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dolicekiss · 3 months ago

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Apple Of Their Eye

part one here

PAIRING: Aemond Targayen X sister!reader X Aegon Targayen

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), incest between siblings, virgin aemond, possessive behavior, threats, abuse, slut shaming, mentions of forced marriage, voyeurism, kissing, unprotected sex, polygamy, threesome, mating press, hickeys, usage of high valyrian during sex, aggressive aemond, doggystyle, raw filth, hand job, breeding, impregnating, swearing, territorial targaryen brothers, thigh riding, dry humping.

SYNOPSIS: Whispers have a habit of reaching ears, no matter how far and when a whisper about your rendezvous with your brothers reaches your mother, she loses it. Enraged, she strikes you but when your brothers find out, their wrath is enough to burn cities to the ground.

“Brother, someone might see.” Came a soft whimper from you as your brother continued to litter gentle kisses down your jaw, forming an invisible trail to your neck and already had he decided to kiss your collarbones too. It was embarrassing to engage in such actions in the hallways of the Red keep, knowing you were both at your peril.

Aegon didn't care though. He continued kissing you as if he didn't fuck you a few hours ago in the garden. His needs were insatiable and as much as you enjoyed it when your own brother pummeled his cock into your little cunt, you were always worried about getting caught too.

Your brother only let out a soft hum, his large hands moving to grab a handful of your breasts. Your state was disheveled and when you heard footsteps coming near, echoing in the high walls of the hallway, you gave a push to your brother. The expression on Aegon’s face was of complete displeasure as a servant walked passed you two, her gaze lowered but she didn't fail to notice the messed up state of the Princess.

You looked up at Aegon and as he tried to step closer to you, you decided to run off somewhere, with giggles escaping you. The King almost chased after you, but when he was called for a council meeting — he had to solemnly give up the idea of chasing after you and claiming you.

You ran with the assumption that your brother was behind you.

It didn't end well for you as you ended up crashing into someone else. In the arms of another dragon, more ferocious than the one before.

“Going somewhere, sister?”

Aemond’s soft voice was like fucking sugar to your ears. It was unfathomable how he had to speak once and your cunt would get soaked, especially when he would speak High Valyrian while fucking your mouth.

Unlike Aegon, Aemond still had not fucked you like his older brother. He lacked the time to give you full attention and fulfill your needs, as well as his. But today Aemond had decided to put the realm aside once and give you all his time and attention.

You squeezed your thighs, a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the impending feeling of arousal and need. You smiled at him but the way you looked at him, it was an invitation for him to take you right here in this damn hall, against the Iron Throne. Pupils blown out and plump lips parted, swollen definitely by the hands of Aegon.

Your brother reached to put a strand of silver behind your ear with his glove cladded fingers. “I asked you something, sweet sister and I expect an answer.”

You fucking melted whenever he refer to you as his sweet sister. Before it worked wonders but now, you weren't too sure but you'd grown completely obsessed with your own brothers. Last week the topic of Aemond’s marriage was brought up, same as yours and everyone noticed the sour look on the Princess’ face.

The realm’s delight was pissed, for the first time in awhile.

“I was running from Aegon.” You whispered to him, neck craned up to look at your taller brother.

Aemond smiled. “He won't be chasing you, sweet sister. He has the council to attend to.”

You let out a sigh. “Things were much better when Father was alive. I had all your and Aegon’s attention but now the realm demands it more.”

Your words made Aemond realize how good their lives were when you were all children, under the care of your father, the King. If only his father hadn't changed his mind on his death bed, if only his mother hadn't forced Aegon on the Iron Throne. It was all too overwhelming to think about, even for someone like Aemond and he brushed it all aside, replacing it with the thoughts of you.

“You will have all our attention when we win this war, sister. You will be Queen.” His words brought you ease but deep down the fear of something bad happening to both your brothers always tugged at your heartstrings. It lingered, like a threat and even you were not oblivious to the damage that this war will bring.

The chaos, the destruction, the pain.

It was all to real to ignore it.

Aemond’s hand moved to cup your cheek and you smiled, the worry disappearing from your face.

“Let me give you a kiss to ease your worries.”

You were ready for him, lips in a childish pout and Aemond always chuckled at how desperate you seemed for a kiss. It was lost on him why you'd grown this attached to them, to him — a monster he was. Beneath lurked darkness which he knew would one day swim up to the surface and consume your light. He feared that day and he wished for nothing more than to become better, for the sake of his sweet sister.

He had to bend, that's how short you were in comparison to him. The moment his lips met yours, it was a moment of peace but you did not know the chaos it would soon follow.

That single kiss would change the course of house Targaryen. Challenge years worth of tradition, power and would set a new law, abided by both men and Gods.

Butterflies flapped their wings, similar to dragons in your stomach as your brother firmly took your lips into a kiss. His growing need enough to nearly make him lose all control and take you right then and there on the stairs leading to the throne.

Your lids fell shut as you allowed your brother to kiss you, his head tilting and his fingers digging into the cheek he was holding — a testament to his broken self control. Aemond pulled away soon, to restore some dignity in him and you let out a soft breath.

A string of saliva leaving you connected to your brother's lips.

“I will come to your chambers tonight. You must wear a white gown and wait for me.” His command was strong and firm, leaving no room for disagreement.

You were never going to disagree anyway. Pleasing your brothers was all that mattered to you, especially when they had been nothing but kind to you. You nodded your head causing Aemond’s grip across your chin to tighten. “Use your mouth, gevie.” (Beautiful)

You swore you could feel your cunt beginning to grow more soaked each time your brother uttered even a word in High Valyrian. His was the best and even you grew envious of him at times at how dedicated and good he was. To you, Aemond was the epitome of a Targaryen man.

“Yes, brother.” You said in a breathless whisper, nodding your head along.

Aemond let out a satisfied hum, his gaze lingering to the way you rubbed your thighs now and then and fixed his posture. He rested his head on top of your head, patting it a few times. “Don't run around now. You will hurt yourself, little girl.”

You watched as your brother left, going into the same direction you had. Probably to head to the council. At times you wished you were a member of the small council too, so you'd be able to look and stare at your brothers all the time. Their youth had brought them unwanted attention and you were not fond of the idea.

Aegon needed a Queen for the realm, Aemond needed alliances for the realm and in order to secure those, he had to marry someone.

It all worked to agitate you.

Fuck the Realm.

You walked to your chambers and upon entering, you called for a servant to bring you the dress Aemond was referring to. It had always been his favorite on you. It was a lengthy dress with large sheer sleeves and a bow was stitched to its front. It was more of a night gown than a proper dress, if wore without small clothes. Your face flushed at the thought of Aemond seeing you in this, practically bare beneath the pellucid fabric of the gown.

A knock caught your attention and then the doors were opened, your mother’s face coming into view.

You smiled as she walked towards you, completely oblivious to the way she seethed at you. “Moth–”

The sound of skin colliding with skin reverberated in the room, bouncing off the high walls of your chambers. But what left you astonished was the slap your mother had delivered to your cheek. Pain blossomed along with crimson on the pale canvas as Alicent stared at you in pure anger as well as unmatched disgust.

Her hand moved to grab your arm, fingers digging into the soft skin. “You dare to lay with your own brothers, not one, but two of them?”

Your gaze flickered across the room, not having the courage to make eye contact with her as tears welled up in your eyes. This was the first time someone had ever treated you this harshly and the person being your own mother terrified you.

You struggled to speak, because you had nothing to say. All you could do was stand still as your mother reprimanded you, spewing out words which tugged at your heartstrings and forced your tears to run down.

“I was not aware I had given birth to a fucking common whore and not a Princess.” You flinched at her harsh tone, her tight searing grip and the way her other hand moved to grab your chin.

It was all too overwhelming for you, your sensitivity failing you here. Tears ran down your face in small streams, hoping that this would end. “Please mother–”

“Not a word.” Alicent snapped, her anger growing for you even more. It was mostly directed towards her sons, knowing fully well that they were capable of defiling their own sister but she had trust in you. She'd mistaken your love for your brothers as platonic. “Bold of you three to engage in such, heinous and obscene actions out in the open. You think I would not find out? The master of whispers is loyal to me!”

Her voice boomed through the room and with every high octave of her voice, you sobbed and flinched.

It was the comfort of your brothers that you craved. To run to them, wither away in their arms and cry your little heart out. Even as a little girl everyone thought twice before reprimanding you, but your mother had laid a hand on you. For the first time ever and it surely left a scar.

“You will marry Lord Tully, I will see to it.”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head, realizing in that moment that staying away from your brothers was something you could not endure. Born from the same womb, fathered by the same man, you three were almost like triplets attached to the hip of one another.

Being apart from them was a punishment even Gods were not cruel enough to cast upon you.

But your mother was.

With all your courage and strength, you pushed at her shoulders and lifted up your skirt — sprinting out of the door with bare feet. You were in the midst of changing your shoes as they'd grown dirty when your mother blessed you with her presence. You had no idea which brother to run to, absolutely clueless to where they were.

If your mother, a member of the small council was in your chambers that meant the council had been dismissed.

Still with little hope, you slammed open the doors of the room where the meetings took place, only to find it empty. Crestfallen, you ran back into the hallway you came from, running outside hoping to find your other brother training.

Upon running out in the open area, your gaze flit here and there, a blurred one it was from all the hopeless crying you'd done in your despair.

You found the silver long strands of your brother flowing in the air as he moved swiftly against Ser Criston Cole. Your lips breaking into a soft smile as more tears fell, your dirty feet taking you to your brother. Everyone in the area witnessed the disheveled state of the Princess, yet no one dared to say a word about it.

Ser Criston stopped moving, dropping his sword and looking behind Aemond’s shoulder where you stood.

He immediately turned around when amidst the stench of sweat, metal and smoke, he caught a whiff of roses. There you were, trembling as you barely managed to hold your own frame. Aemond’s one eye widened, noticing your situation and the large handprint across your face did not go unnoticed by him.

“Who?”

You sobbed, your small hands reached for his chest as you laid your head against it.

Aemond’s fingers that once gripped the hilt of the sword now loosened, causing it to drop and come in contact with the floor. The whole of the training grounds had grown completely silent, witnessing the scene unfold before them. The prince was fucking pissed, the tremor in his jaw evident to everyone else around him and his aura changing.

He was no more composed.

“Who, Princess?”

You couldn't even speak properly without breaking your words apart. “M-Mother found out, Aemond. She will get me married now. I'm scared— I'm scared. I do not wish to leave you and Aegon. I am happy here, with you two. Why must I go? Why must–must I marry Lord Tully?”

Aemond’s mind blanked out, only your words lingering in it. He would burn the whole realm down before seeing you get married to someone else other than him, or his brother. You were theirs, their birthright. Aegon’s was the throne, he was second in line — a prince, a future knight maybe but before all that, you were their true birthright, made for them, crafted by the Gods in the same fucking womb they once nestled in.

Even if Aegon was easily manipulated by Alicent — which he doubt would happen as his brother shared the same feelings as he did for you, Aemond would not allow you to be taken from him. He had grown unloved, a boy broken beyond repair and you somehow still saw the good in him. You sought out comfort in a man the whole of Seven Kingdoms feared.

You, out of everyone, believed he too was deserving of love and you went out of your way to prove it.

Before he'd even proven his worth as a Targaryen by claiming Vhagar, you stood by him. When he lost his eye, it was you who was ready to tarnish the reputation of your own nephews as revenge for your brother’s eye. It was you who went beyond and all for the sake of your brother and most would call you a loyal hound but Aemond saw a beautiful girl that was willing to do anything for him.

His pain had ended — but now his mother, Alicent was going to freshen up old wounds.

He could not allow that to happen.

If you were taken from him, Aemond would mount Vhagar and burn the whole of King’s Landing down. He would not stop, he would descend into absolute madness, leaving nothing for his pretender of a half sister to rule. Everything ashes, destroyed and demolished.

The realm’s delight was a soothing gel, an apology from the Gods, a flourishing flower, a lover for Aemond and he would destroy anything and anyone that would intervene between them.

If the conclusion to this dangerous predicament was betraying his own mother, he did not find himself distressed by the idea.

Aemond didn't say anything, instead his hand wrapped around your wrist as he pulled you along with him. Known about Aegon’s whereabouts, he lead you to his chambers and upon entering, he saw the King engaging in a conversation with one of his squires.

“Out.”

The squire hurried, nodding its head and leaving the King’s presence at once.

Aemond pulled you along until you both were stood before the King. “Look at her. This is the consequence of your actions, Aegon.”

Aegon stared at you in pure scrutiny and as his purple irises ran over the marks of red fingers and palm imprinted on your cheek, his nostrils flared with anger. Your silver hair a mess, hair sticking out of your braids and your lips wobbled — everytime a fresh of tears sliding down and tainting your face even more.

“Who fucking dared to lay hand on the Princess? Give me their name and I will have their fucking head!” Aegon shouted and your previous rendezvous with your mother lead you to flinch, body leaning into Aemond’s in a desperate endeavor to seek comfort.

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “Alicent Hightower.”

“Mother? She wouldn't. Our sister is loved dearly by her.” Aegon’s eyebrows furrowed and Aemond scoffed. “Our sister was loved dearly by her, until she went ahead and broke the fucking rules.”

You sniffled, gaze lowered to the ground. The way your mother had addressed to you as some whore made you feel shame with such intensity, you could not even meet their gazes without bile rising up in your throat. Aegon walked to you, both hands reaching to cup your face. His thumb swiping across the mark in hopes that it would melt within the skin and disappear.

But it stayed behind.

“Aegon, she said–said I was worse than a whore. That she'd given birth to a whore instead of a Pr–Princess.” You bursted into a fit of tears and sobs, breaking apart in your brother's hold and Aegon looked at Aemond, a fire similar to his brother’s awakening in his purple gaze.

They were too eager, to protect you.

To get rid of their mother in this very instant but you needed them, you needed them to comfort you and be there for you.

“Listen to me.” Aegon lifted your head up, making you lock eyes with him. “There is no power in this world that can keep you away from us. Do you understand, my little dove? I will see the whole world burn before letting someone else have you.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Aemond wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Gods, this was all they wanted. To have you for themselves, all to themselves. Just a simple little thing yet customs, traditions and what fucking not got in between.

It angered them both.

If Aegon the conqueror could take two wives, why couldn’t a Princess take two husbands?

Was their house not about securing their bloodline? What better way than wedding the Princess to her two brothers, the King and the Prince. It was the only solution to this mess and both your brothers would see it happen.

“Don't cry,” Aemond whispered against your nape. “I will burn everything down, please. Don't cry anymore.”

You understood what your brother implied with his words and love for him swelled in your chest. Your mere tears affected him to an extent he would commit such a gruesome crime, against his own mother too. You tried to quieten down, sobs turning into soft sniffles as the twitching of your shoulders came to a halt.

“Trust me, my Princess. You must have faith in me.” You nodded at Aegon’s comforting words.

After all he had the bigger play at hand. He was the King, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and had everyone beneath him.

Your small hand reached over to hold Aegon’s face in it, fingers caressing the soft supple skin. “I'm terrified, Aegon. She wishes to wed me to Lord Tully.”

“Fucking Riverrun Lord.” Aegon cursed, shaking his head. “I will bring you his head, put it at your fucking feet.”

Aemond hummed at the idea in satisfaction as he could not imagine you being in the presence of another man. Laying in the arms of another, being bred, giving birth to some dark haired children. The image instilled him with repulsion.

“You belong to us.” Aemond growled in your ear, his bare fingers moving to push your hair aside, revealing your pale neck to him. You whimpered when you felt him press a kiss to your sensitive nape, body tensing up. “Every inch of you, sweet sister. Your beautiful hair, your soft lips, from your breasts to your little cunt. It belongs to us and it will fucking stay that way, forever. There is no one in the Seven Kingdoms that can stand between us.”

Your back arched, lower half pressing into Aemond while the upper half pushed against Aegon. Breasts flush into Aegon’s chest and ass curved perfectly against Aemond’s bulge. Your tears had dried off by now but your lip still twitched from the ferocity you'd faced.

Before things could escalate further, the door was slammed open and Alicent stood there, her calm expression switching into one of anger as she witnessed the state of you sandwiched between her brothers. The woman lost all calm — taking powerful strides towards you but before she could actually reach you and tear you apart from your brothers, they stood in front of you.

Concealing your small, shivering figure from their mother.

“I will not have you continue this debauchery and ruin the honor of your house!” Alicent shouted and Aegon felt you flinch, your small fingers wrapped around his sleeve. Your other hand doing the same to Aemond’s leather tunic.

Aemond swallowed, to compose himself but Aegon had little to no respect left for his mother anymore. “What you call debauchery are actions done by our predecessors. Do you not remember Aegon the conqueror taking two wives, mother?”

Alicent’s eyes widened. “He was a man, a King! You cannot suggest something as baffling as this.”

“I am not asking, I am telling you.” Aegon spoke, stepping forward.

But his mother was not going to have it. The woman reached for you, pushing past her sons and when her fingers managed to wrap around your frail wrist, she tugged and pain shot through your wrist. Your loud cry acting as an immediate order for your brothers to protect you.

“Let her go!” Aegon stepped forward and so did Aemond, holding his mother's hand as he pulled.

All the commotion only made you cry out even more, the metal from your mother's rings digging into your skin, almost piercing through it and evoking blood. “I will not tolerate this. Do not pull her into your sick desires, she is but a child!”

“She is a child for us but is old enough to wed Lord Tully? You were always a hypocrite, mother.” Aemond called out, trying to pull his raging mother apart from you without causing you much pain.

You sobbed, trying to somehow squirm your wrist out of your mother's grasp. “You are hurting me, mother.”

Alicent was too far gone to even consider the fact that she was bringing her own daughter pain. The slap was to reprimand you, how mothers often do their child but by now the metal had slashed through your skin, little droplets staining your mother's hand as well as your wrist.

Aegon glared at the woman. “I am your King and I command you to unhand the Princess or I will have your fucking head.”

That is when Alicent’s grip loosened, her adamance dropping and you were quick to pull out of her hold. Your wrist stung and as you held it, Aemond caught the red peeking beneath your skin. He did not realize when he stepped forward or when his hand found his mother's throat, or when he nearly suffocated her.

It was all too much, and too fast.

“Dare hurt her again and I will kill you with my own bare hands.” Aemond threatened — meaning every word with his whole chest and Alicent knew that this son of hers was capable of harming her.

But as was Aegon now, as he too had seen the blood tainting your pale skin.

“You will send a raven to Lord Tully and you will tell him the Princess will be marrying her brother, The King, to become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” It was spoken strictly but with an underlining of threat and Alicent could only nod.

Aemond released her and her hand immediately flew to grasp at her throat, dragging out choked and strained breaths.

“And then the Queen will have me as her second husband.” Aemond finished with a smug smile.

Alicent shook her head. “This is beyond unacceptable. The realm will not tolerate it.”

You stood there, lips trembling and eyes swollen as you continuously let out more tears. Your mother shot you a look of pure disgust but deep down she knew that it was not really your fault. Your brothers encouraged this mess, all of it but she didn't know that you too were hopelessly in love with both your brothers.

“We're the fucking Targaryens. Rulers of the the realm, we write history and make tradition.” Aegon said, proudly as he glanced at his sister with a softened look in his eye. “If anyone wishes to start a war over the Queen getting fucked by her two brothers, we're more than welcome to engage in it.”

Aegon knew sunfyre and Vhagar alone could clear out the whole of the realm.

Alicent spared you one last glance before turning around, running out of the room. Her state was the same as yours now and you almost felt a sense of pride. Yet the hurt had not subsided. Your own mother harming you like this was something you had never expected.

Once alone with your brothers, Aemond took a hold of your hand, as gently as he could and looked at it. There were droplets of blood everywhere on your wrist and he felt his own boil at the sight. “I shall call for the maester.”

He soon arrived and while he bandaged your wound as you laid on the bed, both brothers at each side, he could not ignore the tension with which the room was elevated. He finished his work as quickly as possible and after giving you a few drops of milk of the poppy, he left the chambers.

Aegon lifted your wrist, bringing it to his lips and you watched as your brother pressed kisses against the bandage. Featherlight and gentle.

“I—I feel bad.” You voiced out your feelings, somewhere feeling at fault for all this mess.

You blamed it on your abundance desire to prove your love for your brothers.

Aemond shifted closer to you, hand in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. “You mustn't. You are not at fault, my sister. You're the most sweetest little girl and you deserve all the love in the world.”

Your cheeks bled crimson.

This was the first time ever Aemond had been this open with you, this raw and maybe it was because he almost lost you. He knew better than to be his usual stoic self with the likes of you.

“She wishes to wed you to someone too, Aemond.” You pouted, looking up at your brother. “I can't share you, I resent the idea of it. It brings me unease and repulses me. I think I might kill whoever you get betrothed to.”

Aemond nearly cooed at how your jealousy was finally pouring out. He exchanged a glance with Aegon who almost seemed proud that his little dove was capable of sounding this strict, but fucking adorable. Gods, they were a lost cause.

“The only person I will be marrying is you, sweet sister. I belong to you, and forever will.”

It was as if his words had magic and the pout disappeared from your lips, replaced by a honey smile. You moved your other hand and tugged at his sleeve. “Do I still get to wear that white dress for you tonight?”

“You're hurt, Gevie. I wouldn't wa—”

You quickly sat up. “I'm fine! Look at me, I'm perfectly fine. Please Aemond.”

“May I also know what the fuck is going on here about this white dress?” Came a very irritated question from Aegon as he looked between the two of you.

Your cheeks burned and Aemond decided to explain. “I told her to wear her white dress for me when I will visit her chambers tonight. Before, unexpectedly, this turn of events happened.”

“You meant to fuck our sister without me?”

Gods, his older brother was as dramatic as they came. Behaving as if he had not claimed you first and multiple times. “You took her maidenhood and then proceeded to fuck her in the gardens too. Let me have my fill.”

“You can have all your fill you fucking want, Aemond. I'm fine with just watching.” Aegon suggested and the idea wasn't so bad, only he knew that Aegon would eventually lose all restraint and end up joining them too.

He sighed. “Alright.”

Then he turned to you. “You okay? Can you go to your chambers and wait for me, hm?”

You quickly nodded your head, sitting up on your knees now. You pushed forward and put all your weight on your palms, leaning in to kiss your brother's lips. You felt your older brother's hand roam over your spine, moving against your head as he pushed your lips deeper against Aemond’s.

“Suck on it, come on.” Aegon encouraged you, recalling the lessons. “Exactly how I taught you, little dove.”

You nodded as your cunt produced the essence of your arousal. Your lips puckered up, closing around Aemond’s upper one as you sucked. His hand moved to grab a handful of your breasts and you whimpered into the kiss. It soon ended when both of you pulled apart to inhale some oxygen.

Your cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

“I need you to go now, my sweet sister.”

You hopped off the bed, not before giving Aegon a kiss too but with less intensity and not that he minded. He knew he'd have his fill of yours sooner or later too. For now it was his younger brother's turn to own you, to claim you fully.

Aegon’s stomach churned with anticipation, thinking of Aemond driving his cock into the walls of your tight cunt and he shuddered meanwhile Aemond’s own cock hardened at the sight of you walking out of the chambers, hips swaying here and there.

Both were painfully hard.

“I want to breed her, get her with child.” Aemond suddenly broke the silence and Aegon chuckled. “Even if it is your child, we wouldn't know for sure. Look at us, we look the fucking same.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond agreed. His brother had a very valid point. Two Targaryen men fucking a Targaryen girl — all of them having silver hair and the same features, only a tad bit different.

Aemond stared at the door. “She has not shown signs as of yet, so I must fuck her over and over again until I know for sure she is with child.”

