#seeing sharp teeth and claws sends a shudder through my back like no other

[selfshippinglover]

Looking at pictures of demon Alastor got me acting UP

(Horny in the tags so ignore just needed to scream lol)

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XI. — BREEDING/NON-CON (CABIN IN THE WOODS AU)

cw: Blood, Gore, Mentions of Death / Past Death, Violence / Allusions to Violence, Non-Con, Breeding / Allusions to Breeding, Monster! Hawks, Slight Gaslighting / Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: My friends and I have constantly joked about a Cabin in the Woods AU in which our favorite characters are monsters kept in that underground base. Hawks is probably something akin to a harpy. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.3k words.

A throaty shriek bounces around in your head before a heaving pressure slams into your back, sending your weary frame spiraling down an incline. You’re screaming, kicking and swiping your fists out to throw the weight on your body off, but you hear what sounds like a hiss before multiple piercing pains puncture into you. A gasp slips out of your mouth, and you glance down in terror at yourself while you’re still tumbling down, lower and lower. 

Sharp talons, claws that glitter under the moonlight, are digging through your flesh. Five knives on each palm, one through your shoulder and the other buried deep in your ribs underneath your breast. You can feel something poking against your lungs, a reminder that one wrong move will kill you. The pain grows, and you finally stop rolling. That thing is still on your back, heavy and panting, and you nearly gag at the hot and disgusting breath breezing down the ridge of your nose. A hearty chuckle. 

“Y’know… haaa, haaa, it took me a little bit to find you. Ya really threw me off of my game, did’ja know? I can’t believe you managed to trick me like that, little songbird.” 

His voice is poison and ice in your ears, shuddering winds that lets you see your foggy breath even in the desolate summer heat. You don’t want to even dignify him with a response, you want to toss your head back and slam it into his face. The thought crosses your mind in a flash before you do such, and the reverberating thunder that makes your ears ring whenever the back of your skull knocks against his teeth makes you cry out in agony. You hear his call, too, and whooshing wings flap before they shield your body. 

“Owww, little bird! W-Why’d you do that? I thought we were going to play nice with each other. That’s why you’re alive, isn’t it? You wanted to play with me?” 

Sure, if by playing you mean fighting for your life and stabbing him in the arm whenever he had picked you up with those hawk claws, dragging you into the sky to spear your belly through the top of a tree—just like your friend, just like your friend. Tears well in your eyes now. Your wrist was broken, but it wasn’t like this monster cared. And you don’t even want to know, you don’t want to contemplate why you’re alive, why he kept you alive, why he chased after you, why he pinned you down underneath him and talked to you as if this were normal.

“Come on, no need to be so cold. Talk to me a little. I know you can—didn’t you with that human male?” 

There’s a shivering chill that flicks you between your eyebrows, but you just groan and rest your cheek against the forest floor. You don’t want him to talk to you. He should just murder you like he did to the rest of your friends. He should slice you open, eat you with those razor teeth. Intestines, blood, spit and fear. You can see the horror painted like a dreary window sill on your closest friend’s face. 

“He wasn’t worth it, in my opinion. It’s strange, isn’t it? I can’t believe I’d find my own human pet. But you’re being so mean right now, it’s so harsh. Here, I’ve got an idea.” 

The monster doesn’t give you enough time to even comprehend his statement before the hand inside of your shoulder withdraws, spilling fresh blood and weeping yells, and starts to trace down your back. Something distinct snags your heart, veins that thump in anticipation and a dawning realization that makes jelly and tar form in the back of your throat. His hand slips to your bottoms, claws at the ready, and you can’t even scream before he tears them off. The monster’s shoving your panties aside, ripping the fabric like it was just a sheet of paper before the hand leaves and braces itself to the right of your head. 

“N-No, stop! Stop, stop! Please, don’t—” 

“Shhh, little bird. This’ll feel good. If you don’t want to talk, then we can do this instead. It’ll be just as fun.” 

And before you can even bite your tongue, something stiff and slimy slips between the line of your thighs and starts to prod between your cheeks. Terror like you’ve never known before begins to storm in your body, like crazy drums and guitar strings, and it makes you shake, thrashing and begging. 

“I don’t want to do this! Leave me alone, please! Please, just kill me instead! I—”

“Kill you? Nahh, I don’t want to do that. Though, that blood of yours sure does smell tasty. You won’t mind if I need to steal a taste, would you?” 

You’re throwing your head around, wriggling your body underneath his, but those wings block your exits and his limbs start to ensconce you in the most horrifying ways. This was just supposed to be a vacation! This was supposed to just be a great time with your friends before the new semester started! This was supposed to be time hidden in the woods, drinking and toasting fate and happiness! This was just supposed to be for fun! Fun! Fun! Fun—and all of your friends are dead, murdered, killed in mortifying ways by the monster starting to gyrate his hips against the cleft of your ass. 

His feathers tickle. 

“Calm down, calm down. It’s what all things were made to do, you’ll start to enjoy it once you calm down!” 

