting your gaze. His eyes feral from the predicament of being tied to your bed while you so eagerly pleased him.

You dipped your head to his ear, kissing where it met his neck before pressing your lips to his earlobe. “Fear knows better than to show its face to a predator, don’t you know we feed off of that”, you asked before slowly pushing your body back down to where it was. A hearty laugh rocked his chest at your question. The fire in his eyes seemed to be stoked by what you said, their colors seemed to burn with fervor as they closely watched all of your movements. You lowered yourself back to your original position between his legs. Your hand slid his lower cock between the valley of your breasts as you began sucking on the top one. Hand pumping him up and down once it was covered in enough spit to allow your hand to freely roam.

His toned abs flexed when his tip fell victim to the suction in your mouth and he sucked the remainder of your cum off his lips as he watched his other cock fall between your tits. It slid so nicely, the spit it was once coated in now creating a shiny layer on your breasts. He watched as they jiggled as they crashed against his pelvis with each bob of your head and felt the way the friction made you moan against his cocks. The feeling of it shooting from your throat down the one inside your mouth, and the feeling of the vibrations coming from your chest spreading to the other one had him pushing his hips further into you. He watched as tears swelled in the corners of your eyes as you gagged around him, fresh spit slipping past your lips and pooling at the base of his cock. He waited for the repercussions of his actions but was never meant with any, so he continued pistoning his hips into your throat. Sounds of skin slapping skin and choked gags filled the room as he fucked your throat and tits. It was so fucking erotic. Never had he had someone take him like you did, never had he allowed someone to take control like he did with you. And fuck he was starting to think about how much he was missing it. This was almost as sexy as when you ate his finger. He thought back to that day, the way you both were covered in blood, the violence you endured from each other in search of your own releases. Those thoughts mixed with the present situation had his cock twitching in a pretense of his release.

You watched through blurry eyes as his features started to pull together, his eyes narrowed, his lips parted, his body restless. You opened your mouth fully to allow him full access to your throat as he chased his orgasm. As his rhythm began to falter, you picked it up and guided him into nirvana. He groaned your name as he buried himself fully in your throat and started cumming. It poured down your throat as the other one shot it all across your face and chest. You kept swallowing as it kept flowing into you, it started to feel like it would never end. After the last rope shot down your mouth you pulled off of his cock. You looked like a filthy whore as you stared at him through lashes covered in cum. Milky white stains covered your face, ropes slid off of your face to your already cum covered chest, some falling right back onto his cock. He watched as your fingers began to scrape it into your mouth, your peeking out to lick it off of your fingers. You dropped your mouth to let him see how it gathered on your tongue before swallowing it and coming back out clean.

“Fuck, why do you have to be so sexy baby”, he asked as he sat up, your magic dissipating from around his wrists allowing him to touch you.

“I want you inside me, Kuna. I’ve been wanting it. Been thinking about how full you made me feel last time. It’s been so long, I want you inside me again”, you started to whine as you crawled up onto his lap. Two of his hands found their places on his hips, while the other two cradled your head. He was all for fucking you senseless until you coudln’t bare to not have his cocks inside you, but he also knew you hadn’t eaten since early in the morning. And since some stupid part of him remembered and cared about that he told you no.

“Not right now, pretty girl. I came here to eat with you and what we have eaten so far, isn’t quite what your body needs,” he said while standing up with your legs still around him. You started to protest but he simply quietened you with a kiss. He walked into your bathroom to find the tub empty, as if forgetting it wasn’t like his. He looked down at you, “I am going to take us to my bath, okay? I promise it won’t be like last time. I just want to get you cleaned up before we eat.” You were genuinely caught off guard by how sweet he was being tonight. It almost made you feel like you were talking to an imposter.

“Why are you being so sweet to me?”

He looked as caught off guard as you when you asked that. He blinked at you a few times before looking away. “Honestly, I don’t know. Never have a felt the need to care for something like I do for you. Never have I felt guilty about hurting someone like I do when I think about how I killed you. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t hate it. You have at least proved yourself to be worth caring about, so…”, he trailed off. You reached up and caressed his face before kissing him. Maybe he really wouldn’t be a bad partner, maybe.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

[username8746489]

Fight scene scenario focusing on Sylvie, specifically his reaction to getting injured in front of others

(Cw: Mild gore)

(Fic under cut; wordcount: 794)

Sylvie stayed near the back of the fight, sending Counting Sheep out to support his allies wherever he could. Not for the first time, he scowled to himself. His epithet wasn't really suited for close combat once his opponents knew what it was. Meaning that he was completely relegated to the sidelines.

Although, it wasn't as if he had nothing to do. The trio of twelve year olds cowering behind him definitely gave him incentive to stay here instead of rushing in with Dream Big.

"It's an important job," Percy had instructed him before, "We need you to make sure they stay safe. They're only children, after all."

Ordinarily, he would've been upset at such a minor role in the fight, but he understood and went along with it easily. Maybe because she had deliberately separated him from them when describing the trio as children.

"Augh!"

Sylvie's eyes immediately glanced over to where Percy was cradling her wrist, sword having been kicked into the air by her opponent.

With a grin, they grabbed the hilt, running their finger along the edge of the blade, "Let's see…"

Sylvie flinched as their head snapped towards them, smile growing ever wider on their face.

"The children would be the biggest loss, wouldn't they?"

The Neo Trio screamed as they sprinted forward, fast, much faster than they had been moving this entire fight. Were they holding back?

Sylvie hadn't even registered that he had pushed the girls away until they were upon him, plunging the sword into his side. He grunted, kicking them away and waving a hand to send a sheep gnawing at their legs. They only laughed, withdrawing their weapon with a twirl to swing at the summon, splattering it into dust with a small amount of blood trailing behind its arc. There wasn't any time for another counterattack before Indus was slamming into their side like a battering ram, forcing them far, far away from the kids yet again.

He held a hand on his wound, catching his breath. His body was starting to slump, but he forced himself upright. The world felt so much quieter than it was supposed to be.

"…vie! Sy..ie! Oh my god! Are you okay?!"

He blinked a couple times, looking down at where Molly was gripping onto his sleeve. There was a giant bubble around them. He hadn't noticed she had summoned it.

"I- I tried to dumb down the damage but- You still got hurt- I'm sorry- I- I should've-"

Sylvie wiped the blood off on his coat before placing a hand on the girl's shoulders, "Don't worry, I'm fine-"

"You're not fine!" She exclaimed, tears welling up in her button eyes, "That was a real ass goddamn sword! I- Let me-" Molly held her hands up towards the wound, green epithet bubble shrinking to numb down his pain.

He shoved her away, averting his gaze before he could catch a glimpse of her own shocked expression. "Save your stamina," Sylvie said after a brief moment, "You don't need to waste it on me."

"It's not wasting it!" Molly shouted, "You're my friend, of course I want to help-"

"Well, maybe I don't need your help," Sylvie snapped, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

Molly stared at him, eye twitching, "This is NOT the time for your lone wolf act, Sylvie!"

"Excuse me?!"

"WOAH, KID!" Giovanni Potage rushed into the scene with all of his usual tact (that is to say, none). "Jeez, that was a bad injury! Here." He held out a hand, soup forming into a sphere in his palm. "Open up!"

"I said I don't need it!" Sylvie slapped his hand back, the liquid falling and splattering against the floor. Giovanni just looked at him. Not with the usual annoyance, but more… concern.

He didn't like it. He didn't need their concern. Since when has anyone ever been concerned about him?!

"Go back to the fight," Sylvie spit out, stumbling away. "I'll be-" His own sentence was quickly contradicted by how his legs collapsed from under him, blood loss catching up to him.

"Sylvie!" Molly and Giovanni rushed over.

"Shut up," Sylvie hissed, voice drowned out by the beating of his own heart reverberating in his ears. "Shut up- I don't-" He curled further into himself, breathing picking up in pace until he could barely take in air.

The pain in his side felt like nothing compared to how they were hovering above him, staring down with eyes of pity- Stop it, stop it, stop it!

"Don't look at me," He whispered, pressing his hand further into his injury as if it would disguise the way the blood was soaking into the white of his coat, displaying his weakness for everyone to see.

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: The Day the World Broke

TMNT Multiverse Fanfic Summary: When TCRI experimentation rips the fabric of reality open, things get weird. And for four totally regular teenage mutant turtles, the world is about to get a lot more dangerous. It'll be up to every turtle in the multiverse to keep them safe and figure out how to stop the end of the world for all of them.

The Day the World Broke: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is written by @saladmix, who happens to be an excellent writer!! Go show them some support! This fanfic centers around no particular TMNT iteration, instead focusing on one unique universe created by the author, with other iterations interacting with said universe. This fanfic is unfinished, and still updating, so as the fic updates, the post will too!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is five out of five!! Oh my gosh, the plot for this fic is so incredibly good!! Its seriously intense, like off the charts intense!! Its wild, and scary, and very unpredictable!! Absolutely amazing, totally enthralling, extremely captivating plot!!"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Suspense/Mystery is five out of five!! I can't tell you all how much sheer panic I experienced due to the suspense!! This fic has extreme amounts of both suspense and mystery, and its not light either. Very heavy suspense, hinging on life and death!!"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! This fic has so much angst and hurt in it!! Pretty much everything is going wrong. It has extreme mental angst, and lots and lots of physical angst!!"

Fluff/Comfort: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is two out of five!! This fic has completely no fluff, and only minor amounts of comfort in it. Though, I'd say this fic contains less comfort, and more relief based emotions. Relief that the boys aren't dead lol."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Emotions Conveyed is five out of five!! First of all, just what the heck. This fanfic is wildly suspenseful, with an EXTREME fear factor!! Think horror, as this is definitely horror. This fanfic is filled to the brim with wildly potent emotions!! Its a terrifying read, filled with loads of triggers, and scenes that will rock you emotionally. I cried a few times to be honest."

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Drama/Tension Level is five out of five!! As stated before, this fic is a horror fic, so its really no surprise that there's a high amount of drama and tension. Pretty much, there's not a calm moment during the whole fic. Even in quiet moments, or moments of rest, you'll be worrying about the safety of the boys. So so much worry and tension."

Triggers: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Triggers are five out of five!! I CANNOT stress how HEAVY this fic is, ok?? Seriously, this fic has some very graphic depictions of gore, death, monsters and body horror, graphic injuries, torture, and even more!! This fic is ABSOLUTELY NOT for the faint of heart!! Its wildly intense, and has lots of triggers."

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! Beautiful writing, very well paced, highly intense! Its a winner!! This fic is wonderful to read!!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five!! The chapters are incredibly enjoyable to listen to, as it really amps up the suspense!! Would 100% recommend both listening and reading this fic!!"

Length: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Length is four out of five!! Currently, The Day the World Broke has a chapter count of 30+ chapters, and a word count of 395k+ words!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Day the World Broke: Chapter List

(Chapters will be added as I rate and appraise them ^^)

(Yet to be added)

[friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon]

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; clit rubbing/ fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink discovery/ exploration, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint. I don't write piv :)

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it. 

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him. 

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least  Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle. 

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile. 

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?” 

“Then how would I eat?” 

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!” 

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start. 

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.” 

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…" 

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.” 

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place. 

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it. 

“Want me to bend you over the couch?” 

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties. 

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer. 

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line. 

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just…  I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.” 

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch. 

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump. 

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed. 

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions. 

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you. 

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him. 

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

[moons-cozy-corner]

Rescued Pt. 7

This is the second to last part! I never planned it to get this far, and it was starting to feel unorganized and overwhelming. But, I've pulled it together into what I hope will be a nice ending for the few of you who've stuck along with this, even though the updates were slow.

Thanks for sticking with me, though! I appreciate everyone on the taglist (and anyone who reads this, of course)! Pt. 8 will be out sooner rather than later, because I already have it planned and know what I'm going to do, unlike all the other parts.

Part 1 | Part 6 Part 8

Recap that Villain=Pet and Whumper=Supervillain (the difference is how the narrator knows/thinks of the person)

TW: Suicidal Ideation, mentions of death, torture, beating, blood, minor gore, explosion, fire, kidnapping, dehumanization

“Is he dead?”

The whip stopped for a moment. Pet could feel the intense stare on his bleeding back, but he persisted. “Is Hero dead?”

There was a low growl before the steel tip of the whip sliced into his flesh again, with renewed anger. Pet didn’t scream, barely even flinched, at the biting pain. “You shouldn’t be asking those questions. You shouldn't be speaking at all!” An unexpected kick lands on Pet’s spine instead of the burning sting of the whip, forcing him forward with a yell. “You’ve been out of my grasp barely a week, and you’ve become a brat all over again!” 

More kicks land on his back, then his side as he turns to defend himself. “Master please!” The bloody whip is forgotten on the floor, his Master prefering to pummel him with his own hands for the first time in years. “Master!”

A fist landed on his jaw, sending his head back, and effectively shutting him up. “If I hear another word out of you, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

“I already do!” He tried to scream, but only blood and gore came from his mouth. And when he spit, something more than just blood pooled on the floor. This time, both stopped and stared.

He’d bit off part of his tongue. 

Whumper practically barked at him. “HA! Now maybe you’ll shut your damn mouth, you ingrate!” He crushed the severed flesh with his shoe as Pet stared on in absolute dread, blood flowing from his mouth in excessive amounts.

“Master, p-please…” Every word causes him to spit out more blood, specks flying into the air in front of him, causing intense pain to shoot through his mouth.

Another kick landed on his ribs, and he felt the sharp pain of something breaking. Pet just stayed down, swallowing the blood in his mouth with a grimace every few seconds. He didn’t say a thing.

He focused on the trickling red on his back and chin, grounding himself with his own impending death. He should be used to this. This had filled his life for years at this point, but the anger emanating from his Master and the unknown of Hero’s status keeps Pet in a state lost between resignation and determination.

The blows slow to a stop. Pet slid his head sideways across the floor, smearing blood with every stuttering motion. His Master was staring down at him, huffing with anger, but said nothing. Pet didn't either. 

Then he walked away, leaving Pet alone bleeding out of the floor. And as soon as he heard the basement door lock, he cried.

Pet wasn’t allowed to cry, but he didn’t care anymore-he couldn’t care. The sobs came out all choked and wet, his vocal cords drenched in blood and bile. He was all alone, though, and neither breaking the rules nor sounding disgusting didn’t scare him right now. 

He’d tried to behave, he really had! But it didn’t matter, did it? It had never mattered. If his Master wanted him hurt, he would be hurt. Stay quiet, be good, he said. Until I find you. Until I find you. Well, now he was found.

And he certainly didn’t feel like being quiet anymore.

-

Hero crawled out from the rubbish and ash, watching as Supervillain's car sped away with Villain. He escaped with minor burns and scrapes, but now he could barely breathe. His vision blurred as they disappeared from his sight, far from his reach. Regardless, he kept crawling, inch by inch to his car, with a pained smile on his face. Hero sat in the car, leaning against the seat to catch his breath. He dialed 9-1-1, claiming arson was committed on the organization building, but he wasn’t going to stay for their arrival. The building was still burning down, but that was not his top priority right now. The fire department could deal with that without his help.

He had to go get his Villain, and as he looked down at his charred phone at the little dot, his grin got wider. He’d felt terrible when he did it, sticking it into his skin that night. Villain hadn't even noticed a difference when he stuck the little device in his skin, and neither had any of the nurses. The second he was told they weren’t going to let him stay, he decided it was a precaution he needed to take.

Besides, these trackers were in inventory specifically for villains anyways.

He was still smiling at his phone when there was an explosion in front of him. It flashed in Hero’s vision so all he could see was white, then red, as he ducked below his dash. The windshield shattered and sent glass rain onto his back, and he cursed. He could feel the heat, and as he tentatively sat back up, he could see why. 

Everything, the entire parking lot, was on fire. The building was crumbling dangerously, as if it would collapse any second, as if that was what the explosion was meant to do. Supervillain must have poured gasoline on the concrete, must have set the bomb, all before even going inside, before Hero would have even gotten Villain inside. How far ahead had he let Supervillain get? 

He couldn’t dwell on that now. Hero looked around fast, assessing his situation. If he stayed in the car, the fire may make it explode - and what if Supervillain put a bomb on his car? If he jumped out, though, he would catch fire, and it was a long sprint to the grass at the edge of the organization's property. Cursing under his breath, he reached into the back seat, grabbing his bag, and forced himself into the fire pit that was the parking lot.

-

The dark space was absolutely silent. It was as if he had already died, had been lowered into the warm Earth, laying gently on soft wood. How he wished that was the case.

Whumper had already returned to stitch up the end of his tongue, the part he had bit off. It hurt like hell, and at first Pet clamped his mouth shut, so Whumper had to clamp it open. Now all it could do was sit, its mouth in pain and tasting of iron, and imagine. His mind had never wandered before. It remained blank, too exhausted from hours of pain, from his body trying to heal, from the pang of starvation in the pit of his stomach. It was day one again, kind of. All he could think of was Hero, and that car ride. That song. He couldn’t recall where it came from, why he knew it, why it made him feel safe. But it did. 

The face Hero had made, or rather the face Pet imagined him making, made him melt, and his silence - Pet had felt like the sun had stopped, just to allow the warmth to shine on them. For those two minutes, then it was gone. 

So he started to hum it, not caring if Whumper returned, or heard. He closed his eyes, lay his head on the concrete, and let the notes flow out from his achy throat. He could remember, now, the early days of his captivity. When he clutched so desperately to his life, to any thought of freedom. He no longer remembered who he was, but this song was the one thing that tethered him to that long-gone reality. And it made him smile, despite the pain and dizziness. 

He wanted to remember, he really, really did. Hero remembered him, remembered Villain, but Pet didn’t. He wished he could. 

There was a slam somewhere upstairs, followed by stomping. Whumper was pissed, for whatever reason. But he was on the other side of the house, from what Pet could hear. Still, he found himself shaking with his back against the wall, the open cuts stinging at the content. But he never stopped humming, no matter how broken and shaky the notes became.

Even as the blood flowed from his back, and his ribs stabbed his lungs, and his jaw hurt, he kept going. Repeating the chorus, then the ending. Starting it all over again, even as the key shifted far passed recognition. The basement got darker, and he smiled. At least this part of him would follow him into death.

He imagined the stone was wood, and the blood was rain. He pretended that the pain in his chest was from running too long, pretended he was taking a nice long nap after a good couple miles, like he used to. He pretended his tears were from joy and not from pain. He imagined Hero, wiping them from his face.