“Are you that desperate to have your child inside her, or maybe it is the Iron Throne you wish to see your child to ascend.” Aemond groaned, body going slump in the sheets at his brother's words.

It was not his desire, as obvious as it seemed it was.

“You took her maidenhood, Aegon. I want her to bear my child first.”

Aegon stared at his brother, blinking shortly before breaking into a fit of laughter. He could not believe that his cunning brother cared more about petty emotions such as jealousy than actually using this situation to put his heir on the throne. It was too amusing for him.

“You are fucking obsessed, brother.”

Nightime fell.

The hour of the bat had settled in, the moon proudly beaming up in the dark sky, dominating it.

You were already dressed in your white dress, awaiting your brothers but the butterflies of anticipation nipped at your stomach for Aemond.

You paced back and forth in the room, the white end of your dress trailing behind you. The doors were soon pushed open and you saw Aemond walk in. His staunter always filling you with excitement, as heat rushed to your face. His sword glued to his hip and you tried peeking behind but to your disappointment, your older brother was nowhere to be found.

It was only Aemond.

“Brother, where is Aegon?”

Aemond stopped in front of you, hands held behind his slim back. “Oh, did my sweet sister not wish to see me?”

Your face contorted in confusion and you were quick to shake your head. Hand reaching to grasp around your younger brother's, a frown ceasing your delicate features. “Absolutely not, Aemond. In fact I have been looking forward to seeing you, my eyes were glued to my door.”

Your confession made him chuckle as he brought his hand up to your face, caressing the skin with the back of his fingers.

“Is that so?” Aemond asked. To you he seemed normal, stoic and devoid of any emotions but on the inside Aemond battled his demons. Restraint was slowly slipping and the Prince wished for nothing more than to fuck you, right here, against the fucking floor if he willed. His desires were often concealed, kept at bay which made him more dangerous than his brother, Aegon.

He'd kept himself pure, untouched for you.

Aegon encouraged him, to indulge in other women. Whores that would keep his lust for his own sister at bay but as usual, Aemond always declined. He knew that his body only yearned for his sister, not some used whore fucked by countless.

His pure — sweet innocent sister.

You nodded your head with a pout forming on your lips. “I missed you. I waited for you ever since I left Aegon's chambers. For a moment I thought you wouldn't come.”

“How could I not come?” Aemond whispered, breath mingling with yours. “Do you think me cruel enough to make my beautiful sister wait like this?”

With a shake of your head, you covered Aemond’s hand on your cheek with yours. A soft lick of your tongue at your lips made your brother lose the idea of self control, his cold demeanor crumbling apart. His boots tapped aggressively over the floor as he cornered you against the pillar of your bed. Your breath hitched — throat parching as Aemond buried his face in your neck, his nose catching whiff of your scent.

“Iksan ribazmoqitta syt ao, mandia.” Aemond murmured and you whimpered at his High Valyrian, feeling his nose trail up your neck and then back down, grazing against your collar bones. (I'm crazy for you, sister)

Your thighs subconsciously pressed together and Aemond noticed it. He licked his own lips as he brought his face up to yours and locked lips with you. You were take aback by the sheer aggression he held, how violet he was being when his large hands began ripping away at the dress. One shoulder ripped while the other in a perfect state. His fingers clasped around your waist, digging into the skin as he moved his mouth skilfully against yours.

All that you had learned, was now slowly disappearing from your mind as your brother dominated your mouth like a savage. You gasped when he pushed open your thighs with his knee, settling it between them. Aemond took your gasp as a chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth and the moment he did, you reached heaven. His rigid tongue battled with yours, wrapping around it and sucking on it eagerly like a babe sucking milk from its mother’s teats.

“Ae—”

You tried parting from him but he didn't allow it. Simply, he sat down on the bed and pulled you onto his thigh. Everytime Aemond would bounce up his thigh, a whine would escape your lips feeling the rigidity of skin deliver sensations to your sweet pearl. Your hands moved to his shoulders, laying as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Tonight I get to be the one inside your cunt, sweet sister.” Aemond growled, his chest rumbling with unlaced desires. “Your little cunt will be the first I would ever fuck.”

Your eyes widened. Confusion clouding your features as you'd assumed your brothers has already done this before. Aegon had — so why did Aemond hesitate? Before you could question him, your lips fell apart and desperate whimpers orchestrated.

“I-I will be your first?” You somehow managed and Aemond nodded, bouncing you on his thigh.

He was fucking hard, his cock stirring in his breeches. “Yes, my Princess. I made a promise that is it only your cunt I shall drive my cock in.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Aemond.”

Your brother had lost every bit of restraint and had been tipped over the edge. Aemond pushed you off him onto the bed and watched with his one eye as your small body bounced off the mattress, an expression of shock adorning your features. He wasn't going to be as soft as Aegon — he knew that deep down and he was going to make sure that you knew it too.

Jealousy that Aegon had you first riled him up.

Aemond stared at you, dress ripped and hair a beautiful mess, silky strands laying over your shoulders. Your dress ripped in places, shreds of it missing. He swallowed, hands unbuckling his belt and tossing his heavy sword aside, followed by the removal of his gloves and clothes. You stared at your brother in pure awe as he finally stood before you in all his glory.

Aemond was taller, leaner, sharper.

His muscles taut and standing out from the rest of him.

He crawled towards you, like a dangerous animal and in this moment Aemond almost resembled Vhagar. How he stalked closer to you, instilling fear within you as your brother reached for your ankle and clasped his fingers around it, tugging on it and pulling you closer to him.

“Open your legs.” It was a command, that was proven. “Be a good little girl and show me your sweet cunt."

You obliged, thighs parting open and the cold air brushing against your soaked cunt caused heat and chills to take over. Aemond let out a groan at the sight. How sweetly you parted your legs and how your pink pussy peeked back at him — glistening from your creamy arousal. It enticed him like nothing else, sending hot blood rushing down into the veins of his cock.

“Do you grow this wet each time I speak a word in High Valyrian?” He asked with a soft scoff, embarrassing you furthermore. Your hands had fisted at your chest as you slowly dragged your head up and down. Aemond had the most beautiful High Valyrian you'd ever heard and it would be a lie to say it did not work to entice you.

It was alluring.

Aemond didn't waste time getting on top of of you, holding his cock as he aligned it along your hole.

His ache to be inside you was something he tried to suppress since the past few days but he failed. Every time taking the company of his own hand, using it to bring him relief and imagining it to be his sister's cunt. He was a depraved man, worse than Aegon.

“Aemond,” you whimpered when your brother pushed past your folds, his thick cock head stretching you beyond your limits. It proved that it was thicker than Aegon's, more longer and your back rose up from the mattress.

Aemond rested his weight on one bent elbow by the side of your face while his other grabbed your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “Look at me. Look at me while I fuck you, sweet sister. Fucking look at me.”

Though his words were full of aggression, his voice was soft like the clouds. Everything about him was rough, with sharp edges but his voice. It was gentle and it drove you fucking insane. Growing drunk on it everytime you listened.

Your stomach twisted as Aemond buried himself inside you to the hilt with one single push. It sent your body forward and your eyes rolled into the darkness based at the back of your skull. Tears fell as your wet walls sucked in your brother's cock, wrapped tightly around and Aemond groaned — thighs shuddering. It was his first time and Aemond realized it was worth the wait. It was worth turning down the whores, declining their offers or looking down upon them. It was all fucking worth it and your brother had finally found solace from the war in your delicious cunt.

“Gods,” Aemond almost whined like a child at how good you felt, fitting his cock perfectly like you were made for him. “You were so worth the wait, sister. If it is to fuck you, to put a babe in you, to breed you, I would wait a hundred years more.”

His hands shifted to grab your thighs, pushing them up. Your legs went up in the air and your eyes slammed open, widening at the brazen position your brother had contorted your body in. Aemond pushed more and eventually your thighs met your breasts as he began to pound his cock into you, watching how it slipped in and out of your gummy walls — the sound of flesh meeting flesh sending him over the edge.

Your stomach was taut and with a new, strong thrust you felt your brother's cock prod at the skin of your stomach, a newfound pleasure dominated your body. Aemond had not only found your sweet spot but also tore through all barriers, reaching your womb.

“Aemond, my brother. Brother— oh please!”

The aforementioned’s pace only picked up upon hearing you address to him as yours. It was enough to make him go fucking insane as he pummeled his cock deeper inside you, watching the bulge form on your stomach with a frustrated expression. All the pent up tension from war, training endlessly for hours and anger towards his enemies was slowly pouring out.

Aemond knew that he would break you. He wholly possessed the power for it.

“Gevie riña, ñuha gevie riñītsos.” Aemond moaned, his silky hair caressing your face, softly. “Kesan dīnagon iā rūs isse ao.” Your pussy’s endeavor to suck your brother in did not go unnoticed by him. You were truly a sight as your cunt throbbed around Aemond’s cock when he'd spoken High Valyrian. It left you in a complete daze, your own desires pooling in your stomach.(Beautiful girl, my beautiful little girl. I won't stop until you're with child)

A hoarse chuckle escaped Aemond. “It arouses you, my sweet sister? Listening to your brother speak High Valyrian? I can feel your little cunt trying to swallow me whole.”

Heat rushed beneath your cheeks as you nodded your head, fingernails dragging down against his biceps, evoking streams of blood.

Both of you were so occupied with one another, no one noticed Aegon entering your chambers or walking towards the two of you, or when he took a seat on a chair facing the bed. You cried out, tears continuously sliding down as Aemond’s rapid thrusts made him pant like an animal in heat.

“Careful now, you'll break the poor girl.” Aegon interrupted his brother's debauchery.

Aemond’s hips came to a halt, but his cock was still sunken inside you. He glared at his brother, the sapphire dancing in his empty eye socket. A sight he'd entrusted few people with.

“Continue.” was all Aegon said, slumping back into his seat.

He watched with a lustful gaze as his younger brother continued to drill his cock into your cunt, squelching sounds filling the air in the room. You were a sobbing mess and Aegon acknowledged that his brother was the beast amongst them both. With how relentless Aemond seemed, growing impatient second by second.

He soon switched positions, flipping you on your stomach like a rag doll and pulling you up by your frail arms against his broad, well-built chest. His cock was still inside you and as Aemond held you over it, he brought his lips to your ear.

“Hop now, sweet sister. Give our older brother a show.” All you could do was sniffle, tears blurring your vision as you started to lift your ass up. You somehow made a rhythm, bouncing up and down on Aemond’s cock while he put his weight on his palms forced into the mattress.

Your back glistened with sweat and oils — pale skin a replica of the moon. Even compared to the moon, you were somehow the most prettiest. Your hair got in your face, hovering as you grinded on your brother's cock.

Heat emanated from your petite figure whilst your parted drool covered lips let out the most delicious little sounds.

Aemond glanced at Aegon and found him already with his cock in his hand. Erect with precum leaking from his tip. He stroked himself while watching you ride his brother like your life depended on it. The dedication your face was riddled with made him breathless.

“She's so obedient.” Aemond grunted as you pushed down on his cock. “It almost makes me want to devour her whole.”

Aegon nodded in agreement, eyebrows closed in together as the movement of his hand fastened.

Aemond reached for your arms, pulling you against his chest and taking the lead. He thrusted up, his hips finding a rhythm to work with as his grip tightened on your skin. You whined, head thrown over his shoulder as Aemond felt his peak dance around him.

“Invite Aegon in.” He whispered against your ear. “Be a good sister and help him.”

You turned to Aegon, your cunt tightening around Aemond at the sight of your brother this disheveled and out of breath.

“A-Aegon, please come here.”You whimpered, patting the bed and Aegon rose up from the chair, shifting on the bed and sitting in front of you. You reached for his cock, wrapping your hand around it. Slick covered your hand as you moved it up and down, your thumb caressing the slit of his head.

The three of you moaned in unison, whines along with groans and grunts filling up the room. The scenario almost reminded Aegon of the brothel he'd often visit and he sighed, throwing his head back as he let you bring him the best of pleasures. Your little wrist moved swiftly, to drag an orgasm out of your brother – his cock throbbing and warm against your skin.

Aemond held you tightly, using your cunt to satisfy himself. You felt so fucking small in his hold and the thought of putting a child in you drove him insane.

“I'm going to taint your pretty walls all white, sweet sister.” Aemond whispered from behind in your ear, his deep voice birthing chills on your spine while Aegon let out desperate whines, close to bursting in your small hand.

He soon came — white fluid staining your pale hand, almost the same color. You sobbed as Aemond’s thrusts increased, growing more relentless. Your brother tossed you on the bed after you'd pleasured Aegon and buried his cock deep inside you, your knees helping you support your ass perched in the air.

Your back arched, face buried in the sheets, Aemond took you from behind. His cock prodding over and over again at your sensitive spot.

“Greedy cunt.” Aemond grunted, large hands cupping the entirety of your waist as he felt his peak near. “You like this, hm? You enjoy getting destroyed by your brothers. Gods, sister. You're such a fucking cocksleeve.”

Holding onto to the tethered pieces of his sanity and humanity, your brother drilled his cock into you. Loud pants concealed by the sounds of skin against skin, Aemond growled as his balls throbbed to fill you with his seed and he did – shooting ropes of his spent inside you. Holding you against him as he filled you up.

“Aemond! Please, please. Too much, can't take it—Brother please!” Your muffled wails echoed, sobbing into the pillows and all Aemond did was fuck into you harder, more rougher. It was too much for your little body but Aemond was too far gone.

With a loud muffled cry, you tightened around your brother and came all over his cock. Your gummy walls so tight, so wet, enough to tear an orgasm through your brother too. Aemond pumped you full of his load, his thrusts slowing down as he moved his hips sensually now, in slow strokes, fucking his spent deep into you.

Surely this would get you with his child.

“Fuck.” Aemond shivered as you milked him dry, sucking him in more and more until you'd drained him fucking dry of any more seed. “You're so desperate to have my child inside you.”

He was right.

The idea of being swollen with your brother's babe was innocent but it enticed you to no ends.

For a moment your body was allowed to rest as Aemond let it go, watching how it fell against the mattress but then you felt it being lifted up again. Your eyes that had fluttered shut now snapped open again as Aegon pulled apart your buttocks, revealing your gaping hole with his own brother's residual leaking out.

Aegon didn't waste a moment sliding his own hardened cock inside the same hole his brother was in not long ago. Your energy was spent and you let it happen, your older brother holding your lower body as he used you to bring himself to a release.

All you could do was sob and let out tiny whines of disapproval.

“Sh, sh.” You felt a hand on your head and turned your head to find a naked Aemond sitting by your side. “Its okay. He deserves this, yeah? Let him fuck my seed further into your womb.”

You could only nod but your strained face let your brother know how tired you were. He glanced up at Aemond and found him already on the brink of his peak — his nails digging into the flesh of your arse as he continued digging his cock deeper into you. Aegon loved how because of his brother's seed slicking your walls, his own cock slid easily in an out of you. The wet sounds arousing him to no extent.

Soon he also filled you up, spending fully inside you and colliding next to you. Aegon immediately began to leech off your warmth, burying his face in your neck as he let out a murmur.

You whimpered, feeling heavy with the seed of both your brothers. Your cunt had grown heavy as you felt the warm liquid seep out of your hole, making a mess on your thighs and sliding down your clit. Your head nuzzled into Aemond’s side for comfort as both brothers laid next to you, cuddling you like their life depended on it.

Days had passed.

You paced back and forth in your room, fingers fiddling with one another. Your heart thumping rapidly in your chest, impatiently awaiting the arrival of your brother – husbands in your shared chambers.

Right after spending the night together, on the morrow both your brothers married you and dared all the members of the small council, lords, high born or low borns to come and challenge them. Prevent your union but no one dared to.

Turns out, one could do anything when you're in possession of three dragons, Seven Kingdoms and the crown.

The doors of the chambers opened and you smiled upon seeing them. One with crown, other with sword. Your feet took off as you embraced both your brothers in a tight grip and inhaled their scents.

“Hello to you too, wife.” Aegon chuckled, bringing his arm to wrap it around you, Aemond pursuing his actions.

You broke apart and pulled the two to the bed, sitting them down and the two exchanged a silent look between them, rather puzzled by your ecstatic behavior. You let out a sigh, bracing yourself.

“I have something to share.”

Aemond raised a brow. “Go on, wife.”

The term of endearment always filled you with butterflies each time you were addressed with it. Gods, your cheeks were swollen from smiling to an extent they hurt from it.

You beamed. “I'm with child.”

Both brothers looked at one another. Aemond was stunned but Aegon stood up, surprise in his gaze. “You–You're with child? I'll be a father, I'll be a fucking father!”

You nodded and then looked at Aemond but all he did was press an open palm over your flat stomach before also rising to his feet and leaning forward. “You've made us the happiest in all of Weteros.” Aemond pressed a kiss to your forehead and then embraced you in a hug, Aegon joining in. Both of them were beyond happy and could not believe that they were going to be fathers.

It mattered not that who the actual father to the child in your womb was — as long as it was fathered by one of them. They would love the babe no matter the gender, no matter who's blood coursed through its veins which made your heart flutter as you knew it.

Despite having such a controversial relationship, the three of you were pleased, content and happy.

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sunderwight · 4 months ago

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SV scenario where Shen Jiu is also Shen Yuan's Meimei.

Trans egg SJ never got to examine her gender identity very much in her first life. What with all the enslavement, abuse (given as well as received), misunderstandings, betrayals, dismemberment, and death, there was far too much for her to ever come to terms with a set of concepts she'd never really had the luxury to entertain. By the time Shen Jiu was a peak lord, the Shen Qingqiu persona was locked in, and any dreams of a different life or inclinations to the contrary of her role were ruthlessly quashed by SJ herself.

But when SJ finally dies and her soul is free to reincarnate (taking a few more memories than usual along for the ride), she has mixed feelings about being born as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family.

The mixed feelings don't actually last long, though after a while she starts to wonder why the fates would grant her a reprieve? Maybe remembering her past life is her punishment, because it's certainly the worst part of her new situation. Her parents are indulgent, her older brothers all dote on her and spoil her, and when she tests limits she's only gently rebuked if she gets rebuked at all. Not only is she allowed to wear fine dresses and look pretty, she's expected to (actually the expectation does chafe, a bit). But even when she uses foul language, skips classes, reads controversial books, and commits myriad other tiny rebellions, no real retribution ever comes of it.

Even despite everything, after some years Shen Jiu starts to become... not complacent, but perhaps calmer would be a better description. She has a stable future handed to her on a silver platter. Very few things remind her of her past, either. She can read books about snotty highborn lords getting railed by werewolves as readily as classics of literature or academic papers on science, business, culture, politics, or whatever else takes her fancy. Her family doesn't even put demands on her to marry, despite some of her mother's hints in that direction. For the first time, Shen Jiu has a life where it seems like she can't fail, she can only succeed however much she wants to. It's like having nowhere to go but up, except without the part about hitting rock bottom.

A foolish set of assumptions, in the end. There's always something to lose.

When Shen Yuan suddenly dies, Shen Jiu recognizes the sinister hand of the same entity which oversaw her own reincarnation. One which had visited her dreams quite recently, trying to tempt her back to her first life with offers of being able to change the past. It wasn't even difficult to deny it. Shen Jiu doesn't believe she could change what happened, and she doesn't really want to try. Her one regret is what happened to that person, the one who died so horribly while rushing to her rescue, and even that, she doesn't know how she would change (because she still doesn't know why he bothered in the first place).

But how dare the System God take the silliest and softest of her brothers to try and fix her accursed first life?! Luo Binghe will eat him alive! Cang Qiong will mistake him for a demon or a madman or worse, and throw him into some cell somewhere, if they don't just kill him outright!

Shen Meimei tries to negotiate with the System, but it tells her the window of opportunity for her to go back instead has passed. Smarmy piece of shit. There's nothing she can do without supernatural help, however, except bide her time and wait for another "window of opportunity". It's in the midst of this that she discovers PIDW, and its (terrible) account not only of the broad strokes of her first life and death, but of what came afterwards. That little beast really wrecked the world, huh? And all those women, too. She's never been more grateful to have not figured herself out in her first life. But at least with access to this information, she can try and prepare more. (She's suspicious of who actually wrote this account as well -- is Luo Binghe himself in this world? Better to leave it now, in that case, before he inevitably makes another bid for power and destroys everything in his wake all over again!)

When the System finally gives her an opportunity to go back (as herself, or rather "Bonus Epilogue Side Character -- Shen Qingqiu's Mysterious Little Sister!") she is braced for any number of outcomes. Shen Yuan could be dead. He could be imprisoned. He could have had his limbs all cut off. He could be stuffed into a pickle jar. He could be hiding or on the run somewhere. Hopefully, he'll be hiding behind that person, confused and distraught but still intact thanks to the sect leader's guilt-driven sense of obligation. Most likely if the same number of years have passed since Shen Yuan "left", he's already been destroyed by Luo Binghe and all Shen Jiu will be able to do is avenge him. But she has some ideas of how to kill the beast, so, she will.

Of course, what she finds is nothing she expected, and almost even worse.

Luo Binghe married her brother?!

Death is too good for him! Shen Jiu's going to skin him alive!!!

#svsss #scum villain #scum villain's self saving system #bingiqu #qijiu bonus: former single-target sexuality self-presumed gay man yue qingyuan experiences attraction to a woman and is ??? about it

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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time.

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant.

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago.

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile.

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

But why was he remembering all of that now?

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision.

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines.

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door.

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles.

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once.

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on.

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings.

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you.

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter.

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time.

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him.

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either.

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid.

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.”

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside.

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass.

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away.

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment.

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high.

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him.

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime.

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game.

3-2. UTokyo’s win.

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink.

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again.

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @purplehallow11 @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @erencvlt @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @hojoslutoru @drthymby @ninitoru @btszn @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @fvsm4x @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @cierocanteat (thank you to everyone <3)

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sparklingblu · 2 months ago

Text

Eroverse

Pt.5 - Eclipse

Chaewon x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

The nightmares won't stop.

Ever since your return from the underworld, you always find yourself back in the gloomy land of the death in your sleep. The unnerving faces of the skeletal warriors haunt your dreams and sometimes even the three headed beast. The drawbacks of being chosen by the Mark of Asmodeus are just as powerful as its upsides.

These horrible dreams are just one of your numerous problems and it's not even the worst one. There's the fact that you have become the underworld's most wanted and you don't want to think about what will happen if Hades found out you have banged his wife and stolen his helmet. In a way, she's the one who started it all but you doubt you can reason with an angry god. You might have just booked a guaranteed spot in the fields of punishment. Or even somewhere worse. Dying is the last thing on your mind right now and that's speaking from experience.

Having the mark seems like a blessing at first but you are starting to feel the consequences of bearing such power. Sure, it helps you screw angels and godesses but on the other hand, those are all the glamours to hide one single truth. You are just a servant of Eros. Maybe not like the cherubims but you have to carry out his so called quests and that blonde brat doesn't even explain the reasons behind all this. A god stealing another's god possesion doesn't really seem like a good prank. Or maybe Eros thinks it is.

After going through the quest and bearly coming back alive, you seriously start to reconsider the choice you have made. Eros have given you the life any mortal would wish for - one where you no longer need to worry about surviving everday and making ends meets. You don't even need to jerk yourself off anymore if you get horny. You can just call Lisa to do your bidding. Now, they don't really seem like a fair compensation for the job you have to do. You might sound like an ungrateful bastard but after dying, resurrecting and losing sleep for a week straight, anyone would start to get agitated. The feathery bed isn't much help and neither are Lisa's blowjobs. You even start to get tired of waking up to your dick shoved in the angel's throat and that's a lot coming from a pervert like you.