He doesn’t sound frustrated in the slightest, no, a hint of glee coats the outskirts of his tone. His hips angle down, his stiff cock manages to slip down between your squished thighs, and his cockhead starts to poke against your entrance. You’re so dry that his slickness makes you queasy, tears like stars in the night sky. 

“I don’t want to do this, please, pleeeeeease. God, please. I’m scared.” 

That cockhead just pushes forward, an amused chuckle the belltower of your doom. 

“Don’t be, songbird. You’re my mate now. And you know what mates do, right?” 

You do. And you have zero clue what made him so delusional—what gave him conscious thought to choose you. Shouldn’t you have been his prey? Why is he? Why you? Oh, God, why you? Is it because you fought back? Is it because you managed to escape every time? Is it just luck? You don’t know, you don’t want to know, you’ll never know. 

He’s slowly pressing into you, slotting his slimy and gritty cock inside of your cunt, spreading your chapped lips, sending your head in a frenzy, a desperate plea that doesn’t even reach your fingertips. He weighs you down like a ship’s smoke on the horizon. 

“I’ll take care of you from now on. That’s what males do. You’re supposed to just be mine, ‘kay? Let’s get it on. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.” 

You don’t listen, don’t want to. You just decide, with those red feathers tickling your nose and cheeks, with the claws in your body, with the joints bending into yours, that you’ll just lay here and fade away into nothingness. Stop thinking and it’ll be over. And hopefully once he’s used you up enough, you’ll find your bowels accidentally splayed on the mushy grass and your friends holding their hands out to you. 

“And maybe we’ll get a couple of chicks. Yeah, sounds nice. Yeahhhh. You’ll be a great mate.” 

Then, with your shuttering eyes, the monster fills you up. 

[mlmxreader]

A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing | Bard the Bowman x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Bard

Patching Them Up After A Fight ❞

: ̗̀➛ A wolf is an incredibly loyal creature, but those from the dragon's kingdom are even more loyal - a dragon in wolf's clothing, however, is so loyal that they would die before letting a slight land on their family.

trigger warnings : ̗̀➛ blood, depictions of injuries & fights

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Of course Bard had heard all the nasty things under the sun said about both you and him; he would have had to have stuffed his ears with steel to not hear it. But he never let it get to him, never; it would have been too risky to do so, as he knew all too well the consequences of even the smallest of scrapes and scraps.

Bard knew what you did not. He wouldn't have thrown the first punch, but you?

You had something different. Gnashing canine teeth and long dexterous claws that could tear through even the most hardened of steel with such ease. Battle born and hardened.

The skies were a light grey when Bard heard scratching at his door, and he was careful not to wake the children when he went to answer it, already knowing what it was; he sighed heavily as he swiped a hand down his face, catching his short beard for a moment and wondering if the rude awakening made it feel more coarse than usual.

But he stopped thinking about all of that when he saw you on the other side of the door; bloodied and bruised, you leaned against the post until he ushered you in quickly. Swift to whisk you away to his kitchen table and force you to sit down.

"What bloody happened?!"

You coughed, a small splattering of blood landing on the dark oak. "A trader. He asked if I knew you, and when I said yes, he gave out some very... choice words."

Bard frowned, shaking his head. "So what did you do?"

You grinned, your teeth all slimy and orange from smeared blood. "I showed him what a wolf with a dragon's tongue can do."

He sighed heavily, not thinking any more of it as he gestured at you. "Strip. I'll look after you."

You did as he said, removing your shirt and letting it rest on the table; he grabbed a small bowl of water, something that smelled so harsh it made your nose sting, and dropped it in before fetching an old rag. You hummed softly as he knelt between your legs and used his rough hands to assess the damage.

"My days," he breathed out, almost in disbelief. "What did he cut you with?"

You let out a sharp wince as you clenched your jaw tightly. "Silver."

Bard furrowed his brows; trying to concentrate as he used the rag to mop up your blood despite your flinching and growling. The jerky movements of your arms and legs as you struggled to sit still; he had a great patience with you, though, merely uttering soft words of reassurance as he cleaned the wound as much as he could.

The water slowly becoming as orange as your teeth and starting to smell like metal. He could see how deep it went, the small bubbles amongst the flesh where the blade had struck the fat and muscle layers and ripped it open; it was going to take a lot more than a rag and some water to do the trick.

"I need to send word to the wizard," he mumbled.

You nodded in agreement, planting your arms on his table and breathing heavily. "I'll trust your judgement on this."

Bard nodded curtly before escaping outside for a moment to signal for the wizard in an attempt to summon him; he didn't know him well, admittedly, and wasn't sure if it would work.

But you had always said, if there was silver involved, then he would need to see you if it was deeper than the slice of a paper corner. Yet with shaking hands, Bard still came back to you, sitting down at the table next to you and laying his hand on your shoulder.

"You shouldn't defend my honour," he told you softly. "You're going to kill yourself."