But none of it could exist in reality, so, as his Hero was brushing his hair and humming their song, he finally, finally let his eyes close.

taglist: @alwaysalilhigh@nicolepascaline@whumped-inc@littlespacecastle@hollowgast1@edkore@ramadiiiisme@writereleaserepeat@when-no-wings-do-broomsticks@robinwrites@aswallowimprisoned@whumblrwork@cepheusgalaxy@tedrakitty @delicateprincepaper@alwaysalilhigh@0eggdealer@subval01@ifthisislifeidontlikeit

@books-are-everything @whumpsoda @robinrites

@wildcard-whumps

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Chapter Eleven // Urban Fantasy AU

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @mysticdoodlez @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @cookiesupplier @meliferafaerie @concreteemo @itsafullmoon @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @spicywhenspeaking @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @darling-millicent-aubrey @badomensls @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls

Jolly and Maria sat in tense silence in her office, the weight of their discovery hanging heavily over them. The journey back from the lab had been just as quiet, Maria poring over the reports they had hastily printed before leaving. In her hands were three vital sheets of paper - one showing the DNA profile of a current Mage magistrate, ancient and powerful; another revealing snippets of DNA from an ancient celestial being, studied purely for historical record. But it was the third sheet that held the most explosive information - the DNA sequence of their young ward Rosa. While much of her genetic code matched the ancient celestial sample, there were extra threads woven throughout, a new and powerful strain that exceeded anything in that historic remnant.

Maria and Jolly were stunned to realize that Rosa was so much more than she seemed. Her genetic code contained secrets and profound power, unlike anything the Mages had encountered before. 

"The sample must be tainted." Maria spoke out loud. Her own train of thought on the same track as Jolly's. "Or we collected it wrong." Maria's voice was tinged with frustration as she contemplated the anomalous results. 

Jolly sat hunched in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced as his leg nervously bounced up and down. The jingling watch on his shaking wrist seemed to tick in time with his racing mind. "I don't think the collection was wrong, and the old sample was ancient, but the answer remains the same," he muttered barely above a whisper. 

“Can we honestly say that she is a celestial? A mortal, a human, with no ties to the magistrate being a celestial?” Maria sat up in her chair folding her arms over the edge of her desk.

“Do we then believe that she has had no knowledge of this world, whatsoever?” Maria’s tone changed, almost like she was nervous, or judgemental. “She knew the nightshade worked, maybe she was creating just enough to make her sick but not kill her.”

Jolly struggled to fully accept the notion that this unassuming woman walking among them could be a celestial envoy from the magistrate realm. He stood up from the chair and paced back and forth, rubbing his temples as he wracked his brain for an explanation. If she was celestial, why hide it? Why allow herself to ingest a near-fatal amount of poison instead of simply revealing her true nature? Maria seemed convinced of Rosa's deception, accusing her of carefully calibrating the nightshade dose to merely feign sickness. But Jolly wasn't ready to make that leap yet. Rosa had shown no malice or ill intent thus far. 

“I don’t think she is dangerous,” he finally said. 

“Is that your professional or personal opinion?” Jolly turned to look at his friend whose eyes were scanning him for the answer. 

“Both” he admitted. Maria let out a loud sigh dropping her forehead on her arms. 

The rhythmic beeping of the alarm shattered the tense silence in Maria's office, directing their attention to the anomalous readings on Jolly's phone. Noah's heart rate showed a perplexing split - simultaneously elevated yet slowed, his heartbeat pulsing to an irregular cadence. Jolly furrowed his brow as he studied the waveforms dancing across the screen, trying to make sense of the contradictory signals. Noah's brain activity also seemed caught between stimulation and sedation, the spikes and valleys of neural excitation at odds. Had Noah been poisoned? Or was he under some psychic assault, his body and mind pulled in opposite directions by forces unknown? As Jolly shared the data with Maria, he saw his own shock and bewilderment mirrored on her face. Something was drastically wrong, that much was clear. 

Jolly threw on his jacket and headed for the elevator, running through the halls his phone vibrating as Noah’s vitals leveled out and Jolly wondered if maybe it had been a fluke. After he’d made it to the parking garage and started the car Noah’s vitals spiked and split again. Jolly tore out of his parking space tires squealing and echoing off the concrete walls. Adrenaline flooding his veins, Jolly slammed the accelerator, the smell of burning rubber filling the air as he peeled out of the parking garage. The walls amplified the screech of his tires as he sped off, weaving recklessly through traffic with only one thought on his mind: getting to Noah. Jolly's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his eyes wild and movements frenzied, consumed by fear.

As he drove back to their shared apartment, Noah's readings remained steady until he reached their elevator. The numbers on the device suddenly spiked and then split dramatically, just as they had done before. Jolly's heart began to race as he pressed the elevator button repeatedly, trying in vain to make the doors open faster. He had tried calling Noah several times during the drive over, but there was no answer. When the elevator finally arrived and the doors slid open, Jolly practically shoved them aside in his haste. He sprinted down the hall to their apartment door, fumbling to unlock it with shaking hands as he called out Noah's name. Hearing no response, Jolly rushed down the hallway towards Noah's bedroom, his mind racing with possibilities. The door was cracked open, and Jolly could smell the lingering scent of a recent shower as he stepped inside. He froze in place as the scene before him sunk in. There was Noah, sitting on the edge of his bed, with Rosa straddling his lap. Her hips undulated sensuously as her hands braced against his chest. She leaned forward, reaching up to gently caress his cheek as Noah let his head roll back at her touch.

Tilting her head back, her eyes fluttering open to meet Jolly's own gaze. The colors of the galaxy swirled within her iris, hints of blues and purples mixing together like a cosmic painting. She dropped her chin, a coy smile spreading across her lips as she hooked a finger to beckon him closer. Her long hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. As Jolly stepped forward, drawn in by her siren's call, Rosa turned her attention back to Noah beneath her. Approaching cautiously, he was hungry for them together; while waiting for Rosa to recover, it had left him and Noah worried about her and neglecting their own needs. Jolly reached out, gently brushing Rosa's hair aside to reveal the smooth skin of her neck. He placed a soft kiss upon her pulse point, feeling it quicken under his lips. Rosa let out a contented sigh, her eyes slipping closed once more as she enjoyed the sensual caresses of the two men. Jolly continued trailing kisses down her neck as Noah's hands came up to grasp her hips.

“Mmm, I knew you’d come.” she hummed. Jolly’s motions stilled as he leaned back away from the both of them, watching their bodies tangle together. He looked to Noah, whose own eyes opened and the reflection of Rosa’s galaxy swirled iris staring back at him. Connected. They were connected. 

“How?” he whispered as he leaned over Noah’s face looking into his swirling eyes.

“Blood. Her blood.” He panted, throwing his head back and his back arching as she rolled onto his hips faster. Jolly turned and saw the new bite between her neck and shoulder. 

“Are you in pain?” Jolly ignored the twitch of his cock in his pants as Noah whimpered with delight while Rosa rode him slowly. His eyes snapped open and the color of his soft brown eyes restored. 

“Answer him, Noah.” Rosa stilled her movements sitting in his lap like a statue, all while Noah took his hands trying to force her to move. Noah’s eyes looked to his master and he swallowed hard. 

“No. No pain. She’s. She’s. She’s divine, master,” he forced the words looking back at Rosa before begging her to move again. 

Jolly was conflicted as he gently brushed Rosa's hair aside to examine the fresh bite mark on her neck, noticing how the pink skin was already beginning to heal. In the short time he had known her, Rosa had found a place in his heart, challenging everything he thought he knew about Celestials. Jolly had been raised to see Celestials as bloodthirsty tyrants who wanted nothing more than to destroy his people. Yet Rosa was so different - gentle, kind, and caring. 

“Master?” Her soft voice called him out of his head, bringing him out of his troubled thoughts, he couldn't help but tenderly cup her cheek in his hand. As Rosa covered his hand with her own and leaned into his touch, Jolly was torn. His heart told him that she was not the monster he had been taught Celestials were, but he couldn't ignore a lifetime of warnings about her kind. He cared for Rosa deeply, more than he ever thought possible, but allowing himself to fully give in to those feelings meant betraying all he had ever known. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, Jolly struggled internally between his feelings and his duty, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment with Rosa forever.

“Am I? Am I your master?” Jolly wasn’t sure anymore. He’d felt in charge all this time, like he’d been in control. But Rosa had flipped that dynamic, or was it the realization of her lineage. Did Jolly feel inferior to a being that was more powerful than even himself, or did he fear that one day she would reject them both no longer satisfied with them. Would she throw away everything they had grown so comfortable with, so fond of. 

Rosa’s eyes turned to Noah as she hooked her finger at him, he sat up at the waist, his arms circling her body. Her grip on his chin was firm, commanding, as she directed his gaze to Jolly. As both Noah and Rosa looked into his eyes he felt himself straining desperately against the zipper of his pants. “Our master.” Rosa confirmed. 

Jolly’s forehead dipped, resting on Rosa’s as her eyes closed and their noses brushed. She smiled while she took in a deep breath of his scent. Content. 

“Show me, sunshine. What can you do?” Her brows crinkled and when her eyes opened, she searched his gaze and he saw her lip tremble. 

“I-I don’t know if I can.” For the first time since Jolly has known Rosa, her voice wavered. Jolly cupped her face in his hands, his calloused thumbs gently caressing her delicate cheekbones. He had never seen such vulnerability and fear in his sunshine's eyes before. He leaned in, taking her lips with his own. Her kiss was hungry as her hands tangled in his hair, pulling the elastic band to free his locks. Pulling apart from her he studied her face, eyes rimming just barely with tears. Jolly ached to see his vibrant girl so full of doubt and hesitation. He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses touching, breaths mingling.

 "You can do anything," he whispered, hoping she felt the conviction in his words. She needed to know he believed in her, even if she didn't believe in herself at this moment. Her hands slid from his hair down to grip his shirt, anchoring herself to him. Jolly kissed her again, softly this time, trying to breathe courage into her lungs.

Rosa's mesmerizing eyes became their hypnotic pools of purple, blue, and green hues. As she straddled Noah, grinding her hips against his, Jolly could not take his eyes off her. Noah grasped Rosa's hips tightly, holding her in place as she moved. Meanwhile, Jolly began to undress, unbuttoning and tearing off his shirt in anticipation. He maintained eye contact with Rosa the whole time, captivated by her gaze. As Jolly removed his undershirt, exposing his muscular chest and abs, Rosa reached out to touch him. Her hand caressed his bare skin, her fingers tracing along his muscles. Her touch fueled Jolly's passion as he watched her continue to ride Noah's body. Rosa's movements became faster and more urgent as she neared climax, her hypnotic eyes holding Jolly's stare the entire time. The tension in the room was palpable as the three became lost in each other. 

Jolly tossed his pants away releasing his hard cock, Rosa's gaze faltered, her eyes instinctively drawn downwards to take in the sight before her. A soft whimper escaped Noah's lips, his eyes widening as he stared, transfixed. His tongue darted out to wet his mouth, soft and pouty. Reaching out with his magical abilities, Jolly could sense the quickened heartbeats of his partners. Noah's heart pounded rapidly, fueled by nervous excitement. Rosa's heart beat steady yet fluttering, like the wings of a hummingbird. Jolly focused, allowing his own heartbeat to find the perfect rhythm to complement theirs. His magic allowed him to feel their arousal, their trepidation, their longing. 

Jolly positioned himself behind Rosa, his hands tracing the lines of her neck and shoulders down her curves to her hips. “That’s it,” he encouraged gripping her skin as he pulled her down and rolled her hard, pushing Noah deep inside her, “Ride our pet, sunshine.” 

As Noah's eyes rolled back in his head, Jolly could feel their heart beats fall into sync, their blood flowing in tandem, converging into one unified rhythm. He gasped a little at the dramatic shift, the sudden connection between them unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was as if their hearts were beating as one, their life forces merging. Jolly could sense Noah's pulse echoing his own, could feel it reverberating through his veins. The synchrony was uncanny, profound, almost supernatural in its intensity. Jolly was overcome by the intimacy of it, the way their bodies seemed to be communing on some deeper level. 

“Does he like it, sunshine?” Jolly teased forcing Rosa to fuck him harder. She didn’t answer, only moaned in response. Jolly felt the strange sensation of something crawling up the back of his neck, itching just beneath the skin, dancing around his nerves. It was a prickling, a needling feeling slithering up his spine. He relaxed his mind, focusing on the odd tingling as it warmed through his skin, into his cerebellum. Jolly realized this was not his own sensation, but rather a phantom feeling being psychically transmitted to him. As Jolly concentrated, the sensations grew more vivid - the urgent thrusting, the tightness building to release. Though second-hand, the impressions flooding Jolly's mind were unmistakably erotic, and he could not help but be aroused. 

Jolly's breath quickened as he immersed his mind completely in the feelings, marveling at the intimacy of knowing his pet’s pleasure so acutely. For an instant, the psychic link blurred the lines between them, merging their identities into one. He could feel his own cock throbbing, needing it. He released Rosa’s hips, his lips dropping to the shell of her ear, “lay on him, sunshine.” 

Rosa effortlessly leaned forward as Noah pulled her into his strong embrace. Their lips met in a hungry, passionate kiss that sent electricity coursing through their bodies. Jolly could feel their passion as it raced through their veins.  She pressed herself against his muscular chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart that matched her own. Noah's hands roamed over her back, gently guiding her into an arch that allowed him to deepen the kiss even further. Lost in the throes of passion, neither noticed as Jolly approached from behind. With a mischievous grin, he placed his hands on Rosa's lower back and gave a playful push. The arch of her back became more pronounced, giving Jolly an unobstructed view of where she and Noah were intimately joined. Unable to resist, he took himself in hand and pressed the tip of his cock against Noah's slick shaft, nudging it aside to make room for both men within Rosa's warmth. 

A soft gasp escaped Rosa’s lips as she felt Jolly's firm thrust. But the gasp soon melted into a moan of pleasure as she gave herself over to the exquisite sensations of being filled completely by the two men. 

“That’s it sunshine, you’ll take us both.” Jolly’s encouraging tone made her whine and Noah whimpered beneath them. 

“Master,” he whimpered and Jolly felt himself twitch against his pet's cock as they both sank deep into her. The intertwined trio moved as one, their three bodies knotted together in a passionate embrace. Rosa arched her back, her head lolling against Jolly's sturdy shoulder as waves of pleasure radiated through her core. She reached up, cupping Jolly's stubbled cheek to guide his lips to hers. Their kiss was hungry and deep, tongues dancing as Rosa's hand found Noah's and their fingers interlaced. Noah's strong arm encircled Rosa's hip, his palm pressed into the small of her back as his fingertips grazed Jolly's knuckles. The three lovers lost in the intimacy of the moment, their bodies acting on instinct and desire.

Months passed in a monotonous blur as she recuperated, her body slowly healing but her spirit diminished. When she was finally back on her feet, Oli and Noah took her downtown to revisit the apartment she once called home. As they approached the familiar building, she was crestfallen to see an eviction notice plastered on the door, with a sticky note attached bearing the hastily scrawled word "sorry." Pushing open the door, she scanned the now empty apartment, looking for what few possessions might still hold meaning. Her clothes and personal items were gone, but a few photos still hung crookedly on the walls, forgotten in the haste of the eviction. She paused at a picture of her smiling face nestled between two other carefree girls, no more than three years ago but felt like centuries in the past. She had not spoken to her family in years, and her friends were long gone from her life. Staring at the remnants of happier times, she pondered the reckless path that had led her to isolation and ruin.

"Mistress," he offered, unsure how to comfort her or help her, speaking softly as if afraid his words might break her. She gave him a faint smile in return, tossing the photo on her unmade bed without hesitation, ready to leave the pain of this place behind. With three backpacks full of the things she thought she would miss most - her degree, her favorite sweater, a teddy bear from childhood - the three of them left the only home she had ever known. As the car pulled away, Noah held her in his lap in the backseat, gently stroking her hair and mumbling in her ear how they would start fresh, how he and Jolly would buy her whatever her heart desired, how he would take care of her. 

Jolly went above and beyond to provide her with the latest technology and ensure her privacy and security, installing encrypted messaging so her conversations remained confidential. He took thoughtful precautions, connecting Noah's collar device to her phone so she could check on his whereabouts and know that he was alright at any given moment. Jolly also linked a calendar that the three of them shared with his meetings, work hours, and even a trip back to his homeland that was scheduled six months down the road. This allowed them to coordinate schedules and know what the others were up to, promoting open communication and planning. While Noah was given free reign of her closet, he bought the most beautiful suits, lingerie, and dresses, paired with heels, jewelry and perfume-all things that he thought she’d look her best in. He wanted to pamper her with elegant attire and accessories to complement her natural beauty. Jolly also managed to order her some more stylish casual wear, the walk in closet of theirs nearly overflowing with the new department store hauls. He indulged her with a bounty of chic, comfortable everyday clothes and shoes so she would feel confident and put-together at all times.

Rosa had been kept a secret from most of the people in Jolly and Noah’s life. The only people who knew the full truth about her mysterious lineage were her two closest confidants, Maria and Oli. They had been like family to Rosa, keeping her origins confidential and protecting her from prying eyes. Whenever they came to visit, Maria would try to pull Rosa aside, clearly wanting to have an earnest discussion with her. But the timing never seemed right, and they were perpetually interrupted before Maria could reveal whatever was on her mind.

One fateful night, an opportunity finally presented itself. While Noah was out hunting with Oli, and Jolly was at a late meeting with the local magistrate Maria stopped by the house, a serious look in her gentle eyes.

“Are you alone?” Rosa was surprised to see Maria at her door, looking disheveled and anxious. She knew Maria tended to be high-strung, but something seemed off as she breezed past Rosa into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. Rosa closed the door slowly, watching Maria make herself at home on the sofa.

“For now,” she said, “I assume Jolly will be home soon.”

“Then I’ll get right to my question.” her hair was sloppily piled on top of her head, loose strands falling around her face as if she had been compulsively running her hands through it all morning. Rosa wondered what could have Maria so worked up that she would show up unannounced.

“Listen,” she said finally gathering her thoughts, “What I am asking is against the law, you have no idea how against our laws it is, but I am desperate. And I think you are the only one that’s going to be able to help me.”

[deafeningfanlight23]

Okay, I think I will get a bit of hate comments for this TSAMS confession… BUT(T) IDC! I’m gonna say it anyway CUZ FREEDOM! >:D

So, over the past few weeks or so, I was often scrolling through Tumblr BECAUSE OF MY GODDAMN WRITER'S BLOCK [I wanna die :'D SO MANY IDEAS BUT MY BRAIN FLIPPED ME OFF AND SAID "I'm gonna make your life a living hell and you can't DO NOTHING ABOUT IT >:D"].