As you wake up in cold sweat from the usual torment of your dreams one afternoon, you decide you have suffered enough and set out to find a way; anyway to fix your problem. You would have asked Eros for help if he has not been missing for over a week since you return from the quest. (Fuck you, Eros) None of his angels have any idea where he is. Not even Kazuha. The only contact you have had so far is that message about 'taking the virginity of a goddess'. Frankly, you are not in the mood to use your lightsaber dick again. The helm of darkness you have stolen is nowhere to be found either. Your best guess is that Eros took it with him.

As if to mock your suffering, a storm have been raging outside forever. The building might shift from one place to another but the weather doesn't seem to be getting better anytime soon. The rhythm of raindrops splattering the glass along with the roar of thunder make an ugly backdrop as you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up.

Looking at the mirror, you find yourself looking like a ghoul - sunken eyes and ghostly pale. The insomnia have taken quite a toll and you wouldn't be surprised if your heart just stop beating at some point. Even the mark can't save you from that.

You let the cold tap water wash away the drowsiness though you know it will eventually return at some point. Still, it's better than nothing. You desperately need some kind of escape. Something to stop you from being a dead man walking. The jacuzzi might help except the fact that you are too tired to set everything up. The television is just as useless, playing rom-coms or lovesick songs in every channel. (Fuck you, Eros)

There's your phone too, which might have just become the most useless gadget after Eros have restored it. Apart from the lovey dovey wallpapers that change without your consent, the connection is awful here. A literal god owns this place and he can't even afford a decent wifi. Totally ironic. Maybe Eros can live off watching Titanic everyday but he can't seriously expect others to have the same horrible taste as him. (Fuck you, Eros)

With the lack of entertainment, you are left with the only choice to wander around the building. So far, you have discovered a corridor in the hall that leads to a sauna and another to an art gallery full of paintings by different renowned artists. There's even the Mona Lisa which looks too real for a replica. You wonder how Eros manages to get his hands on that one. However, all the doors that line the wall apart from your room's are locked tight and they are all diffetent designs and colours. There's even a vault door. The strangest thing, however, is the fact that even though the building easily looks more than ten storey tall, you can't find a way to go to the other floors. There are no stairs nor elevator. When you asked Kazuha about it, she simply shrugs.

Speaking of Kazuha, you have found a couple other angels apart from her and Lisa. Obviosuly they are all in the forms of idols from different gens. You even saw a few first gen ones. Most of them tend to stay away from you like some sort of infectious disease and you are ok with that. You have had your fair share of experience with their kind who wants you dead and you are not ready to relive the experience. So far, Kazuha is the only one you can communicate with and for Lisa, she uses her mouth in other tasks.

After freshening up, you put on one of those designer shirts and khakis in your wardrobe and exit the room. There's no need to lock the door because there isn't even a doorknob. It swing opens when you get near. Just another thing that doesn't make any sense around here. The marble statue of Eros in the hall with that smug grin on his face gets you even more riled up. You already have enough reason to hate the god and adding another to the list doesn't exactly help.

You turn the narrow corridor into the main room, where you have first landed on your arrival. The room is eerily quiet — the silence only penetrated by the ocassional crackling of thunder. All the lights have been turned off —the flashes of lightning momentarily illuminating the room, derived of its usual cheerful atomosphere now replaced by a dreaful one. The whole thing reminds you of the gloom of the underworld and the thought makes your stomach churns.

Near the glass wall, you spot a dark figure with its back turned, peering over the landscape of ancient Pompeii with the volcano that brought the city's demise looming in the distance. Turns out the building can teleport to lost civilizations too. Arcs of electricity flare through the dark sky and the brief glow reveals the figure as Kazuha.

In her white sport tops that display her figure perfectly and the raven hair flowing over her back, she really does look like an angel. In normal circumstances, you would have gotten hard seeing her tight ass in those jeans but currently, your hazy mind won't allow you the pleasure.

"You are awake" Kazuha says without turning her back, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard.

"I doubt you can call me that" you reply, pouring yourself a glass of water from the jar on the kitchen counter. Hopefully, it isn't sweet like the rest of Eros's snacks here.

"Still having nightmares?" Kazuhas asks, though her tone lacks the sympathy.

"They won't stop since my return from the underworld" you admit. "I just wanna die"

"Trust me, there are worst things waiting for you after death. You won't really be the most welcomed soul in the underworld"

"I guess so" You take a sip from the glass. Thankfully, the water tastes normal.

"What you have done have serious consequences" Kazuha turns around, arms folded. In the dim light, her expression is unreadable. "You have stolen the power symbol of a god. That's like putting pineapples in a pizza. You have insulted him"

Kazuha's serious tone makes you hold back the protest about your opinion on pineapple pizza. You don't want to get smitten. "Hey, it's not my fault.That was all Eros's idea"

"It might be his idea but you are still the one who did the deed. You will be pointed out as the culprit regardless if you intend it or not"

"Wonderful" you sneer. "I'm starting to hate this 'apostle' job even more. It should have been called 'errand boy' "

"Think positive. Not many people gets to fuck the queen of the underworld"

If Kazuha is trying to comfort you, it's not helping. "Sure because it turns out great. I shouldn't have taken this job in the first place. Congrats! You have the mark of Asmodeus! Now you can go around banging gods and stealing things for me!"

Kazuha doesn't flinch at your sarcastic remark. If it's possible, the darkness of the room looks thicker around her. "It's too late to back out now. And it's still your first real quest. Eros still have many plans for you"

You snicker. "Let me guess. More quests that involves burgling? Won't be surprised if I have to steal the holy grail next. Anyway, where's Eros?"

"No idea" Kazuha replies, furrowing her brows. "He said he's out to plan the next part of your quest but I haven't got any contact from him"

"Would be great if he never comes back"

"Watch your words" Kazuha scowls and thunder roars, lighting up the sky. "The gods are angry. They are searching for you in every corner of the earth. You would be dead already if you are in any other place"

"Should I be honoured?" Yet another saracstic remark. At this point, you don't even care anymore.

"Are you kidding me? We are in serious trouble right now. Gosh, that idiot Eros. If he gets caught somehow......" Kazuha drifts off and the fear in her voice gives birth to a strange sense of distress within you. If an angle is panicking, you are in even more trouble then you initially thought and even that's a shit ton of trouble already.

"Hold on. Are you actually worried about Eros right now? That dick?" It's no way to address your boss but it's not like he's around. On one hand, perhaps he is. Afterall, he's a god. He might have super hearing or something. You push the thought aside. No use cramming your brain with one more dreadful thought.

"You don't get it" Kazuha exhales, her stoic face softening just a notch lower. "Sure, he's not exactly the boss of the year but it's not like I have a choice. Being an angel is not all rainbows and sunshines like you mortals think. Especially not when you have to serve a god who's always finding new ways to brew up trouble. If the gods find out Eros is behind all this.... ." Kazuha pauses, conisdering her choice of words. "Let's just say it will have dire consequences on me too"

"What do you want me to do then?" You ask, being rational for once.

"Obviously try not to get you killed. Without you Eros's big plan will go up in smoke-" Kazuha quickly stops, realizing she has slipped her tongue but it's too late.

"What plan?" You ask. You are already sick and tired of this mysterious game Eros's playing. If you are gonna be a part of it, at least you need to know your role in it clearly.

"Look, it doesn't matter. What's important is that you stay alive and complete your quests with the help of your mark. Everything will be revealed at the right time"

"So what? Am I just some kind of-" Your complaint is cut short as the whole building shakes as if an earthquake has come out of nowhere. You would have fallen face first if you haven't hold onto the kitchen counter. Kazuha isn't so lucky. The angel is thrown off balance and land with her back onto the hard marble floor. Seeing the wince on her face, it seems like angels are no different from humans when it comes to tolerating pain.

"Fuck" Kazuha curses as she gets up, rubbing her back. "They are here"

Without a doubt, you know 'They' could be nothing but trouble. Anything that brought an earthquake along with their entrance couldn't be anything pleasant. But you ask the question anyway. "They?"

Kazuha must have been thinking the same thing because her expression shifts between uncertainty and panic, finally settling on fear. "The Hunters. They-" The building shakes again and this time, the power cuts off. Every single source of light dies out, leaving you surrounded by darkness in every corner. Strangely, the experience reminds you off the darkness that comes before you pass out when you use the 'Ero' app. You can't decide whether it is a good thing you are not losing your consciousness this time.

"Stay still" You hear Kazuha's voice from somewhere in front of you. It's hard to say where exactly because even the flashes of lightning can't seem to penetrate the murk. Sensing Kazuha's the best chance in whatever is happening, you obey without questioning.

"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back" This time the voice comes from behind, sounding more and more distant as Kazuha leaves the room. You are left alone in the dark room with nothing to do but stare at the skyline of Pompei beyond the glass wall. Your terror is nothing compared to what those citizen might have felt when they saw lava raining down on their city. Still, you are barely containing the urge to run after Kazuha.

A minute passes, then two, then a couple more. The silence is deafening, only interrupted by the splatter of raindrops and the ocassional claps of thunder. As you start wondering what's taking Kazuha so long, the building trembles once again and you, deep in thought, isn't able to react fast enough this time and go sprawling across the floor. Luckily, you land on your knees and the fall isn't too painful though it leaves your legs feeling like jelly.

Somewhere far away, you hear something explode followed by the clashing sound of metal against metal. As you lift yourself off the floor, battle cries flood into the room as if a battle is taking place right at this moment. The corridor is light up by a momentary burst of white light and what you see in that split second confirm your thoughts.

Kazuha has her gladius pressed against the blade of a female dressed in black, the flickers of light dancing around them whenever their weapons clash. It's hard to say who's winning because all your eyes can catch are bits and pieces of the duel. But it doesn't seem to be the only one because farther behind, you can catch glimpes of numerous colourful gleams that vanish as quick as they disappear. If you are doubting before, you know now. The place is under attack.

And what do the chosen one with the mark of Asmodeus do? Stand and watch, of course. It's not like you can just activate the mark anytime. And even if it does activate, you doubt you can fuck your way out of this. At this instant, you really wish the mark provides you with some sort of power apart from being a universal impregnator.

The gleams from the clashes scattered around the building becomes more frequent. From time to time, you would see white humanoid shapes of light combusts with a sound like a thousand firrworks exploding at once. Light means angels and if they are blowing up, it's deifinitely not good news.

Kazuha's still locked in clash with the warrior dressed in black. Their duel is moving dangerously close to where you are standing and you back off until you are pressed against the glass wall. Kazuha's opponent doesn't give her any time to think, bringing down strikes after strikes which Kazuha's barely managing to block with her own weapon. With the glow that Kazuha's gladius continuously cast, you finally manage to make out the features of the warrior. She looks no older than 25 with bob hair that sways with each of her fluid movements. After seeing the cheetah like facial features with another glow, you have no doubt. It's Chaewon, the leader of Le Sserafim, trying to kill her own member. You know both of them are obviously not the real idols but still, it's pretty fucked up.

You have no time to make the whole thing make sense because Kazuha's getting closer and closer to the glass wall with every second. Chaewon doesn't waver, each strike of her sword precise and deadly. On the other hand, Kazuha's momvements are growing sluggish. Any moment now, she's gonna be impaled by Chaewon's sword.

Sensing the impending doom, you do the stupidest thing possible. "Hey" you call and Chaewon, oblivious of your presence in the dark, turns her head just for a split second. Kazuha seizes the opportunity, kneeling Chaewon in the stomach, the force throwing her off-balance and down to the floor. Kazuha raises her gladius for the finishing strike until-

"Enough!" A woman's voice booms and the whole building flood with light. Not from the overhead lighting though. It is as if the place has been enveloped in a silvery cocoon of light; warm and pale.

Before you can process what's happening, a sharp cold edge press onto your throat. Chaewon gives you a wistful smile, moving her blade father up your chin. Your eyes dart to her feet, where Kazuha lays sprawled out. As she begins to get up, Chaewon points the gladius in her other hand at Kazuha. In this millisecond, she has managed to tackle Kazuha and seizes her weapon. How she did it, you have no idea. "Follow me" she orders. "Both of you"

Left with no choice, you oblige, walking along the narrow corridor into the circular hall with Kazuha as Chaewon follows closely behind. You wonder why Kazuha can't just snap her fingers and teleport both of you out of here. Afterall, she's a fucking angel. But seeing her worn out face and her slumped shoulder, you doubt she can even summons a spark.

The whole hall smells like someone have forgortten to turn off the stove. Multiple bodies of unconscious idols aka angels, scatter the floor. Inky scorch marks imrpinted on the floor where they lay. You cough, trying to eject the smoky smell that enters your lungs. The statue of Eros in the center has been sliced in half so it now looks more like a mixture of amputated legs and a wing. This might just be the only benefit this whole destruction brings. To you, at least.

The strangest sight, however, are the warriors. There's at least 10 of them, postioned around the disfigured statue of Eros, swords strapped to their backs. All of them wear the same outfit as Chaewon; black crop tops and jeans. Then you realize it's not just their clothes that match. Everything about them does. In other words, all of them are Chaewon. Each one a perfect replica of the other.

There's one that stands out though. She's also Chaewon but in a different outfit; an emerald green mesh top and a leather skirt. A chain necklace dangles over the opening at the upper part of her top. She doesn't have any weapon but that doesn't make her any less intimidating. You can feel the pure energy radiating off her, making your skin tingle. Instantly, you realizes she's the one who has stopped the battle with the slivery glow. Beside her kneels none other than your boss, Eros, his toga ragged and dirty. His once beautiful face is now full of cuts and his blonde hair a tangled mess. A golden chain bind his hands to his back. Nevertheless, the god gives you a smug grin as soon as he spots you like this is a very normal occurence.

"My Lady" The Chaewon holding you hostage walks forward and kneel before the different Chaewon. "I have brought him"

The green top Chaewon moves forward, her eyes fixed on your exhausted form. "So, you are the infamous one" she muses. Much to your surprise her voice comes out deep and cold, different from the warrior Chaewon. "You give us quite a lot of troubles upstairs, you know. Not gonna lie, I was kinda impressed. Coming back from the death is one thing but raping a goddess and stealing a possession of a god? That's pretty badass"

You don't know if she's praising you or being saracsstic. It's hard to tell with that stoic expression on her face.

"Hey, don't give him all the credits! I did most of the work" Eros calls from behind. This guy is still cracking jokes in a life or death situation. You wish you have that kind of courage.

Chaewon gives him a glance and the corner of her lips nearly curves into a smile but she quickly sheathes it. "Sure, you do. If you haven't sneaked up to my dimension with that little helmet of yours, it would have taken me longer to find Michael here. Thank you"

"You are welcome" Eros replies, his face showing no sign of fear or anger. "Maybe you can get me out of these chains, if you are actually thankful"

Chaewon ignores him and continues. "It would be such a shame to get rid of someone so powerful. But the mark brings nothing but trouble. This time is no different from the last"

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused.

"You are not the first one to possess the mark. The one before you..." she trails off. "Nevermind. It's not like you need to know. You are going to die anyway"

Your tongue loses the ability to speak. Normally, you would have begged or try to strike a deal. But this time it's different. Chaewon isn't like all those otherworldly beings you have met before. She shows no signs of hostility yet you know she will stay true to her words. A moment of silence passes before you gather your thoughts again and ask.

"Who are you?" The first question that comes to your mind. You are not even sure if you have the permission to ask someone as powerful as her. Nevertheless, curiousity killed the cat.

"Artemis" Kazuha interrupts before Chaewon can answer your question. "Goddess of the hunt"

"And the moon" Chaewon adds. "Very good, dear. You did your homework"

Not the first goddess you have met but you feel like this is the first one who lives up to her status. The last one you have met is pretty powerless apart from being able to summon some plants. Artemis is a stark contrast compared to Persephone.

"And them?" You ask, gesturing at all the other Chaewons in the hall.

"They are my hunters" Kazuha explained . "My soldiers and my sisters"

If she means sisters literally, you absolutely believe it because they look no different from each other.

"You speak too highly of your group of virgins" Eros voice appears once again. Chaewon shoots him a sharp glare and you realize Eros have struck a nerve there.

"Don't you dare speak ill of our pure maidenhood" The fury in Chaewon's voice makes you take a step back. If she starts doing whatever a goddess do when she gets mad, you don't want to be in the line of fire.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in living for milleniums and not getting laid even once? I get you hate men and all but you don't need to go this far" Eros pushes on and Chaewon's brows creases into an icy stare.

"We are hundred percent better than you filthy men" Chaewon snaps. "All of you are no different from pests compared to us. Fragile and weak. You, a minor god, have no right to question my choice"

What Chaewon's saying is starting to sound more and more like a feminism lecture. And if she's a goddess, that means she might be the oldest feminist in existence. An alpha feminist? The idea wrecks your brain cells.

"Oh, really? Hmmm...let's see. The first person to walk on the moon is a man. So is the one who invented electricity. Not to mention every single president of the United States are men. What else?"

For the first time, Eros words doesn't have any of his usual mischief. Hearing how he retaliates Chaewon (or Artemis, whatever) insults factually, you feel a tinge of admiration for the guy. Maybe even a bit of respect.

Chaewon's face turns a deadly hue of red, clearly not expecting a sensible retort from Eros. "I should have finished you long ago. You talk too much for your own good" Chaewon extends her arm and out of thin air, a faint silvery glow starts to manifest, soon taking the form of a recurve bow; curved out of what you guess is a mixture of bronze and gold. She holds the grip tight and pulls the string, summoning a glowing arrow of light along the path.

Chaewon has resort to violence, not being able to make a comeback from Eros's argument. She aims the luminous tip of the arrow right at Ero's chest, ready to strike down at any moment. Anyone would be terrified out of their wits if they were at arrowpoint but apparently, it's not the case for Eros, who's still smiling like a madman.

"Aren't gods like...immortal or something?" You whisper to Kazuha.

"They are" Kazuha replies. "That is....until someone take them down with the sufficient force"

"Must suck"

You are beginning to see the true nature of those otherworldly beings more clearly. Angels and gods; the figures of power are just as fragile as any mortal.

"Seriously, Artemis? You bring a weapon to a debate? Come on" Eros whines and Chaewon pulls the bowstring so taut it threatens to snap in half.

"Spare me your nonesense, Eros. Your job here is done. You are no longer needed" With those final words, Chaewon prepares to strike Eros down until-

"Woah woah woah. Hold on" Eros falters, his tone no longer mocking though it still has a mischevious edge. "How about we make a bet?"

Chaewon scoffs. "You can stall all you want Eros. I have all the time in the world"

"Look, we both have our opinions and views. Let's see who can prove their point"

If Eros is blabbering more gibberish to delay the inevitable, it works because Chaewon lowers ber bow. "Go on"

"Let Michael participate in your tribunal games" Eros says. "And if he can defeat your hunters, you have to let us go"

Chaewon is speechless for a moment then breaks into laughter. Even some of her hunters join in. "Eros, I know you are an idiot but this is beyond madness"

Eros ignores the insult. "Michael is a male so if he can defeat your hunters, that will prove my point. If he's defeated, then I will admit you are right"

You feel like a toddler in the middle of adult talk. As usual, you have absolutely no idea what they are talking about. They might as well be speaking in a foreign tongue.

"Hold up. I have no idea-"

"Think again Eros" Your interruption is reinterrupted by Chaewon. "I can give Michael a painless death here. If he's in the games, well, not so much"

"Scared?"Eros questions, tilting his head.

An expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement flashes across Chaewon's face. "Your little friend Michael is the one who should be scared. You are sending him to a place of no return"

With each word of the conversation, your panic level rises. Whatever place they are talking about, you are certain it's not an amusement park.

"Why don't we just get to the point? Yes or No?"

"Alright, if you are that eager let's do it" Chaewon instantly shoots back.

"I hope you keep your words, Artemis"

"Speak for yourself"

"Oh, I'm a man of my words" Eros says it like something so obvious.

Chaewon raises her arm. "Alright, I will-"

"Wait!" Eros calls. "There's one condition"

"What is it again?" Chaewon glares, the frustration evident in her tone.

"Michael will be up against ten of your hunters and you, a goddess. Don't you think it's a bit unfair?"

"It has always been the way" Chaewon answers. "And it will always be"

"But Michael isn't like the rest of your tributes right? He's not a rapist nor a cheater" Eros complains.

"Yeah, like he didn't rape a fucking goddess"

You hear Chaewon swears for the first time and for a moment, you almost want to chuckle. The sound of a curse on the ever well mannered goddess's tongue comes out so odd.

"Yeah but it's not completely his fault" Eros inists. "And don't you have beef with Persephone or something?"

Chaewon thinks for a moment. "It's not like I like that snobby underground goddess anyway. Fine, Michael can choose a partner. If there's a partner for him to choose that is, and obviously not you, Eros"

You are surprised at how quickly Chaewon changes her mind. It's like Eros knows just the right keys to turn to bend people's well. Maybe it's a part of being a love god.

"Fine by me" Eros replies. "Since you murdered all my angels except one, Kazuha, you accompany Michael in the games"

Is that fear you see in Kazuha's eyes? You can't be sure but there's no denying what's up ahead can't be anything pleasant.

"What's happening?" You ask Kazuha but she just purses her lips as if muffling a scream. Not a good sign at all.

"Don't worry, Michael. Kazuha will explain it to you once you are in the games. For now, goodbye. Don't die"

With that last message, Eros turns his eyes down to the floor.

"Alright" Chaewon turns towards you. "Let's begin"

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

After a week, you finally get to be in some place other than the shifting alive penthhouse of Eros.

With a snap of her finger, Chaewon blurs the surroundings and when your eyes come back into focus, you find yourself in a different place.

The first thing, you notice is the silence. So silent that it's deafening. It doesn't sit quite right with the forest that looms all around you. Dark wouldn't be the right word to describe the place despite the fact that not a spot of sunlight penetrates the violet leaves of pine-like trees that rises to the sky. The entangled branches reminds you of old withered hands. It doesn't make the place any less creepy.

A dim glow like the one back in Eros's place envelopes the whole place, casting faint shadows here and there. The air is cool but not pleasantly so. It's the kind of cool that gives you the chills before something disastrous happens. The air smells like a mixture of freshly baked cookies and toast. Compensation for the whole haunted atmosphere of this place, perhaps. You look down and find yourself knees deep in the tall grass that covers every single inch of ground. Thankfully, you didn't choose to wear shorts.

"Over here" Kazuha voice snaps you out of your thoughts. She stands, propped by a tree nearby. Her eyes dart around as if a predator will emerge at any moment and that can possibly be the case. You make your way towards her, which is not really easy with all the grass brushing against your legs.

"Alright. I'm sure this isn't where Artemis send people for vacation. Can I get some explanation now?" You demands. If you are going to be a part of whatever game Eros made you play, you are gonna need answers.

Kazuha looks around like she's checking for anyone eavesdropping. "We don't have much time so listen carefully" she begins. "As you already know, Artemis is a maiden goddess which means she vows never to give up her virginity"

You remember Eros's message about taking the virginity of a goddess. Did he mean Artemis?

"So are her hunters. They vow their absolute loyalty to Artemis and to preserve their maidenhood. In return, they gain eternal youth and immortality"

"Does being turned into Chaewon comes with the package?"

"I don't know. Ask them next time" Kazuha shrugs off your question. "In the old days, when a man commits a crime against a woman; say a rapist or a cheater, Artemis makes them play her tribunal games"

"Is that like the ancient vesion of hunger games?"

You can swear Kazuha almost smiles. "In a way, yes. She takes them into her 'verse' and-"

"Hold on. Verse?" You ask.