You shook your head, licking the blood from your teeth as you shuddered and let out a very wet cough. "I'll be fine, bowman. Promise."

He smiled a little at that, but he wasn't fully reassured. "Wolves are some of the toughest animals. Dragons even more so. But you're neither, and you can't keep doing this for me. Let them speak, ignore them."

You shook your head again, a soft rumbling growl coming from the back of your throat. "You are my family. I won't let anyone say a word about you, ever."

Bard wanted to tell you not to bother, but he knew better than that. Those from the dragon's kingdom, who spoke its tongue, were loyal to a fault as it was - but a wolf?

A wolf was even more loyal. A creature of family, a wolf would do anything to protect its family - even if it was protection from words. Bard knew he would never talk sense into you, so he sighed as he pulled you against him, letting you rest your head against his shoulder as you coughed blood onto his shirt.

"I'm getting blood on you..."

"Sh, sh, it's alright," he murmured, gently patting your bicep. "Catch your breath, and I'll put something over the wound for now - patch it up so it's at least not going to get infected."

You nodded, giving it a few minutes before giving him the signal; the best Bard could do was wrap a few rags around the area with some ointment on them in hopes it would stop the bleeding.

"You're alright," he told you softly. "I got you, melys."

You smiled a little, daring to laugh weakly under your breath. "You picked up the dragon's tongue."

Bard smiled, a little breathless as he nodded and cleared his throat, leaning against the wall opposite you. "I suppose I have... let me help you get your shirt on - it's not exactly warm."

You nodded, muttering a quietly thanks as Bard gently tugged your shirt over you; he was so soft and sweet, murmuring assurances until you had it on properly.

Softly, he rewarded you with a sweet kiss. "You'll be alright, wolf."

"All thanks to you, bowman," you said hoarsely. "I love you, you know. I really do."

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even just £1, please consider making even just one donation to Mahmoud & his family to help them escape Gaza.

[savethelastdan]

“Heal my demons/make it dirty on principle/kill my prison, tip my demons/‘cause I know they’re unquenchable” from One in A Million by Dance Gavin Dance (writer’s choice for ship)

Lines, faded so pale pink that only someone looking very close would see them, twine around her wrists. Remnants of the chains in Naraku’s castle. Their presence is as heavy as the real thing.

Layers of clothing hide a collection of poorly-healed battle wounds that neither time nor demonic blood could erase. They burn with the reminder of her original purpose: Soldier. Shield. Slave. 

Worst of all is the spider that still mars the whole of her back. Rough, ugly, and wind-worn. Though she can't see it herself, knowing it's there (like a stamp, a brand) makes her want to claw her body to ribbons. 

Kagura’s scars feel like a curse.

-

The wind god finally allows her to resurrect, and it is a disappointment that her body remains unhealed.

Jaken complains about the time she spends melting away in hot springs, unaware how many minutes are dedicated to scrubbing her skin raw. Her displeasure is not out of a sense of vanity; rather the constant reminder the marks make, of the being that put them there. 

I will be free, Kagura spits at her tormentor's back for the hundredth time. Echos of a thousand demonic cries shudder through the castle walls. 

Naraku doesn't even spare a look back towards her as he retorts, You don't even have a reason to exist without me.

Now she has a life of her own. But with how the vessel containing her spirit looks, who would know?  If she could live with a hollowed out place in my chest, then a few layers of skin off the back won’t matter…

The sky grows dark, indicating she's taken far too long. So Kagura grits her teeth and ties her kimonos loosely around sore, stinging shoulder-blades. The spider mark burns; perhaps Naraku is using it to send her a message from Hell. 

That night, curled up together in a cave somewhere, Sesshomaru watches the ginger way she moves about. Predictably, he doesn't actually say anything. But Kagura picks a fight anyway, just to distract herself from what he could be thinking. 

Pity would be bad enough, and isn't something she wants anyway. Confusion is more likely; Sesshomaru often finds her feelings and behaviors a mystery. 

As for compassion - Jaken claims the daiyokai has developed some, in the time between Kagura's death and rebirth. But as the source is less than reputable, she won't hold her breath for that. 

-

Over the years, her body gains other scars. But it's different this time.  

It's not hard for someone with Kagura's taste for fun to meet with trouble - how fascinating, that violence seems to be a constant partner of good entertainment! So she collects a few more battle wounds. It takes days for her demonic energy to fade them into a white or pink interruption of skin. But in this life, Kagura is not shut up in a corner of the castle to wonder at the consequences of resting for too long. Instead, Sesshomaru sits by her side with little comment, other than a dry reprimand for her lack of sense. And nothing happens to her heart.

Well, nothing bad, anyway. 

A year after her resurrection, they kiss for the first time, and his fangs catch her lip. It's sharp enough to leave a divot that she runs her tongue over at night. Not with fear, but excitement. And the next time their lips meet, she tries her best to give him a matching one.  