And with scrolling through Tumblr , YOU STUMBLE UPON ENDLESS AMOUNT OF DRAMA AND HATE! :’D And currently, I often read that apparently, a group of SolarMoon shippers, I think, sent people, who DON'T ship it and are most of the time MINORS, gore pictures through links or something??? IDK IT'S MORE CONFUSING AND MESSIER THAN FNAF LORE QWQ I think that's where the hatred towards SolarMoon shippers comes from: First, from the "the ChOsEn SolarMOon ShiPperS group" [Just a made-up name lol XD] and secondly, because of this debate wherever it's incest or not. But hey, that's just a theory, A TSAMS THEORY! :D

And to finally add my silly opinion to it because of this hate I REALLY MUCH SAW: This is JUST a toxic minority of the SolarMoon shippers! Yeah, maybe some will now type out "No WaY >:O" BUT YES, THIS ISN’T IMPOSSIBLE, I KNOW – SHOCKING REVELATION THAT WILL CHANGE HUMANITY FOREVER! >:D AND I HAVE A REASONING! BASED ON FACTS! The toxic minority is ALWAYS the loudest, but that doesn't mean that you, JUST SOME OF YOU DON'T TWIST MY WORDS, have to come to the conclusion that all are like that! It's like, idk, saying that all pizzas are bad because of one baker who put snake poison instead of tomato sauce on it QWQ Okay, that was a bad metaphor, but YOU GET MY THOUGHT-PROCESS XD

But report and block them if you’ve got such links or photos from those SolarMoon shippers though! What they do is inexcusable, stupid and just such a waste of time! And it’s SOOO immature, and that says a thirteen-year-old who was the mentality of a ten-year old! XD

And they’re also hated by the SolarMoon community and this group is barely part of this community and barely ever was, so don’t put the blame on them! You can’t just use them as scapegoats! They’ve got nothing to do with this stupid group! And this group seems like being barely SolarMoon shipper anymore – They’re just sending aimless gore pictures and hate towards people who just want to have peace!

So, with that, let people ship whatever they want AND YES IT INCLUDES SOLARMOON AS WELL IDC WHATCHA ALL THINK FROM ME NOW, IT CAN’T HURT YOU AND IT’S NOT REAL! QWQ And this group of SolarMoon shippers is JUST A MINORITY WHO SHOULD BE BANNED FROM THIS PLATTFORM BECAUSE OF THEIR STUPID ACTIONS!

So, if I got something wrong, please inform or correct me POLITELY! We all are just some TSAMS fans who wanna have silly and harmless fun! :3

SQUISHY HAS SPOKEN!!

Thanks for listening to my silly lil' opinion, AND TUNG!

qëndroni të sigurt! <3

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: lots of violence, gore, s**cide, emeto, panic attacks, major & minor character death, insane amounts of angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

that list of tw's sounds so scary. i'd tell you it wasn't that bad, but... y'know...

CRY, I DARE YOU >:(

part twenty-three

❝ HIGHLIGHT REEL FROM HELL ❞

TUESDAY — JULY 24 — 2:40AM

BENTLEY FLINCHED HIMSELF AWAKE IN HIS BED FOR WHAT HAD TO BE THE FIFTIETH TIME SINCE HE STARTED TRYING TO FALL ASLEEP HOURS AGO. 

He wasn’t sure why he was struggling with it so much that particular Monday night — especially since he and Koa had engaged in lots more physical activity than he was used to. He should’ve been exhausted. He was exhausted, but sleep seemed to be eluding him, just like it always did.

After Summer had healed Koa (thank goodness for her powers.) all seven of them stayed in their room for the rest of the evening, save Valor who was the best roommate ever and brought dinner to the dorm for everyone. Between getting punched, exploding Tyler’s gatorade, and having Koa black out on him, Bentley could confidently say he’d never had a more eventful first day in his life. (Not that he’d had lots of first days.) (He sort of hoped it wasn’t setting the tone for the rest of the schoolyear.)

Bruce called him after dinner to ask how the day went. Bentley told him the bare minimum. (A lie of omission is still a lie, his subconscious oh-so-helpfully reminded him.)

With the realization that he’d technically been lying to Bruce more lately than he ever had before, he tossed and turned in his bed for literal hours. It was edging on three in the morning when he pushed himself upright and glanced around his and Asten’s bedroom. It was pitch black besides the tiny sliver of dim light coming from beneath the door, and when he tapped his phone, it said it was 2:42am.

He had to be up in, like, three hours.

With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and forced himself out of his bed, glancing at the lump on the top bunk that was sound asleep, unlike him. (Sometimes he envied Asten’s uncanny ability to sleep through anything.)

He moved across their room slowly and opened their door as quietly as he could, stepping out into the living area, and he was on a rooftop.

… And he was on a rooftop?

He glanced backward at what would’ve been the door he’d just stepped through, but was greeted by nothing more than roof and Gotham skyline. It was nighttime, and the sky was cloudy, with tons of stars twinkling through. A bitter cold settled into his bones and he shivered — winter wind howled around him, tugging at his hair and his clothes, and an onslaught of tiny freezing raindrops began pelting his exposed skin.

He tucked his (immediately frozen) hands into the pocket of his red hoodie, and did a spin, glancing across the rooftop as he did so. 

There was someone on the edge of the roof, standing unsteadily atop a very sketchy, slick-looking metal railing, the breeze whipping and tearing at their clothes and hair. They weren’t much bigger than Bentley, and they were… familiar.

Bentley went forwards toward them, but he couldn’t move all that well. Like the cold was sinking into his bones and freezing his blood inside of him — like he was slowly solidifying.

Despite that, it only took a few grueling steps forward for the color of the other person’s hair to catch on the glimmering city lights in the distance.

“Asten?” Bentley questioned softly, a wave of fear surging through him when he realized what exactly was happening, again. “Asten, what… what are you doing?”

Bentley grew nearer to the edge at a glacial pace, having to put every ounce of willpower in his body into moving one leg at a time to get to him. The closer he got, he realized Asten had a paper balled up into his left fist. Similar to the first time this happened. Didn’t he have a picture of his parents, then?

“Asten?” Bentley tried again, continuously forcing himself forward. “Can you hear me? It’s Bentley, Asten. I’m here.” 

He finally got close enough to hear his quiet sobs, and a few more steps revealed that Asten was trembling, though Bentley wasn’t sure how much of it was from the cold and how much wasn’t. Asten’s shaky breaths rose from his mouth in clouds of vapor. Bentley’s did not. Like he didn’t even exist.

When Asten didn’t move, Bentley exhaled shakily, adrenaline burning through his veins like gasoline. “Asten, please. Can you hear me?”

Again, he seemed to be the only one capable of hearing himself just like last time. He glanced around the rooftop for any signs of Nico or Jason or somebody Asten could hear, but Bentley was the only one there.

Asten let go of the paper, and it blew back onto the roof toward him. It was a newspaper clipping, crumbled and haphazardly torn from its original paper.

It stopped blowing in the wind when it hit Bentley’s shoe — he knelt down and grabbed it, flipping it to the backside. There was a list there that said: Gotham Tragedy Casualties. Beneath that heading was a long list of names, hundreds in tiny print just on the small sliver of paper he could see. Right in the middle of the list, circled by a red pen, were five names: Nico Rockefeller, Bentley Whittaker, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

Gotham Tragedy. That was the name given to the mass destruction Asten had caused after his uncle died. 

When Bentley stood back up was about the time Gotham came into focus below them. The city lights were shining in the distance, but the closer Bentley looked, the more destruction he noticed. Buildings reduced to rubble, burned into nothing more than smoking piles of ash in a large radius around the building they were standing on. Roads covered from one end to the other in debris and rubble, police and firetrucks and emergency response vehicles still sifting through the long fizzled-out wreckage for survivors.

That’s about when Bentley realized they were back on top of the exact building Asten had taken Jason’s gun on. The one he’d stood on the edge of once before, a long time ago. The one where he’d destroyed… everything. 

“Asten…” Bentley tried again, taking another glance at the boy across the rooftop. He had the sudden urge to cry but fought it down, for the other boy’s sake, on the off chance he started hearing him. “Please get down, buddy.”

Asten turned around unsteadily on the railing, facing Bentley with his back toward the city, but he didn’t look at him. He was looking more… through him. Bentley noticed that his gaze was focused on the piece of paper that was blowing across the rooftop. His nose and cheeks were red from both the crying and the cold, making his green eyes look greener in the same weird way Dick’s eyes looked bluer when he cried.

“Asten, please,” Bentley tried, stepping forward again, though it was no use. He was invisible.

Asten only stared forward, the despair and sorrow that had been painted across his features fading into an expression that was freakishly numb and empty.

Bentley took one last step forward, close enough that he could probably touch Asten’s legs, and he felt his eyes start to burn. “Please get down. What am I gonna do if you’re not here?”

The wind whipped at Asten’s blue hair, and with the city lights behind him, it sort of looked like he had a halo of light. He shifted his weight only slightly, and he took a shaky breath in. Then he closed his eyes.

“Asten!” Bentley shouted, trying to move forward, but his feet wouldn’t lift. “Please, Asten, please, I’m right here. I’m right here, I’m not dead. Please.”

Asten’s hands went from fists to loose by his sides, the tension leaving his shoulders and body. He exhaled a long puff of vapor that floated away in the wind.

Then he let himself fall backwards.

“No!”

Bentley lurched forward, grappling for Asten’s ankle, his foot, his pants, anything. But his hands went straight through his legs like they weren’t even there, and he disappeared over the edge and left Bentley on the rooftop alone. He tried to summon water but he couldn’t feel any. The whole city went quiet.

Bentley stood eerily still, his mouth hanging open, and he didn’t dare look over the edge no matter how close he was to it. He swallowed thickly, his hand drifting up to cover his mouth. He stared blankly at his own feet.

He couldn’t… why couldn’t Asten…

Bentley’s knees hit the rooftop with a thud, and he suddenly felt kind of like he was drowning. Like the world was moving without him. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see. He knew he was sobbing now, so hard it actually, physically hurt, but he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

The world blurred and moved around him, and suddenly, he was somewhere else. On his knees, choking on his own sobs in the middle of a road full of rubble. Smoke was rising in plumes on all sides of him, and everything seemed to be roaring like the day Asten destroyed Gotham.

Bentley couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. What was he supposed to do? His breaths kept getting caught in his throat like there was something blocking the way, and after a few moments of that, he started coughing, which made everything ten times worse. He tried to breathe but all that came out were wheezy, violent sort of half-sobs-half-hyperventilating thingys that left him kind of dizzy. His body wasn’t listening to him anymore. He could feel himself trembling so hard he was probably vibrating across the ground, and he could feel his stomach churning inside of him, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

Asten had…

Asten… his brother… he… he was…

“Come here, you little prick!”

Bentley’s eyes flicked up when a small figure staggered toward him, stumbling and hobbling all over the place. He wiped his eyes and blinked, and upon closer inspection, he realized it was… Nico. He was covered in blood and dirt and ash, his blonde hair no longer blonde but a mixture of colors bestowed upon him by the warzone. He kept trying to use his powers to no avail, the yellow lightning crackling at his feet but only sending him a few yards forward before it stopped and he stumbled, and Bentley quickly noticed why — because his leg was broken.

Like, broken broken. Like part of his left calf and foot was mangled and not facing the right way broken. Bentley could see the strange angles even with his sweatpants on, and his entire left pant leg was soaked through with blood. He was crying, tear-streaks cutting through the rest of the blood and grime on his face and making pitiful little dots all over the front of his hoodie. 

“Nico?” Bentley breathed, nearly inaudibly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them just like he used to. “Asten, he…”

Nico went straight past him without even a glance in his direction.

So no one could see him.

Bentley just sat. He brought his knees in tighter and stared blankly, hiccuping and spluttering pitifully to nobody but himself. He wanted to glance around but he was afraid he’d see Asten if he did, so he didn’t.

His own voice pierced the air before he could even comprehend what he was saying. All it was was a broken sounding little:

“Dad…” 

There was a shout from behind Bentley that was so shrill he flinched, whirling his head around to check what was going on.

Nico shouted in terror and staggered backwards when a purple portal spun to life ahead of him, The Void stepping out of it right in his face. Her purple hair was still half cut where Damian had gotten it with his katana, and she was bruised and cut up and dirty, too.

Before he could as much as think, The Void grabbed Nico by the head and shoved him into the rubble, hard, face first. Bentley thought about moving toward them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, like his body was cemented to the ground.

He shouted: “Nico!” But no one heard.

All he could do was watch as she climbed on top of Nico, who kicked and thrashed under her weight, crying and screaming the names of what seemed to be every person he knew, but finally settling on yelling for his parents again and again. Bentley tried so hard to pick his feet up, to move, to scoot, to crawl, to something, but he couldn’t. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.

“Nico, no!”

The Void grabbed Nico by the hair and started slamming the back of his head into the rubble over and over and over and over and over again until they were both red, and his face was blank, his shouting silenced, eyes open but unseeing.

Bentley turned his head away and closed his eyes, slapping his hands over his mouth, the sudden but powerful urge to vomit taking ahold of him full-force. A sort of strange, stunned numbness sprang to life inside of him. He’d never really felt like that before. Like… like he was so stunned and scared and grieved and enraged and traumatized that it all sort of boiled into one big… nothing. Feelings that were so strong his body just… canceled them out for his own good. 

He coughed a few times that almost resulted in him throwing up all over himself.

“I…” He whispered. Who was he talking to? He didn’t know. No one could hear him. No one could see him. No one could touch him. He was a ghost. “I wanna go home.”

And then a voice came. A voice he recognized from a long time ago, that came from everywhere and nowhere. A voice that made his hair stand up, that made him want to crawl in a hole and never come out again.

“You got lucky, babybird. The choices you made prevented these… unfortunate events from taking place. But what’s the fun in keeping them to myself? After all, no one ever realizes how lucky they are until they see the alternative,”

Bentley was suddenly in a solid white plane of emptiness, still sitting, still unable to move, to think, to breathe, still feeling like he might throw up and pass out and die. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move, in fear of her being there. He thought she was dead. He thought she was dead.

“But everything makes a ripple, babybird. You know that better than anyone. Down to the smallest detail — who you say hi to in the hall, where you sit in class. You may have closed the door on the circumstances I just showed you, yes… but now you’ve opened doors much, much worse. Would you like to sneak a peek into your future?”

Bentley didn’t get time to respond — not that he would’ve anyways — because, suddenly, the white was changing and moving around him, smoke swirling and making images, a flurry of scenes flashing in front of him like a highlight reel straight from hell.

First, Rockie appeared in the white nothing with him, crouched next to him, looking panicked. In a split second, there was a BANG! BANG! and though Bentley couldn’t see where the shots came from, two big stains of crimson began to form and grow on the front of Rockie’s t-shirt, and his green eyes blew wide. He opened his mouth to speak and blood came out.

Bentley gasped and shouted: “Rockie!”

Rockie fell. Bentley made some sound of terror he didn’t really hear, but the second he reached for his roommate's body, it disappeared. 

Bentley spun around, hiccuping, wiping the ever-flowing tears off of his face. He scanned the rest of the white. “…Rockie?”

“No! No! Please, don’t — no, Bentley! Help! Help me!”

Bentley whipped around at the voice. The smoke swirled and spun until three people emerged from thin air — two adults in white suits and a small child they were dragging by the arms. It only took Bentley a split second to realize that it was Bellamy.

He was fighting against them as hard as he could with his tiny self, while simultaneously bawling his eyeballs out and screaming as loud as he possibly could. They slammed him into a wall and began to put something on him. Something yellow, and tight — a straight jacket.

Bellamy fought against them hard, sobs wracking his tiny body as his brown eyes flew everywhere they could. “No! Please, No! Bentley!”

“Leave him alone!” Bentley tried, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t take a single step.

There was a shnnk, and one of the people pulled out a massive knife from absolutely nowhere, pressing it to Bellamy’s throat.

He went dead silent. Bentley tried to speak, to shout for him, to move between him and the person, but nothing happened. He couldn’t move. Everything fizzled away instead. 

In their place appeared Valor, who was laying on the floor, facing away from Bentley. His hands were cuffed behind his back and his wings were all curled and folded up in a way that looked immensely painful, secured by thick metal wiring. He was missing a myriad of feathers and the wires were digging in, leaving the platinum feathers stained and splotchy with blood. In fact, all of him seemed bloody — he was wearing a white jumpsuit Bentley had never seen before, but most of it was dotted with crimson. 

Bentley crouched where he was, scanning his bloodied figure with a sniffle. “Valor?”

Suddenly, a person in white showed up and kicked him straight in the stomach, hard, sending him onto his back instead. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his entire face was bruised and cut and bloody. His nose was pouring blood everywhere, his one open eye was bloodshot, and he was trembling. He hardly even reacted to the kick besides a slight wince and a small noise.

Bentley sobbed. “Stop it! Leave him alone!”

The second kick, and Valor did nothing but curl in on himself pitifully. As soon as Bentley reached out for him, they fizzled away.

“Stop it!” Bentley sobbed, bringing his knees back up and burying his head in them. “Please, stop it. I… I want to go home. Please.”

“Oh my God!”

Bentley couldn’t help but glance up at the distraught voice ahead of him, if only a little bit.

There was someone he didn’t recognize on the ground in front of him, huge, red bullet wounds littering their torso. It was a boy — an older boy, maybe Jason’s age, with tan skin, dark hair, and brown, dull eyes. A puddle of blood was pooling on the white floor beneath him. His chest was still rising and falling inconsistently, but it looked difficult, forced.

And suddenly, someone else appeared — the one who’d yelled. Koa.

He was all scraped and bruised up, dawning a bloody nose and a big gash on his eyebrow. His seafoam green eyes were wide with disbelief as he crouched down next to the boy on the floor.

“Artimi,” He started, his eyes immediately welling up as he gathered the older boy up into his arms the best he could. “Oh my God, you-“

Artimi. 

Artimi’s dull eyes flicked up to Koa, slowly. A look of gentle relief washed across his features. “Koa.”

“They sh… shot you,” Koa stammered, his breathing growing increasingly ragged when he realized his hands were stained red with the blood of his guardian. He sobbed lightly and turned to look into the white abyss. “Summer!”

“Koa-“

“Summer!”

“Koa, Koa, it’s okay,” Artimi reached up as far as he could manage, balling up the front of Koa’s shirt in one hand, turning it red. “There’s not enough time.”

“Don’t say that!” Koa all but shouted, turning to look the other way again. Artimi tugged on his shirt to gain his attention.

“You’re my brother. I… love you,” He forced out between strange sounds, rattly breaths. “I love you.”

Koa shook his head, a few more silent but violent sobs wracking his body. “You’re going to be fine.”

Artimi frowned, managing to bring his hand up to rest it on the back of Koa’s head and leave a bloody print there. “I love you, Koa.”