"Dimensions created by the gods. Remember the places you get taken by the 'Ero' app? They are the verses of Eros. Or Eroverses, like he calls them. This place, is a verse of Artemis"

"Ok, get it"

Seriously, Eros should take notes from Artemis how to actually create a verse that's not a tiny room or a boxing ring with a deadly angel.

"So, here's how the tribunal games work" Kazuha continues. "Artemis takes her chosen prey into her verse and her and her hunters hunt down the unlucky guy"

"Great, how do we beat it?"

"That's the problem. We don't. The game ends when the guy dies"

"Wonderful" you remark in saracsm. "So we just wait till they kill me?"

"Don't be rudiculous. We need to keep moving. At least until we find out what to do. Afterall, you are the chosen one"

Right. Chosen one, you think. The chosen one with a magic dick that's pretty useless most of the time.

"Aren't you an angel? Can't you just get us out like you did when Yeji tries to kill me?"

"I can't" Kazuha answers. "This verse has its own rules set by Artemis. Apparently, they don't favour angels. And even if I can get you out of here, I won't. Because then Artemis will kill us all"

"Well...let's take a walk" You stride ahead into the forest, trying to enjoy nature for perhaps, the last time ever.

"Wait up" Kazuha calls, running after you. You stop to turn around.

"This whole place is full of traps. One wrong step and you are doomed. After me" Kazuha walks past, each of her steps slow and calculated. You follow her pattern as you wander deeper into this deadly playground of Artemis.

After a few minutes, you notice the place isn't completely silent like you thought before. The faintest rustle of grass would emerge evert few seconds. Earlier, you haven't noticed it but now with the air eerie with the threat of making one wrong move, it's as clear as ever.

"What's that sound?" you whisper to Kazuha.

"Shhh" She brings her index to her lips, gesturing you to shut up. "Just keep moving"

A few more minutes go on. There still isn't a change in scenery. The place stays cold and haunted with the gloom the pines cast. The silvery light a reminder of Artemis's absolute power.

Despite the cool of the place, you start sweating. Maybe it's the fear. The fear of not knowing what to fear. You still haven't run into anything dangerous or lethal till now and you feel like your luck is going to run out anytime.

After a few more minutes, your whole body is drenched with sweat. Your feet feels like they are on fire. "Can we stop for a while? It's getting.....tedious" you pant. Kazuha gives you a look that means seriously?

"Fine, we can rest. But just a few minutes" Kazuha plops down at the base of a tree, her eyes still scanning the surroundings. Even now, she's still as alert as ever.

You follow suit, taking your place beside her. You blow out a puff of hot air. "Why aren't they grouping up on us yet?" you ask.

"The hunters? Oh, Artemis likes to take her time. Waits for her victims to feel safe enough. She strikes when they least expect it. That's why I'm keeping my eyes and ears open" Kazuha answers and you can't help but notice the fatigue in her voice. She's tired too. She just hides it better.

"So does Artemis hate men in general or is there a specific reason?"

"No idea" Kazuha's eyes land on you. You know it's not the time but you can't help but admire her gorgeous facial features. And her exposed tummy.... "All I know is she rejoices in proving herself better than your kind in quite.....brutal ways"

"Forget I ask" Then you suddenly remember what Artemis have said. "Artemis said I'm not the first one to possess the mark. Is it true?"

A solemn expression loom over Kazuha's face. Her fingers toy with the grass covering the ground. "It's better if you don't know. Trust me"

Just then a cold breeze brush your face. The feeling is pleasant, almost soothing enough to make you forget about the danger you are in. Not a second apart, a sound similar to a boiling kettle emerges.

"Duck!" Kazuha yells.

A silvery arrow cuts through the air with alarming speed and if you were just a nano second late, it wouldn't be the tree's trunk the lethal tip impales in.

"Kazuha, you are an angel" you praises.

"Run!" Before you know it, Kazuha is sprinting ahead and you have to use every ounce of strength left to match her speed. It doesn't help that more arrows are heading your way and it's getting harder and harder to avoid them.

Your speed wavers and another flock of arrows rain down on top of you. You embraces yourself for the pain but with a shimmer, all of them go up in flames. No doubt the work of Kazuha.

"Kazuha, you are an..."

"Shut the fuck up" Kazuha catches an arrow in mid air and snaps it in half. "Keep moving!"

You don't stop running. Neither do the arrows which keeps chasing you down. One grazes your shoulder and you stumbles from the stinging pain. Nevertheless,Kazuha grabs you from the arms and keep you moving.

Your lungs are on fire. Your legs are on the verge of giving out. The will to survive is the only thing that keeps you going and even that's starting to fade. Surprisingly, you find yourself wishing for the mark of Asmodeus to emerge. Not for sexual purpose but rather for protection.

Suddenly, Kazuha halts and you run straight into her back, sending you sprawling on the grass.

"Why do you-"

Your question is cut short when you realize why Kazuha has stopped. Right in front of her, standing on a small hill is none other than the goddess Artemis herself.

"At last" she makes her way slowly towards you. "Eros's little pet is cornered"

You get back to your feet and when you turn around, you find out she's right. The hunters have formed a ring around you, their bows drawn.

"So much for Eros's talk about men being superior" Chaewon flicks her wrists and silvery light dance between her fingers. "Such weaklings"

You search Kazuha's face for any sort of reassurance. But there's no hope. She has already told you she's pretty much powerless here. Is this finally the end for the great one?

"Finish the angel first" Chaewon orders. "I will take care of our little Michael here"

The hunters act instantly. All of them draw their blades and charge towards Kazuha. Amidst the chaos, you can't help but wish for the mark to emerge. You are at the brink of death once again, why has it not shown itself?

Kazuha summons a blazing sword of light in an attempt to reflect the rapid strikes of the hunter but even she can't hold out against ten angry feminists. One slash cuts across her arm and another graze her abdomen. Golden blood pours out from the wounds.

Meanwhile, Chaewon is making her way towards you gracefully, taking her time. In her hand, she twirls a double edged sword. Her gaze icy cold, a hint of amusement within them.

"You know, I thought it would be harder" Chaewon muses. "With your mark and all"

Yeah, the mark. The blessing which betrays you in most desperate time.

"Where's your little mark, hmm? Or is it too scared to make its appearance?"

"You are not playing fair" you replies. Nearby, a hunter kneels Kazuha in the ribs and she stumbles.

"Who said anything about playing fair?" Chaewon steps slow as the distance between you narrows. "If you want to blame, blame Eros"

She stops and studies you like a predator capturing its prey last moment. Then with a flick of her fingers, she sends you flying upwards.

Your back meets the trunk of a tree with a loud thud and you land with your face on the cushion of grass. You feel like every single bones in your body have turned to powder. A shar pain creep up your legs and you groan in agony.

"What's wrong chosen one? We are just getting started"

You lift yourself up wearily at Chaewon's challenge. You can't feel your legs but you manage to stand up. A few feet away, Chaewon stands, her hands on her hips. She gives you an exaggerated smile.

"You are not already giving up, are you?"

"You little-"

You are not able to finish your words because once again, Chaewon lifts a finger and an invisible force drags you backward until you crush into another tree.

You stumble, kneels shaking and your face graze the grass. Your mind is a jumble of anger and fear. But it is soon overwhelmed by the pain that leaves your mind blank.

"Get up"

For some reason, Chaewon's voice seems distant. You use the last bit of your strength to lift your face off the ground and your eyes catch a blurry sight of Chaewon and the sword in her hand. Your eyes move further back and your heart twitches painfully.

Kazuha has been overwhelmed by the hunters. Golden blood is pouring out of even more wounds all across her body and her gladius has scattered off away. Her only futile attempts to keep alive are the blasts of light she often summons to drive away her enemies. But it is obvious that shes going to fall victim to their razor sharp blades very soon.

Maybe it's the power of friendship. Maybe you are just scared out of your wits. Neverthless, you feel the all familiar burning sensation that originates from your pelvis and spreads through your whole body. However, this time, lust isn't the only thing that accompany the mark's wake. There's another feeling that you can't quite put a finger on. All you know is that it's ancient and have been buried deep inside you for god knows how long. Now, it's finally making its presence known and you happily welcomes its emergence.

All the pain in your body have been washed away. Every broken bone and raptured vessels heal. You bring yourself back to your feet and crack your neck. Strangely, it gives you a sense of contentment.

"What's this madness...?" Chaewon mutters, her pupils wide like a deer in the headlights.

You look at yourself and mutter the same thing. The warm golden glow that envelopes you is there. A reminder of the invulnerability the mark offers. It's a sight you have grown accustomed to. However, there's an addition to the package this time. Every single vein in your body is glowing and humming with power. You can see the tiny rivers of gold that wound all over you. In this moment, nothing else matters except the fact that you have become one of the most powerful beings in existence. You feel invisible, untouchable. You feel like a.....god.

Chaewon spreads her palms, shooting out silvery tendrils towards your direction but they quickly diminish once they reach a few feets away from you. She tries to summon her bow and launch a volley of arrows but they follow the same fate as her earlier attempt to harm you.

"Don't waste your efforts. We both know it's not gonna work" You muse as you slowly close your distance to Chaewon.

The hunters attacking Chaewon has frozen with shock; all of them staring at the scene unfolding before them. How dangerous are they now if even their mistress is powerless against you?

"What are you staring at? Charge!" Chaewon's order break the hunters out of their trance and all of them charge at you at once, their blades drawn.

A voice inside you orders and you clasp your hands, sending out a radiant wave of red that wash over the hunters. For a moment, everything is still. Then, the hunters start acting in the craziest way possible.

Their faces flush a deep shade of red like those caught comitting a deed they are not supposed to. Their legs start trembling. "Fuck. No. What-" One of them mummur as she tries to stop her legs from quivering like crazy. Another cover her mouth with her hands to muffle a moan. Much to your surprise, a wet stain is growing at the crotch of all their jeans.

Not a moment later, all of the hunters have collaspe onto the ground, desperately pulling off their jeans. Some even rip the fabric apart. Thats when you see your handiwork. All of their pussies are wet and glistening; clenching around nothing as if asking for something to fill them up. Some of them start to dig a finger or two into their wet holes, pumping to compensate for the pleasure that only a cock can bring. The others are still trying to hold on to their dignity but it's clear as day that they are fighting a losing batttle. Without a single movement, a geyser of squirt erupts from a hunter and she lets out the most primordial scream. The less composed ones even start to make out with each other; their bodies pressed together and their fingers digging deep into each other aching cunts.

You feel like you are in the wet dream of a Chaewon stan. Not a single Chaewon but ten are giving you a free webshow. All of their dignity have been thrown out of the window. The only thing that matters now is to satisfy the need their pussies demand. In this moment, those hunters are no different from camgirls.

"You fool! What have you done?" No matter how much she tries to mask it, the panic in Chaewon's voice is crystal clear.

You shrug. "I don't know either but it seems like your hunters are horny"

Her face twitches in anger. "I will kill you" She unfolds her palms, sending out tendrils of blinding light in your direction. You close your eyes to avoid getting blinded and when you reopen them, nothing have changed except the fact that Chaewon stands, dazed.

"What- what the fuck?" Chaewon swears and you almost want to laugh but you gotta assert your dominance.

"Well, I thought you already know. The mark makes me invisible"

"It's not possible. The last time I-"

'The last time'. Once again, you can't help but wonder what she means by that.

"Last time?" You ask for the second time. This time, Chaewon doesn't brush off your question. Instead, she stutters.

"No...no...it can't be. That power. It's impossible.."

"Well, as you can see, it's not"

Wasting no time, you advance on Chaewon slowly, each step calculated and measured. There's no need to rush. It's clear who's the victor here.

It doesn't take long for Chaewon to realize her disadvantage. Wasting no time, she pulls out a dagger from her belt and lunge at you with inhuman speed. That's her mistake.

As soon as she reaches a few feet away, she's thrown off balance like an invisible barrier has stopped her. The mark doing its job very well.

"For someone who knows a lot about the mark, you are pretty stupid" You say as you hover over her limp form that lies on the ground.

"Stay away from me, you filthy animal!" The goddess threatens but both of you know it has no real bite to it.

You hear a loud moan and your eyes dart to where Artemis's hunters are having the craziest orgy. A couple is scissoring, their pussies rubbing against each other in a frantic and almost animalistic way. Their faces distorted like bitches in heat. One Chaewon is eating out the other who lays sprawled on the grass while another take a seat on her face. And one lays propped to the tree, her fingers deep in her pink hole and squirting a fountain with ever pump. It's a sight to behold.

Further back, Kazuha sits under a tree, panting. You feel a pang of worry after seeing all her bloody wounds but at least she will live. And you have another task to focus here.

Chaewon takes your distraction as an opportunity and throws a jab from down below but you quickly grab her waist and pin her hand to the ground.

"I must say, I do admire your persistence"

"Let go of me!"

Her voice is so desperate, so demanding you almost let out a chuckle.

"What is it you say again? Men are filthy? Well, now that filthy man is going to take away your precious virginity"

The reality of your intention dawns on Chaewon and her pupils contract with fear. No more is the triumph, cocky goddess. What lies beneath you is nothing but another immortal who has fallen victim to your power.

"You can't be serious"

"Oh, I am" You touch her top with a single finger and in no time, it burns to ashes, leaving her upper body bare. You can get a clear view of her pink perky nipples that seems to be demanding your mouth on them. But that can wait.

"Stop it!" Chaewon's free hand strikes you again but you repeat your earlier motion and pins it down to the ground. Now, both of her hands are trapped. She spits in your face but you couldn't care less.

"Snappy, are we?" You take one of her now erect nipples into your mouth and bite down with just the slightest force, eliciting a mewl from her.

"I swear I will - mmph" Chaewon's protests are silenced as your teeth sinks once again, this time a bit more harder. Your tongue swipes across the pink bud then around her aerola.

"You little - fuck!" Your mouth makes its way to her other nipple, which is no less stiff than the other. For someone who's being all defiant, her tits are telling a different story. You take your tine tasting every inch of Chaewon's nipple before finally pulling back after a particularly forceful bite.

Chaewon's face no longer have the initial fury. Instead, it has been clouded by a lust filled haze. She pant, beads of sweat trickling down her temple. Her mouth has been parted slightly but her vocal cords betray no sound.

"How is it, hmm? To be used by a man?"

You ask, closing your indexes and thumbs around her nipples before giving them another pinch. Her body jerks upward, legs trembling.

"You....you...have no idea....what you are..."

Her voice is so low it can be mistaken for a breath. Her chest heaves with each word, as if talking has become the hardest task in her life. Her lips part again but before she can mutter more nonsense, you shut her up with your own lips.

"Mmmmph" Chaewon's words get slurred, reduced into nothing but jumbles of muffles and moans when your tongue invades her oral hole. Your tongue explore, tracing every inch of her warm wet hole before it finally found its mate; her very own tongue. Your muscles interwined, greedily lapping up anything Chaewon can offer: the drool, the warmth, the whole squelching wet mess.

Your hands aren't mandatory either. A single touch with your index on her pants and much like her top, it burns away to crisp. As much as this new ability of yours is handy, you really wish it wouldn't be activated all the time. You don't want to end up stripping someone acciidentally.

As soon as her lower body is bare, your fingers snake their way along her inner thighs - tracing the supple path of skin on your way to her core. It doesn't take long for you to find her unprotected pussy despite your lack of vision. The wetness and these smooth folds are unmistakable.

You stop the finger fucking, just to imprint Chaewon's expression in memory before you fuck her up in all the right ways. The goddess is left panting like a bitch, lips parted and drool spilling. Not a trace of pride left in those silvery irises.

Your middle and ring fingers dig into her folds and even before you get their whole lengths in, Chaewon's already moaning like it's your cock which has entered her virgin hole. Perhaps this is a sample of what she will be like when you actually pound her to oblivion; screaming your name, begging and begging until she can't anymore.

It's the perfect revenge.

"For someone who hate cocks, you are already leaking like a faucet"

You mock before pulling your fingers back and ramming them back into her hole, earning another mewl from her.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Another thrust and thsi time, she actually speaks.

"Stop....stop....I..."

"Can't hear you"

And with that, your fingers go back to work, pumping her hole steady and in rhythm. Her pussy really lives up to its reputation of being a forbidden treasure to man. It's apparent in the way its tighteness engulf your fingers in a deadly grip.

The first few thrusts are tedious, her walls blocking the way with their millenial old tighteness. But after a few more pumps, all the protection crumbles and her hole becomes nothing but a playground for your fingers. And perhaps, for the first time, start spilling her womanly fluid.

You add your index, now fucking her with three fingers and it produces the most sinful of gasps and breaths from that shrewd tongue. Her cheeks are red; not a blush but rather an indicator of the heat you are pumping into her with every thrust of your fingers.

You allow your eyes to waver your attention from Chaewon's slut face just a moment and see the strangest scene unfolding. All of Artemis's hunters; all the Chaewons, who are acting like whores just a moment ago has now reached a new level of ecstasty. All of them lay sprawled out on the grass, their moans combining into a orchestra of lewdest sounds. Their legs are spread open and every moment or so, a geyser of squirt would erupt from their dripping pussies.

Wanting to test something, you abruptly stop the finger action on Chaewon. Then everything go still. The hunters stop being the rowdy ones they were just a few moments ago. The panting is still there but no more squirting. You almost burst out laughing.

Just as Artemis has said, they are really 'sisters'. They are 'one'. Not like you are a psychologist but you recognize they have a hive mind, which helps them coordinate their attacks perfectly. But the downside is, it also works when one of them is getting treated like a slut. If their mistress gets fingered, so will they. A brilliant flaw for you to utilize.

Eager to try out this new feature, you waste no time digging your fingers back into Chaewon's soaking cunt, instantly producing groans and moans from her hunters. Meanwhile, their mistress is far gone - pupils dilated and mouth hanging open like a fish on land. Even when your thrusts increase with each second, all the reaction you can get out of her are the momentary jerks and writhes of her legs. You have completely broken this goddess.

Nonetheless, you don't need anymore sign to realize that she's teetering on the edge. Her pulsing walls, the increased quaking of her thighs - all give the approaching end away. It doesn't take long for you to finally give her the release she so desperately seeks. With one last pump of your fingers, you make her crumble.

It seems to never end - the shower of juice erupting from her wet depths. It gets all over your clothes and your hair. But you just stand there, smiling like a madman as you take in the view of another goddess becoming prey to her own pleasure. Just another day for the chosen one.

When her orgasm finally subsides, Chaewon is left a mess - chest heaving and eyes rolled up. Her body is slick with sweat, glistening despite the misty haze of this place. Further back, her hunters has followed the same route. Their bare bodies lay limp on the grass, spent. You admire your handiwork for a moment before you move on to the next step.

If anyone thinks you are finished here, they would be wrong. This is just the prologue to your grand plan of deflowering the goddess. And even if she weren't a virgin, you would have still done the same. Because the mark of Asmodeus is hungry. And the lust it has brewed up in you needs to be satisfied.

And the mark knows it too. Because with a single will, all the clothes on your body shimmer in a blinding light and disappear. And that's when you see it; your cock, which has become the hardest material in the world. All your throbbing veins have become visible, glowing plae gold and enveloped by a faint halo. Not to mention the mark, burning a deep shade of scarlet. This is no longer a male sexual organ. This is the weapon of a god.

Triumphantly, your fingers entangle in the goddess's raven hair, bringing her face close to yours. Is that a slither of resistance you see in her eyes? It doesn't matter. This is your hunting ground and she is the prey.

"Tired already? We are just getting started dear"

Chaewon mutters something that sounds like something between a moan and a huff. It's hard to say with her broken voice.

"Say something bitch"

You spit in her face, a revenge for earlier. Still, the goddess is silent except for incoherent raspy gasps. She just stays there, her pupils dilated like a lifeless doll.

You should be proud of the job you have done. How thoroughly you have ruined Chaewon with your fingers alone. But seeing her this broken ruins your mood. Sure, you are still gonna fuck her. But where's the fun when the only reaction you can get out of deflowering her are bits and pieces of sound. It's a complete turn off.

And then there it comes again. The voice inside you. No. A tug would be more suitable - an urge that manifests so suddenly. Without thinking, you touch Chaewon's forehead with your index finger.

Much to your horror, a line of red starts to burn just below her neck. It wounds into a circle on her skin then trace a straight line across it. After a while, you realize. The mark of Asmodeus is being carved on her skin - the very mark on your plevis.

After the imprinting is complete, the mark flares to life. But unlike yours, it doesn't glow scarlet. Instead, it shines a brilliant blue. Chaewon's eyes open and for a moment, you panick.

Have you acidentally transferred your mark to Chaewon?

"Master"

The words that leave Chaewon's lips leave you confused. It's like the goddess have become a different person. She kneels, looking up at you with eyes full of life. The silver of them replaced by blue.

"How can I serve you?"

That's when you understand what this new mark actually does. It has turned the goddess into a slut by completely altering her will. Just how powerful have you become?

You decided to leave the question for later, focusing on your new servant instead.

"You can start by putting that mouth of yours to good use"

"As you wish, master"

Chaewon's fists close on your cock, starting off with a full fingers handjob. She pumps your pole slowly, admiring all those veins glittering gold. The pace is slow and yet, you find her touch addictive. Maybe this is what a goddess's handjob feels like.

"Master cock is so big....so beautiful..."

With that praise, she brings her face a sucking distance from your cock. Her lips are hovering just above your tip and you can feel her warm breath that tickles your length. If this is foreplay, it's doing its job very well. After a couple more languid stroke and tantalizing breaths, you can't take it any more.

"I think I told you to suck me off"

"Sorry master"

Her soft lips finally closes in around your tip and there isn't any words to describe how heavenly the feeling is. The way those pink things drag along your tip only to pull it back in - it's the emboidment of ecstasy. You could have just let her focus solely on your tip and blow a load into her mouth. That's how good it is.

But Chaewon have different plans. Her mouth suddenly takes more than half of your length in one swift bob. The action causes her hair to fall in strands around her face but she looks even more beautiful that way. Messy face, all her assests exposed and mouth stuffed by your pole. This is your favorite form of art.

"Fuck, Chaewon. Don't stop"

A moan reasonates around your cock - the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. You don't know if it was a muffled sound of graitude or a planned act but you enjoy it nonetheless. If not, you want her to do it again.

You take a moment to study your surroundings as Chaewon works her magic. Among the tall grass, propped by the pines are the hunters, who have been now tied up with translucent lassos. Not like it's necessary. They are too horny to even lift a finger.

The work is, without a doubt, done by Kazuha. And speaking of Kazuha, she nows sit on the ground, looking no less ragged than before. At least the bleeding have stopped. Her eyes are fixed on the scene of Chaewon blowing your cock. No sign of shame or embarassment on that cold face. The same face she has wore when you fucked her fellow angel Yeji.

You turn away from your audience back to the slutty goddess who's worshipping your cock. Her blowjob has become a total mess all this while - spit bubblig and drool spilling. Ever so often, a gag would comes out distorted whenver your cock hits the back of her throat. You look into those watery eyes and praise.

"Look at you, Artemis. All whiny about being allergic to man before and now you are letting a man shove his cock down your mouth. You must be the biggest liar ever"

Chaewon doesn't seem to understand any of your words so she just keeo bobbing her head. She has been brainwashed into a whore whose only will is to serve your cock. And you can live with that happily.

Chaewon doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. She just keeps impaling her hole on your cock again and again and again. Gag reflex seems a million light years away. Is this another perk of being a goddess?

You are becoming too consumed by Chaewon's sloppy head. It's filthy, wet and messy. A perfect brew of your darkest desires. If she keeps on with it, her pussy wouldn't be the place you are storing your load in.

It'd be so easy to get lost in the bliss her skillful tongue is providing but you have other holes to take care of. A s much as it's difficult, you grab a fistful of Chaewon's hair and stops her.