Her body stretches as she eats and drinks and laughs more often; in the hot spring, she counts blue stripes along her hips and thighs and delights in how they look like sunlight rippling across wind-touched water. It leaves much less time to try to wash away a dreadful past. 

Jaken mentions it off-handedly one night - a demon who makes art out of people's bodies with ink. Kagura interrupts to ask about something she will never remember later, and as with most of their conversations, it quickly devolves into a screaming match. She ends up so focused on chasing the kappa around the room with blades of wind, that Sesshomaru's thoughtful expression completely passes her notice. 

A few days later, he takes her to a grimy seaside village. They stop at a dark stall covered with line-work designs, where he stuffs a genuinely worrying amount of money into her hand. "This should cover anything that you feel is necessary."

To cover her rapidly increasing heartbeat, Kagura punches his arm with a shout - don't treat me like a greedy little mistress you're abandoning in a merchant's square! But even if he didn't have excellent hearing, the warm wind that twines around his shoulders would still make her delight clear. 

The self-proclaimed artist, Yatora, deems the scars on her wrists "not a problem". He is clearly taken aback when she states that is not her concern; when she pulls away the final kimono to display the spider scar that still stains her back, the response is a frustrated sigh.

"Well...I hope you can handle pain." 

Memories rush in, but she is past feeling like she'll drown in them. "Won't be a problem."

-

In the growing darkness, Kagura flexes her shoulder-blades carefully to test the stretch of the raw, needled skin. She left the mirror somewhere, or else she'd go to look at the finished design again. Even swollen and healing, it makes the air around her sing with pride, to have the spider finally covered. 

Sesshomaru watches her move, eyes half-lidded. After some time, he murmurs, "What was it that convinced Fujin to resurrect you?" 

Kagura twists her head towards the futon; he has never asked her this before. Perhaps because it didn't matter to either of them, so long as she was alive at all. As she considers how to answer, her tongue worries the divot in her bottom lip. 

"I dunno. It was something like - my smile had 'too much beauty in it to be left to a hopeless fate'."  

Sesshomaru frowns. 

"Okay, fine, I made that up. He never said why; don't reckon I'll ever know." 

He shifts closer; the tips of his claws run down the collection of blue lines striping her left hip, and she shivers. 

Clearing her throat, she says, “Whatever it is, I suppose you’re asking because you’re grateful for it?”

Sesshomaru’s eyes gleam in the barest hint of lantern-light that remains. It makes Kagura want to mark him, too. 

So she does. Long lines scratched down his back and the imprint of her mouth against his throat, to start. But unlike the scars crossing her own body, anything that mars Sesshomaru’s skin will fade before the morning sun can arise.

[strywoven]

@drippingheart has requested a story : ❛ Rona-chan . . ❜  Blood tacky fingers worked swiftly to remove the laces of onyx dress shoes. Not even three quarters of the way through, the once pristine pieces of attire were kicked off in an out of place display of impatience and messiness. One shoe collided with tiled floor, the other hit the nearest wall with a dull thud, and Suguru snapped his head back quickly to send midnight strands spilling across his back without the need of using his sullied hands. The stench of blood needed to be eliminated immediately.   ❛ There's a corpse out front. I thought you may want to play with it first. ❜ 

𝑼𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

Never one for regrets , this woman , but it is something like it when she opens the door , when she sees the state of her companion and the waft of d e a t h floods her nose.  Numbly , Verona observes him , watching as he – as if some dazed , drunken beast – attempts to pry himself loose of his blood-wet attire , flinging cloth and shoe all over her once-immaculate entryway like he l i v e s here , like the motions are at all w e l c o m e ( & she is suddenly sorry for giving him the impression ) .

She should have been further transparent , she realizes.  Her personal residence is OFF-LIMITS .  And she remembers ( as she remembers near-everything ) that she alluded to such in the past , though never truly explained the details of her living arrangements.  This is not so much her home , as it is another CASKET & CAGE , granted unto her by grace of a god who extorted the debt from her undying , festering soul.  A creature she cohabits with , and one which – however docile to most – upholds a most v i r t u o u s ordinance across its domain ( which includes this home ) .  She grows wary , uneasy , knowing well that her master will be MOST SCORNED to discover she has welcomed a man of sin and slaughter into its abode so willfully ( she shudders to think what the punishment shall be ; mercy is not the word she would use for a beast that reigns with immortal frenzy ) .

❝ Suguru … How ... Nice of you to come see me ... ❞ The greeting is returned , albeit not with the same fervor , she stoops slightly , the carrion scent rushing into her nose and making her gut churn with the TOO-FAMILIAR ACHE she recognizes , beckoning her to appease herself and her instincts.  For now , she can ignore it.  If only for a little while.  Her claws grip on the younger man is firm , authoritative , practically h a u l i n g him properly upright and into proper focus , she looks d o w n her scrunched nose at him , sanguine lip curled away from her teeth as her head nods over her shoulder.  ❝ Take the corridor.  First door on your left.  Get washed and , for the love of Christ , listen to me next time when I tell you I cannot afford to have your offerings personally brought to my home ! ❞  She releases him , nudging him along like a mother might a wayward child , PRODDING & PRICKING HIM with her sharp talons ‘til he thinks it w i s e r to hurry himself forward.