“I…” Koa blinked, voice breaking when he continued, shakily: “I love you.”

Artimi smiled, and then his expression faded, the shine leaving his brown eyes… empty.

“Artimi?” Koa said, nearly inaudibly, pulling the older boy’s body closer to himself and holding it there, eyes wide and stunned, rocking back and forth in the slightest. “No. God, please, no. Artimi... Artimi, wake up!”

Artimi did not.

“Artimi, wake up!”

If Bentley hadn’t already been crying his absolute eyeballs out, he definitely would’ve been, come Koa’s incessant, heart-wrenching sobbing and screaming that he was forced to listen to for at least fifteen entire grueling minutes. It was all iterations of his previous words -- begging Artimi to wake up, repetitive intervals of no and oh my God and please, please, please that eventually faded into indecipherable and heart-shattering weeping.

Bentley didn’t even try to move that time.

But eventually, that image faded, and was replaced with a new one. 

Varian. He was bloody and beat up and bruised like the rest of them, his skin a ghastly pale, eyes dulling by the second. He was walking -- more like staggering. His entire shirt was stained red, and a knife had been plunged into his abdomen, only visible by the protruding handle. He was leaving bloody footprints on the ground and was having a hard time standing up.

“Varian!”

Varian looked up, sort of past Bentley, realization and recognition crossing his face. “Nightwing?”

That's when Dick faded into view in his Nightwing suit, lunging for Varian. At a good time, too, because the child collapsed directly into his arms. Dick lowered him down to the floor, holding onto him sort of bridal style.

“I don’t want to die,” Varian muttered weakly, quickly, his dark eyes flicking down to the knife, then up to Dick. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Dick reassured, glancing around. He would've sounded calm to anyone who wasn’t Bentley, but Bentley was able to catch the underlying quiver in his voice and tremble in his hands. “You’re okay, you’re okay… B, I need medevac at my location now. There's… Varian, he…”

Bentley saw Dick tense when Varian started crying softly. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to-”

“I don’t want to die!” Varian repeated, a bit louder, his cries increasing steadily in volume. “I just started living, I… I can’t… I can’t die yet!”

Bentley sobbed softly, his hand finding his mouth again, and even though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t.

Dick pushed Varian’s hair back away from his forehead. Bentley heard a voice on the other side of his comms -- it was Bruce’s voice.

“Nightwing, you’re behind the barrier. We… can’t get to your location,”

“What?” Dick questioned, numbly, and Bentley saw the way his expression shifted behind his mask as he looked down at Varian. “Bruce… he’s…”

“Stay with him, Dick,”

“I don’t want to die,” Varian repeated, hiccuping lightly, reaching out for nothing in particular. Dick took his hand.

“You’re okay,” He replied, though it was obvious his voice was thick with emotion. He reached up briefly with the other hand and ripped his domino mask off, tossing it to the side, revealing very watery, very blue eyes. “I’m here with you, Varian.”

Varian just sort of stared at him for a while. “You’re Bentley’s brother. And Nightwing.”

Dick sniffled lightly, nodding. “I am.”

Varian took a deep, shaky breath that ended in a few wet coughs, blood splattering across his chin that Dick quickly wiped off with his own sleeve. 

“You have… to tell my parents. Not… not Batman,” Varian said softly, eyes drifting down to the knife. “Please.”

“Okay,” Was Dick’s response, though it was hardly audible. He reached up and pushed Varian’s hair back again.

“I don’t wanna die,” Varian finalized, shaking his head with a sniffle. “Can you hug me?”

Dick didn’t even say anything. He just sat down comfortably and pulled Varian into his lap like he’d done to Bentley on countless occasions before, slinking his arms around him softly. Varian cried quietly like that for a while, and Dick did, too.

Until Varian fell eerily silent. Eerily still.

Dick just held onto him and cried.

Bentley sobbed and turned away, bringing a hand up to grab at his chest. “Please, let me go home. I want to go home.”

“Poor Bentley,” Her voice came. “Scared to face the truth? Scared to face your future?”

Bentley cried quietly, a sudden feeling of rage blossoming inside of him. (Maybe he wished he killed her when he had the chance.) 

“Let me out!” He screamed.

“Oh, come on, Babybird. What’s the fun in-”

“Bentley!”

Bentley glanced up at the sound of the voice, but it was distant and muffled, like he was underwater. Everything was white and no one was there but Varian and Dick. A sharp pain stabbed through his head like someone was playing with a drill inside of his skull.

“Bentley, wake up!” 

Varian and Dick disappeared, and a person in white fizzled into existence in front of Bentley, with pistol in their hand. Silently, they brought it up to aim directly at his head.

BANG!

Bentley woke up screaming. 

He couldn’t even comprehend his surroundings. He could feel that someone was touching him, maybe even two or three someones, and he could tell everything wasn’t white anymore. He was sitting on his bed, he knew that much. And he couldn’t breathe. And he was crying. And he was about to-

One of the someones shoved something in his hands, and he hardly even recognized that it was their little trash can before he retched miserably into it.

One of the someones had their hand on the back of his neck, and another one had their hands on both of his knees. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear.

It had to have been ten minutes until he became coherent enough to vaguely comprehend what was going on around him. He was in his and Asten’s bedroom at Redwood Academy. Sitting on the edge of his bed. The lights were on, and the door was standing slightly ajar. It was raining outside — he could hear it pecking on the window. He was crying. Hard.

Asten was kneeling on the floor ahead of him with an alert, worried expression on his face. He was the one who was holding onto Bentley’s knees, watching intently as his brown eyes flicked about the room. The other someone was Valor, who was sitting on his right side, supporting him by holding onto the back of his neck. He could feel the slight weight of his big wing getting draped around his shoulders.

There was a third and fourth someones in the room Bentley hadn’t noticed because they weren’t touching him — one was Varian, crouched down next to Asten, eyes watery and looking kind of terrified, and the other was Rockie, who was standing behind them. Shadows were moving in the light beneath the door that indicated others were outside of their room.

“There you are,” Asten said softly, taking the nasty trash can from Bentley’s hands and putting it back in the floor. 

Asten. Asten. He wasn’t… and Varian, he…

“It was just a nightmare,” Asten continued. Bentley hadn’t noticed how much he was trembling until Asten reached up and put a hand on his shaky shoulder. “You’re okay.”

Bentley put his head in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees so he was folded over on himself, tucking his face away so he wasn’t crying in front of everybody. He wasn’t sure how much use it was, given he was sobbing so violently it was shaking his entire body. (At least he was managing to keep it silent.)

He felt Valor’s hand move to rub circles on his back, and Asten’s took its place on the back of his head. “You’re awake now. You’re okay.”

Bentley shook his head lightly. “It was her.”

He couldn’t see Asten, but the way he fell eerily silent for a few moments let him imagine the closely bridled shock that crossed his face.

“No it wasn’t, B. She’s dead,” Asten said lowly, coming in closer to Bentley’s head so Valor and Varian couldn’t hear him.

“She-“ Bentley hiccupped lightly, shaking his head again. “She showed me… stuff. I saw you…”

“Bentley, she’s dead. Bruce saw it with his own eyes. She’s dead,” Asten replied, smoothing down the hair on the back of his head. “It was just a nightmare about her… about what she used to do.”

Bentley said nothing, but dipped his head down until it was resting on his knees, and he cried there. 

After a few moments, he heard Varian say something to Asten, and he heard Asten say yes. Then a second later and he was being gently hugged by someone else who was also crying. He didn’t hug Varian back, but he did let his head rest on his shoulder.

If she was really dead, why did it all feel so… real?

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[rottmnt-residuum]

Part 7 of Arc II (Part 33 - Censored)

leo behind you-! oh god he cant hear us his air pods are in

⇇ | ⇽ | index | ⇾

[punkassfrance]

Sierra Nevada - Chapter III - Ellie/Abby

Chapter III: My Name Is Ellie Miller (Work length ~1.7k) This work is rated M for canon-typical violence and gore. Please look here for a full list of warnings for the series, specific warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter. This chapter contains: mentions of blood, a (stable, but) severely injured minor, and potential/budding alcoholism. Previous Chapter - Full Series - Next Chapter

Abby

Lev’s quiet. As withdrawn as he is on their travels, he hasn’t said a word all night— not since the cure helped sew him up. Even after they both manage some restless sleep, he’s still so pale, so tired. He lost a lot of blood, she knows, but she can’t stand seeing him like this. She held his hand as he slept, slouched on the floor at his bedside, waiting for morning, waiting for him to die, waiting for something.

She’s half awake when the cure knocks on the door, bowl in hand.

“He should eat something if he can.”

Abby nods and rises as quickly as she can, using the bed to help herself stand up. The girl watches Abby struggle from the doorway, jaw set. Once Abby’s sitting beside Lev, she approaches with the bowl. It looks like soup of some kind, nothing Lev would struggle to eat, nothing he can’t keep down.

“Whatever he can’t finish is yours.”

Abby nods and tries to get his attention, rubbing his shoulder gently. He’s awake, eyes open and red, but he doesn’t really respond to her touch.

“I need you to sit up, kiddo.”

He makes some kind of noise when she tries to guide him up, some distressed little grunt, trying to reach down to his leg. The girl in the doorway jolts forward and kneels on the foot of the bed, taking his hand and guiding it away from the healing injury. Abby puts one hand on his back and one under his knee, keeping the fresh wound off the bed as she helps him sit up against the headboard. As hard as they tried to keep things clean, there’s still a noticeable amount of blood on the sheets. They’ve got a towel under him for now, but the sheets will need changing soon. Thankfully, after the fight to get him sewn up and resting, the girl didn’t say a word about the blood making a mess.

I should probably know her name by now.

It occurred to her after they had him stable, while she was half-asleep at his bedside. She wouldn’t say the girl has been kind, but she’s still opened her home to them. As little as she knows about the cure, she knows she fucking hates Abby. After all that’s happened, she can’t pretend she doesn’t deserve it, at least a little bit. And I don’t even know her fucking name.

“Kid- you gotta eat.” She’s gentle with Lev at least, holding his hand loosely in hers. She doesn’t glare at him the way she glares at Abby. “As much as you can get down.”

Eventually, he looks over at Abby once he’s sitting up, eyes wide. He doesn’t speak, just slumps against the headboard, holding onto her arm to stay upright.

Abby looks over to the girl, hesitant to ask for yet another favor, but she doesn’t know if she can do this alone. “Can you just…hold the bowl? I can feed him, but I need to help him sit up.”

She nods, scooting up closer to hold the bowl where she needs it. Abby takes a spoonful and holds it up to Lev’s cracked lips, waiting. Eventually, he tilts his head back and swallows, watching the girl with tired, wary eyes.

It’s a slow ordeal, one spoonful at a time, but it seems to help. He still doesn’t speak, but his movement is less stiff, like the hot food has begun the process of thawing him out. He even manages some rabbit at the bottom of the broth before pushing Abby’s hand away, turning his head. The girl nods at the half-eaten bowl, seemingly satisfied at how much he got down. “That’s gonna have to do for now.”

She steps back as Abby helps him lie down on his side, looking down into the bowl. As she’s pulling the covers over him, the girl leaves the room, taking the bowl with her.

Abby sits beside him again, back against the side of the mattress. She must have changed her mind about the food. It makes sense— she wouldn’t want to feed her worst enemy either. It might be bold of her to assume she’s the girl’s worst enemy, but she hunted Abby down twice. It takes a lot of trouble to find someone who doesn’t want to be found, that much she knows from experience.

There will probably be options, for food. She can probably leave Lev in the girl’s care for an hour or two to hunt, or set up a trap, or scavenge what she can from the few stores she’s seen in town. Getting to them should be no trouble, now that she’s not carrying someone. It’ll be nerve-wracking, leaving his side, but she’ll be no good to him if she can’t even maintain herself.

As she pulls her knees into her chest, the girl appears in the doorway. Bowl in hand, she’s quiet as she crosses the room and lowers it to Abby. It’s full again, a different spoon resting against the rim. She stares down at Abby for a second before turning back to the door.

“What’s your name?”

The cure stops. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, doesn’t turn around to look at Abby. She’s not sure what to expect— she would have the right to be upset, of course. Abby should know by now, after everything they’ve done to each other. Abby doesn’t think she’ll do anything drastic, like boot them out or kick up another fight, but she might not be so inclined to help.

Abby wants to feel guilty, it feels like she should— but when would she have learned her name? She was the cure. Then she was the girl from Jackson. Then she was just…you.

“Ellie. My name is Ellie Miller.”

Ellie steps out, shutting the door quietly behind her, leaving Abby alone on the floor. She sets the bowl down and pulls her knees in closer.

Her chest tightens.

-

Ellie

She doesn’t even know my name. She doesn’t even know my name?

It’s a little hard to wrap her head around, once she’s out in the hallway, heading down the stairs. She had obsessed over Abby for so long. She fell asleep thinking of Abby, woke up with her name on her lips, dreamed of pinning her in the water, dreamed of what it was actually like to do so after all was said and done. She’d thought up a dozen or more ways to make Abby pay, every guilty bone in her body inviting the woman back into her thoughts. She doesn’t even want to think about the state she was in as she got closer to finding Abby on the pillars, but it’s even harder to admit that she was in that state long before Santa Barbara.

She can almost hear it if she focuses hard enough. The seagulls on the beach, the waves crashing, more turbulent the longer she takes to get to the sand. Gunshots behind her, screaming, cries of terror and relief, all distant enough for her to tune out.

Above all, she can hear herself. Mumbling.

“Abby. Abby. Abby.”

And then there she was. Tied up, looking down at her, barely the woman she’d met in Seattle. She looked more like a martyr.

“…you.”

After she haunted Ellie for so long, in ways she doesn’t want to think too hard about, it’s a hard pill to swallow that Abby never even knew her name. It’s not exactly her fault, Ellie supposes. They didn’t get a chance to make any formal introductions when Ellie was pinned to the ground, screaming you’re gonna fucking die. The memory sits in the pit of her stomach, rubbing at the same sore spot it’s rubbed at for the last three years.

She turns into the kitchen, pulling out a jar of moonshine from under the sink. She tries not to reach for it often, tries not to let it become a crutch, but the last twelve hours deserve some kind of support. It feels impressive that she went this long without a drink, even if she gave in eventually. Ellie usually does, especially when the memory of that day chafes inside her.

She takes the soup to her room upstairs, just down the hall from where Abby sits at the kid’s bedside. It’s hard to get a real read on their relationship, especially when he hasn’t said anything to Abby aside from her name, but Ellie knows enough for now. They’re devoted to each other, or at least, she’s devoted to him. He seems to trust Abby, a foreign idea to Ellie— but she’s not about to break it to him that he shouldn’t.

On the ground, sitting up against the door, she stares down into her soup. The surface trembles as her hands do, just enough of a ripple in the broth for her to notice. Abby and the kid are going to have to get used to rabbit and eggs for protein while they’re here. Ellie still can’t stomach venison of any kind, and the last time she tried to hunt a boar went…poorly.

Setting the soup down beside her, she rests her forearms on her knees and lets her head hang. If she could, she’d hide away in her room for the next few weeks. It’s a better option than picking a fight that’ll escalate faster than she can stop it. Oddly, that’s not the first option in her head though; her first choice of coping with this is running away. Let them have the cabin, let them wonder what happened to her. Don’t deal with this at all.

But it’s too late for that. She’s committed— both to helping the kid back on his feet, and to her home. She’s already put the work in to make it habitable, this is the closest thing she has to a home anymore. No running away unless she’s willing to waste that effort.

No. Abby’s not going to get the satisfaction of running her out.

She gets to see the consequences of her actions. She gets to live with them.

That’ll have to be enough.

fellas, is it gay to wake up with your rival's name on your lips? to dream of straddling them in the water? to kiss-[gunshot]

Thank you to @plum98 for the forest divider! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

[riizegasm]

We Fall, We Fail || H.SH and P.WB

❀ pairing: Park Wonbin x fem!oc x Hong Seunghan, cameos from zb1 members

❀ genre: apocalypse!au, angst, slice of life, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~7.6k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive scenes, minor character death, difficult conversations around grief, mild gore (description of major injury), reference to fear of SA, open/ambiguous ending, poly!hanibani

❀ summary: In the new world, trust is hard to come by. As the past eclipses the future, it becomes harder and harder to move on. To let go is to fall, and to fall is to fail.

❀ A/N: Welcome to part 2 of the first work on my new blog! I've been sitting on this part for a couple of months, so it is truly my baby. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 || masterlist

It’s nine versus eight. Joohyun knows that they are outnumbered, and the sheer size of some of the other men warrants being counted as more than one person. She sighs as she peers up at a man with a baby face who is overly tall and has muscles that bulge through his tight black shirt. Even though their leader assured them that they came in peace, Joohyun knows that it wouldn’t be difficult for them to choose violence. 

“So you want us to believe that you came here just so you wouldn’t be lonely when the first snow hits?” Shotaro sounds incredulous, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

A man with inky black hair rolls his eyes, crossing his arms to mirror Shotaro’s stance. “That’s not really what we said. The more we’ve seen of the farm, the more impressive it is. We could help you and you guys could help us. We’d be building a community.”

“And who said we need any of your help?” Seunghan spits. 

Sungchan cocks his shotgun in lieu of speaking, stepping closer to the group of nine standing below the porch. Joohyun knows how scary he must look, having put on a good amount of muscle in the past few weeks. Even though he would never shoot the men in front of them, the threat is enough to have the group taking tentative steps back. 

“Your story isn’t adding up, so I suggest you start saying shit that makes sense before we have to kill all of you.”

Sungchan’s threat is an empty one, but his tone is icy enough to be believable. It forces the group into silence for a moment, before the shortest of the bunch steps forward. 

“A few members of our group were recently killed,” the man states softly. 

Someone hisses out his name in warning. Matthew, Joohyun catalogs in her mind. By the way Shotaros shoulders sag, she assumes that she may as well begin to become acquainted with the men. 

“I mean, they killed my girlfriend, Yujin’s sister, and our friend Miyoung, all of the women in our group. They then forced us out of our shelter and we’ve been wandering ever since. We came across your farm and the houses up the street and fuck, we just thought it would be worth a shot.”

Matthew sniffles after he relays the information, tightening his hold on the straps of the camping bag he totes on his back. The other men have all cast their gazes elsewhere, some seemingly holding back tears of their own. Joohyun wonders if this is their first time admitting what happened to them out loud. 

A firm hand curls around Joohyun’s waist, a familiar silouhette making its presence known behind her. Wonbin’s fingers curl into the tight fabric of her tank top, cold from the late fall chill. Joohyun can feel his deep inhale before he speaks. 