She looks up, chin drenched in her own drool. She almost looks disappointed about the abrupt halt.

"Let's take a look at that tight virgin hole, shall we?"

You ask and Chaewon nods in return.

"Is master gonna take my virginity? Finally fill my pussy with his hot load?"

If the Artemis in the distant past can see the brainless whore she hae become, she wouldn't have even tried to touch you. But now, it's too late.

"That's the plan. Turn around. Show me that ass"

"I can't wait for your cock to stuff me full, master"

And with that she turns, getting on all fours to display those pale cheeks. Her back is slick with sweat and it only gets you pumped up even more. You have no time for foreplay. Not with how drunk on arousal you are. You need to pound her cunt. Hard and fast.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkkk"

Chaewon lets out a carnal groan as soon as your tip part her lips, easing its way in inch by inch. Despite all the juices she has wet herself with earlier, you are surprised to find the grip of her pussy still unyielding. Her walls clench on you in a vice grip and if it's not for the mark, the pressure would have been unbearable.

You start off with a few slow thrusts, getting accustomed to the topography of her unused hole. It doesn't take long until your dick mold her insides to its shape. Getting the first taste of a man's dick, her pussy has already become addicted to the rigid foreign body stretching her out. Her walls are pulsing as if begging you to go deeper.

"Master. I need you to fill me up. Make me so full...nghhh"

You cut off Chaewon's breath by inserting another extra inch to suffice the goddess's thirst for your cock. The fingering earlier has done its job well to coat her walls with a natural lube. Her juice slicken walls allow you to ease in inch by inch.

The initial tighteness was no more. All it's left to do is stretch open the rest of her uncharted depths. You are in no rush. The only thing better than being the first time of someone is being the first time of a goddess.

The goddess who just tried to kill you.

It's sick but the thought is an unbearble turn on that gets your cock throbbing even more. All her daggers and arrows and blades are useless against your cock, opening her up like a gift.

"More. Give me more. Yes, stretch my cunt. Yes yes yessss"

Chaewon's past the point of saving. Cock drunk would be the only word to describe this new toy of yours. She won't stop begging even when she's getting impregnated by the gloriest cock to exist.

And the needy mewls go on when you finally bury your whole length to the hilt. You hold there, balls deep. A second passes. Then two. New status of Artemis: deflowered.

"You are filling me up so well master. I can feel you getting even harder. Are you gonna paint my insides? Put a baby in me? I-"

"Shut up, slut"

The constant nagging of Chaewon's get on your nerves in a twisted way, urging you to show no mercy to this goddess whose holes are the only use she will ever had. With a tight grip on her bangs, you pull her face up, looking into those rolled up bedroom eyes as you pound her hole without mercy.

The verse opf Artemis has become nothing but a backdrop for your impudent act - squelches of your pelvis against her cheeks echoing in every direction. It becomes even more harmonious combined with the raw unfiltered sounds Chaewon's producing.

So this is what it's like to ruin a goddess, you think. Taking Persephone anally was one hell of a ride(quite literally) but it's nothing compared to this. Artemis is a completely different breed. And this time, you don't have to worried about getting caught. You have all the time in the world. And you will spend it wisely.

Your tip kisses Chaewon's cunt as you ram your length into her with increasing force if that's even possible. Her cheeks jiggle like jelly each time you make contact and you can't resist the urge to spank that pale ass.

"Fuck!"

Chaewon mewls as soon as the first slap of many to come lands on her right cheek quickly followed by another to the left. You are memorized by the way her flesh ripples, which leads your palm to work relentlessly. Left, right, left, right and left, right until her round ass has turned scarlet - the proof of your ownership imprinted on her.

Getting pretty bored of her ass, you stop of a moment to turns her around in a missionary position. You give each of her tits a harsh slap before you ram your cock back into her snug cavern again.

"Yesssssss"

Eyes rolled up and tongue hanging out in a perfect ahaego face, Chaewon is no different from a cheap slut anyone can pound with a few bucks. That's how much she has come to love your rigid mamba violating her cherished hole in every way possible. And the best part is, she's loving it.

"Master. I'm gonna...."

You grip her thighs and opens her legs even wider to put yourself in a mating press position. This way, you can spear into Chaewon as deep as you could. When you start pistoning your hips, Chaewon shows her gratitude by spilling her juices for the second time.

You fuck her through her orgasm, not giving her a single moment to catch her breath. Afterall, she's your toy. And toys are supposed to stay there and be used whatever way their owner likes. And Chaewon is a perfect example.

You can feel the mark growing hoter, its red glow bathing Chaewon in a vermillion veil. As if in response, the blue mark on her chest shimmers even brighter. The sight of those two marks; an unbreakable connection pushes you over the edge.

If this isn't ecstasy, you don't know what is. You can feel the adrenaline inside you reaching the peak for a final time as you pump her cunt full of your hot, sticky cum. The first few spurts go straight to her womb soon followed by the remaining seeds in your balls, which are perfectly smeared all over her midriff and tits.

"Master's cum. So hot..."

Artemis mutters dreamily as you spill the few last drops on her face. Her fingers dig into her loose hole, digging out your cum before bringing it into her mouth.

"Mhmm. Delicious"

She collects more of your fluid all over her body, tating it like her favorite meal. On second thought, its no surpirse a slut like her can live on your cum.

You can feel the power already draining out from your body. The mark dims and fades until not a single trace of it is left on your skin. Then comes the fatigue, which hits you like a truck.

The world does a 360 degree around you and you have to hold yourself up on your palms. You could have just lied there and never woke up again. The mark has done its job and leaft you weak and frail.

Surprisingly, the mark have faded on Chaewon too. Her chest is back to the smooth canvas it once was. A stream of cum leaks out of her used hole as she lays there, heaving.

The scenery around you starts to shift. The wood has gone lifeless. The cold calm it once held has been replaced by an uncanny lifelessness. It makes your skin crawl.

Then cracks start to appear out of thin air like glass walls being fractured. The ground rumbles and a loud wail rises up from it. You panick, desperately seeking for something to hold onto.

"Hold there"

Kazuha's voice splits through the air.

"It will be over soon"

Who are you gonna trust if you don't trust an angel?

So you obey, trying not to scream as the whole place starts to crumble. More cracks have appeared and soon the world around you is covered by messy fractures.

Then the rumbling stops and with a sound like glass breaking, the scenery around you shatters to pieces.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

You blink and you are back to the hall of Eros.

"I would have clapped if my hands weren't tied you know"

Eros is still there, not an inch moved fron his position before with hands bound. That stupid grin has beem plastered on his face - displaying his pearly whites.

"You are welcome"

You retort before realizing you are butt naked and instinctively cover your manhood with your hands.

"Kazuha gets to watch but I don't? No fair"

You would have punched Eros in the face if you don't feel like you are gonna pass out any moment. The audacity of this little fucker to joke around after putting your life on the line.

"Kazuha? What are you doing? Get me out of these"

Kazuha looks like she would have left Eros that way if he doesn't speak up. Reluctantly, she brings down her arms in a wide arc and slash through the chain.

"Thank you"

Eros's tone sound almost mocking as he stands and stretches his arms. After cracking his neck, he looks straight at you with those brilliant blue eyes.

"Well done, Michael! You have accomplished what I exactly hoped for"

"What? Fucking another goddess?"

"Her? Shush. No way"

He gestures to the right and that's when you see Artemis and all her hunters, sprawled out all across the hall with their bodies bare. None of them seems to be conscious.

"Do you know the reason I get caught? Because I intended to"

Another flex. Typical fucking Eros.

"Can you just get to the point? I can't promise you my mind and body will be in contact after a few minutes"

"You always skip the good parts Michael" He sounds almost regretful. "The thing is I enter Artemis's verse with the helm of darkness on purpose to lure her here"

"Wh-"

"Why? You may ask. Because I want her to kill you"

You are really starting to hate that habit of Eros that always seems to refuse giving a straight up answer. The god has to get a little 'creative'.

"Wh-"

"Why? To awaken the mark fully. To bring out its full potential. And you saw it didn't you? All the pain is worth it. It's a small price to pay for absolute power"

You hate yourself for believing the same thing. You would gladly traded all the blood you spilled to unlock the mark's secrets. Only you know what that power, that total certainity was like. It's like nothing else.

"So.....all the torturing Artemis did help the mark to reach its full power?"

"Exactly" Eros snaps his fingers.

"What about the helm of darkness then? Don't tell me you lost it"

"Oh no" Eros spreads his palm and the power symbol of Hades manifests with smoky tendrils. "I gave her a decoy"

Did what Eros said explain everything?

Not at all. This love god looks all jolly and easy going on the outside but sometimes, his action reminds you that you have no idea how twisted he actually is deep down. He has helped you obtained all this power and for what? And also something Artemis had said about someone else possessing the mark before you.....

"Why-"

Your question is interrupted by a loud chime reasonating around the hall. You have absolutely no idea this place has door bells.

"Who......"

Eros trails off before his eyes fix on a single door of many that circles the hall. This one is a set of tall marble doors with numerous designs of flowers and swans engraved on its surface. Seems like something Eros would absolutely love. But the god doesn't look so happy right now.

"Oh...shit"

The doors swung open and bright rays of light flood the room. You have to put up your arms to shield your eyes. The glow finally subsides to reveal a figure, standing with arms crossed.

Anger lines are eteched onto Karina's face - offering a strak contrast to its otherworldly beauty. The leader of Aespa looks like she's going to explode any moment.

"Eros!" She grumbles. "What are you doing?"

The usual carefree look on Eros's face is no more. All you can see is fear and dread.

His lips part and seal rapidly like a seabass, unable to make a sound. After a while, realization dawns on his face that he can't escape this. And that's when he speaks.

"Mom?"

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(This has been in my drafts for so long and I'm just too lazy to finish it. Might have gone a bit overboard with the word count. This is probably the longest fic I have written lol. Enjoy)

#kpop smut #chaewon smut #lesserafim smut #kazuha smut #male reader #kpop fanfic

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innerfare · 3 months ago

Text

Law Relationship Headcanons

Summary: A collection of random Law relationship headcanons.

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

If he meets someone he likes, he’s just going to ask them to join his crew because he literally has no idea how else to get close to you. Will struggle to broach the topic of liking you, too. Might kiss you on a late night in a dark hallway aboard the Polar Tang, but won’t have much to say about it, despite his heart hammering in his chest. If your first kiss isn’t aboard the Polar Tang, it will be somewhere else that’s dark and closed off so he feels comfortable.

A lot of the things in your relationship will be unspoken, which can be annoying but he’s really not so good with words. When he does open his mouth, he keeps things short and sweet. Much more of a stolen kisses than whispered sweet nothings sort of guy.

Victim of near insta-love, fell hard for you the very first time he saw you doing the morning crossword in the newspaper. Quickly became obsessed with the way you smirk victoriously to yourself when you figure out one of the words, even more obsessed with the way you flick him when he answers one for you.

Started having nightmares not long after he met you, horrid dreams of you dying in gruesome ways, sometimes at the hands of the Donquixote family, other times at the hands of the World Government. Feels physically ill himself when you catch even a slight cold due to his past and the sheer number of people he knew who were taken from him. Tries to keep you out of danger to an almost comical degree, forcing you to sit down and have a conversation about it.

Will happily answer to both Captain and Doctor and daddy.

If you have long hair, he keeps a hair tie or two on his wrist for you. Claims it’s just because you’re so annoying when you lose all of yours and complain incessantly about it.

Lays in bed when you get out of the shower and watches you brush your hair. Actually got mad at you the first time he saw you brush your hair in a common space (before you two were an item) because it had such a strong effect on him and he didn’t know what to do; accused you of getting hair all over the place or something equally ridiculous; when you tell him Bepo sheds more than you, he starts grumbling under his breath and leaves the room.

Writes you small notes on scraps of paper and folds them into origami- swans, rabbits, flowers, butterflies, you name it; he keeps a mental chart of your reaction to each shape and ranks them accordingly, saving the best ones for hard days. The notes aren’t anything particularly heartfelt or special, just small mundane things such as, “y/n-ah, don’t forget to take it easy today. You’re still injured,” or a book title and page number because he read something he thought you might find interesting. You’ve taken to using the origami notes as bookmarks, which makes his heart swell with pride and something else he knows deep down is love but is hesitant to name.

He also made you a bouquet of origami flowers for you to keep on your nightstand since you complained there’s not enough light under the sea for you to keep a plant alive. Sometimes, he’ll make some new flowers to freshen up the bouquet (you have a box in your desk drawer where you stash the old ones).

When you two are cooking, he gets a bit annoyed when you munch on some of the ingredients. He’s a ‘measure everything to 1/20 of a teaspoon and not a single pinch more or less’ sort of guy. He’s also a ‘no fries in the car before we get home and eat our burgers’ sort of guy.

If he buys you gifts, it’s typically practical things, such as a new notebook because you said you needed one, or a better jacket so you don’t steal his on winter islands (you still steal his, it drives him insane because he can't stop blushing when you wear his clothes and he's trying to look intimidating). Also buys you books he thinks you’ll like, sometimes gets it wrong but you don’t tell him because it took him so long to open up and get comfortable and put himself out there and you don’t want to be discouraging for fear he’ll retreat back into his shell. Has also bought you a few dainty pieces of jewelry, expensive but not flashy.

Is a hand holder, but he doesn’t do it in public. If you pass each other in the hallway, his fingers will always tangle with yours for just a quick second. When the two of you are alone, though, he wants your hand in his constantly. He’ll hold your hand while you’re both reading your books, hold your hand while falling asleep, etc. Sometimes, at meal times, he’ll hold your hand under the table, but that’s only on extra clingy days. (Clingy days are the good days for Law, his bad days being the ones when he retreats into his shell and falls asleep on the sofa in his office without eating.)

Gives hand kisses. Will kiss each of your knuckles, will catch your hand when you pass him in the hallway and press a kiss into your palm, will climb into bed on a late night and place a few goodnight kisses on the back of your hand, will place his lips on your hand every time he gets it in his. Likes kissing up your wrist and arm before pulling you closer and kissing your neck. His kisses are always warm, btw, and not very messy.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law headcanons #law headcanons #law one piece #heart pirates #one piece x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader

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youraverageaemondsimp · 10 months ago

Text

“Seven Above.” // Highly Religious Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

DD:DNE ;; Reader discretion is heavily advised.

WARNINGS: noncon & dubcon, forced breeding, forced beliefs, breeding kink, religious themes and psychopathic aemond, dark!aemond, misogynistic views, pressure to fit into the gender norms, forced pregnancy, multiple orgasms, brainwashing(?), mindfucking, + not proofread. PLEASE BE EXTREMELY MINDFUL OF THE CONTENT WARNINGS

Block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to refrain from seeing my dark works.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: fic contains dark content, do not proceed to read if you are easily triggered or find the topics mentioned above triggering. // dividers by @cafekitsune

Aemond was a man of the faith of the seven

He was extremely religious, his mother’s belief in the faith has also made him follow it, though he studied about dragons and old gods of Valyria, he didn't particularly follow them. His need for impressing his own mother, followed by his grandfather made him follow this faith more.

The only problem? He was way too religious and strict, but also hypocritical, he had shamed Aegon for being married to Helaena, but also desired her for himself, he would taunt his nephews for being bastards, yet also had one for himself with a common whore he could not remember the name of. He doesn't acknowledge them as sins however, saying that they are forgiven by the gods as he visits the sept daily.

Alicent did not know what to say, for when she would speak to him about what he's doing and points out his wrongdoings, he simply ignores her and tells her that her job as a woman isn't to judge, but rather understand and nurture, to which she couldn't argue against. So she remained silent.

Everything was going the same as usual, until Aemond was summoned by his grandfather, who had selected a proposal for him.

“The woman is Y/N of the L/N house, a woman loved by many, it will benefit us if we formed an alliance with her family, what do you think of it Aemond?” His grandfather questioned, to which Aemond nodded, saying it isn't too much of a bad match considering they had more to gain than lose, and so the proposal was quickly made.

Aemond only saw you on the day of the wedding, when your house arrived in the throne room, where Aegon sat in the middle, handling the matters. You had not shied away from looking in his eye, to which he was caught off guard by, his mind quickly realising how you are the feisty type.

The ceremony went well, Aemond refused the bedding ceremony and took you to your martial chambers before bedding you. He was gentle of course, he didn't do anything that was too painful.

One thing about Aemond is that, you should never get on his bad side, he is cruel just as he is lenient, you heard of what he had done to his own nephew, to riverrun, to the strong house, leaving absolutely no one alive from that bloodline, no woman or bastard was spared.

The first month flew by quickly, Aemond had gotten to know you better, and he quickly realised that you both don't share the same ideologies on most of the stuff, you even dared to speak back to him, to which he excused you of. Arguments with him on small things have started to happen, his opinion contradicting yours, and his refusal to understand your point of view made you extremely unaccepted, yet you still tried to convey your feelings to him, hoping somewhere deep down in your heart that he'd understand. After all, you had grown to love him a little. He was far better than any husband, most of them didn't even let their wife speak to them.

That was until the topic of children had come when you were dining together.

“Wife, Have you gotten your moon's blood yet?” He asked and you nodded, “Yes, husband, it passed a few days ago and it is regular.” you tell him confused as to why he is asking this, “Are you perhaps barren?” He asks, which makes you feel shocked, and quite offended, “No! Why would you ask such a thing like that?” You ask, eyes slightly wide with shock. “Then why aren't you with child yet?” He questions as if you had any control over anything that happens after intercouse.

“It is only the second month, and besides….” You bite your lip and he raises an eyebrow, “What is it?” You sigh heavily, “I do not know how to ask of you this.” You tell him honestly, “What is it that you need wife? Dresses? Jewellery, do not be shy to ask, I am your husband after all. It is my duty to provide.” He rests his hand on yours, squeezing it in a reassuring way.

“I–” you take a deep breath, “I do not want children, at least, not yet.” you spit out.

It's almost as if everything had frozen in place, the air becomes silent with only the crackling sounds of the fireplace being heard. The tension becomes more imminent in the air as the Aemond continues to remain silent and not do anything, except directly stare at you.

His grip on your hand suddenly tightens, making you wince and you look at him pleadingly, “Have you gone mad?” He stands up, forcing you to stand up as well and you grip his arm tightly, not wanting to fall before balancing yourself, “Please- I am not yet ready, let me prepare myself mentally first.” You beg him and his other hand grabs you by your throat and pulls you closer to him, his grip on your throat begins to tighten, causing you to lose bloodflow to your head.

“I have done nothing except do my duty, be the ideal husband, provide for you, all while allowing you to express yourself yet it seems I was too lenient on you.” He growls, “Because here you are, asking me, to allow you to not have children. It is your sole duty as a wife and a woman, and you could not even provide such a thing?” He let goes of your throat, making you engulf a huge amount of air as you tried to calm down.

“Every woman is the image of the mother, she should have a natural nurturing personality towards anyone, especially to their own children, yet here you are refusing to be a mother to your own child or rather having one of yours, it is disgusting.” He says meanly and you glare at him, “I never said that I never wanted to be a mother, I asked you to give me time to which you are– hmmgh!” You are dragged by Aemond to the bed and thrown on it, you quickly lean on your elbows, fear gnawing in your stomach as you look at Aemond who seemed so furious at you, your heartbeat accelerated as he just stared down at you, like a predator staring at its prey.

“Your sin is forgiven, wife, I remembered how some women think they do not want children until they do, and then they become the best mothers and perfect wives known to man, maybe you are of that same category.” He keeps on talking, and you stare at him, confused and in fear, what in the seven hell was he talking about?

“It is no surprise if that is the case, luckily, there is a cure for that, and that is to get you pregnant, and I shall do just that, simultaneously fulfilling the duties as your husband.” He leans down and caresses your cheek. Your eyes widen when you catch his expression in the illuminating moonlight. He was smiling, yet the smile did not reach his eyes, Your stomach began to churn as goosebumps arose on your skin, he doesn't seem like the man you married anymore.

Before you could make an escape, Aemond pounces you and pushes you down onto the bed, you thrash in his hold trying to push him off but he holds your hands together and pins them up before grabbing your cheeks harshly and spitting on your face, “Behave, I'm treating you.” You began to tremble knowing he had gone completely mad.

“Let go of me! Aemond!” You scream and he pushes his hand over your mouth, “Shut the fuck up.” He tells you before grabbing your dress and tearing it off your body, the bodice coming along with it, causing your tits to spill out. He gropes and squeezes them, “I wonder how nice they'd look when they swell with milk hm?” He coos, before descending his lips onto your nipple, you use your now free hands to push him away but he doesn't budge, you try to pull him by his hair but he bites harshly onto your nipple causing you to let go of his hair in pain, he pulls away and looks at you angrily.

“Behave.” He says sternly and you flinch, never having heard Aemond use that specific tone before, it was extremely scary. “Aemond, please.” You plead him but he doesn't care, simply ripping off the remains and pushing you up the bed and prying your legs open. “You'd look so beautiful, all round with my child in your belly, I pray to the mother to bless us with a child.” He undos his breeches and your eyes widen in horror, knowing what is about to come.

You watched in silence as he lined himself against your entrance, prodding the tip at the very beginning of your hole and began to push inside, you shut your eyes tightly and clenched the sheets below you, a pained cry leaving your mouth at the stretch of your cunt by his cock, unprepared.

He soon fully sheathed himself inside you, and wastes no time before beginning to thrust, whines and gasps leave your mouth at his actions, you grip onto his shoulders as he jerks you up and down, you felt ashamed when it started to begin to feel good, your body in dilemma where you push him or pull him closer.

However that sense of choice is taken away from you when he grabs your hands and pins them above you, all while pistoning his hips into yours, “Seven above, I pray that the mother blesses my dear wife with a child in her womb so she may be cured of her sinfulness, I pray that the maiden guides her into realising how she should truly perform her duty as a woman, and may the crone remove useless thoughts and guide her to the correct path.” He prays closing his eyes and your eyes widen in pure shock, shocked by the fact on how he can pray in a situation like this?

His thrusts feel so sinful, and you're convinced you've lost your mind because of the fact that you are getting pleasure from this, his lips find yours in a passionate kiss as he ends the prayer, kissing your forehead afterwards and pulls back, “You'll make a good mother, I'm sure of it.” He coos in your ear before pressing a kiss to it as well.

You soon began to recognize the familiar feeling of a rope tightening in your abdomen, the telltale sign that your peak was nearing, Aemond's hand groped your tits, pinching your nipples and rubbing his thumb over them, providing you with additional pleasure, and before you know it, you are toppling over the edge as your peak hits you, arching your back and moaning out his name loudly.

He too finishes inside you, filling your hole with his seed, before pulling out, his face hovers over your stomach and you watch as he presses a kiss on the location of where your womb would be located, “May the mother bless us.” He mutters.

You thought that would be the end, yet you were wrong, you gasp when you feel his finger scooping up his seed which leaked out and push it back into you, essentially beginning to finger you, he takes you by surprise again when you feel his warm tongue on your clit, causing your hands to fly out and grip his hair as you breathed heavily.

His tongue and finger worked simultaneously, introducing you to a sensation of a new type of overstimulation, making you peak once again.

Time blurred together and yet Aemond did not stop, you've lost count of how many times he made you peak and how many times he finished inside you, but at the end of it, you surely felt full and fucked out, your mind filled with nothing but the thought of having his children, which he kept muttering over and over again, causing you to pick up on it.

“You'll be a great mother.” He pulls you into his arms as scoot closer, burying your face in his chest, “Yes, Husband, I'll give you as many children you want.” You mutter before finally drifting off to sleep.

Aemond smirks, knowing that he has now achieved his goal, now he can slowly start shifting you into the type of wife he wanted in the first place.