Her attention turns towards the corpse ( male , of course , but young & far as she can discern , without any ailments ; she could likely harvest the organs & flesh or find a way to repurpose the husk & bones — ) .  ❝ Oh , and Suguru , ❞ She calls after him , not bothering to look over , ❝ Thank you.  I appreciate you thinking of me. ❞  Despite the circumstances. FUCKING MAN ! Her mind reels , agitation coloring her inward displeasure as Pandora arises to help her collect the body. And yet , truer is it that she shan't remain angry with Suguru for very long ( after all , he can do no wrong ) .

[burning-fcols]

「 ☆ 」 It takes every ounce of self-control he has to not tremble where he stands... Aching from the tension accosting his body, breathing is shallow and barely adequate. Yet narrowed hues burn with rage and tears, stubbornly fixated upon Valentino as he makes his threatening approach. Growl sends a shudder down Angel that he can't stave off, feeling like claws raking his spine. A sensation he's familiar with; pain and pleasure equally-plausible whenever he's touched like-so by Val. At the mention of dirtying Val's hands, Angel's gaze finally breaks. Flitting to them against his will, the spider swallows thickly, anticipating them around his neck.

Valentino has made it clear COUNTLESS times, how lucky Angel is to have been kept alive this long. Unlucky as it may feel at times. How his fate rests tenuously and completely in Val's palms, easily crushed on a mere whim should he push too far... and the sinking feeling in his gut convinces Angel he has.

Shakily exhaling when Val grabs him ( barely choking a yelp at the abrupt touch ) , hot breath ghosts the other's thumb as it rubs across a split yet soft lip. Sucking in a sharp breath at the slight sting in his cut, wide eyes are locked on Valentino. Fury replaced by fear, torturously-affectionate name feels reminiscent of flowers placed upon a grave... ❛ Amorcito mio ❜ . My love.

My love.

There was a time when such words made Angel weak in the knees... Now they make him want to throw up. His only saving grace being he's barely been allowed to eat today. Mouth still tastes sour from the churning of his stomach, Angel as disgusted by the heaviness in his chest at the words as he is by the man who dared utter them. Who dares tempt Angel into believing them, twisted as such a sentiment may be. Not naive to how FUCKED up people are, he's not innocent enough to think it impossible for one to raise a hand against someone they ❛ care ❜ for. Granted, until Valentino, he never had to consider such dangerous sentiments.

His dad never loved him... What he felt was obligation toward flesh-and-blood. Which encompassed keeping Angel alive and not much else. He couldn't even accomplish THAT much once the young mafioso decided to take matters into his own hands. But Val almost makes Angel consider truth in his words. Stubbornly refusing to let himself FULLY believe it, if only because it may break him if he did. To have Valentino love him, which Angel had desperately wanted— a deep, dreadful part of him still yearning at times —only for it to look like this.

By some miracle— or divine punishment —Valentino keeps a hold on his temper. Stiffening when Val buries his face against his neck, Angel bites his lip. Blood beads as sharp fangs sink into the cut. Whimpers trapped within his throat, he shuts his eyes as if to distance himself from the situation. But it's a poor retreat, Valentino's mouth still ON him. Lips gingerly peppering him with affection, a stark contrast to the harsh grip of earlier. Teeth sifting past fur to graze sensitive skin, sending an unwitting tremor through Angel's body he can't be certain is terror. Vividly aware he should be grateful for the direction things have taken considering his earlier outburst, Angel sucks in a deep breath, slowly exhaling... willing his body to relax... to sink into Val's embrace.

To slip back into his intended role.

❛ ti amo così tanto tesoro ❜ ... Bastard. Barely breathing, wide eyes stare at the opposing wall yet see nothing. Any lingering remnants of fight within his pink hues snuffed out by a sobering, exhausted acceptance. A knowledge that, however loud he may scream and thrash against the binds entangling him to the moth, Angel had given Val a choice... To call him ❛ everything ❜ or ❛ nothing ❜ . Can he be blamed if he wants to enjoy it being the former? To use this moment of mercy— glimpse of who Valentino used to pretend to be —so it may be easier to endure when it's time to be punished again. To choose comfort in being irreplaceable, rather than dread as the chain around his neck grows heavier with the tender sentiment.

Angel doesn't realize he's kissing Val until lips are upon his, instinctively returning the passionate gesture. Eyes shut, upper hands cupping Valentino's face as lower limbs grab the moth's fluff. Gripping as if at risk of being pushed away, Angel presses his body against Val's. Heart racing frantically, it drums in Angel's ears, nearly drowning out his muffled moans and Valentino's voice. Breathing labored, mouth lingering with the taste of Val— the moth's no doubt lathered in Angel —eyes flutter open, glossy gaze upon red eyes as their foreheads meet.