“We know what it’s like to lose people,” he begins, clearing his throat when his voice starts off hoarse. “But we simply can’t accommodate more people here.”

A man instantly protests, a pink blush poised high on his cheekbones. “That’s not what we meant. There’s an abandoned house just up the road that we’re hoping to live in. We just wanted to be in contact before the first snow hits, you know, like good neighbors.”

“Neighbors?” Anton questions, cocking his head cutely.

“Forget it, Hanbin. I knew this was a waste of time,” the tallest of the group mutters. 

“Wait!” Shotaro calls just as the group moved to retreat. “We can be neighborly. Why don’t you guys come by around lunch tomorrow so we can talk more?”

“Taro,” Sungchan warns. 

Shotaro doesn’t pay the man any mind. “I mean it. Come by and we can see what we can do for each other.”

.         .         .

Two years and nine months prior

It feels like little more than a rumbling underneath Joohyun’s feet. The building is shaking just enough that spare belongings clatter to the floor. Some of the monitors instantly fade to black as the lights flicker twice before they go out completely. The sunlight streaming in from the window is the only thing illuminating the five faces in the room. 

“What the hell was that?” Wonbin questions, grip tight around the neck of his guitar. 

Jaeri looks around nervously. “I don’t know but I really don’t—,”

Her sentence is cut off by the shrill sound of an alarm, then the overcom comes to life with a buzz of static. Never had Joohyun been so happy to have yearbook in such an old building. 

Attention all Fairden University students, faculty, and staff! This is not a drill. Due to nearby bombings, we are currently required to shelter in place. You are not permitted to leave the building or travel between floors under any circumstances. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please do not leave your current floor. Thank you. 

Tears are spilling over Joohyun’s cheeks before she can fully process the message. Across from her, Wonbin isn’t faring much better. Tears glisten in the corner of his wide eyes, making them sparkle in the quickly disappearing sunlight. 

For months there had been speculations of war. News reports would go on and on about rising political tensions across the world and warn civilians of the possible consequences. Any time Joohyun got on the phone with her family, they warned her to be careful in college, knowing just how perilous the world could soon be. She guesses their speculations were correct.

“Holy shit,” Anton breathes out. “Look at that smoke cloud.”

A thick plume of brownish-gray smoke is quickly taking over the sky. In the distance, a few birds scatter, fleeing before they could be absorbed by the cloud. Joohyun envies them.

Jaeri quickly grabs Anton’s arm and pulls him backwards. “Stay away from the windows! We don’t know what kind of bomb it was.”

There’s a brief pause before the building shakes again, smoke completely blocking any external light. It seems stronger, so much so that there’s the vague sound of a window shattering somewhere. The overcom whirs to life again. 

Attention all Fairden University students, faculty, and staff! This is not a drill. Due to the localization of the bombings, we believe medical centers and hospitals are being targeted. Fairden University Hospital has just been hit. Please continue to shelter in place. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please continue to shelter in place.

Dread ices over the blood in Joohyun’s veins, tears immediately coming to a stop. It seems that Wonbin has come to the same realization, tears coming as full on sobs now. 

“Seunghan.”

Joohyun’s voice is a mere whisper in the darkness, but she hopes that it serves as a prayer to be answered. 

.         .         .

Eunseok does his best to prepare some roasted vegetables and seared meat before their guests arrive. They’re limited on quantity, so portions must be rationed, but Eunseok still tries to give the meal all he’s got. It’s evident in the way that he flits around the kitchen and scurries into the pantry that he’s on a mission. 

Joohyun can’t help but smile from her position by the wall, content to watch as the meal comes together. It’s only when a figure blocks her view and a warm pair of lips are pressed to her forehead that she snaps out of it. Her vision is blurry from the person’s proximity, but the woodsy smell is enough for Joohyun to immediately identify her boyfriend. 

“How are you feeling?” Joohyun questions softly, peering down to examine Seunghan’s ankle. “You look a little swollen.”

The man sighs, placing another wet kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine, princess. You know you don’t have to worry about me.”

Seunghan is simultaneously the least and the most pressing of Joohyun’s worries. Despite the fact that he’s as healed as he’ll ever be, he can’t quite walk without a limp or run at all. In this world, speed and agility are everything, and Seunghan has neither. Joohyun knows that with newcomers on the way, a quick escape is far from likely. She just hopes it won’t cost them their lives.

“I can see you worrying,” Seunghan coos. “Trust me, the meat from that deer that Sungchan caught yesterday will heal me.”

“You said that about the last deer two weeks ago,” Eunseok mutters, standing over the little fire pit on the old stovetop. 

“And look at me! Soon I’ll be sprinting around the house.”

Joohyun can’t find it within herself to chuckle along with the boys, eyes flitting down to the permanent swell of Seunghan’s ankle. As much as he has always been one to joke through the pain, Joohyun knows he’s still hurting. Sometimes she hears his mumbled curses and stuttered groans after standing too long. She and Wonbin take turns to massage the injury, hoping to rub the pain away. Instead, it lingers like a stale taste in the mouth. 

A light rap of knuckles against the back porch door seems to spring Seunghan into action. Before Joohyun can protest, or even encourage him to grab a weapon, he’s swinging the door open. 

The nine figures slowly stream into the kitchen, a few greetings mumbled between them. It isn’t until Shotaro enters the room that anyone seems emboldened enough to really speak. There’s a flurry of repeated introductions and a few pleasantries after Shotaro thanks them for coming. However, the chatter is instantly silenced when Sungchan enters the kitchen, shotgun in hand. 

“Uhhh, should we have brought our weapons with us?” The tallest boy who introduced himself as Gyuvin asks. 

Shotaro laughs nervously. “No, not at all! Sungchan just likes to be extra careful. But he’s putting it away now. Isn’t that right, Sungchan?”

The man’s response is not much more than a brief grunt before he disappears up the stairs. 

It isn’t until Sungchan returns that Shotaro urges everyone to get comfortable, allowing them to sit sprawled across the living room. He helps bring Eunseok bring out the minimal portions of meat and vegetables, clearly pleased with how everything has turned out. He’s quick to settle on the floor, not having brought out a serving for himself.

“Thank you guys for this, seriously. I know we already did introductions, but again, I’m Hanbin. It means a lot that you guys are willing to even be in contact with us.”

Shotaro smiles like he always does. Joohyun fights the urge to roll her eyes at his enthusiasm. Instead, she plays with the fingers on Wonbin’s left hand, leaving his right available to eat with.

“I think we’re all just glad to see people who aren’t trying to kill us, for once,” Shotaro admits.

“We don’t know that.”

“Joo.”

At the quiet scolding, Joohyun chooses to fill her cheeks with food. She can feel the subtle pinch of Wonbin’s fingers on the back of her hand, forcing her to roll her eyes. She knows that on any other day, Wonbin would be right there with her, dishing out shady looks and sarcastic comments. The thought that it has changed in front of these strangers makes Joohyun’s head spin.

“Listen, we get it,” Hanbin says after a moment of tense silence. “But we seriously just want to be cordial. It’s helpful to have allies, especially right before winter hits.”

“And you guys seem kind of cool,” Matthew interjects. “I like the whole deep brooding vibe you guys got going on. It’s like some real angsty shit! I dig it.”

A stunned silence falls over the living room, the only interruption being the clang of a metal fork against a bowl. Hanbin looks mildly horrified from his spot next to Shotaro, while other members of his group look equally shocked. Joohyun’s jaw clicks with the force of clenching it, scar on her cheek beginning to throb from the pressure.

It’s a deep chuckle that interrupts the silence, shocking everyone from their stupor.

“Fuck,” Sungchan laughs, hand over his belly. “I like you, dude.”

Wonbin pinches the back of Joohyun’s hand again as the entire room bursts into quiet laughter. He must have noticed the same thing that Joohyun has. It’s the first time Sungchan has laughed in months.

.         .         .

One year and ten months prior

Eunseok stumbles over his words, hands shaking with the effort to get them out. Sohee’s hand is smoothing over the expanse of the older’s back, as if his touch could physically ease the words out of Eunseok’s mouth. After a few more seconds of stuttered syllables, Eunseok visibly deflates, mouth snapping shut. Jaeri just smiles at him sadly.

“It’s okay,” she coos. “You’re making progress. Full words are gonna be coming out in no time.”

Joohyun watches the encounter from Wonbin’s side, tuning out the boy’s mindless humming. It’s become his habit, she noticed, to fill the silence with random sounds since everything started. At first, Joohyun assumed it had been to distract himself from the sounds of bombs and gunfire. Even when that passed, and the majority of the world died, she realized that the silence could be even scarier.

The air in concrete ruins that they’ve taken up shelter in are a little too warm for the spring, making for a comfortable home for the night. Despite the warmth, Shotaro is bundled up in a thick jacket, flat on his back on the dusty floor. Joohyun imagines that it’s far from comfortable, but comfort is a luxury they gave up when they decided to flee campus a few months ago.

The rest of their group is sprawled about the space, some talking quietly while others choose to stare into space. Joohyun can’t imagine that there’s much to talk about when they’ve spent the past few months practically attached at the hip. But by the enthusiastic smile on Seunghan’s face as he gushes to Anton, she guesses that some of them must have found something to discuss.

“We haven’t talked about it, you know,” Wonbin states, barely audible.

Joohyun doesn’t turn to regard the boy as she speaks. “Talked about what?”

“Seunghan.”

“Bin,” Joohyun sighs, looking around to see if anyone else has caught wind of their conversation. “I told you it was only one time, and that I was mad at you. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You never said that you didn’t want it to happen again. And you weren’t mad when I told you that I’ve also been in your shoes.”

Joohyun’s hands are balled into fists, broken nails biting the flesh of her palms. “So what? We both cheated on each other with the same person. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Maybe it should.” Wonbin turns to face the woman. “Maybe I want it to.”

“For fucks sake, Bin! The world is over. Now isn’t really the time for wants.”

“Just because you won’t let yourself want more doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t.”

.         .        .

The neighbors end up being more personable than Joohyun expected. They joke and laugh, smile politely, and give calm input when appropriate. They even leave politely, thanking everyone before heading out in a single file line. It isn’t until the last one, Gunwook, passes through the door that Joohyun lets out a heavy sigh. 

Sungchan lets out a loud groan from the couch, where Anton is tucked under his arm. It’s odd for him to be so touchy lately, but Joohyun finds herself smiling anyway. It’s a glimpse into the Sungchan she used to know. 

“I can’t believe those were the first people we’ve spoken to in almost a year,” Sungchan mumbles, running the hand not holding Anton through his hair. “It was exhausting.”

“I thought it was kind of nice. And you seemed to like that Matthew dude,” Sohee chirps. “So sad what happened to them though.”

Joohyun sighs. “Yeah, as if I needed a reminder of what happens to women in times like these.”

Wonbin prickles from his place on Joohyun’s right. The hand that he had gently slung around her waist tightens into a protective grip, subtly bringing her closer to him. 

“You know we’d never let that happen to you, baby.”

“I’m sure they told their women the same thing,” Joohyun shrugs. 

“Princess,” Seunghan mumbles, crossing the room to stand in front of her, “no one’s gonna lay a finger on you. We would have no problem killing anyone who even thinks to get close.”

Joohyun can barely register the sound of Shotaro mumbling something before the other men are shuffling to leave the room. Seunghan and Wonbin still have her trapped between them, faces twisted into hard expressions that she hasn’t seen since Jaeri’s funeral. The weight of their stares forces her shoulders into a pathetic slump. 

“You know that, right, princess?”

Joohyun merely shrugs. 

“We would die for you, baby. Time and time again. No one would dare hurt you as long as either of us could help it.”

Wonbin’s lips are warm against Joohyun’s temple, lingering in less of a kiss and more of a secure presence. Seunghan reaches out to grab her hand in his, guiding it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her palm. The simultaneous press of lips to her skin is enough to have Joohyun reeling, a burning sensation spreading throughout her body. She fights the urge to break free from their grasps.

“I love you, Joohyun. We both do.”

It’s odd to hear her name spoken aloud. Neither of the men have called her by her name since before the world ended, choosing instead to use pet names to soften the blow of their words. This time, though, Seunghan’s words are sharp and piercing, slicing through the air with a finality that leaves no room for questioning. She wonders if Seunghan knows that doubts are blooming in the back of her mind anyways. 

“Seriously, baby,” Wonbin mumbles against her temple. “Don’t let their stories scare you. We would protect you with all we have. Nothing is ever going to happen to you, I promise.”

Joohyun fights the urge to scoff. The boys should know better than to promise anything in the end of the world. She’s sure Sungchan promised Jaeri the same thing. Clearly, it was a promise he was in no way able to keep. 

Joohyun squirms until she’s free from the grasp of her lovers, forcing a pathetic smile. “I’m going to go help Eunseok clean up.”

.         .         .

One year and nine months prior

“Promise me you won’t freak out,” Wonbin mumbles into Joohyun’s hair. 

The entire length of his body is pressed behind his lover’s, the few extra inches he has on her allowing him to rest his cheek on the top of her head. She hadn’t moved when he sidled up behind her, staring diligently ahead. They’re standing far enough from the edge of the cliff that they aren’t really at risk of falling. But Joohyun knows that one too forceful move could have them both tumbling. 

“I can’t promise you things like that. You know this, Bin.”

The man’s sigh is little more than a deflation of the chest behind her. 

“Fine. At least promise me that you’ll really think about what I’m saying before you respond. 

Joohyun nods. “That, I can do.”

“Okay,” Wonbin mumbles, inhaling deeply. “I want to date Seunghan. I want you to date him too. I want us to be together, all three of us.”

As promised, Joohyun is silent, letting her lover’s words truly sink in before responding. For a moment, her head is blank, mind fully absorbed in the sight of the thick woods that lay beyond the valley. Then she imagines all three of them trekking through those very woods together. 

Joohyun imagines Wonbin kissing her forehead while Seunghan holds her hand. She imagines stumbling into one sturdy chest while another comes to support her from behind. She imagines splitting one portion of food into three. She imagines watching as heated kisses are exchanged over her shoulder. She imagines crying as two funerals are held at the same time. 

“What does that mean for us?” Joohyun finally questions. 

She can feel the stutter of Wonbin’s heart in his chest. 

“It means that we just love one more person as much as we love each other.”

Joohyun sighs. “You already love him, though. Don’t you?”

“I do. And I think you do, too.”

The night that she spent with Seunghan flickers through her mind in flashes of heated kisses and skin on skin. He told her how long he had been waiting, how much he wanted it. He also refused to bring up Wonbin, kissing Joohyun harder every time she mentioned his name. Ten minutes was all it took for Joohyun to forget about her boyfriend completely.

In front of them, the forest is blooming with lush greens and colorful flowers indicative of late spring. The weather has finally warmed up enough for them to ditch their jackets, comfortable in light flannels and sweatshirts. There’s a cloud right where the top of the mountain kisses the sky. It kind of looks like a racehorse, diligently pushing forward.

“I don’t care what you do, Bin. But don’t speak for me.”

It takes a lot of strength for Joohyun to release herself from Wonbin’s firm grasp. Once she is free, though, she moves as far away as possible. She’s turning to go back to the cabin where the group has set up camp when she hears the faintest whisper of her lover’s voice.

“One of these days, I’m going to get you to stop running from me.”

Joohyun knows that she shouldn’t respond, that conversations like this escalate into unhealthy encounters that leave both of them sore in the morning. But she can’t help it, ankle twisted in a bear trap of her own making.

”You have to stop giving me things to run from first,” she spits.

Wonbin just chuckles, cold and bitter. “You’re running from yourself. That doesn’t have shit to do with me.”

All of the times where Wonbin has said the exact same pair of sentences flood Joohyun’s brain. Their first fight, then again on Wonbin’s birthday, then again when Joohyun gave him the silent treatment, then again at Anton’s party, then again and again and again. No matter how many times he says it, it will light a fire in Joohyun’s core every time.

”Fuck you,” Joohyun seethes. “It’s the end of the world and you’re just worried about not having enough holes to fuck. I’m not the problem here. Go be with Seunghan for all I care.”

Joohyun skips dinner, spending the entire afternoon and evening sitting by the makeshift fire pit on the side of the cabin. It’s warm enough that she didn’t feel the need to light it, staring instead at the pile of ashes at its core. It’s a shame that they look so close to how she feels, sullen and dejected. All of the fight has left her body, leaving her in a hollow heap on the ground.

It’s well after dark that someone approaches her, the sound of shifting soil under hunting boots being the only sign of their presence. Joohyun doesn’t look when they come to sit next to her, far enough that they aren’t touching, but close enough to share body heat. Even when the clear their throat, Joohyun’s eyes remain trained on the barely visible ashes.

”He told me you guys were fighting about me.”

Joohyun scoffs, somehow even more offended by that thought. “It wasn’t about you. Bin just acts like he hates me sometimes.”

”He loves you more than I thought was possible,” Seunghan protests. “It scares me sometimes. I’ve known him his whole life and he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you.”

Except for you, Joohyun wants to admit.

”Listen, the world is fucked and you guys make each other happy. Don’t give that up over petty fights.”

Joohyun imagines that if Seunghan knew that their arguments were deeper than petty fights he wouldn’t be saying this. If he knew the way that they hurled insults at each other like knives and then soothed the wounds with kisses, he wouldn’t be encouraging them to keep loving each other. If he knew that he was a lone knife, twisting and turning where he has been lodged in both of their thoracic cavities, he would leave Joohyun to burn out like the ashes in front of her.

”Whatever it is,” Seunghan continues. “You guys should talk about it. Shutting each other out like this can’t be good.”

Joohyun knows that it’s what Wonbin deserves. He deserves a partner who will speak up when something bothers them, not someone who lets her grievances stew under the surface of her skin until they boil over in concoction of insults and curses. He deserves a peacemaker, someone who is content in giving and receiving love. He deserves Seunghan.

But Joohyun is selfish. And maybe, just maybe, she thinks she deserves a bit of him, too. 

.         .         .

The first snow is little more than a light dusting, but Anton is bouncing off the walls with excitement anyways. His eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him on the porch, causing Joohyun to smile. It’s easy to forget that just a few years ago, they all were calling him their baby. Times like now make it easy to remember. 

“This is like the perfect amount of snow,” Anton says in an overly muted tone. “I’m glad it’s fun snow and not fighting-for-our-lives snow.”

Joohyun makes a noise of agreement as she rocks back and forth in one of the rocking chairs. It was just last year when they had that kind of snow. It came down in blankets over the course of multiple days and shut them into the little abandoned camping store they called home. It also killed two members of their crew. 

Joohyun thinks that the two of them may have wanted to die. Eve and Lana were lovely people, if not a bit pessimistic at times. But when the snow hit, they both seemed to lose the light in their eyes. One day, Eve dug her way out of the snow and simply sat in the cold. Nobody could get her to come back inside, even trying to physically force her to. Within 24 hours she was gone. 