It was no surprise when you found out that you were pregnant with a child, only for you to give birth to triplets.

“A blessing from the mother.” Alicent beamed, yet that sentence only made you flinch.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#MAE:DARK!CONTENT #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #tw: dark content #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!hotd #tw: religous themes #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: forced breeding

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monzabee · 10 months ago

Text

greedy (social media au) - ln4

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where lando finds a certain singer cute.

Pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (model used: tate mcrae)

Warnings: none other than some cursing

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by oliviarodrigo, conangray, landonorris and 638,957 others

yourusername: signing off to work on some exciting things!! xox

oliviarodrigo: no come hang out with me and @conangray !!!

conangray: we have cookies !!!

yourusername: this album is not going to write itself, guys !!!

user: okay she looks so slay, but who took the photos??

user: lando?? ariana what are you doing here??

user: oh he's shooting his shot alright...

user: it's been 357457 days without a yn album

user: slay me, rip me, i'm died dead

view all 126,746 comments

yourusername posted a story!

landonorris

Liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 708,818 others

landonorris: learnt a lot about shooting your shot, nice

user: oh he's good

user: wdym shooting your shot?? what??

user: girl you are a couple of chapters behind...

user: this was a crossover i didn't know i needed

user: lando this is the wrong sport honey

view all 176,928 comments

oscarpiastri: i'm very confused

user: so are we oscar

user: he's so one of us

landonorris: 🤫

user: WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

landonorris posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, lirislaw, oliviarodrigo and 809,398 others

yourusername: greedy out on all platforms today!! give it a listen if you're as obsessed as zambonis as me!!

user: somebody check on lando norris to see if he's still alive

user: i can already hear him screaming somewhere

user: he's going to be streaming this song non-stop during his streams

user: at least she will be getting that copyright check

user: FINALLY MOTHER SLAY

user: she didn't choose the hockey life, the hockey life chose her

user: zambonis (some madness) and yn (and badness), the combination

view all 263,827 comments

conangray: i have no idea what a fucking zamboni is but i'm in

oliviarodrigo: you know what a zamboni is

conangray: no i don't

yourusername: yes you do

conangray: yes i do

landonorris posted a story!

yourusername

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yourusername: 2023, you were great, 2024 better take notes

user: WELL LANDO WASN'T DELULU AFTER ALL

user: i still can't believe he pulled her and we all thought it was unreciprocated

user: 🤡this is us rn🤡

user: i call this dedication

user: my man took 'blood, toil, tears and sweat' to a whole other level

user: this is what i call a patriotic brit🫡

landonorris: cutie

yourusername: 🫠🫠

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danielricciardo: fucking finally, i was losing hair because of the stress of this relationship being a fucking secret

yourusername: i don't think that was because of us danny

landonorris: burn

#monzabee #formula 1 x reader #social media au #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #lando norris social media au

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sainns · 6 months ago

Text

I'll GO AS LONG AS IT'S WITH YOU.

𝓢. ㅤㅤlate (2:58AM late) night confession.

NRKㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀gnreader⠀) . . . f2l, riki is kinda cocky help, suicide joke, dialogue heavy, i had no idea how to end this so sorry for the awkward ending, not proofread.ㅤ1241 words

it's almost three in the morning when you hear something hit your window along with the buzzing of your phone. you turn over, groaning in annoyance; you know exactly who it is.

nishimura riki, the absolute bane of your existence. the boy you've lived next to since you were five years old, the boy who has unfortunately forced his way into becoming your best friend.

he's not as bad as you make him out to be, not really, he just has an annoying habit of wanting to take you to random abandoned places he's found with his friends. places he insists are better in the middle of the night, when there's no noise nor light in your small town.

you hit answer after the third ring, holding your phone up to your ear, "what?"

"you have bad manners," he replies. you can hear his stupidly endearing smile through the phone, "anyways, get up, i'm taking you somewhere,"

"i don't remember you asking," still, you push the covers away from your body, slipping out of bed.

"i don't have to ask, you'll go," he hums. you hate that he's right.

you hold back a sigh, grabbing a hoodie off of your floor. you don't bother trying to make yourself look decent, pulling the hoodie over your head and leaving on your worn out pajama pants. you slip a random pair of shoes on—you thought about wearing slides but god only knows where he's taking you. the first time he did this you ended up with wet and muddy socks because of your tired decision.

“it's late,” you walk over to your window, pulling it open. you smile when you see riki wave.

“it's late,” he makes his voice an annoyingly high pitch mocking you, “like you haven't been up later,”

you roll your eyes, “whatever. where's the ladder so i can get down?”

it's dark but you can see him shrug, throwing his hands up comically, “don't know. just jump,”

“i'm not jumping out of my window,”

“why not? i'll catch you and it'll be like we're romeo and juliet,”

“juliet doesn't jump out of her window, riki,”

“she should've. maybe then she would still be alive,”

you let out a laugh of disbelief, covering your mouth with your free hand, “you're dumb. go get the ladder, please?”

“i make better grades than you do, but sure. i’ll go look for it, be back as soon as i find where your parents hid it,” he salutes you, hanging up the phone as he walks off.

you watch him for as long as you can see him, losing his figure when he walks the the side of your house.

he's only gone for a minute or two before you see him again, this time carrying the metal ladder in his hands. you watch as he sets it up, licking his lips in concentration. then he gives you a thumbs up, signaling you to climb down.

you climb out your window, careful not to hit your head and begin your descent down. you've done this a million times at this point, you're practically an expert at sneaking out—if you ignore the one time you were caught but that was ages ago. no matter how much you claim to be an expert, though, once you're in his reach, riki continues to grab your waist to keep you steady for the last few steps.

when you place your foot on the grass, his hands leave your body. sometimes you find yourself missing his touch but you don't acknowledge that feeling.

“so, where are we going?”

he grins, “my backyard,”

you blink at him in astonishment. he woke you up at—you check your phone—2:58AM just to take you into his backyard?

“i'm going back to bed,” you attempt to turn around but riki's hand on your wrist stops you.

“yn,” he drags out the last syllable of your name, “don’t go, please. you're gonna like it,”

you frown at him, “how much?”

“so much. swear on my life,” his hand slips from your wrist into yours, lacing your fingers together.

you look down at your hands, “if i don't like it, you'll kill yourself then?”

“sure. you're gonna have to explain to my mom why i did it, though,”

“i'm think she'll understand,”

“you're annoying,” he tugs on your hand, pulling you towards his house, “come on,”

you let him pull you to his backyard and you let him cover your eyes with his hands as he walks you into his backyard.

“okay, keep your eyes closed,” he pulls his hands away, making sure your eyes are in fact closed.

“this is scary,”

“it's just my backyard, you dork,”

“what if i open my eyes to a bunch of bodies?” you feel him kick your leg, “what the hell?”

“i don't kill people. shut up, you're ruining the moment,”

“what moment?”

“be quiet and you'll see, yeah?”

you hum, listening to his steps get farther away from you. you have no clue as to what he's doing or why he's doing it. you figure he could've waited until the morning to show you whatever it is that's in his backyard, but that's how he is. he does whatever he wants and you follow along, even if you probably shouldn't. you can't help it.

“okay, you can open your eyes,” you hear his voice in your ear, sending shivers down your back. you open your eyes, not even bothering to be slow about it.

his backyard is lit up by fairylights, hanging up on the fence and next to the tree is a large blanket laid out with even more blankets on tops of it and pillows against the tree's trunk. you notice a basket of snacks and a laptop sitting in the middle, you smile, “what's this?”

he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “date night. we're gonna watch a movie,”

“date night?”

“uh, yeah,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “like.. a date. a couple thing,”

you look up at him, “are we a couple?”

he frowns, “okay, quit making fun of me. hold on, i need a second,”

you smile at him expectantly, a teasing glint in your eyes as you wait for him to speak.

“i like you,” he grabs your face in between his hands, bringing you closer to him, “i had a way better confession but, like, i’m way too nervous to think right now,”

you push up on feet, rising so that you can press your lips against his. it's a short kiss, nothing too extravagant, but apparently it was enough for him because when you pull away his face is a bright red and he's staring at you as if you grew a second head.

“oh. oh okay,”

“that's the worst thing you can say after kissing someone,”

“sorry! sorry—i'm nervous, i told you,” he presses his hand against your eyes stop you from looking at him so intensely.

“okay,” you hum, “you can be nervous while we're watching a movie,”

you remove his hand from over your eyes and drag him over to the mess of blankets he set up, pulling him down to sit down with you.

he groans, leaning his head against yours, “how are you being normal right now?”

“’cos i'm gonna go home and scream into my pillow then call all my friends about this,”

“you just reminded me that i need to call jake.”

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whatswrongwithblue · 13 days ago

Note

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

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oh-no-its-bird · 4 months ago

Text

Fic where, in practicing to get edo tensei right, Orochimaru uses Izuna as a test subject and tries to substitute DNA to make it work, using Suigetsu's bc like it's extra flexible or whatever bc shape change

Edo tensei mermaid Izuna locked in a tube somewhere in Oro's lab,,

He's SO mad about it and has literally no information ab what's going on at all bc hes locked in a fucking tube !!

Bonus points if Orochimaru doesn't even specifically know who he is

They unearthed him w the rest of the founders on a whim but bc no one really requested him specifically, the body just kinda sat there and eventually got mixed in w the rest of the Uchiha corpses, till Orochimaru requests an Uchiha corpse and they shrug and send him over

He still has Madara's eyes too (left alone either by oversight / or bc they decided not to pull them before he got mixed in w the other bodies, who had by then already gotten scooped of their eyes so they assumed he'd already been harvested)

Ok but like. No one even tells him what happened/where he is/that madara made the village. Why would anyone?? The only one Izuna sees regularly is Orochimaru, and he doesn't know those facts would matter??

Izuna doesn't even know what Konoha IS, he isn't gonna recognize the name

From Izuna's perspective, he died in his bed and then BOOM. Tank time.

Orochimaru might tell him it's been some years since his death (thinking he died in the massacre) and even if Izuna doesn't believe him bc like, enemy, enemy territory, he sure as fuck probably won't be thinking "Ah yes it's been decades since my death and my brother went against my dying wishes to make that village"

Tho he might get nervous and start picking up those cues when he sees the tech

Oro mentions offhand that the Uchiha were all killed and Izuna immediatley assumes the Senju won the war and loses it

He'd figure it out eventually obviously (probably after being set free, most likley by Sasuke w Suigetsu) But he'd also probably keep that to himself, bc like, enemy territory n stuff

Mermaid shapeshifter Izuna terrorizes the shinobi world,, Sasuke doesn't know what he just unleashed.

Ok actually but like. Suigetsu's shape-shifting but bc Izuna has a fire chalra nature, make it liquid fire shape-shifting. Fuckin, fire mermaid Izuna. He has an awful time retaining his form and actually for the first chunk of time, him being in that tube is genuinley just for the best. He keeps turning into liquid fire with no real solid body and can't put himself back together for hours.

Izuna hears his brother is still alive and running Akatsuki and is so down to clown till he realizes THATS NOT HIS FUCKING BROTHER HOW DARE YOU USE HIS NAME

Anyways oh my god Izuna on team Taka,,

He and Sasuke would be SUCH a dynamic actually, they look alike so much?? Sasuke doesn't recognize him but he's clearly a close relation, so there's some mystery there. Sasuke is like super shaken by finding a member of his clan and Izuna, by that point aware that apparently the rest of his clan is dead, is sticking to him like GLUE. Sasuke is bitchy little brother coded and Izuna understands this is probably karma bc he is also bitchy little brother coded

They probably clash a lot, especially bc both are expecting to be in charge here, but ultimately I think they'd get along better than Sasuke does most people, and there's also that bonus vulnerability of like. Izuna is an older Uchiha boy who's trying to brother him (with a noticeably different brother-ing style to Itachi too) and Sasuke has been alone for so, so long.

Sasuke accidentally calls him nii-san then promptly has several break downs about it

Suigetsu and Izuna either get along ALARMINGLY well or they hate eachother. I think I wanna go with the first bc it sounds more fun. They couldn't talk to eachother in the tanks but they could still see eachother, so maybe they kind of developed some sort of code to communicate?

They are "cause problems on purpose" friends. They're also "wdym I can't kill him???" *looks of genuine confusion* buddies. They're giving Sasuke the biggest headache actually, someone stop them. If you leave them to "take care" of a problem, there will be carnage.

Also, like, Izuna literally has Suigetsu's DNA in him. That's a thing.

Mmm maybe some complex thoughts ab how Izuna has effectively become a bloodline thief against his will (the ULTIMATE taboo for shinobi from his era) and he's like, actually fucked up about it.

Running joke where they refer to each other as cousins, could be funny. They argue over who's the bastard child (it's Izuna obviously but he won't just take that title lying down)

Izuna is like, in his 20s, and Karin is around 16 or 17 at this time I think?? She definatley has a bit of a crush on him (which helps take the edge off Sasuke) but like, he's not acknowledging that beyond patting her on the head. She'll get over it eventually. (Sasuke hides behind Izuna when Karin is trying to flirt w him and Izuna absoloutley laughs at them both)

Izuna is actually really impressed w Karin's sensing abilities specifically. I think he'd be a bit on edge around her at first, bc Uzumaki -> Senju ally. But he'd quickly assume she's a deserter (he has no idea the Uzumaki are pretty much wiped out rip) and becomes cautiously chill after a minute or two (also when he first escapes, he REALLY doesn't have the luxury to pick and choose his allies. He's instantly attached to Sasuke and cautiously fond of Suigetsu, and Karin seems to have Sasuke's trust at least, so he'll keep an eye on it but otherwise trust Sasuke's judgment)

Izuna and Karin besties arc where they paint eachothers nails is a must. I love the take that Izuna is really into fashion n stuff and he and Karin should like, trade hair tips or smthn. Karin knows modern soap brands where as Izuna bought his soaps from clan vendors who no longer fucking exist, so like, it's definatley helpful.

Karin is the only one of them to have any real hint of where tf Izuna came from (tho even she doesn't have the full details) it'd be cool if she was the one to figure out more details ab his general mystery— maybe something about her chakra sensing gives her a hint as to how old he really is?? Or she finds the paper trail that hints towards the bodies being mixed up???? Idk but she deserves to have an "aha!" moment

Also Izuna's medical knowledge/standards are NOT up to modern and Karin is so mad about it, she's giving him hella lessons on first aid n shit and he's very, very interested in all this free medical knowledge

I know the least about Jugo so bear with me on this one pls— I think Izuna would find Jugo to be pretty fascinating as a person actually. He enjoys tentatively poking him with sticks, and comes to genuinley like him as a person (when he's calm) pretty quickly

Also cats love Izuna so he gets bonus points from Jugo bc of that, they can bond while petting Izuna's contracted cats or smthn idk

Yeah I really don't know much ab Jugo so that's all I have to offer sorry

Ok let's backtrack a bit, back to Orochimaru ->

Fun scene towards the very start of the fic, where Izuna still has no fucking clue what's going on, but recognizes Orochimaru as a member of the Orochi clan. He says as much, and Orochimaru has to pause.

No one's mentioned his clan to him in years. They haven't been relevant in Konoha since Orochimaru was born— even before that, they were barley relevant. Izuna should not know who they are.

(The only reason he does know is bc they had a neutral to positive relationship w the Uchiha back in the warring era, and Izuna had visited them once before)

Immediatley, Orochimaru is squinting at this guy. He's giving Danzo a ring asking who exactly he got sent over, but Danzo doesn't actually have anything to offer him??? The paperwork is a mess and there were a LOT of Uchiha. He's not registered as a shinobi tho.

Hmmmm.... ok.

Orochimaru is suddenly aware there's some kind of mystery here now, which is dangerous for Izuna. Izuna is, again, in enemy territory, and he's able to pick up on the fact that Orochimaru doesn't actually know who he is. This ofc means that HE sure as hell won't be telling him.

Maybe he bares his teeth and sarcastically says he's the second coming of Uchiha Madara (not even that big of a lie when u think ab it)

Pivoting time ->

Izuna is listed in the data books as like, being equally as talented as Madara and I think we should talk ab that more actually

I love Tobirama but he really did get him by surprise

Izuna just got cocky and taken by surprise!!

HE DIDNT EVEN GET COCKY HE JUST LOGICALLY DIDNT EXPECT TOBIRAMA TO FUCKING INVENT TELEPORTATION

Then he went down in the history books both in canon and out of it as the weakest of the 4, that's so tragic

Izuna gets mermaid edo tenseid and (once people know who he is) everyone is like "Ok well at least he's uhh. The weakest of the 4 right?? I mean tobirama killed him when they were like only 19/20 so we'll probably be fine???"

Then he just fucking bodies them all bc hes a nightmare actually AND on whatever special test trial edo tensei steroids they gave him

Izuna is fueled on rage and spite and he's full up on both

Imagine he gets the full story of everything that happened while he was dead too, like.

Ok so Madara goes against his EXPRESS dying wishes and makes his village. (what the fuck!!) Then backs out (yay!!) but in an awful way that effectively fucks over the entire clan for years to come (nii-san what the FUCK)

Then gets literally backstabbed by Hashirama (HE FUCKING TOLD YOU!!! WHAT DID HE FUCKING SAY!!!!!)

Then the Uchiha seem to thrive and like. Ok. He's still mad about it, but at least something... kind of nice came out of it.

THEN BOTH THE VILLAGE AND MADARA'S(?????) SCHEMES KILL THEIR ENTIRE CLAN

Izuna is SO mad at literally everyone, holy shit. The only one safe from his rage is Hikaku, god rest his poor, poor soul

Actually, I think it'd be funny if Izuna was like, indescribably extra awful mad at everyone— but then is like. Normal mad amounts at Tobirama, who was a bitch but at least didn't seem to carry on a personal fucking vendetta against the Uchiha like EVERYONE ELSE INCLUDING FUCKING MADARA FOR SOME GODDAMN REASON

Izuna is going like, "FUCK you, FUCK you, OH, EXTRA FUCK YOU—" then squints at Tobirama and goes "...fuck you." Then goes back to screaming

To be clear, Tobirama absolutely contributed to the end of the Uchiha, but like. A) it'd be funny, and B) at least his seemed slightly less on purpose than literally everyone else

There's also I think a difference of like. Izuna never expected Tobirama to suddenly turn around and be pro Uchiha

Where as everyone else (again, including his brother!!) Was like. A genuine betrayal

Tobirama fucking over the clan was never a surprise

He never pretended to be on their side (like Hashirama lowkey did)

Tobirama vs Izuna but it's them getting to relive their rivalry where as Izuna vs literally anyone else is emotionally charged as hell and filled with demented screaming

Leaving it there for now, I might actually try to write this one but who tf knows

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ooffmlsorry · 1 year ago

Text

One Piece Men Dealing with a Dangerously Reckless S/O

context: by dangerously reckless I mean someone who never has a second thought about throwing themselves in harms way and doesn't care what it does to them

t/w: passive suicidality, self harm? (better safe than sorry) angst. Mentions of blood, injury, and death

LAW

It'd probably lead to a big argument where he threatens to kick you off his crew because losing you would legitimately be the death of him. He can't lose anymore people he loves to violence. When Bepo tells Law you didn't even hesitate to plunge into a thicket of razor wire to help your crew mates escape, it doesn't read as admirable to him. It reminds him too much of himself on Spider Miles. After he gets your side of the story, which pretty much confirms it, he doesn't talk to you at all while he cleans the mud and blood from your skin and stitches the slashes that cover you from head to toe. Normally, even if you've fallen asleep, he talks you through your treatment, but not after your stunts. He's that...scared? Angry? Distraught might be the right word. Every time you do something like this, he's speechless because his thoughts are racing with the reality of losing you. He feels sick to his stomach. On nights like these, he doesn't know whether to sleep far away from you or hold you so close to him you can't breathe.

LUFFY

At first, Luffy doesn't care. He has the utmost faith in his crew, and they put themselves in harms way all the time! Getting injured is just being a pirate sometimes! That's pre-timeskip. Post-timeskip Luffy still has a lot of faith in his crew and a lot of faith in his ability to protect his crew, but he's...different. He believes things are always going to work out no matter what and if they don't he'll make them, but sometimes he wakes up in the middle of night and stares at you, tracing all the scars you've gotten from one fight or another. And then the what-ifs begin to creep in and the nightmares start. After literally diving into a sea king to retrieve Nami's log pose and Chopper has patched you up yet again, you wake up to Luffy calling out for you in his sleep, sweat dampening his hair and his face twisted in fear. You soothe and shush him until his breathing evens out, but he holds you tighter still. It's not in his nature to "bench you" or doubt your strength just because he's in love with you. That would be controlling and doubting you, and he would never do that. But that doesn't mean Zoro and Sanji don't take notice, even if Luffy won't say anything they make it extremely hard for you to pull off any careless "heroics."

ZORO

Much like Luffy, Zoro doesn't think much of it for a while for the same reason. This is the guy that was completely ready to cut his own legs off, after all. But that doesn't mean it doesn't concern him, especially because you don't seem to have a rhyme or reason for all the shit you pull. And he would say something to you about it. Maybe not directly after you jumped straight into Marine gunfire to cover a little girl, he just wants you to be alive at that point. But after days of taking care of you as your wounds slowly heal, after he's certain you're not going anywhere this time, he'd make sure the two of you are somewhere alone and quiet to talk. As far as Zoro's concerned not going down without a fight is completely fine, dying for your dream isn't considered giving it up, but acting like it isn't a possibility is stupid. And he'd tell you as much. For most of this he wouldn't be able to look at you, just because if he does fear is going to take hold of him, but for that last bit he would. Zoro would search your eyes hoping you understand what he's saying. He'll tie you to the ship if he has to, he'd do anything if it saves you from being so stupid as to forfeit your dreams.

SABO

Dying for the cause is par for the course. It's a grim reality that Sabo begrudgingly accepts, although he does have a bit of youthful naivety that it won't ever happen to anyone. He won't ever believe the revolution isn't worth it, but you do make him question it for the first time. He loves you so much he has to compare you to the whole world for a moment, and that's one of the worst thoughts he's ever had. Because the whole world still wins. The guilt would eat him alive until he blows up (somewhat literally) at you for drinking the last of a rare poison to keep it out of the enemy's hands. Angry tears roll down Sabo's cheeks. When he yells at you, he's shaking with anger and fear. It's not up to him, but he doesn't object when you're completely benched while you recover and for a little longer after that. It takes a while for him to no longer angry and scared out of his mind, but once he is he's back to himself. If can visit you every day he will. He has hope for the world's future, and hope for yours too. He's not leaving either behind.

#don't ask me what this is actually #is this something?#who knows lol #law x reader #luffy x reader #sabo x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader headcanons #angsty one piece #one piece #one piece x you

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goodlucktai · 4 months ago

Text

now the darkness comes alive

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 10k characters: raph & leo

welcome to a very self-indulgent roleswap au that i started dreaming up in my friend’s turtle discord. big thank you to rem for the song rec that gave me the insp to finish (and name!) the fic, and also to lake, sara and meeks for enabling my insane behavior <3

oh, now the darkness comes alive it comes for me and i come for you

—brother, the rural alberta advantage

read on ao3

The Krang’s spike pierces through plastron and flesh with a sickening crunch and Leo makes an awful punched-out sound. Raph is seconds too slow, and seconds is all it takes for his entire world to end.

For the past two years, they’ve been at constant odds, Leo going out of his way to undermine and annoy him. Every interaction was laced with frustration, hurt, worry, confusion. Why are you being like this? Raph wanted to ask, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until an answer came out. What did I do to you?

It was a miserable way to live. Being angry at someone you love more than anything, having nowhere to put it down, forced to hold onto it and hold onto it and hold onto it. Every day another argument, every night laying awake and hoping that tomorrow would be different.