❝ I... I— ❞ Angel weakly begins, control ( however conditional ) dangled within reach like a scrap of meat to a starving dog. Angel ironically aware he has no ACTUAL say in this. If he turns down Val's offer, who's to say the moth won't be enraged and decide to drop the dripping kindness? If he wanted to, he could force Angel to stay. Keeping him in the tower like he used to before Angel found refuge in the hotel. With this show of manipulative mercy, Angel can experience faux-freedom. Can pretend things are how they used to be... Even if it's only for one night. Or more.

❝ Okay. ❞ He breathes, tongue flitting across his lips before he thickly swallows. ❝ I'll stay... b-but— I need ta text Charlie. ❞ Hastily, he stumbles back a step and adds, ❝ Jus' so she won't be worryin' 'bout me! I don' want her gettin' any ideas an' comin' ova' here again... We don' need her- interruptin' us. Right? ❞ Despite not lying, apprehension still accosts his form, as if Val may accuse him anyway. Wouldn't be the first time Angel was punished for disobedience he didn't commit.

❝ Can I do that... il mio tesoro? ❞ Affectionate nickname tentatively tumbles off his tongue, it having been a while since he called Valentino that. Since he had any REASON to. Hoping the purposeful gesture will ease whatever concerns may be arising. 「 ☆ 」

Brows lift at the sudden gall Angel had to shout back at him. Did he want his other lip cut? Was that what he was hinting at? Because he could very well make that happen. He still had that burning anger igniting inside of him, ready to lash out when you least expect it. With a flick of a wrist, he could just mess up that pretty little face of his. But he doesn't ... yet. 

Maybe he won't after all. 

Hands are still clenched at his sides, with a hand on his hip as he just glowers at the arachnid. A low growl bubbles up from the back of his throat through gritted teeth. He's trying to calm down, closing his eyes for a moment. "Is that what you want, Angie ? You want to take the easy way out of this & make me get my hands dirty ? " His tone is eerily calm as he steps forward, inching closer towards Angel with each deliberately slow step. 

The moment he's close enough, a hand lifts to cup their chin, using his thumb to gingerly brush against the cut he had caused. "Amorcito mio. You know very well why I can't do such a thing as much as sometimes you make me want to." he gripes out the last bit, turning his head away to spit out the words in mild frustration. No. No. He needed to be calm. 

Breathing in, Valentino sighs as he leans forward to bury his face into the crook of Angel's neck. Even if Angel is being defiant of him, being stubborn, Valentino can't help himself. He's nuzzling against their shoulder, peppering soft kisses against his fur, his teeth nipping here & there. Arms are slow to wrap around the absolute mess of an arachnid before him, pulling him in close, attempting to get him to loosen up. 

"ti amo così tanto tesoro," the words are spoken in a hushed, yet genuine whisper, sure Angel can hear him clear as day. "I could never replace you." Sure, girls were gorgeous, but Angel? Anthony? He was hopelessly addicted to the spider. Not that he would ever come forward & voice it. Like hell he would let Angel know he has that kind of power over him. 

"Just stay with me tonight, Angie, please ? " Head lifts, turning to meet Angel's gaze. He's quick to capture their lips in a passionate filled kiss, aiming to sway their decision in his favor. "Tell you what," he breaks the kiss to speak softly, resting his forehead against his. "You stay with me tonight, maybe longer, but just for tonight, I'll let you call the shots. As long as it stays in the tower."

He doesn't want Angel running off again. "What do you say, mi amor ? " 

[bucksfucks]

  𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚

      TFATWS EPISODE THREE SPOILERS.

summary┃the plan was simple. get in, get out, and always remember rule number three; no one gets hurt.

pairing┃tws!bucky x f!reader

word count┃1,935 words

warnings┃dubcon elements, soft!dark!tws, semi-public sex, choking, spitting kink, metal arm kink, soldat kink, death threat, degradation, mocking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY MENTIONED ELEMENTS.

     “Is the plan understood?” It’s Zemo who asks the question, nodding to each of you as you all exchange looks before heading your separate ways.

    When you enter the scene, you can feel the floor shaking under your feet from the bass. Drinks are passed around with bodies floating through the space.

    “And I thought we knew how to party in New York.” Your voice is muffled over the music, but you know Bucky can hear you.

    “I haven’t partied like this ever.” He has to yell back in order for you to hear him as you both laugh.

    You have to push your way through the crowd before stopping at where Sam and Zemo are left waiting for you.

    Zemo nods towards Bucky, Bucky taking in a deep breath before giving him one nod.

    He’s wearing something you’d never seen him in; Winter Soldier gear sans the mask.

    “Longing.” You can see the twitch in Bucky’s metal fingers.

    “Rusted.” It gets worse as he tenses his jaw.

    “Furnace.” You have to look away when you see the pained look in his face.