The next day, Lana went outside to sit next to Eve’s lifeless body. With a simple flick of a hunting knife against her own wrist, she sealed her fate. And when the snow finally stopped, their bodies were embalmed in a red-tinged ice. 

Joohyun shudders at the memory, feeling a deep chill in her veins. 

“It’s not even that cold!” Sohee exclaims, running out to the grass. He leaves behind delicate footprints, barely visible on such a light layer of snow. 

“It’s not, but you should still be careful,” Joohyun warns. “If you guys find a way to hurt yourselves, Shotaro will kill me.”

“I will!”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Shotaro slides onto the porch. He settles in the rocking chair adjacent to Joohyun, fully bundled up in a thick jacket and tattered scarf. His cheeks have taken on a rosy hue from the cold, giving him a youthful look that contrasts the deep bags underneath his eyes. 

“I heard you screaming last night,” he begins, just soft enough for Joohyun’s ears. “I was on my way to you when it stopped. I didn’t know the nightmares were back.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Shotaro sighs. “But we need to. Why haven’t you been sleeping with Seunghan and Wonbin, anyway? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Joohyun presses her lips together tightly, letting them instantly turn white from the pressure and the cold. Something in the back of her brain is telling her to go back inside, but she tries her best to fight it. She knows that this conversation is long overdue. 

“I don’t like spending the night with them. It just makes sense for each of us to have our own space.” Joohyun shrugs. “Plus, the bed is kind of small for three people.”

“It’s bad enough that you’d prefer having nightmares to being with your boyfriends?”

Boyfriends. Joohyun hasn’t used that word in years, or at all in Seunghan’s case. It had always seemed a little too trivial for her liking. Sure, Wonbin was her boyfriend of almost four years, but it was different when Seunghan got involved.  They weren’t simply dating. They were lovers. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Joohyun mutters. “They’re so intense.”

Shotaro cocks an eyebrow. “We’re eight people left out of probably 10,000 on Earth. I’m sure your relationship problems can’t be that intense.”

Joohyun stands, long black hair falling in front of her face. A few strands tickle the scar on her cheek, which sends a zap of pain across her face. It’s enough to distract her from Shotaro’s apologies and requests for her to stay as she pushes her way back into the house. 

Sungchan looks confused upon seeing Joohyun enter the kitchen, hands halting where they had been twirling a Swiss Army knife. It takes Joohyun a moment to realize that her eye is twitching, which is likely what’s confusing the man. 

“Everything okay?” He questions. 

“It’s fine.” Joohyun winces as a sharp pain radiates across her face. “Everything is just fucking fine.”

.         .         .

One year and seven months prior

Joohyun punches with all of her might, knuckles crunching against the face beneath them. The man recoils, stepping back as blood begins to drip from his nose. She instantly scrambles for her backpack, unwilling to part from the supplies that the group is expecting her to return with. Right before she reaches the pack, a hand pulls her back. 

For a moment, Joohyun is okay with dying. It’s preferable to whatever else this man has in store for her. She talks about scenarios like these all the time with Jaeri, where you find yourself alone with a random man who wants much more than your supplies. She wonders if it’s going to hurt. She knows he won’t be gentle. 

The rough grip on her shoulder spins her around, briefly allowing her to take in the man’s twisted smirk and a bright glint of metal. She doesn’t register the sharp sting on her cheek until after she’s been pushed to the ground. 

“You fucking bitch,” the man seethes. 

The blood dripping down Joohyun’s face along with her sweat clouds her vision. All she can make out is the shuffling of her backpack and the sound of footsteps as the man runs away. She tries to move after him, falling back to the ground when her limbs protest in pain. At least it’s not the pain between her thighs that she was expecting. 

Joohyun’s vision grows splotchy, nausea swimming in her stomach. Thick, warm blood streams down her face before the world fades to black. 

When Joohyun comes to, the first thing she registers is the sharp throbbing pain in her face. It’s rhythmic, almost in time with the movement of her body. She opens her eyes to little more than a squint, the harsh glare of sunlight burning her retinas. A flinch is as far as she gets before she realizes she’s being held. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake! I’m gonna get you back to...”

Joohyun can’t make out the last bit of the sentence as she passes out again. 

A sharp pain in her cheek is what wakes her up. She flinches away from the sensation, but she can’t move far. Her eyes are weighed down as if they’ve been cemented together, preventing her from looking around the room. There’s a gentle shush, just barely audible over the rush of blood in Joohyun’s ears. 

“That was the last one. You’re all done now.”

It takes a lot of effort, but eventually Joohyun is able to open her eyes, blinking frequently as light floods her vision. As her view clears, she’s able to take in the smiling figure above her. He simply cuts a string before making a noise of satisfaction. 

“Taro?”

A sweaty palm on her shoulder stops her from moving to sit up. 

“Woah, don’t move. Your ribs are still pretty fucked up. And don’t speak! I don’t want you busting your stitches.”

“Stitches?”

Shotaro hisses, friendly smile morphing into a wince. “What did I just say? Seriously, just take it easy. I’ll go get Seunghan. He’ll explain everything to you.”

Joohyun doesn’t protest as Shotaro leaves the room, the various points of pain on her body finally registering. There’s the sharp pain on her cheek that throbs with every breath she takes. Then there’s the dull ache encompassing the left side of her chest, making each breath feel heavy and effortful. Her knuckles also hurt, but their hot throb is negligible compared to her other injuries. 

“Glad to see you’re awake, princess.”

Joohyun turns her head quickly when Seunghan enters, biting back a groan when her body protests. Seunghan’s gaze sweeps over her body, face twisted into a wince as he takes in her broken and bruised state. He’s still in the clothes that he wore when they left for the supplies run, so Joohyun assumes that not much time has passed. 

“Taro doesn’t want you to talk, but I can let you know what happened,” Seunghan says as he sits at the foot of the bench Joohyun is resting on. “I think he went to go get Wonbin, but I already told him. I forgot that motherfucker packs a punch.”

Seunghan brushes his hair off his forehead, revealing the dark reds and purples forming around his right eye. Dread instantly pools in Joohyun’s core. There’s no way Wonbin did that because of her. 

“I guess I deserve it, though,” Seunghan continues. “I should have never left you alone.”

“It’s not your—“

“Stop. You’re not supposed to be talking until your face heals up.”

Seunghan runs his hands through his hair again, obviously distressed. Joohyun craves to reach out and comfort him, but her ribs protest at the thought of moving. 

“So, I guess after I left to check the store across the street, somebody must have found you and tried to take your stuff. Instead of handing it over, you fought back. And then, he did this to you,” Seunghan clears his throat. “When I came back, you were passed out and your face was all bloody. He cut your face down to the fat, you know. So I carried you back with the flesh hanging out of your fucking face.

“Thankfully you’re okay, but…fuck. I should have been there to protect you. I’m so sorry that I left you alone. I understand if you never forgive me, princess. But I’m so, so sorry.”

Joohyun doesn’t register her tears until their salt stings the fresh stitches in her cheek. Despite the pain in her body, she reaches out to cover Seunghan’s hand with her own, using the last of her energy to give it a faint squeeze. The action finally has the dam breaking, and Seunghan crumples around a sob. 

“It’s not your fault.” Joohyun’s face stings with the simple sentence. The beads of sweat forming around the injury from the sweltering temperature drip down her cheek, pooling in the injury and adding to the pain. 

“It is. And I’m so, so sorry, princess. I already know Wonbin’s gonna hate me forever. And I understand if you do too.”

Joohyun shakes her head in protest, ignoring the way it makes the room spin. “He loves you. Me too.”

.         .         .

The kisses being trailed up the side of her neck distract Joohyun from the force claiming her mouth. It’s almost a competition of who can make her the most breathless. As Seunghan tangles his hands into Joohyun’s hair, Wonbin bites down on a particularly sensitive spot, causing her to moan at the dual sensations. 

Heat rushes through Joohyun’s stomach, core tightening as she shifts forward. The hard lines of Seunghan’s abs meet the softer planes of her stomach, made thinner by the lack of food. Wonbin’s broad shoulders almost encompass her from behind, pressing her further into Seunghan’s space. 

Joohyun lets her brain float away while the men love her body. Occasionally she flinches at a sharp press of fingers or lets her jaw drop open in an aborted whine. She can’t help but let herself lose all sense of space and time, the haze that encompasses her being all too welcoming. She can vaguely register Wonbin’s sweet smile as he presses a kiss to her temple and Seunghan’s short coo as he showers her with compliments. 

When the fog clears, Joohyun is once again sandwiched between two bodies, hands stroking over every inch of exposed skin. A dazed smile crosses her face, creating a dull ache around her scar. A press of lips against it soothe the pain before it can cut too deep. 

“You back with us, baby?”

Wonbin’s voice is much raspier, voice clearly worn from their earlier activities. The familiar gravely sound just makes Joohyun’s smile grow. 

“Yeah,” Joohyun clears her throat, “I am.”

Seunghan presses a kiss to the back of her neck, right above the clasp of her chain. Its gold color remains bright, somehow not faded over time. The small pendant in the shape of a bow usually sits right in the center of her clavicles. Now it’s shifted, laying askew from the night's activities. Joohyun moves to fix it with trembling fingers, sighing when gravity forces it out of place again. 

“Taro told us that the nightmares are back,” Seunghan whispers, lips still attached to Joohyun’s skin. “We didn’t know.”

A sharp pain tugs at Joohyun’s chest, forcing her to gulp down air like a fish out of water. “It’s not—it’s just not a big deal.”

“Baby, you used to stay awake for days because of them. Now you want us to think it’s not that bad?”

“That was different,” Joohyun protests. “That was before we found the farm. It’s better here.”

Seunghan sighs, a rush of hot breath tickling the back of Joohyun’s neck. “At least try sleeping with us more. Maybe that will help. I know being with Jaeri helped a lot, right?”

Joohyun shifts, attempting to pull away from the men she’s sandwiched in between. The tangle of legs seems endless, making Joohyun unable to identify where her legs end and where her lovers’ begin. The grip around her waist tightens further, keeping her in place. She struggles against it for a moment, heart racing in her chest. 

“Relax, princess,” Seunghan coos. “You’re okay. We’re just not ready to let you go yet.”

“We’re not letting you run away from us anymore,” Wonbin adds. “You’re safe with us. We just want you to know that.”

Joohyun has never imagined safety to feel so constricting. She never imagined safety as a weighted blanket but rather a gust of wind under wings. She never imagined safety to be a pull, but rather a push. She never imagined safety to be her two biggest desires, but rather never having the desire for anything at all. 

.         .         .

Their new neighbors stop by only after a particularly heavy snow storm hits and then clears. Hanbin claims it’s just to check on them and make sure everyone is okay. Joohyun holds her breath throughout the encounter, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’s almost convinced that the rest of the boys will come by with guns blazing in order to take them by surprise.

They don’t, of course. 

Hanbin, Taerae, and Yujin only stay for about an hour, catching up with Shotaro and Sohee. Joohyun overhears them talking about a supply run that will need to be made soon, someone even suggesting that both groups could come together to make it easier. A wave of nausea passes through her stomach at the thought. Leaving her closest friends in the hands of barely acquaintances sounds like the worst idea anyone could have. Her stomach lurches when she hears the faint sound of Shotaro agreeing.

After they leave, an odd silence is left filling the farmhouse. It’s not exactly silence, since Sohee has started to speak quietly with Eunseok in the kitchen. But it’s enough for Joohyun’s mind to fall blank, an inability to process sight or sound overcoming her central nervous system. It’s both a calming emptiness and an alarming constriction. She is only shocked out of her reverie when a figure bounds down the stairs, wood creaking loudly enough to draw her attention.

“You don’t look so good, Joo,” Sungchan whispers as he comes to a halt in front of Joohyun’s swaying form. “Are you feeling alright?”

Joohyun clears building thickness from her throat. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

”No, you’re not. Should I go get Wonbin?”

”No!” Joohyun doesn’t know where she found the breath to be able to yell. “You guys don’t have to call him or Hani every time you think something’s up.”

Sungchan sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat as he takes a seat next to Joohyun. The worn wooden planks sigh under the change in weight, greeting the man as he plops down. He’s quick to copy Joohyun’s position, knees pulled to his chest and head tipped back against the wall. His limbs are way too long and much too bulky to be constricted in such a position, but Sungchan doesn’t complain.

“Do you miss her?”

The question catches Joohyun off guard. Even though the “she” in question is unnamed, Joohyun has no trouble deciphering who Sungchan is referring to. The two of them had never spoken about Jaeri’s passing directly, and Joohyun isn’t sure that Sungchan has spoken about it at all. She imagines she should be asking him instead of the other way around.

“Of course I do. She was the only one who got what it was like to be a girl throughout all this bullshit.”

Silence.

“Do you?”

Sungchan lets out a loud exhale through his nose, lightly tapping his head against the wall a few times. It’s an odd rhythm, almost like a heartbeat. Joohyun is about to warn him about the possibility of a concussion before the man moves to speak.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I miss her. But I think more than that, I’m angry.”

“That those guys shot her?”

Sungchan lets out a short chuckle. “Well, I mean, yeah. But that wasn’t what I meant.”

Joohyun turns to the man, waiting for him to continue. His gaze is fixed on a random point on the opposite wall, eyes glazed over with a layer of unshed tears. Joohyun imagines that if she looks really hard, she can find reflections of Jaeri in his irises.

“I’m more mad that I wasn’t better to her. I didn’t treat her as well as I could have. I should’ve made the most of the time we had together.”

Joohyun never pictured Sungchan and Jaeri’s relationship as anything other than perfect. The two always looked at each other like they hung the stars, never fighting, never anything other than absolutely smitten with each other. Joohyun can’t remember a time when their relationship had any cracks or holes. The two stuck together as if they were the air they needed to breathe.

“But you guys were like perfect.”

Sungchan chuckles again. “We weren’t, at all. But I wish I didn’t see those imperfections as such a problem at the time. I wish I just said ‘fuck it’ and let all the minor stuff go. All that mattered was that I loved her and she loved me.”

”But it’s complicated,” Joohyun protests. “We’re living in hard-as-fuck times. Of course there were going to be issues. I’m honestly surprised we didn’t see any of them.”

“It is tough. But I should have been grateful that I had someone by my side throughout it instead of worrying about petty shit. Look at you, for example. You have two people who love you and will be with you through anything. That’s all that matters.”

“But—,”

Sungchan stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “Respectfully, Joo, there are no buts. It’s the truth. Take it from someone who lost their everything. They should be all that matters in this fuck-ass world.”

A distant chatter grows louder as two pairs of footsteps descend the stairs. Joohyun doesn’t even have to look around the corner to know who it is, being able to recognize their voices anywhere. But she does, unable to prevent the small smile that crosses her face at the sight of her lovers. Sungchan chuckles beside her.

“That smile is the only thing that matters, Joo,” he whispers. “Don’t force it away.”

Wonbin and Seunghan enter the small hallway just as Sungchan is getting on his feet. They barely acknowledge the large man in front of them, breaking into twin smiles when they lay eyes on Joohyun.

”What were you two up to?” Seunghan asks, reaching out a hand to help Joohyun off the ground.

”Nothing,” Sungchan chirps. “I was just telling Joohyun how much we all love to see her smile.”

Wonbin raises an eyebrow, head tilting in confusion. “I mean, we do, but—,”

”Don’t say but, Binnie,” Seunghan interrupts. “We all do love to see you smile, princess.”

Instead of wiping the smile from her face, Joohyun scrunches her nose, feeling the deep throb of the scar on her cheek. She struggles not to shrink under the two pairs of eyes on her, not paying any mind as Sungchan moves into the kitchen. She wonders if they can see the minute movement of her cheek in time with her heartbeat.

She just smiles harder and lets them look.

.FIN.

Part 1

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 - Anger | Chapter 5

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 7.4k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

When the sun started drooping in the sky, Sukuna finally pulled out of your cum engorged holes, and streams of white gushed free. You let out a slight sigh of relief as it all drained from you. Your belly had grown a slight bulge from trying to contain all of it. You both lost track of the amount of times he came in you, but it had to be a lot given the pool of white that spread within the red. He watched in amazement as your holes healed and went from gaping to normal. Both still slightly twitched from all the stimulation they had gone through.

Sukuna never thought he would be able to fuck someone like that without them tearing apart. He had always either broken or held back with his concubines, never getting to do all the things he wanted. And there was still plenty he wanted to do, but he knew you would be there to take it. He was in no rush. He looked down as your blood soaked body started to get up and stretch. No sign of the mindless, shaking mess that was beneath him just minutes ago.

“Where are you going”, he asked, back to his usual authoritative tone.

“Uhm, probably to my room to bathe. What were you wanting a cuddle”, you asked with a smile as you teased him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “You are coming to my room tonight, we will wash there”, he said while getting up and coming over to you.

You crossed your arms, “What if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t care,” he said as he reached out and touched you, teleporting both of you to his chambers.

Why wouldn’t you want to come with him? Most people would be tripping over the opportunity to go to his chambers. Hell, not even Uruame has seen the inside of them. You were his and you would stay with him.

You let your eyes wander around his chambers. They were not what you had expected. You had kind of expected a villain’s lair. Dead corpses and bones scattered about. Ominous lighting showcasing the horrors within. Instead, you were standing in a room that had a ceiling lined with light, natural colored wood, tucked away by black support beams. The walls were a dark charcoal gray adorned with black trim pieces partially hidden by large paper sliding doors. In front of you stood a wide circle archway that led to a private bathing area complete with a hot spring.

“It’s pretty in here, completely different from the rest of the palace”, you said as you continued to look around.

He looked at you and scoffed a little while pulling you towards the water. “So the rest of the palace is not pretty, then”, he asked as he led you down into the bath water. The bath was filled with the overflow from the hot spring, making it perpetually warm.

You smiled while looking up at him, “Yes. It’s hideous and should be torn down. Not to mention egotistical. I mean, when I look up all I see are your past glories”.

He quirked an eyebrow up while joining you in the reddening water. “Should I have them put new conquests up there? Perhaps, your naked body submitting to me, squirting out my cum, sucking on my finger”, he asked as he ran his fingers over your body. He didn’t know why but he loved touching you. He wanted you to always be there for him to touch, never leaving his grasp.

You laughed at his comment before you kicked his legs out from under him and watched as he fell fully into the water, dodging his hands when they reached out for you. Did he really have you? Were you really his? He didn’t and you would show him that. His head ripped up from the water with confusion and anger etched on his features. He grabbed for you again and again, but you kept yourself just beyond his reach. He was about to teleport to you when you disappeared and reappeared behind him, holding him. You ran your hands in opposite directions along his abdomen. One landed upon his hip bone, nails grazing over the slight protrusion. The other landed between his pecs, your thumb petting the skin gently. He reached to touch you, but again you disappeared.