He missed Leo. He missed how they used to be. He didn’t know why Pops’ announcement had turned them against each other. He hadn’t thought anything would be able to do that.

Once or twice Raph had a moment of weakness and imagined what it would be like if he just quit. If he went to Splinter and told him he was done. Let someone else be the oldest, the biggest, the one who carried everyone else. But that thought was always followed instantly by another, louder one—how small would he feel if he didn’t have little turtles climbing on his back and sitting on his shoulders? How empty would his arms be if he didn’t have anyone to carry in them?

That’s the whole point. That’s why he’s so afraid. That’s why being left alone drives him straight past anxious and into a blackout. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them.

And now he’s living his worst nightmare. He’s living outside his own body, watching from somewhere else. It doesn’t feel real.

His little brother, his little Leo, crumpled beneath him, blood staining bright blue an ugly rust color. His chest is heaving as if each breath hurts and his eyes are wide and wet. He’s gazing up at Raph like they’re children again. It’s the way he looked when he was afraid of a thunderstorm or he was about to get in trouble and he needed Raph to make it better. He always looked at Raph first.

The monsters behind them are laughing. One of them starts talking, the sound coming closer at a leisurely pace. They aren’t safe. Leo is bleeding. Raph is afraid to touch him, shaking hands hovering over his cracked plastron. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is white with panic.

He has the escape pod in his hand, not yet activated. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to use it. Leo is skewered to the ground, pinned like a butterfly to corkboard. Donnie’s tech is highly intuitive, all of it programmed into S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI infrastructure, and maybe the pod would know to account for the particulars of the situation, but there almost definitely isn’t a way to remove Leo safely in the seconds they don’t really have to work with.

Leo blinks, and the wetness in his eyes spills out, and Raph just wants to pick him up. Carry him somewhere safe. Leo has always been larger than life, but right now he looks impossibly small.

“Hey, hey,” Raphael soothes, the same way he has a thousand times before, after bad dreams and skinned knees, “you’re okay. Raph’s here, you’re okay.”

Those gold eyes slide to the side, looking at a point behind Raph. Leo’s arm moves, and something cold and solid presses against Raph’s chest. It’s the key, and Leo’s hand is trembling so hard that Raph’s closes around it instinctively, taking the weight of it from him.

Because he’s Leo, the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile.

“I told you,” he says hoarsely. It somehow manages to sound wry, like they’re in on a joke together. “I got it.”

Then he uses the hand that Raph isn’t holding to activate the escape pod lingering between them and pushes it those scant few fatal inches forward. Raph doesn’t realize what the beep means until the pod unfolds in front of him and yanks him unceremoniously away from his brother.

“No,” Raph says, light-headed with fear, “no!”

But a machine couldn’t possibly understand the wrong it was doing. What it was leaving behind. Raph pummels the inside of the pod hysterically but without his ninpo he can’t do enough to damage something Donnie built specifically to safeguard their family. It lifts him up and away and Leo’s crooked little smile gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.

——

When the pod touches down in the lair and releases him, the world around Raph is strangely muffled. There’s a ringing in his ears. He thinks he can hear voices but it’s all just noise. Nothing fully clears the chaos in his own head.

Donatello is directly in front of him, and his hands are white-knuckled on the side of an empty blue pod. He looks like he already knows something went very wrong. His eyes are bright gold, a mirror of his twin’s, and the quiet fear in them places Raph directly back inside the warehouse, surrounded by monsters, too late to protect anyone, Leo’s blood on his hands, Leo looking up at him—

Raph’s stomach lurches and he turns sharply away. His gaze lands on Casey Jones instead, who appraises him warily in turn, slim shoulders going stiff beneath the battered Genius Built armor.

“Leo went back for the key,” Raph says, his voice a deep growling thing that cuts through the noise and brings down a curtain of stillness. He holds the stupid thing out, and if it were made of anything less than strange alien stone, his grip would have crushed it into pieces. Casey’s eyes drop to it and brighten, like it’s a good thing that it’s here even though Leo’s not. Relief floods every inch of his face until he looks even younger than he did already.

“He got it,” the boy says reverently, taking it in both hands. “I knew he would.”

Raphael wants to scream. He wants to step back and let some other version of himself take the reins while he finds a hole to cry in. He doesn’t want to turn at his father’s firm call of his name or force himself to lift his chin until Splinter can meet his eyes and find all the miserable failure festering inside him, but he does.

April is looking around and behind Raph, her eyes jumping to the red pod still standing open and then back again, as if finally noticing that Leo wasn’t tucked in there, too. As if it is only just occurring to her that there is a universe that exists where Raphael leaves Leonardo behind, and it’s this one, and it’s horrible.

Donnie might as well be carved from stone, but Mikey is starting to get worked up, looking between everyone else with huge red eyes, trying to hear the thing they’re all not saying.

“He went back for the key,” Raphael says again, choking the words out. “I couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to—”

He clenches his fists and it drags his siblings’ attention to the blood on them. April covers her mouth and Mikey takes in a breath so sharp it must cut and Donnie starts to flap his hands. Splinter closes his eyes, looking as though he’s aged about a hundred years in the last few minutes.

“What? That’s not possible,” Casey interjects as if he can’t help it. The young soldier glances around the room, like Leo is going to pop up from behind the turnstiles and rib them all for being so gullible. “Master Leonardo is the greatest ninja the world has ever seen, he wouldn’t just—”

“He’s not master anything!” Raph only barely manages not to roar. “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid!”

Casey flinches away from his anger and Raphael brutally wrestles it into submission. It’s not doing any good here. Casey is a kid, too.

“Raph,” Mikey blurts, too loud and too fast, “is Leo dead?”

The word sucks the air out of the room and Donnie makes a noise like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Raph says, “No. No, Angie, he’s alive.”

Even though their ninpo is locked away, and with it that subconscious knowledge of each other always lingering comfortably in the back of their minds like a warm afterthought, Raph knows they would know if Leo was gone. They would be able to tell. The world would be fundamentally changed, nothing would ever be the same again.

He puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders and adds, “We’re gonna bring him home.”

The plan isn’t much of one, but their resident schemer is very much not present, and no one questions Raph when he lays it out. Donnie robotically admits that he has the means to track Leo, so the turtles and Future Boy are going to head that way and retrieve him, while Splinter and April babysit the key.

“Use the shell hogs and just keep moving for now,” Raph says. “They have something we want, we have something they want.”

April nods, grimly understanding. If the only Hail Mary shot they have of getting their brother back is handing over the key and finding an opening to steal it back later, that’s just what they’ll have to do.

Pops abandoned the Hamato Clan’s teachings in the first place because he didn’t agree with their preachings of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. He handed over the final piece of the dark armor without flinching when his sons’ lives hung in the balance. Even if the rest of their ancestors wouldn’t understand, Raphael does.

He remembers the jar of oozesquitos he held onto once, trying—and failing—to call Draxum’s bluff. He may be a slow learner, but he only needs to be taught the lesson once.

Leo risked his life to return this key to his family, so Raph is going to fight for it like an insane person for as long as it makes sense to. But if it comes down to abandoning one to save the other…

He’s his father’s son. He knows which choice he’ll make.

——

In the Turtle Tank, Mikey and Donnie distract themselves on the trip to Metro Tower station by peppering Casey with questions about the future. The human answers readily, describing Master Donatello’s technological genius—holding out his arms so the entirety of his battered, cyberpunk-style kit is on display—and going on at length about Master Michelangelo’s mystic prowess.

“I could fly?” Mikey squeaks, drumming his hands on the dash rapidly. “Was it cool?”

“The coolest,” Casey is quick to agree. “And you opened a portal that sent me through time.”

But the warmth in Casey’s eyes doesn’t last very long, fading into something that looks uncomfortably like grief instead. He tends to look at all of them like that, like he’s in a room full of ghosts.

He darts a sidelong glance in Raph’s direction and quickly faces forward again, staring out the windshield from Leo’s seat. He’s avoided speaking to him as much as possible, and Raphael can, unfortunately, put two and two together.

Casey is familiar with everyone else—even April and Splinter—but he dances around Raph as if he’s a stranger. He didn’t know Raph in the future, he knew of him—someone to be respectful of and fall in line for, but certainly not one of the uncles he could brag about to their younger selves.

When the Tank has gone as far through the tunnels as possible, drawn to a stop at a massive tangle of alien vines, they get out and continue on foot. Raph can feel his little brothers walking as close to him as they can without outright admitting that they’re unnerved, all of their guards completely up, senses dialed to eleven.

The underground is home to them, always has been, and generally speaking if you’ve seen one subway tunnel you’ve seen them all. But the floodlights from Donnie’s battleshell illuminate a scene that looks like it belongs on another planet. Impossible masses of pink-purple mess dangle everywhere like Halloween store decorations, and the subway cars have been upended off the rails and twisted out of shape.

Casey’s mask is down, the lenses glowing green as he prowls forward without missing a beat. If he came here from a future where the Krang won, Raph can only imagine what the New York City he grew up in looked like.

“I hate to be painfully obvious, but since my other half isn’t present, I suppose it falls on my shoulders,” Donatello says after a moment, the sardonic tone of voice at odds with his very low register. “Something feels off.”

He’s barely got the words out when hundreds of little lights blink at them from the jungle of purple vines—not lights, glowing eyes. The silent tunnel explodes into chaos a second later as they’re ambushed by parasite-controlled people and creatures and even objects.

Raph and Casey are neatly separated from Donnie and Mikey within a manner of minutes. Raph’s heart is in his throat as he pummels through wave after wave of the infected, and it doesn’t settle until he hears on the comms that his little brothers have taken shelter in the Tank.

He and Casey are pushed farther and farther away, chased down one of the tunnels by an animated subway car on what looks like spidery crab legs, towards a dead end. When Raphael feels the ground start to give beneath them, he acts on seventeen years of big brother instinct and very little else, seizing Casey around the middle and curling around him completely as they fall.

It’s a dizzying, topsy-turvy couple of minutes, falling from the subway tracks into a maintenance tunnel underneath, and it takes awhile for his ears to stop ringing. He glances down at the human in his arms and notes with relief that Casey seems to be okay–tucked up small and compact against Raph’s plastron, all limbs accounted for, in such a practiced way that Raph thinks he’s been protected in exactly this manner more than once before.

Neither of them speak right away, coming down from the rush of adrenaline and waiting for the shifting of crumbled concrete to stop and the dust to clear. Raph’s shell was made of sturdy stuff even before he became a chaotic alchemists’s bioengineering experiment, so when he’s certain they’re relatively safe, he pushes off the ground with his hands and lets the debris roll harmlessly off his back and shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” Raph asks, sitting back to give Casey room to collect himself.

“Um, no,” Casey says, tugging his cape down from where it had caught around one of his pauldrons. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but more like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that it’s just the two of them, looking up at Raph and then away again.

Raph can’t help it. He says, “I died, didn’t I? In the future.”

Casey jerks, as if he was surprised to be asked so plainly. Then his shoulders hunch, and he nods.

“You all did,” he says haltingly. “Uncle Tello when I was thirteen, and sensei and Uncle Angie just… just before I got sent back.”

Cold dread slams into Raph’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe he and his siblings could ever truly be divided, but the proof is sitting in front of him. It’s hard to hear that the end of the world managed to take Raph from his little siblings. Donnie from his twin. That Leo and Mikey were left all alone, with a kid to take care of, and a losing war to fight.

Casey swallows hard, and curls his hands into fists, visibly forcing himself past the loss that probably sits in his stomach and throat like barbed wire.

“But you—it happened when I was little. I wasn’t really old enough to remember you.” Each word mincing and careful, he goes on, “Growing up, sensei talked about you all the time. He used to say you were the best—best brother, best leader. And he was so afraid when Master Splinter put him in charge, because he had no idea how to be as good as you. He didn’t want things to change, he was happy being your right-hand man. Sensei made it sound like he was really childish about the whole thing. He said he must have been a real disappointment.”

Raphael absorbs the words like a blow.

Leo, his little brother, his little star, outshining everyone and pulling the world into his orbit, earnestly giving them the light and warmth they needed to live and grow and flourish, a disappointment?

Raph has been angry with him more times than he can count. Hurt by him, even, because that’s what people tend to do when they don’t understand each other. Frustrated and antagonized and fed-up, sure. But disappointed?

He has a shining, crystalized memory of being a child, no more than eight years old, crying over a picture book because the monster in the book looked like him. It was big and hulking, with dangerous-looking spikes and an alligator tail. Raph hadn’t realized Leo had found him until tiny hands took the book away and a serious little face, not yet grown into its stripes, assessed the situation.

Even back then, Leo was too clever for his own good. He tossed the book on the floor and said, “They got it wrong. That author must not have ever seen any real monsters if they can mess up that bad. Who let them write a book?”

Raph was hardly able to see through his tears, making a distressed rumble in his chest, but his arms opened automatically. Mikey was in a phase where he had decided he was too big to be carried and Donnie had a hot-and-cold relationship with touch that his siblings all knew to maneuver carefully, but Leo absorbed any and all affection like a hungry little plant soaking up sunlight. He climbed right into Raph’s hug and his arms looped around Raph’s neck and hung on fiercely.

“My Raphie is a better hero than all those knights and princes and wizards anyway,” Leo had said with conviction so huge it was better suited to someone five times his size. “I have the real deal. I should be the one writing books!”

From then on, Leo vetted any and all shared reading material that made it down to the lair before allowing it to be distributed with a very grown-up gravitas. Some things went straight to Donnie or Mikey’s rooms, or back into the garbage if Leo was feeling vicious about it that day, and no one ever said a word about it.

About three months ago, April had brought them a bundle of the subscriptions they got mailed to her apartment, and Leo picked up a comic that came for Raph and started to flip through it like they were seven and eight years old again. He caught himself too late and looked embarrassed, sliding it across the counter and quickly making his escape, but Raph felt warm all the way down to his bones. That was proof his Leo was still in there, that he still cared, despite doing his best, for some reason, to convince everyone he didn’t.

His Leo, who always cared. Who cared too much.

Casey gives Raph another one of those searching, sideways glances, there and gone again.

“Sensei said he let you down once and he never wanted to do that again. He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud. Is—is this what he was talking about?”

Raph looks at the boy in front of him, Leo’s kid from a future that doesn’t exist yet, wearing tech his Uncle Tello must have meticulously built to outlast everything else, Uncle Angie’s smiley faces etched into the knee guards in a pop of silliness that somehow still existed in the apocalypse, his sensei’s red stripes painted proudly front and center on his mask. He carries his family with him with every step he takes.

It’s no wonder Casey is so cagey around him. If he was raised even in part by Leo, then he was probably raised on stories of Raph that only painted the good and the funny parts of the bad, because that’s how Leo loves. And it left Casey to reconcile how everyone’s hero Raphael could have ever thought poorly of Casey’s hero Leonardo.

“Sounds like that sensei of yours had no clue what he was talking about half the time,” Raph say gruffly. “Raph may wanna pick up him and rattle him like a snowglobe about a hundred times a day but that’s just the Leo Effect. Ask anybody.”

Casey blinks up at him, one corner of his mouth giving into a reluctant smile. “Commander O’Neil said that before,” he admits.

“Now her you can listen to any time of day or night, because she’s never wrong,” Raph says, pushing himself upright and offering Casey a hand up, too. “Leo could never do anything to make me love him less. It kind of seems impossible after a lifetime together, but I actually only keep finding reasons to love him more.”

Sliding his much smaller hand into Raph’s huge one, Casey lets himself be tugged to his feet. He’s gazing up at Raph with wide eyes, tugging on the wrist of one glove absently.

“Leo is as silly as they come,” Raph says. “He needs practical people like you and me in his life to set him straight.”

All at once, Casey’s face brightens, glowing from the inside out. His spine straightens, shoulders going back. It’s every inch Leo’s expression when he receives honest praise from his family in any direction. And Raph realizes abruptly that at least part of the reason Casey has been so nervous around him is because he doesn’t want to disappoint his father’s hero, either.

——

They find a maintenance shaft and climb the rest of the way out of the tunnels, regrouping with the whole clan in the Metro Tower station. Donnie brings Leo’s location up on a screen and they all huddle around him—falling silent after a moment as they take in what the tracker is telling them.

“He’s right—right on top of us,” Donnie says haltingly. “He should be—”

April seizes his arm and he cuts himself off mid-word. With a sense of dread, Raph follows her wide eyes across the room.

Leo is standing there, watching them. He’s been standing there the whole time. Unmoving, completely silent, and covered in the same squishy, fleshy pink parasitic slime that every other infected they’ve encountered up until now has been manipulated by. There’s a mass of it concealing the lower half of his face like one of the respirators Mikey wears for his spray paint projects, baring dozens of large serrated teeth in a sneer.

Leo’s eyes are pink, the pupils slitted. If Raph couldn’t see him breathing, he wouldn’t know for sure if he was even alive.

“Leo?” Mikey calls out in a warbling voice, hands trembling. “Can you hear us?”

It doesn’t get a reaction.

Raph takes one slow, careful step towards him.

That gets a reaction.

Leo explodes into motion so quickly it doesn’t make sense, going from zero to a hundred in seconds. He slams into Raphael with the force of a freight train, sparks flying from where his blades meet the sai Raph only barely manages to throw up in time.

Their siblings scatter, Donnie yanking Mikey firmly behind him, April putting out an arm to keep Casey back, too. Splinter dives in to help his oldest son, the two of them fighting to subdue but not to injure, hyper-aware of the cracks in Leo’s plastron and the matching wound on his shoulder. The last thing Leo’s father and big brother want to do is hurt him any more.

Leo doesn’t give them an inch of the same consideration, as cold and methodical as a knife. His swords are fully in action, a very present danger to the rest of them, singing and sweeping with fatal precision.

They’re only fighting for minutes, even though it feels like hours, when Raphael feels it. An insistent tugging on the front of his mind. He and Leo are locked together, swords caught for a moment in the guards of Raph’s sai, and Raph spares a daring second to look into his possessed brother’s pink eyes.

They glow white instantly, a successful connection. Leo’s mind pours into Raph’s like a flood.

Take them take them TAKE THEM TAKE THEM TAKE THEM

As if moving on autopilot, Raph’s hands fly to Leo’s wrists and wrench—not hard enough to sprain, but hard enough that the slider’s grip flies open and the katana clatter to the ground. Leo rips himself free and darts back to give himself room for the next attack. He makes no move to recover the swords and Raph scoops them up a second later, heart pounding.

It was so quick, so clean, that no one watching from the outside would be able to guess what had just happened. Leo surrendered his weapons to his family in the only way he possibly could, begging with his whole body to be disarmed before he hurt anyone, so desperate for Raph to hear him that he triggered a mind meld for the first time in two years.

The room comes alive, infected creatures spilling inside and surrounding them all, punching up through the floor from the tunnels they had just escaped from. A subway car covered in pink slime rears back and roars like a beast. Leo moves through the crowd of Hamato like water. The only one he touches is April, a brush of their shoulders together.

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, hand flying to her bag where the key is. Where it was.

Leo has it in his hand, facing them with unseeing eyes. The grotesque, fleshy mask covering his mouth twists into a stranger’s ugly smile.

Raph thinks, No wait. It’s not supposed to happen like this.

They’re not supposed to lose.

April uses her bat to knock the rest of the deforestation chemicals toward the Krang, causing an explosion that stalls the hoard of infected just long enough to create an escape route. Donnie scoops Mikey’s shell into his arms and Splinter has to tuck a hand around both Casey and Raphael’s elbows and yank to get them moving. Casey doesn’t make it easy.

He must know a losing fight when he sees one. He must be familiar with this scene from the world he came here from. But he struggles anyway, eyes locked without blinking on the shape of a Leo they’re leaving behind.

Raph wants to struggle, too. He wants to stay behind and fight until he can’t lift his arms or stay on his feet. He wants his lost little brother to know someone’s fighting for him, that someone will keep fighting for him for as long as it takes.

But responsibility perches heavy on his shoulders. More than one person is depending on him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done to let himself be pulled one step away, then another. It hurts more than every single other thing he’s survived.

“Raph’s coming back for you,” he calls out, voice thick, swords weighing a hundred pounds each in his hands. “Hear me, Leo? Raph’s coming back.”

Leo doesn’t give any impression that he heard. He turns at some silent command and walks away, taking the key with him. The Krang got what they came for.

——

Kneeling on a rooftop, watching the Technodrome come through a hole in the sky and rain destruction down on their city, Raph finds himself thinking I wish Leo was here.

It’s a stupid thought to have, because Leo being there would solve a very large part of the whole problem. But specifically, Raph finds himself wishing he had his clever, charming brother at his side, who always knew what to say. Who always had an idea. Who understood exactly how to reach out to people and lift their spirits, rekindle their hope. Leo isn’t the strongest of his brothers, or the fastest without his ninpo, or the smartest next to Donatello, but that doesn’t mean he can’t outshine the rest of them in his own way.

He’s always been the one they followed, really. It just so happened he was always going the same way Raph was.

“He was happy being your right-hand man,” Casey said.

How could Raph have misunderstood him so completely? How could he have just left him behind, twice now? What if it becomes a pattern? What if Leo thinks this is all he can expect from them?

Raph’s family is arguing behind him, unwilling to accept their failure but unable to see any path ahead to victory. It certainly looks hopeless. New York City is burning, people are screaming, parasites and infected are filling the streets by the dozens.

A familiar hand lands on his arm. Raph feels like he’s wading chest-deep through mud, but he manages to turn his head and look down into Mikey’s big red eyes.

“What did Leo say earlier?” Mikey asks in a small voice. “I sort of felt it when you connected but I couldn’t hear either of you.”

“It was like being aware of people talking in another room,” Donnie adds, leaning into Raph from the opposite side. “You can just make out the cadence of their conversation but no words come through clearly.”

Raph looks down at his hands, the katana he’s still holding. He rubs his thumb over the guard on one, remembering Leo’s glowing pride the first time he manifested them. He felt so buoyed by Leo’s smile in that moment that he could have fought the Shredder a hundred times over and won.

I miss you, he thinks. I miss having you on my team.

“He wanted me to take these,” Raph says. “He was really scared of what he might do with them.”

Donnie’s golden eyes are very sharp, staring without blinking at the only proof of his twin with them here on the outskirts of the apocalypse. Behind the turtles, Splinter and April are still going back and forth with each other, but Casey’s voice has tapered into silence.

“What else did he tell you?” Donnie asks abruptly.

“Nothing,” Raph replies, numb.

“C’mon, Raphie,” Mikey says, mustering a sweet smile for him, even though smiling is probably the last thing in the world he feels like doing. “Our Leo? Keeping it brief? I’ll bet he had a hundred things he was trying to say.”

“Let us in,” Donnie says, pressing his head a little harder into Raph’s arm. Dogged and determined, fully ready to dig in with his teeth and not let up until he gets his way. “Let us see.”

Raphael is exhausted, and hurting, and missing the absent piece of their whole so keenly that he could lay down right here and cry for days. But the one thing he’s never been able to do is deny his little brothers anything they care enough about to ask for this earnestly.

“Okay,” he says and sets Leo’s swords in front of him carefully. With his hands open, Donnie and Mikey each seize one in both of their own, and Raph tries to center himself.

The first time Raph and Leo did this, it was well before they had fully realized their ninpo. He doesn’t need the mystic powers they’ve come to rely so much on to recognize the brilliant purple lightning and laughing orange bonfire on the fringes of his mind and let them both in.

The lightning and the bonfire both skirt familiarly over the steadfast red mountain that makes up their eldest brother, at home together. They all feel the painful absence of a mischievous blue wind so strongly that it takes their collective breath away.