    Sam looks at you, a look that tells you to stick to the plan so you drift back and mix into the crowd.

    You were nothing but a distraction, a distraction that would hopefully buy you guys some time.

    But something went wrong.

    Something always goes wrong.

    You can see the obvious and evident switch in Bucky—there’s something more sinister in his eyes now as he watches you move from side to side; standing completely motionless and trained on you.

    There’s a moment of realization when you realize just what’s happened.

    A moment of oh fuck before he’s striding over to you and grasping at your upper arms.

    “Come with me, Bunny. We have some unfinished business.” His voice is low and calm, parts of Bucky shining through, but you can’t seem to find him in his eyes.

    “Bucky,” you try remain calm, but his hip is firm and you know that this is a battle you won’t win in.

    You can’t help it when your voice falters in fear, but you can’t afford to bring any attention to yourself.

    Sam is elsewhere, Zemo in tow as your eyes dart to find them—at the bar, drinking.

    You were all alone, you had no backup; Bucky was your backup.

    He was no longer Bucky, but the Winter Soldier.

    “I said come. Don’t make me put you over my shoulder.” He threatened as you swallowed thickly.

    You quickly search for Sam or Zemo, but they’re long gone. The distraction worked and they’d be proceeding with the plan.

    What they didn’t know is that Bucky wasn’t Bucky.

    It didn’t feel like a threat, you felt your pussy jump in excitement at the prospect of Bucky’s hands on your body.

    Your feet moved instinctually through the crowd, lead by Bucky as he took one final scan of the room to make sure that you were alone; that no one was following you.

    You didn’t feel helpless, it was more than you felt like you were under a spell—inclined to do whatever Bucky wanted.

    Suddenly you were slammed up against a wall, the air being knocked out of your lungs as you let out a pained hiss.

    ���Scream, and I’ll kill you.” He looked feral.

    “Try to fight back, and I’ll kill you.” Darkness consumed his eyes.

    “Do anything other than what I tell you, and I’ll kill you.”

    You want to scream, to kick and fight back—you know that you damn well could put up on hell of a fight.

    But you don’t.

    Instead, you submit and comply.

    “Yes,” you whisper, watching the smirk spread across his face.

    “There’s my good girl. A dumb and stupid, but a good girl.” He purrs, running his gloved finger down your cheek until it’s hooked under your chin.

    You whimper, lip shaking with your sharp inhale.

    “Bucky,” you croak before your face is tightly gripped between his fingers as he snarls and shows you his teeth.

    “You will call me, Soldat.” He rasped, dark and sinister with no mercy in sight.

    A silent mewl escaped through your parted lips as you shut your eyes tightly, trying to steady your breathing as your heart begged to be set free.

    “What’s my name?” He asks you, a test of your loyalty as you pry your eyes open.

    “Soldat,” you whisper back, a pleased smile on his face as he hears the syllables leave your lips.

    “Good, maybe you aren’t as useless as I thought.” He snickers, dropping your face but trapping you against the wall with his flesh forearm against your neck.

    Your airway is constricted for a second, laboured and painful before Bucky is pulling you off of the wall.

    “Follow me,” he barks, tugging you by the back of the neck until you budge.

    His strides are long as you’re forced to keep up with him, walking through hallways so robotically with a stiff body.

    You don’t know where you’re going, but the booming music is getting softer.....quieter, straying further and further out of your reach.

    Bucky’s shoulders look huge, absolutely massive in the tight leather outfit he’s wearing. You know he’s in there somewhere, you just don’t know how to reach him.

    But maybe you don’t want to.

    Suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall, with his metal hand covering your mouth as your eyes go wide and you try to gasp.

    “Don’t scream, Bunny.” He purrs, smirking as you hear two sets of footsteps go past you, completely unaware that there’s someone else in their presence.

    Your heart is in your throat when he removes his hand, tugging you off the wall again so he’s holding your entire body weight up with his arm.

    “Good girl, you learn quickly.” He praises, finger hooked up your chin. His lips hover right over yours, brushing them slightly—just enough to leave you wanting more.

    There’s a flutter in your stomach, a feeling akin to when you’ve gone over a large hill or descended on a roller coaster; exciting and terrifying all at once.

    “I’ve always been so,” he trails his finger down your jaw, “intrigued by you.”

    You don’t know what it means, but you want to.

    You’re shoved into a small room, a closet that barely fits the two of you. It’s dark and smells like aged wood.

    His thigh is wedged between your legs, “always following orders.” He hums against your ear, nipping the skin below it.

    “A Soldat’s dream,” it’s dark, the way he refers to himself.

    “You’re gonna let me do whatever I want to you, Bunny.”

    It’s not a question, you don’t have a choice, you’ve unwittingly sealed your fate as he meshes his lips against yours.

    It’s overwhelming; his thick, padded thigh creating delicious friction against your cunt. Or the way his teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging it to hear your soft whimpers.