He looked around for you but you weren’t reappearing. He started worrying that you had actually left when you emerged from under the water, your hair draping over your form as water flew through it. “Was it you who conquered me, my King,” you said, turning to look at him, diluted blood tracing down your body. You walked back towards him, turning the water beneath your feet into steps. You were slightly above his eye level as your hand slipped under his chin to tilt it up. “I may have been on the bottom but it was you who fulfilled all my commands without hesitation. You wanted to please me, I could feel it. So who conquered who”, you teased.

He grabbed your throat, “You think you could conquer me”, he laughed as he squeezed your throat harder. “Just because I fucked you and brought you here to bathe you think you hold power over me”, his grip started to crush your windpipe and make your eyes bulge.

You were just playing around, but of course he couldn’t take a joke when his fucking ego was at stake. You just laughed at him, “I hold power over you because you let me. I don’t even have to use real magic to get you to submit to me. It shows in your eyes every time you look at me, even when you hurt me,” you said through gurgles. You had figured he would resort to hurting you instead of owning up to his own emotions.

Pissed. He was seething. He was going to have a nice bath with you, fuck you again in the water. Make you feel good, special even. All you had to do was be good. Now, he was snapping your neck. He felt blood trickle down his hand as bone shards splintered through your arteries and skin. You were still fucking smiling. He clenched his hand further and your head popped off and into the water below, your body following it. That you had not expected. You anticipated him hurting you, making you bleed, but killing you? You didn’t think he would take it that far. He stood there for a few minutes still panting with anger. He conquered you, not the other way around. He couldn’t be conquered, couldn’t be owned.

Your body floated up, red pouring from the base of your neck. He stared at you waiting for you to reattach yourself but you weren’t. Surely you weren’t dead, right? He waited several agonizingly long minutes before panic started to set in. This wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to be able to break. You were supposed to be able to take all of his strength, all of his anger.

“(Y/N)”, he called out while pulling your body over to him. All of your energy was gone. Inside you was completely stagnant, empty. He started breathing quicker as he held your headless corpse. No, no, no this isn’t right. Why weren’t you coming back? You needed to come back to him, you weren’t allowed to leave him. He had never felt a negative emotion about death, but he was quickly being swallowed by them. The water around him started boiling as his energy ran rampant in it.

“(Y/N)”, he shouted over and over while shaking your cadaver.

“Yes, my King,” you said laying on the edge of the tub, feet dangling in the air and arms propped under you.

His face snapped to look at you before looking back to your “corpse”. It slowly turned back into water and slipped through his fingers. You hadn’t come out of the in between before. The figure he saw emerge from the water, was only that— water. You didn’t feel like being hurt, so you let it take the brunt for you. You were playing with him and it was making him seethe. He appeared on top of you, knees on either side of your body, cocks grazing your upper back as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

“Why do you hurt me? You are so sweet to me until I stop playing your game. You even went as far as killing me over a silly debate”, you say, your smile falling as the words come out. He was so sweet in earlier hours. Kissing up and down your body as if he worshiped you. Caressing your skin so softly it was like he was scared you would break. And now he was breaking you on purpose. You knew his intentions. He would hurt you over and over until you became the perfect doll for him. Now that you made him feel the way he did, he wanted to put you in a cage for only him to enjoy. You didn’t want that. You wanted to be an equal if you were going to be in a relationship, and you didn’t even know if you wanted him that way. You had just wanted sex and now he was making it more.

“Because you need to learn how to be good for me”, he said as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head further back till it forced your lips to part. He used the hole as a receptacle for his spit before kissing you. Why couldn’t you just be good? He could give you everything, more than anyone else ever could if you would just behave.

“I don’t want this.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What if I ran away”, you asked, watching as his face grew dark.

“I would hunt you down and break your limbs until they didn’t regenerate. And if I couldn’t find you, I’d go after Nanami or Shoko. I’d make them scream until you appeared”, he replied while kissing your hair line.

You teleported beside him, rushing him into a grapple. Two arms reached up to grab you but fell to the ground as they disconnected from his body. Tentacles of black shot through the bones in his legs and held them down. A dark mirage of wings contorted themselves from your back, the talons on the ends slamming down through his wrists and into the stone below. Your face was right above his and your scleras were darkening, teeth turning pointed, saliva turning black. Inhuman noises that sounded like strangled growls rang out everytime you breathed. Your energy was consuming you and he could feel it. Like a bomb waiting to go off.

“Don’t you ever. threaten. them. Or I will show you a world where you live as a human, not a lick of cursed energy in your veins. I will beat you over and over until you’re just a pile of viscera. And then, I’ll turn you into a curse and you’ll be forced to bow before me. The once terrifying King Sukuna turned into a mindless dog on a leash”, you say spitting black liquid onto his face.

The black tentacles continued to spiral up his legs to his abdomen. Poking him full of holes and binding him to the stone. Your consciousness was fading, you knew you needed to calm down before you went ballistic.

Sukuna had never seen you like this. Even your energy felt completely different. It was dark and cold like death, but also chaotic and fiery like hell. The longer it lasted, the less of your energy remained and the more the new one replaced it. He started to get the feeling that he might actually die if it took you over.

“Get off me, brat.”

You hated him. Every inch. He was so fucking up his own ass that he couldn’t interact with others in any intimate capacity. “This, whatever this is, is over. You will not fucking touch me again. I am not yours, you are not mine. I will work as planned and that is where our relationship will end”, you said giving him one last hateful look before disappearing.

“I’m sorry.” He said after you had disappeared. He hated himself for feeling the need to say it, hated himself even more for not being able to say it. He could have just killed you again and put you in your place. But he could feel the pain that radiated from you when you had watched him kill what he thought was you. It wasn’t physical, but emotional. It was supposed to feed his sadistic pleasures, instead it felt like he stabbed his own heart. He never wanted to feel that again. Never wanted you to feel that again. He knew you didn’t want to be chained down like he was now. He even knew it was selfish of him to force shackles on you. You were powerful in every sense of the word. You knew more about curses than anyone he had met, could do more than anyone. He should be proud to have someone he didn’t need to coddle. He was very old, but you were showing him things he had never seen before. Making him feel things he had always looked down upon. He could feel the feelings you had for him too. They were healing him in ways he never knew he needed. He didn’t want to lose them to hate.

Sukuna laid there for a while after his restraints dissipated, gaping wounds left in their place. He kept thinking of the look in your eyes. The hate in them was deeper than when he tore apart your hand. He wondered if the damage he had done was beyond repair, if you would look at him the way you used to again.

You had returned to your room still naked and partially covered in blood. You put a robe over you before peeking your head outside your door and asking your attending to start you a bath. They looked at you with mild horror from your appearance before hurriedly getting to work. Once it was ready, you sat and tried to relax but ended up angrily scrubbing your skin. Asshole. Dickhead. Dumbass. You wanted to hit him in the balls so hard he would sneeze cum. But through all the anger you were crying. You couldn’t believe he threatened them. You hadn’t really felt trapped here until he said that. You could always get there first and run away with them, but that wasn’t fair to them. They had people they cared about too and you knew Sukuna would wipe your whole town off the map if you ran. You could kill him, but you also couldn’t. You didn’t know why, but the thought of doing so made your whole body shake with grief. He killed you so easily, though. Without a second thought. You were stupid for getting close to him, letting him fuck you.

You got out of the bath and dried yourself off before putting on a nightgown. It was a long black dress made up of sheer layers. You tied a robe over it and sat on your bed. You were sitting there stuck in your thoughts when a knock rang out on your door. You could feel it was Geto but asked who it was all the same.

“It’s Suguru, I brought you dinner. I didn’t know if you had gotten the chance to eat.”

Your stomach growled at the thought. The last thing you had eaten was Sukuna’s finger and you wouldn’t even call that a meal. “Come in.”

When he entered he saw you on the bed, hair still wet and eyes slightly red. “Do you want to eat there or at the table”, he asked with what you noticed were two servings of food in his hand.

“Are you eating with me?”

He shrugged, “If you want me to. If not, I’ll eat in my room.”

You shook your head. Having his company would probably make you feel better, clear your head and give you perspective. You moved over to the table where you motioned for him to sit.

“Do you want me to move it back so you can sit across from me or?”

“Sitting beside you is fine. You’re not too smelly”, he said with a soft smile while sitting down, waiting for you to join him.

“I was asking out of hopes you would move given that you’re the smelly one. But I guess I can put up with it, since you come bearing food.” You sat down next to him and started eating. The food was delicious as always and warmed your body, but noticed he kept looking over at you and the way you sat while you both ate. “What is it?”

He just smiled and shook his head before putting an elbow on the table and propping a leg up just like you, “Nothing.”

“Asshole”, you said while shaking your head and smiling.

Silence grew between the two of you as you finished your food. Awkward tension bloomed within the air, you knew he had questions about what happened at the training grounds. You didn’t want to talk about it and he wouldn’t ask, but then the awkwardness would stay. So you gave in.

“You look like you have questions, it’s okay to ask.”

He looked at you with a sad look, “What happened when we left? Are you okay?”

You didn’t realize it, but tears started falling when he asked that. You weren’t okay. You felt like your whole world had shrunk to this tiny room and it was suffocating. You didn’t want to see Sukuna ever again but knew you would inevitably have to, and have to speak with honor when you did. You hated it. Hated it here. Hated him.

Suguru wiped your tears with his thumb before slowly pulling you into him. He smelled like cedar and jasmine. You wrapped your arms around him and let it all out. It had only been a few days and everything was already so messy and fucked up. You hated yourself for letting it get to the point it was at. Hated Sukuna for treating you like an object. Hated Uruame for attacking you when you hadn’t done anything. Hated the human part of you that felt these weak emotions. The emotions that kept you from just killing Sukuna and solving all your problems. You didn’t love him, but fuck you couldn’t deny the way he lit you on fire. The way your energies curled into one another until you felt like one. You were weak. You thought of the dagger the mother gave you, thought of your promise. You decided you would be human tonight and only for tonight. Tomorrow you would go back to being a monster. Tonight you were just a woman that hated herself.

You awoke to the sound of your servants knocking on your door. You faintly remembered Suguru laying you into the bed after crying into him for at least an hour. You stuck your palms into your eyes as you cringed from how you cried into him. You rolled around in your bed as you tried to fight off the memory before letting out a very long sigh. You told your servants to come in while sitting up in your bed.

“Good morning, ma’am. The King has sent for you. He said your training will start in an hour and you’re not to be late”, they relayed while bringing in your breakfast.

You dropped your head back and let out a groan. He was the last person you wanted to see. But you told yourself that you wouldn’t be dictated by feelings today. You would do your job, keep your head down, and act like nothing had happened between the two of you. You ate your breakfast and got ready, repeating that in your head like it was some sort of life-fixing mantra.

You were told to meet the King in the throne room instead of the training grounds. You weren’t sure if that was because of what happened yesterday or if it was preplanned. You approached the throne room and took a moment to collect yourself just like the last time you were here. Do your job, keep your head down, act like nothing happened. Servants swung the door open and you could feel Sukuna looking down on you from his throne while you entered.

He looked you up and down. You wore a black button up crop top, adorned with gold buttons, red trim, and his sigil on the back. He had requested it be put there when he looked over your clothes order, so that everyone could see you belonged to him. Under it, sat a black, fitted bodice that sank below the waistline of your pants. Your pants sat towards the tops of your hips and were loose around your curves. The slack bunched around where they were tucked into your steel toed boots. Beautiful girl.

“I heard you had summoned me, my King”, you said, keeping your voice professional.

“I did. Your training is going to begin today, or well not so much training as your first day on the job. I have a meeting with a few generals, at least one of which I am sure is plotting against me. I want you to get into their minds and write down who the traitor is and their plan. At the end, I will read it and gauge the others' reactions. Should they quickly condemn them, they will live. If they hesitate or defend him, they will die”, he explained.

The concept was easy enough. Get into their minds, find the traitor, discover the plan. “Are any of them sorcerers?”

He let out a little chuckle. “Gods no, they’re all weak little humans. I only keep them around because it keeps their troops in line. However, with you being here, the loss of some troops is not a big deal”, he said, trying his best to show you that he acknowledged your power. Acknowledged you.

Realistically he could cut down most of his troops and replace them with your curses if it was that much of a hassle. What better army than one that couldn’t be detected by most of the population? One that had powers overshadowing any human capabilities. You contemplated telling him about that option.

“Is there something on your mind?”

You looked up at him before shooting your eyes back down to the ground. “Well, I am not against your plan. I think it is good to make an example of the traitor, but it can also put contempt in the other generals’ hearts. I think it might be good to have a curse shadow the remaining ones. I would give them the ability to see it and tell them it was there to keep an eye on them. That only they could see it and wouldn’t be able to tell any of the troops about it. I think it would keep them in line with minimal effort on your part.”

“My, my, maybe you are meaner than me”, he said with a proud tone. He wanted to see you smile from his joke, but you didn’t. In fact, it felt more like you grimaced. But with your head down he couldn’t tell for sure. “Where do we get said curses?”

You twiddled your thumbs a little bit, something to look at and remind yourself to keep your head down. “I can summon them and order them to watch the generals”, you said flatly.

“You can summon curses? How will they know what they’re looking for? The curses I have seen haven’t had much of a brain”, he questioned while two of his arms crossed and the others rested on his chin and knee, pointer fingers tapping in contemplation.

You sighed not really wanting to go through all the details but going through with it anyway since you brought it up. “I can create curses from cursed energy. If there is a fear of something, I can use the energy and craft a curse that embodies that fear. Previously, I would use my magic to create hysteria around things I wanted as curses. Like zombies for instance. I wanted one so I used my energy to make it look like people’s loved ones had risen from the grave and were attacking the town. The word of flesh eating, undying creatures that should have already been dead spread to surrounding towns and thus energy for a curse was created. I took it and put it in a doctor that had been hung for experimenting on his patients. He was intelligent and knew about anatomy so he was the perfect vessel to put it into.”

He just stared down at you for a minute, processing the fact that you just said you created a zombie. Does that mean vampires could be real? Tch, he couldn’t believe you joked with him about that and made him feel so stupid. “So, to be clear, you can create curses. And you were behind the fall of Nanmoku? And the zombie hysteria? All because you wanted a pet zombie.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

He just laughed. You were fucking crazy. He rubbed his hand over his face, still slightly chuckling, his tongue feeling the inside of his cheek. “Show me him.”

“Okay, but you should know he is not exactly all there. I mean he is intelligent but crazy as hell. Like we will look sane next to him”, you said while summoning him. Black smoke pooled on the ground as hands with long overgrown nails reached around the edge and started tapping.

“Enough with the theatrics Miro”, you said while tapping your foot.

He pulled on the ground, shooting up and landing on the floor as the portal closed. “Yes my Lady, my apologies. I humbly offer my body to beat for my transgressions”, he said while crawling down in front of you. His back offered up to you in an arch, head shaking in anticipation as suppressed giggles fell through his teeth. His hair was stringy and white like a spider’s web and fell over his eyes. Eyes of light blue and dark brown that he had confiscated from his victims. His skin was pale with multiple holes carved between his neck and collar bones, making the the edges look like a connection of veins. His lips were pink and curved higher than they should up his cheeks revealing a perfect set of teeth, teeth that all seemed a little different. His abdomen was scrawny, the skin pulled taut across his muscles and dipping where his stomach was. Burn marks that resembled X’s went across each of his nipples and an O was scorched over his heart. A taunt for enemies to hit him there. He wore bandages that reached halfway up his abdomen and baggy pants that hung low over them.

The King looked down at him with lips curled in disgust. “So, what does he do?”

Miro looked up at the King as if just realizing they weren’t alone and sneered. “I can do anything my Lady asks of me. I can gut others, I can gut myself. I can bring people’s loved ones back from the dead and play house all day with them. Ooo I just love the way the little ones shake and sniffle and how the older ones comfort them and put on a brave front. None of them wanting to upset their returned family member. I play with my toys until they bore me and then I get rid of them all to make room for new ones. Some toys I keep, those that are strong. I keep them in my collection and use them to fight for my Lady. To keep her safe. To make her happy”, he said, getting more and more excited with each word. His whole body vibrated as he laughed.

You kicked him in the gut, his body rolling from the impact. “He didn’t ask you which meant you didn’t have permission to talk. Now pick yourself up and quietly sit beside me on your knees with your head down”, you said as your annoyance with him grew. You had always wanted a zombie but this one became crazier than you expected. Begged you to beat him, to experiment on him like you and Ieiri used to. The only upside of the crazy was that he was fully devoted to you.

He moaned out a laugh as he crawled next to you, tucking his knees under him, head down. You rubbed your face in slight embarrassment as you halfheartedly said, “Ta daa”.

You weren’t lying when you had said he wasn’t all there. Sukuna wondered if you had done something to make him that way or if that was just how he came. Crazy aside, Sukuna could feel a good amount of energy coming off of him, your energy mixed with another. It was undeniably stronger than any other curse he had ran into, and with intelligence he was all the more lethal. If you could really create and control curses on that level, he wondered just how many you had stored away. And how many people had died for your pleasure.

“You have more like him”, he asked.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Like him? No. Intelligent and strong? Yes.”

Sukuna sighed while looking up. “Who would you send with the generals?”

“It would depend on what they feared most. I would give them a curse born from their greatest fear, makes my curse stronger and them more obedient. Plus, watching a human consumed by terror is always fun.”

Little monster. “We will try it, but you will replace the army with curses if it ends with me having to slaughter the troops.”

You had already considered that an option so you had no qualms with that idea. “Works for me, my King.”

He hated that you weren’t letting him hear you say his name. Such a simple yet effective way to punish him. He got up from his throne and started descending down to you. Miro looked up at him before you smacked the back of his head, making him look back down. “You can dismiss him. He is not needed for the meeting”, he said now standing a few feet in front of you.

You looked down at Miro and he began to sink through the floor, back where he came from. Now that it was just you and Sukuna, the room felt awkward. Each step he took to close the gap made you feel like you were suffocating. You could see his black socks and sandals stop in front of your boots.

“Look up at me”, he said softly. Hand moving to touch you but not completing the motion.

You looked up at him, his eyes looked like they were withholding endless words that his mouth would not let out. “I shouldn’t have killed you”, was all he said before walking away and motioning you to follow.