The mountain guides them to the things the wind had given him. Above everything else, fear—of what’s happened and what hasn’t happened yet, fear of the parasite wriggling inside him, fear of his own two hands, fear of failing his family even more than he already has—

Stop, the bonfire says, burning warm and bright. Focus.

The lightning strikes forward, knowing the wind better than the rest of them from a lifetime of sharing the same sky. It follows the wind’s twists and turns unerringly, illuminating the way in thunderclaps until it’s possible to break past the dark storm of fear entirely.

Behind it there are a hundred other things. Stubbornness and bitterness, a familiar grit that comes from being on the losing side and refusing to give up anyway. Anxiety that his efforts won’t be enough. Love, as deep and rich and unknowable as an ocean. Regret. Loneliness. Hope.

Take them, the wind had said in the fleeting seconds it had to say anything at all, shoving as many secrets forward as it could. Take this and this and this and this.

Leon, you devious little creature, the lightning says, with scorching pride and mean-spirited glee.

It goes both ways, the bonfire cackles. The Krang can see into Lee’s head, but Lee can see into the Krang’s head, too!

This is it, the mountain realizes. This is how we win.

——

Galvanized, the Hamatos split up one more time. Casey, April and Splinter to get the key back and keep the Krang occupied, and Raph, Mikey and Donnie to save Leo.

Once Raph and his brothers are inside the Technodrome, they all understand exactly where to go. Everything the Krang knows about how to operate his ship, Leo knows, through that unwanted window between their minds. And everything Leo knows, he shunted as hard and fast as he could into Raph’s brain, hidden in a tangle of emotion so thick that it went entirely undetected by the parasite riding along. And since Raph shared the knowledge with the other two, Donatello could probably pilot this weird spacecraft blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

Mikey is swinging one of his ‘chucks restlessly, ready for whatever fight comes his way first. He’s already a force to be reckoned with on a good day. He’s a walking natural disaster on a bad one, up there with hurricanes and tornadoes.

And this is definitely a bad one. It’s the worst day they’ve ever had.

“Dee’s got the ship and I’ve got Dee,” Mikey says firmly, sounding much older than he did this time yesterday. “You get Leo.”

Raphael moves with ninja stealth and speed, picking his way through the halls. It smells awful, like raw meat left out in the sun, and in the gloom it almost seems as though the walls and floors are squirming.

From what Leo gave him, Raph knows better than to hope he and his siblings can go undetected for very long. The ship is almost a living organism itself, and can probably feel each step of progress Raph is making toward the bridge.

It doesn’t slow him down. Every second Leo spends here is a second too long already.

The maze-like halls open up into a cavernous dome, where a catwalk stretches toward a huge bulbous window. Outside, Raph can see a panoramic view of Manhattan engulfed in fire. It looks like a warzone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush.

It’s Raph’s city, the place that raised him, and for the first time in his life it’s hard to look at.

His hindbrain pings to awareness a split-second before he hears the movement of metal against metal, and Raph spins around to look up at General Krang.

He’s seated in a throne on a dias, a smug, toothy smile on his face. Leo is standing like a statue at his feet, this tiny slip of green and pink and muddied blue. His discolored eyes gaze listlessly forward into nothing.

Little Leo, who always wanted to be carried. Little Leo, who hunted down each and every opportunity to make his brothers laugh. Little Leo, who wanted so badly to be even just half as important to them as they were to him. Little Leo, who Raph wouldn’t know how to begin to live without.

“You again,” the Krang says. “Nothing smart to say? This one wouldn’t shut up until I improved him. And here I thought it was just an unfortunate hallmark of your species.”

Raphael sees red at the way the wicked metallic fingertips of the Krang’s armor cage Leo’s head and jostle it carelessly, like he’s nothing but a cheap toy. Raph bares his teeth, a furious rumble in his chest, but doesn’t dare to say a single hateful word while Leo’s life is literally held in the Krang’s hand.

“You probably would have made a much more impressive puppet, with all that brute strength,” the Krang goes on. “Oh well. All in due time.”

The alien must give a nonverbal order, because he retracts his hand and Leo springs forward.

He doesn’t have his swords anymore, since they’re strapped to Raph’s shell for the time being, but the pink slime has trailed down his arms and tapered into two sharp points that he wields like knives instead.

They meet in a ringing clash, Raph catching the pink knives with his sai.

“I know you’re in there,” Raph says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s okay, Leo. I’m gonna make it okay.”

The way Leo fights is vicious. He’s fast and he knows where to hit. There’s no joy in his body, no cocky gleam in his eye. Raph can’t help bu remember the way his mind felt when they connected so briefly earlier—the surround-sound of wailing panic and self-hatred, confined behind a stranger’s cold expression.

Bearing down on his little brother, forcing him to his knees, Raph chokes out, “I’m not leavin’ you behind this time. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you ever again.”

“Empty promises seem to run in your family,” the Krang sneers.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Raph says through gritted teeth. “Don’t listen to him. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t I? Let’s ask the others, shall we?”

Black vines shoot up from the organic mass that makes up the floor of the bridge. Donnie and Mikey are suspended inside them, fighting like animals—Mikey in particular is using language that there is no way Splinter knows he knows.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice vermin slinking around in my ship?” the General asks. “Is this really the best the three of you can do?”

Leo is scratching and clawing at Raph’s hands, trying to break free of him at any cost. Raph is much bigger and much stronger than he is, and it hurts to hold him down like this, but he knows it would be so much worse to let him go.

“This whole time, we just weren’t listening to each other,” Raph says, lowering his voice. Everyone else can probably still hear, but he wants Leo to know Raph is talking to him. “Somehow, I convinced myself you didn’t care, when I know better. You care so much it makes the inside of your head a nightmare to live in. The only thing you think about is being good enough for us.”

Leo finally manages to twist free, Raph releasing his arms at the last second when it becomes clear the parasite doesn’t care if its host’s elbow or shoulder gets dislocated. Leo rolls away and comes up on one knee, hand braced beneath him, the other white-knuckled around a knife.

He can hear the Krang becoming agitated, because Mikey and Donnie refuse to be still. The vines holding them snap and give one after another, faster than they can be replaced. There’s something stirring inside of Raph, too, a fire in his chest that wants to roar to life.

Leo strikes again. Despite everything, even with all the horrors they’re surrounded by, Raphael wants to smile.

When they started training together, Leo was the first of the four of them to perfect a technique. Raph lifted him up onto his shoulders in victory and let him crow about it for the better part of an hour, flushed with joy and pride. Since then, Leo has never once landed that particular move wrong.

An outsider wouldn’t clock that he placed his hand nearly four inches too far to the left, but Raphael knows those four inches made a fatal difference between a bad puncture wound and a severed artery.

Leo has no true autonomy left but there’s a sliver of him awake behind the wheel. He’s still fighting tooth and nail in there.

There isn’t any force in the entire goddamn universe prepared for how tricky and stubborn Raph’s little brothers can be.

“I’m listening now, Leo,” Raph says, alight with how much he loves him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone.”

Leo strains forward, dropping the knife and grabbing at Raph’s arm instead. Between one blink and the next, his eyes go from pink to shining gold.

Raph seizes him, holding his face in the cradle of both hands, his heart soaring around in his chest like a bird.

“Yes! That’s it! Come on back, big man, Raphie’s got you!”

With a slam, Leo goes to his knees, scrabbling desperately at the fleshy mass on his face. His fingers dig into the slime, but he can’t get a solid enough grasp to tear himself free. His chest is heaving, whole body shaking. He’s fighting so hard but it’s not quite enough.

And Raph’s ninpo reacts to a sibling in distress the way it did when Raph used it for the first time, breaking past the Krang’s seal like it’s nothing. It surges forward in the shape of a river, finding the familiar place inside of Leo where his connection to their ancestors lives, and making a temporary home there. Raph’s armor limns his brother in rosy red, swelling from underneath his skin in a powerful flood and pushing the parasite out. It loses every inch it had to cling to while Leo continues to pull.

Finally the worm is ripped completely away, shrieking as it goes, and Leo gasps. He drops the squirming creature and scuttles away from it, gulping in unobstructed air. The corner of his mouth is torn deep and bleeding sluggishly, and his face looks pale and hollow.

But his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, and they’re looking right at Raph and seeing him, a connection as meaningful and important as any mind meld.

Because he’s Leo, the first thing he says is, in a croaky, exhausted voice, “Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

Raph barks out a laugh, tears in his eyes. Earlier today he had reached a point where he thought he’d never smile again.

In this moment, he feels like he could hold up the whole sky and grin while he’s doing it.

Purple and orange spark madly all around them, a lightning storm and a forest fire ready to rain merry hell upon any unfortunate soul in their path, just enough to keep the General busy while Leo finds his footing.

Raph wants to scoop them all into his arms and carry them someplace safe from all of this, but he knows he can’t. That place doesn’t exist yet. They have to fight for it.

Leo breathes in deep and lets it go, takes the swords that Raph passes him in hands that don’t shake, and reaches out for his brothers’ light with a light of his own.

A gale rushes down from the mountain, leading the charge.

“Hey, ugly,” Leo calls out hoarsely, pointing a blade at the Krang. “I’ve been dying to tell you this all day. The decor in here fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Raph says, half despair, half delight.

Landing beside him, twirling a glowing bo, Donnie stands shoulder to shoulder with his twin and says, “I would cite you ‘time and place’, Nardo, but honestly you have a point.”

“No because it’s so distracting,” Mikey pipes up, dropping weightlessly into a crouch on Raph’s carapace, narrowed eyes glinting in the dim light like a smug cat’s. “Presentation matters! Zero out of ten, would not be held hostage here again.”

“At least it matches the Six Flags Fright Fest he's got going on upstairs.” Leo indicates his own temple with the hilt of one sword. “There’s something to be said for consistency, am I right?”

It’s as much of a hint as it needs to be. The Krang isn’t stupid, which is a big part of the reason why he’s been such a difficult opponent. He understands within the space of a few seconds what Leonardo is saying—what it means for him to have any idea what the Krang’s headspace looks like. This whole time, there has been a subtle, calculative undermining at play right under his nose.

He clenches those claws into fists that have enough power to bring down skyscrapers.

“You really don’t know,” the Krang intones ominously, “when to shut your mouth.”

“Says you and everybody else I know,” Leo replies, unflinching and fearless. “Get some new material.”

Raphael gets it now. Maybe he always has. He understands what Splinter was thinking when he looked at Leo, still growing up but ready at sixteen for the beginning of something greater, and decided he should be the one to lead.

His brothers would follow him anywhere. Raph would walk straight into hell without looking back if that’s where Leo decided to go.

——

It’s an instant relief to have those singing silver blades back on their side. Leo’s portals open and close with dizzying speed, moving his brothers like chess pieces around a board, somehow keeping track of it all. For a moment, it’s easy to think they might win.

And then the Krang blows them all away with the flick of his finger.

Raph thought his world had ended when he was too late to save his brother in the warehouse. Then he realized the world was actually ending in slow stages all around him when he had to leave his brother behind again at the mercy of a monster.

It turns out the end of the world happens here. On the quiet, abandoned expanse of Staten Island, listening to his little brother’s wrecked voice over the comms say, “Casey, get ready to close the door.”

“I’m ready, sensei!” Casey reports, prompt and reliable. “Tell me when you’re home free!”

There is a split-second of hesitation from Leo—the barest pause, practically nothing—that sends Raph’s heart straight into his throat. Donatello jerks all the way upright from where he was nursing what’s almost definitely a broken wrist, and Mikey goes dangerously still. They heard it, too.

“Yeah,” Leo says, just barely too late to be believable to the siblings who know him inside and out, “I’ll tell you.”

“Belay that order, Casey,” April cuts in sharply, every inch the Commander she was in another world. “Leonardo, think twice before you lie to me. What’s your play?”

There’s another pause, and Raph can imagine in crystal-clear detail the way Leo’s throat works when he thinks he’s in trouble with their sister, the way he’s probably clenching and unclenching his hands while he wars with that stupid self-inflicted mission to never make himself vulnerable to anyone for anything.

The little brother need to be liked wins out. Leo admits, “I can’t think of how else to make him stay there.”

The ground falls out from beneath Raph’s feet.

“No!” Mikey shrieks, fully at his limit of shit he’s willing to deal with. “No no no no!”

“Sensei I can’t just—I won’t just trap you in the Prison Dimension!” Casey says, horrified at what he was almost tricked into. “There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything,” Leo rasps. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t let him—let him get you. Any of you. I have to stop him while there’s still a chance.”

“It’ll be a real shame if you save the world from the Krang this way, only for me to destroy it myself when I rip the universe apart to drag your sorry self back here,” Donnie bites out. “And I will, Nardo. I swear to every imaginary higher power you can think of, I will.”

“Leonardo,” Splinter says sternly from April’s end, the leaping panic in his tone well-hidden from everyone but his two eldest, “you will not sacrifice yourself for us today even if it means the world ends tomorrow. That is not what our family does. We are taking you home one way or another, Baby Blue.”

If being in trouble with April is bad, being in trouble with Splinter is cataclysmic. Leo is a daddy’s boy through and through.

He hesitates again, seconds they don’t have to spare inching by, then says, “How?”

Before anyone can answer there’s a ring of metal and a heavy slam, and his line goes silent. Leo is fighting for his life a thousand feet above their heads, but at least he’s fighting. At least he’s willing to wait for help.

He sounded afraid, Raph can’t help but think. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if he has to.

“I’ll get him down,” Mikey says, planting his feet, ready to move mountains. “I become a badass mystic warrior at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

“Wait, Uncle—Michelangelo,” Casey blurts, self-correcting a beat too late, “you can’t, when you did it last time, you didn’t survive.”

“If future me can open a portal through time and space and send my entire nephew through safe and sound, all by myself,” Mikey says, “then this me can do at least half of that with my brothers here to help.”

“The math is sound,” Donnie says, eyes trained unblinkingly upwards. “We haven’t met a single universal constant that we haven’t been able to turn upside down and inside out just for fun.”

“I’ve got ‘em, Casey,” Raph adds, his heart going out to the kid who stands to lose his whole family all over again if the wind blows the wrong way. “I’m the biggest, big enough to carry everybody if I have to. Nothing bad’s gonna happen while Raph is here.”

“Oh,” the boy says, very soft. “I remember you saying that.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Leo shouts suddenly, his comm coming back on with a burst of static and a strange ambient whine that must be what the inside of the portal sounds like. “Now, please, now!”

Mikey lights up, a tiny self-made sun of burning, shining gold. He grits his teeth and lifts his hands, trembling under the pressure of the cosmic forces he’s wrestling into submission. Donnie wraps both arms around him and braces his little brother with his entire body, absorbing as much as he can. The feedback is halved instantly, and when Raph steps in and holds them both, it’s reduced even more.

With a little huff, Mikey works his shoulders, like this is nothing more complicated than the tricky recipe he once found for an eight layer Doberge cake on one of those unreadable walls-of-text baking blogs. If he can figure out that, he can do anything.

Lightning and fire and rock-solid, steady earth stretch out their hands, reaching past the open gateway and through empty space, searching for the windy blue thing that doesn’t belong in this darkness.

The wind reaches back eagerly, desperate to be grabbed up and taken home and held forever.

Inside the Prison Dimension, bright chains flare into existence—some to tangle around the Krang and immobilize him, still more to wrap around Leo’s chest and haul him back through the door while it’s still open, at a reckless, break-neck speed.

It would have been dangerous for a squishy human, but Leo lands on the surface of the Technodrome in a roll and manages to find his feet.

“I don’t have a sword,” he blurts, panicked. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Mikey clenches his fists. Ready to open up the portal that killed him in another world, after all, if that’s what it takes to get his big brother down here where he belongs.

Then Donnie says, “You don’t need to have a sword, dumb-dumb. I have one.”

It materializes in his hand, a purple construct of one of the matching lightsabers he made for his and Leo’s eleventh birthday. They were very quickly confiscated but Leo laughed like a maniac for the three minutes they had them, and Donnie kept the schematics for a rainy day.

“Will that work?” Mikey asks, too breathless to sound as terrified as he probably is.

“It’ll work,” Donnie says shortly. “A sword is a sword. Now’s not the right time to be a snob, Leon. Come here.”

Leo makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and feels for the shared space between them where their ninpo lives, where the mountain and the bonfire and the lightning and the wind all live. Raphael can feel it when that mischievous blue energy finds a brand new rule to bend and decides sure, that sounds fun.

Runes etch themselves into the handle of the Genius Built lightsaber.

Raphael shouts, “Casey, now!”

At the same time the looming portal above their heads sends a shockwave over New York City, popping and sparking along the edges like a downed transformer as it shrinks and shrinks until it closes around the Technodrome, a flash of bright cyan heralds the abrupt head-on collision of Leo into Donnie when he swaps places with the sword construct his twin was holding.

They go down in a haphazard pile of limbs, groaning where they lay on the concrete, and then groaning again when a hundred pounds of little brother gleefully joins the pile with an enthusiastic flop.

The explosion above them is an afterthought. April and Splinter and Casey are all talking over each other on the comms, frantic for confirmation that they all came out of this alive. That they haven’t lost anything they won’t survive losing.

“We’re all here!” Mikey says, crowing it to the wide-open, smoke-filled sky. “We won!”

Raph should probably elaborate on that for his dad, sister and nephew’s sake—let them know that everyone’s really okay, describe the little miracles Mikey and Donnie just pulled out of thin air like it was nothing, tell them about Leo trembling like a leaf in the wind but tucked securely into his twin’s side and absorbing the warmth of another living person like it was something he’d always taken for granted before—

But there’s something else he needs to do first.

“Noooooooo,” three little turtles protest as their biggest brother rounds out the turtle pile, flattening them to the ground.

“Tough luck, bozos,” Raph rumbles. “I ain’t lettin’ a single one of you out of my sight ever again.”

Mikey giggles, half-hysterical, a contagious, familiar sound. Donnie shuts his eyes to hear it better. Leo hides his cold face in Raph’s neck and doesn’t say anything else at all. Raph holds them all tight, and imagines a universe where he’s strong enough to never lose them.

Maybe it’s this one.

——

Casey, who is both medically trained by Leonardo’s future self and entirely immune to the slider’s particular brand of treatment-avoidant bullshit, turns out to be a godsend. Leo uses every trick in the book and still winds up in a bed in the infirmary.

For someone who craves attention as much as he does, it would make more sense for him to milk a hospital stay for all he’s worth. But it’s always been exactly the opposite, Leo escaping at the first possible opportunity and hiding out somewhere until negotiations are made.

After all these years, Raph finally has him figured out.

Leo’s face is still puffy and red where it’s healing, but it’s inevitably going to scar—through the right side of his mouth and down his chin, where the parasite clung the hardest. And for the three days that they’ve been home, Leo ducks his head when anyone looks at him, talking to his hands or his knees instead of to their faces.

Don’t look at me, Leonardo is screaming with his whole body. Raph doesn’t need a mind meld to hear that, loud and clear.

Too bad, he thinks, not unkindly. His heart aches as he sits on the side of Leo’s bed and watches his brother tuck his chin immediately.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, lifting Leo’s face again in one large hand, gentle and implacable. Leo resists briefly, but gives it up for a bad job when Raph rumbles at him.

“Don’t,” Leo manages.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Raph challenges. “I missed you.”

Leo’s eyes are downcast and wet, his mouth screwed stubbornly to one side in a manner that probably hurts, given the stitches. Raphael is a professional at outlasting moody little turtles, and he’ll sit here until the next apocalypse if that’s what it takes.

Eventually, Raph’s patience pays off. Slowly, gingerly, Leo opens his hands. He lets Raph take them and squeeze strength and warmth into them, and clings back for as long as it takes to cobble together the remarkable courage he needs to look his big brother in the eye.

“I lost the key,” Leo starts damningly.

“You got it back,” Raph says, ignoring the nauseous lurch in his stomach at the memory of the warehouse, Leo pinned to the floor, the escape pod activating and leaving him there alone. His nightmares always start right there these days. “We’re the ones who couldn’t keep hold of it.”

“I almost hurt you,” Leo says, a note of desperation entering his tone. “I almost—”

“You didn’t,” Raph counters firmly. “You have no idea how much more incredible it is that you didn’t.”

“I was so mean.” Tears drip down his face as he finally loses the battle not to cry. “When the Krang was in my head he saw everything and he said—said you must hate me, and he did all of you a favor getting rid of me, and I thought—I thought that makes sense, because I was so mean, and I’m nothing but trouble, and I don’t contribute, and even when dad gave me the chance to step up and be something I still wanted—I just wanted—”

Little Leo, who invented games of make-believe so Raph could feel like a hero. Little Leo, forever finding ways to make recalcitrant Donnie play, pleased as punch every time he pulled it off. Little Leo, who could listen to Mikey ramble for hours without getting bored or short-tempered, his bedroom walls an ever-evolving art collage of his little brother’s best work. Little Leo, who just wanted to be held and held and held.

Raph lifts Leo into his arms, as easy now as it was when he was three and nine and twelve, and holds him. Leo shakes with how hard he’s crying, even though he’s not really making any noise. His hands scramble to grab onto Raph’s shell and he lets Raph squeeze him into something young and small and hurt and loved.

As a general concept, Raph disagrees with murder—but he thinks he could make an exception for the monster who forced his way into Leo’s brain and turned it into an echo chamber of all the worst things he had ever thought about himself.

An eternity alone in the dark with nothing but his failures is as close to justice as they’ll get. It’s kind of poetic, right? is all Mikey will have to say about it when it comes up a week from now, a mean-spirited little smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Leo chokes out. “I’m sorry, Raphie. I’ll do—I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll never let you down again.”

“He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud,” Casey said.

“Blue, this thing you think you gotta make up for—this price you think you gotta pay for existing—it doesn’t exist,” Raph tells him in a tone that brooks no room for argument, barely managing not to grind his teeth together. If anyone else had said anything even half as bad as Leo had said about Leo, he would’ve punched them straight through a wall by now. “You mean more to me than what you contribute to the team. Even if you brought nothing to the table, which is not true, you’d still be stuck with us forever. Non-negotiable. You could be a hateful little brat every single day of your life and I would still take a bullet for you, no questions asked. Are you hearing me?”

“Hearing you,” Leo mutters, knowing better to disagree with that tone.

“All I want from you is you. All I need is my Leo. Whether he’s feeling goofy or annoying or pissed off or scared—I want every shape of him. Every version. Don’t you dare,” Raph adds, punctuating this by a little rattle of the Leo he’s holding, “make me go a single day without him ever again.”

Leo is fully hidden beneath his chin, so there’s no way for Raph to tell what his face is doing. But he hears the little punched-out breath, and feels it a second later when Leo’s white-knuckled grip on his shell loosens, just a bit. No longer convinced he’ll be ripped away for some imaginary offense.

It’ll take more than one conversation to fix everything, but they’ve got more than one. They’ve got a million. They have the whole rest of their lives on each other’s team.

“I missed you, too,” Leo whispers, like they’re four and five years old again, huddled under the blankets after bedtime and telling each other secrets.

Back then, monsters were easy to conquer. Nothing scary or sad dared to follow little brothers to Raphie’s room. A warm nest and a turtle pile was the answer to every heartache.

Some things stay exactly the same, Raph thinks fondly, amused by the way Leo’s already drifting off. He settles in for a nap on his plastron, Leo tucked securely under one arm. He gives it about thirty seconds before Mikey and Donnie stop listening outside the door and sneak inside to complete the pile, and starts the count in his head.

He makes it to twenty-seven before the mattress gives tellingly beneath two pairs of hands, and he smiles.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt movie #raphael hamato #leonardo hamato #michelangelo hamato #donatello hamato #my writing #tmnt fic #a team #now the darkness comes alive

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