In the war room, you sat beside the King, paper and quill in hand. The generals filtered in with their heads down greeting Sukuna with utmost respect. There were eight of them in total, four sat on each side of a long table with you and Sukuna at the head. They talked about various matters in politics that made you want to shove the quill through your ears. You were thankful you didn’t really have to listen and started poking about in the general’s head closest to you. He was a large man, not like Sukuna, but larger than most humans. He had a daughter and wife back home that he seemed to dote on. You could tell he did not like the King, but would never rebel for the sake of his family. You looked at memories of how his daughter ran into his arms when he returned home, just like the woman who contracted you. They both had wrapped their arms around their children with such care, hearts warm and full. You hated it.

The next man’s head was so bald it hurt your eyes to look at. It was like a mirror that refracted light right into your eyes, a very sweaty mirror. He had a wife that abused him regularly. Calling him names, hitting and throwing objects at him, sleeping with other men. He liked it though, got off on the abuse. A well respected general secretly a masochistic cuckhold. What a cliche, you thought. He had no thoughts on Sukuna. He was used to serving people and didn’t seem to care much about who as long as he had money to give his wife.

The man after him had long blue hair tied into a low ponytail. It looked better than yours and had you curious about what he used to get it so soft looking. You found out that he was one dark ass motherfucker when you went looking for the answer. He kept a haram of younger men at his mansion and tortured them regularly. Sometimes he even made them torture each other or themselves. His hair was so soft because he soaked it in a blend of his discarded servant’s organs and cum. He had heard hair needed protein to look nice and that was his solution. Cleaner methods existed but to each their own you figured. He liked Sukuna more than he should. He wanted to be chained up by him and used. He would follow him off a cliff as long as he continued to meet his gorey ideals. If Sukuna slipped up, his thoughts would shift to owning him instead. Sukuna not being a monster didn’t seem like an issue, though.

Next in line was a very buff yet very small man. He had a long red beard that showcased intricate braids. The hair on his head was also tied up in various styles and bright red. He hated Sukuna. You didn’t even have to really dig to feel the hatred he felt. Apparently, he had gifted Sukuna his daughter when she turned 18 and hadn’t been allowed to see her since. Ιt seemed he owned a massive farming setup that provided most of the food for the region. He had given up his daughter as an offering so that the King didn’t destroy the operation and condemn the region to starvation. He wanted to kill Sukuna, but would never make a move for the sake of his daughter and people. Pathetic. Not like you could really judge, though.

The fifth man had black hair that was cut close to his scalp and a scar that interrupted his hairline. It was him. You could hear all of his thoughts so loudly. Sukuna had murdered his daughter and son after his wife spoke out against him at a festival. You remembered hearing about it. He had strung the woman up by her own intestines for the whole festival to see. When her children saw it they cursed the King and exploded where they stood, a warning for all other viewers. He had lost his whole family that day and had to sit there quietly like a coward while they were killed. He planned to team up with the 8th man sat down. He had also lost his family to Sukuna because his baby would not stop crying at a different festival. Sukuna took the baby from the woman’s hands and bit its head off before throwing the corpse back in the mother’s lap. Ιt was then mother who wouldn’t shut up, so he silenced her too. Her head fell off without any movement from Sukuna. He turned to look at the general with his baby’s blood still flowing down from his mouth, challenging him to look up at him or step out of line. He even spat what was left of his son’s skull in front of him, but was met with no reaction. Pleased, he walked back to his seat.

Their plan was to poison the King at the next festival by dosing their newborns with poison as well as their new wives in hopes he would repeat his previous actions and ingest their blood. Sukuna may have been a monster, but they were no better using others as bait to be sacrificed for their petty vengeance. You wrote down what you learned and Sukuna’s lower left eye watched as you wrote. You slid the paper before him on the table. The generals eyeing it with curiosity. You sat there, bored and disgusted with the men before you, casually doodling on the leftover paper as you waited for the meeting to end.

When it came to an end and the generals were paying their respects Sukuna spoke. “So, what kind of poison did you plan to use, General Sho and General Ayato?”

The color drained from their faces as they froze. The others sat in confusion, but completely still as they noticed the air change.

“King Sukuna, whatever do you mean”, Sho, the man with short black hair asked with a clearly shaky voice.

The King smiled as he read out their plan and reasoning, their bodies shaking as they realized they were screwed. Sukuna looked to the other generals, “What do you guys think we should do about this little problem, hmm?”

Some closed their eyes, others smiled, but they all said “Punishment for treason against the King is death for the guilty and their family.”

Sukuna smiled as he looked at the other two, their heads finally raising to look at him, “Then I guess we have a decision gentleman”. Lines of blood appeared on their bodies before they fell into piles of pieces. “And before the rest of you go, my assistant has a gift for each and every one of you. You may look up.”

The remaining men looked up at you as you smiled, then they saw the monsters within the room with them. Weaponless, some of them started swinging before their assigned curses restrained them. “Now, I don’t think that is anyway to receive a gift from the King’s palace”, you said. “You’re supposed to smile and say thank you.”

Some of your curses pushed the men’s faces up into a smile and whispered the words in their ear, instructing them to say it. Fear filled the room until the air was thick. Some of the men saw what happened and immediately started thanking you profusely with wide smiles. The mother’s smile.

“You’re very welcome. They will accompany you every hour of the day to ensure no other coupes are designed. They will not interfere with your lives in any way. Only you and your fellow generals will be able to see them. Once you leave this room, you are to never mention them again. This is an order from the King. Failure to comply will be considered treason and death will be carried out immediately by your new friends.”

Their eyes were all wide, thoughts erratic and viciously mean, hands shaky, breathing short, but heads nodding in understanding. Sukuna told them they were dismissed and they all left trying their best to not acknowledge their gift’s presence.

Once the door closed, you let out a sigh and stretched your back. The meeting was boring, but the end was fun. Different from the work you used to do, but not entirely.

“That was excellent”, Sukuna said while looking at you. You peeked a look back before looking back down. “You can look at me”, he said hoping you would.

“I am okay my King”, you replied. You were still upset with him for killing you, even if he apologized.

“It wasn’t a question”, his patience with you was growing thin. He knew you were mad, and he guessed you had a right to be, but he was getting tired of it. He didn’t like the way you were making him feel. He would’ve just hit you until you acted better, but that approach was what got him here. He didn’t really know any other way to approach it, though. Never had a need to, never had feelings to hurt.

You looked at him, irked with the way he ordered you, “Yes, my King?”

“Stop calling me that”, he said as he scooted closer to you.

He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You didn’t want to, but part of you just wanted to give in and lean against him. “What would you liked to be called then? Huh? Lord Spooky?”

He just stared at you. Repeating the name a few times before he laughed. “I will let you call me Lord Spooky if you forgive me for killing you.”

“Did you hear the words that just came out of your mouth? You think letting me call you a pet name makes up for taking my head off?”

He pursed his lips together and shrugged, “I mean if you think about it, I technically didn’t kill you, I killed something that looked like you.”

You raised your eyebrows, lips twitching in anger as you slapped him across the face. He didn’t move much but blood did trickle from his cheekbone. From the look in your eyes, he knew he said the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was trying to make a joke. I just wanted to see you smile. I don’t like you being mad at me. It makes me feel weird and I don’t know how to deal with it without hitting you. But if I hit you, you just become more mad at me and I am starting to think you might go ballistic on me if I continue. I don’t want to fight you. Which is also weird for me”, he said. It was the first time you had heard it talk so candidly. It was hard to be spiteful towards him when he was being so open, made you feel like a child. So you rubbed your hand over your mouth and decided to be just as honest.

“I don’t like it when you hit me. Most people don’t appreciate being hit just saying. I also don’t like how hot and cold you are. One minute you are telling me sweet things and the next you’re literally killing me. I don’t want to be owned either. I know you think I am yours because you enjoy the way I make you feel, but I am no one’s. Not ever again will I be owned. Threatening me is whatever, but if you threaten my friends again, I will make good on the threat I made. I know you’re the King and have to keep up appearances, and if I actually did something majorly wrong, then I would understand hurting me the way you do. But don’t say you care about me and want me to open up and play around with you and then punish me for it. It isn’t fair and I won’t tolerate it. I don’t want to fight you either, but I will if it comes to it”, you told him while making eye contact. He sat quietly for a few minutes while processing what you said.

“I won’t hit you, unless you commit a great offense. I want you to joke around with me, but you may only do it when we are alone like this. Otherwise you need to respect me as a King and follow the rules”, he hesitated, whatever he was about to say proving difficult for him, “I am- I feel-… I regret threatening your friends and killing you, truly. I want you to be mine, and me to be yours. I can’t promise I won’t be possessive, but I will try my best to not control you. I want you to be happy when you see me, not full of hatred. I do care about you and I want you to enjoy your life here. As pathetic as it sounds, I would like you by my side. Today, you were phenomenal. The way you asserted yourself over them, toyed with them, it was so attractive.”

You could tell he wasn’t lying or speaking in half truths. These was his thoughts laid bare. You reached out and grabbed his hand, fingers holding it from both sides as your thumbs ran up and down his palm. “So where does that leave us, then?”

He didn’t really know. He had never been close to someone like he was you. You weren’t an enemy, or a toy to play with, you were you. An anomaly he never saw coming. “Wherever you want us to be”, he said as he moved one of his hands to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to go slow. Everything up until now has felt so chaotic, so rushed and messy. And I mean, don’t get me wrong, there were good parts. Some very good parts”, you smirked at him, “but we need more. We need to figure out how to be around each other without any hidden intentions, how to relax in each other, before asking for more.”

He caressed your face looking at your lips but holding back, “Okay.”

Notes: hehe this chapter was a pain to write. Hopefully it comes off clear and not confusing to read :0 Extras v v

- Miro would 100% fight Sukuna for the reader. Miro loves the reader unconditionally and has an arsenal with some faces we all know that will be revealed later, making him quite the pain to fight. He is also hard as hell to kill, because his whole existence is made from being undead and “unkillable”. Sukuna could do it, but it’d definitely take some effort.

- Poor bb Geto. He doesn’t know the King and reader fucked. He thinks that any screaming he heard was from you two fighting/you being tortured and that you started crying because it was too hard to relive. He regrets being the one that brought you here.

- Sukuna is finally learning how to use his words. He would never let anyone else know, he would tell them he beats you because that’s somehow more acceptable than talking to you. He will still have outbursts in the future and there will still be more hateful sex to come, but he is trying. When he thought you were actually dead it felt like his whole world stopped. The breath left his lungs, gravity felt too heavy, his body felt weak and hot, he hated that feeling. He hated how you felt looking at him holding your fake corpse too. He doesn’t want to ever feel that again. He is fr being forced to learn empathy.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard Part 2

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

--- Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, aforementioned murder, angst, rivals to lovers, horror, slasher au. (ik I said "enemies" before but rivals is more fitting for their dynamic) A/N:I make Jack cuss a lot here, Idk if it's fitting. Minors DNI

Jack liked Skylar. He really did.

He liked Ian too, despite his less than effective counseling skills.

He liked both of them. But the stress had caught up with him in the worst way. The bar. Seeing them together. The mention of your name… It just sent him over the edge.

He would like to think that in another life he would’ve been great friends with the two of them. But the remnants of that sweet dream lay six feet under the dirt behind the shed.

It was getting late, so the counselors were wrapping up activities for the day. He snuck behind the cabins, treading carefully till he reached the outhouse shower. Jack spends a long amount of time soaking fully clothed. At first, its’ to see if this is all a dream. When he doesn’t wake up he discards the costume completely and scrubs furiously at his naked body. It doesn’t matter that the washrag here was used by several different people within the week. In Jacks’ mind, his soul is dirtier than anything within these four walls.

Knock, knock.

“Jack?”

Silence.

“Jack, you in there?”

“...What do you want?” He bites out.

“Where have you been, man? Bill’s got everyone in a frenzy! We had to wrap things up early til’ we found you!” You said.

“...I was where you sent me, where else?” Jack said.

“Oh…” a pause. “Oh.”

His blood pressure rises from the snicker you make behind the door. A slight creak indicates your leaning on it.

“Sooo, how was she?”

Jack doesn’t bother switching off the faucet as he flings the door open and stalks towards you menacingly. His yellow eyes are wide and erratic. It pierces something in your chest.

“How was she?” Jack repeated darkly, “How she was, is that what you asked me?”

You stumble back against the cabin wall. “I-I didn’t mean it like-”

“I went to see how she was and I caught your boyfriend between her legs, so you should ask him.”

Your eyes go wide as saucers. You searched his face for humor, a change in expression, fidgeting or any trace of dishonesty though all it held was the cold, hard, truth. Jack bit back a twitch of a smirk on his lips as he watched your face go through different phases of denial. Your ego along with your spirit was crumbling at his words. And he took a sick satisfaction in it. There was, though, still an air of guilt – or rather, a reminder to feel guilty. You had been cheated on after all. But he hasn't acknowledged it too much. After all, the offender was dead and the offended was suffering. It’s about as fair a trade can get.

“Tell Bill I’m taking a sick day.” Jack said coldly.

When he’s done, you are gone. It isn’t as refreshing as he’d hoped. Showering. Though he does admit, unintentionally sticking it to you did give him a needed amount of dopamine to get through the night. He tries not to look at his fingernails so much, though. They are still tinged red at the tips, with remnants of gore stuck underneath.

Jack waits till everyone has gone to sleep to use the lobby’s laundry room. He learned that blood washes out with cold water at a young age. So he’s sure to scrub out the extra dark spots before letting the rest rinse out via a wash cycle. Before putting in the pants though, a phone had fallen out of the back pocket.

Skylar’s phone. Shit.

He’d meant to toss it in the dirt along with Ian’s. But must’ve unconsciously held onto it… as if she’d need it back.

When Jack picks it up it vibrates with a message. From you. The ID reads ‘Bitch <;3’. He has to admit… it is very you.

sky, it reads, sky pick up wut happened at the shed??

…

i know you see this

jack says he saw you with ian. tell me he’s fuckin wit me

Especially with how long the dots float then stop, then float again, indicating you’re trying desperately to figure out what words to say. And then backtracking on them.

sky QUIT leaving me on read i’m so serious rn

…

I KNOW YOU SEE THIS BITCH!!!

Jack stops there. Pocketing the phone. He sighs, “Gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

—

You texted all through the night. Jack had to eventually turn  it on silent and shove it in his nightstand drawer. Though when he woke up and checked it again, there were 50+ messages waiting for him. You hadn’t stopped until two in the morning. It was a virtual moodswing of desperate pleas, cusses, and threatening emojis. As he scrolled back up to the texts from a month before, it seemed as though emojis were really your whole thing. Most notably ones with hearts, laughter, and occasionally the wine emoji.

Jack was almost grateful Skylar wasn’t on the receiving end of either anymore. Whether it be by voice or text, you were a very chatty person.

It was business as usual. Kids clamored to him once more (some were crying, poor dears) and he got an earful from Bill again. The day was so… normal. It was almost as if the dear departed counselors never existed.

FFFFT!

A sharp whistle could be heard across campus. Jack looked over to your high chair and immediately picked up on the drastic change in atmosphere around you. 

Instead of your usual lounging, you sat upright with your arms crossed stiffly. Your leg bounced impatiently. In addition to your usual red lifeguard leotard you now wore a pair of black sunglasses.

“Keep the water out of your mouth, David!” You shout, “You wanna catch something?”

A counselor - whose name tag read ‘Shaun’ - came up beside him. “What’s up with the lifeguard? She’s been in a shit mood all day…” He asked.

Jack shrugged, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Every slight mishap earned the kids a taste of that shrill whistle. He felt bad they had to deal with your sour mood. Of course he knew the cause, and that only added to the guilt…

FFFFT!

He had to put a stop to this.

There was an odd sense of deja vu as he marched up to your high chair. This time he knocked on the ladder. You look down at him through your shades.

“What?” You snap.

“Get down here, I need to talk to you.” Jack said.

“Can’t you see I’m doing something?”

“Y/N-”

“As in my job?”

“Now.”

You narrow your eyes at him before hopping down the chair. You saunter up to him and snatch off your shades. There’s a venomous look in your eyes. “What is it?” You said.

Jack folded his arms. “First off, I appreciate the initiative you’re taking in your position as of late,”

“Thanks. Can I go now?”

“However… I can’t say I agree with the way you’re going about it.”

Your eye twitches and you throw your head back with a bitter laugh. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me…” You mutter.

“Far from it, actually.”

“What do you want from me?” You said, “You say you want me to take my job seriously, but now you say you don’t like how I’m doing it? Can you make up your damn mind?!”

Jack then leans down just inches away from your face, “What I want is for you to leave your emotions at the door when mentoring these kids,” He hissed, “And if you can’t do that I will exercise my ability as a counselor to get you removed. Are we clear?”

You held each others’ gazes for a while. And with you already at your lowest, you’d been the first to give in. You sigh, “...Crystal.”

He nods and puts on a big smile, feeling a bit of smug satisfaction. “Good. Enjoy the rest of your shift, Y/N.”

He ignores your muttered demand that he “go to hell”  and walks off. Though not without hearing your whistle once more.

FFFT!

“Hey, I’m not kidding about the lake water – cut that shit out!”

—

Though you loosened the reins, the kids had avoided you like the plague. The counselors gave you heavy side eye the rest of the day. And once it was time to eat dinner, you asked Bill if you could excuse yourself. He allowed it.

You sat on the steps of the lodge, staring out at the lake. The water was still and began to reflect the deep purple in the sky. Crickets chirped and you even spotted a few fireflies. It was such a calm scene, and yet the whole time you were feeling like shit.

You pull out your phone and go to Skylar’s contact which had been changed from ‘Whore<3’ to ‘Dirty skank die die’. Not your most creative nickname.

All the texts you sent were still on read. Though with all that you’d said, you now wonder if it were better this way. It was like you were a completely different person in these. You always liked to say you weren’t for the drama, but you were certain if you showed this to any reality show host they’d fire everyone on set and make you their star. You hung your head and groaned.

Before you could wallow any further the sound of an engine came close to you. You look up and Sunny Day Jack puts the Moke in neutral and leans over in his drivers’ seat.

“Hey, why the long face, camper? Lose your group?” Jack quips.

“You’re not funny.” You said blandly.

“Well, that’s why I’m a camp counselor first.” Jack said. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“I’m not feeling the menu…” You reply.

“Don’t you always go nuts for spaghetti night?”

“What’s it to you?”

Jack rolls his eyes, “You always scream out that spaghetti night “is your bitch”, so if you’re not managing it like a decent pimp something has to be wrong…”

A twitch of a smirk plays on your lips and you gesture blandly to the lodge with an exaggerated sigh. “My bitch knows her way around the corner. It’ll be fine.”

“If that’s the case then, I’m sure you’d want something to put on your stomach nonetheless…”

“That being…?”

He grins, “I’ve been wanting a change of palette myself. And the local Popov’s just started serving burgers. You in?”