    You feel the wet, hot tell-tale signs of tears roll down your cheeks as Bucky pulls away to cradle your face.

    It’s dark but your eyes are fully adjusted. It’s just too bad that you can see nothing else but darkness in his eyes.

    “There’s no need to cry, Bunny,” he cooes, “I will take care of you.”

    You’re unsure why you trust him, why you feel your body giving into him, but that’s what happens next.

    A sinister chuckle passes through his lips as he tugs your pants down.

    “I can smell you already,” he hisses, his cock hardening against your hip.

    “You can try to fight me, Bunny. But your body tells me that you want this, that you need my cock filling you up.”

    Your pussy jumps at his words, breathing ragged and heavy as the ache in your core burns right through you.

    Your mouth falls open when you hear the whirring of his bionic fingers massage you slowly through your panties.

    “I never said I wouldn’t make this enjoyable for you,” he smirks, watching you closely as your hands go to the vest he’s wearing.

    He snarls, grabbing them at your wrists and lifting them over your head as you shudder at his strength.

    If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve already.

    “Maybe you are stupid,” he hisses. “Did I give you permission to touch?” He asks.

    He nudges your clit with more force making you squeak.

    He wanted an answer.

    “N-no, Soldat.” You croak, feeling an sensation of...fulfillment when he smiles.

    “Good little Bunny.” He sing-songs, “so wet and responsive.”

    You gasp, mewl, arch your back as he slips two vibranium fingers into you. A shiver runs down your spine at the coolness of them, your walls welcoming them warmly.

    “Can you hear that?” He asks, “hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”

    You can, you can hear your wetness coating his fingers as he pumps them inside of you.

    It’s absolutely filthy.

    His other hand drops your wrists to your sides, flesh fingers crawling around your neck.

    “Look at me, Bunny.” You don’t need to be told twice as your eyes shoot open.

    “Open that pretty little mouth of you,” his voice is low and raspy, but collected despite his aching cock pressed against your hip.

    His thumb presses into your bottom lip, folding it down to encourage you to open your mouth. Which you do, because he’s just too damn compelling.

    You gasp back a moan, thick digits inside of your cunt now brushing that sweet, sweet, sweet spot as you watch Bucky’s saliva trail into your own mouth.

    “Mine.” He growls, forcing your mouth closed, watching you swallow.

    Your heartbeat reverberates in your ears, blood soaring to and from your heart as you feel yourself clenching around him.

    “All. Fucking. Mine.” His words send you toppling over the edge, legs shaking and convulsing gently as he has to hold you up as you come.

    There’s a zip, a tug of something, a gasp for breath as you feel his cock at your entrance.

    “There’s no running now, Bunny. I’m gonna consume you,” he snarls, pushing himself past the threshold as he groans at the feeling of your wetness.

    You’re forced to dig your fingernails into the leather of his jacket—clawing at it as you relish in the stretch.

    He grunts with every powerful thrust, his chest colliding with your chest as he holds you up with ease.

    He’s using you. Eyebrows taut as he focuses on one thing and one thing only; his carnal instincts.

    “Shut up,” he seethes, shoving his fingers into your mouth.

    They’re cool, tasting like your own arousal and something you can’t quite decipher.

    “Say my name, say it.” He pants into your ear, something in his voice breaking.

    “S-Soldat.” You choke out, trying to focus on the words that are coming out of your mouth.

    “My name,” he whispers, “say, my name.”

    Your heart hiccups as you open your eyes, “Bucky.”

    He’s there, he’s looking at you—holding you tightly as you can see the same light in his eyes that you did just an hour ago.

    “Bucky.” You say with more conviction, more confidently as you crash your lips on his.

    “Your name is Bucky.” You whisper against his lips, feeling pleasure seeping in through your toes and spreading upwards.

    The air is thick and hot, sticky and wet as you both catch your breaths.

    You don’t trust your own legs to hold you weight, but when they hit the solid marble floor, you don’t have a choice.

    “My name is Bucky,” he whispers, holding your face in one hand.

    “But you are still my Bunny.”

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[lord-explosion-baku]

Tease

Yuuji Itadori x reader x Ryomen Sukuna

Warnings: noncon, dark themes, teasing, slight daddy kink, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, Sukuna’s big stomach tongue doing nasty things, very slight anal play

You’ll never admit that you love this game.

The “tease Yuuji until he’s grumpy, needy, and pouting—all because you refuse to fuck him” game.

There’s something about having your boyfriend nuzzle up in the crook of your neck, wrap his strong arms around you, and pull your ass against his hard, neglected cock, only for you to turn him down, and have him whine for it some more. You laugh and act abashed, but you’re really thinking, ‘Poor Yuuji. When will he ever learn?’

What you should’ve been asking yourself is ‘when will he ever crack?’

Because maybe you arch your back a little too slowly, and maybe you rub up against him a little too much, and when he kisses the back of your neck, maybe you sigh a little too longingly—a little too convincingly—and maybe you drive Yuuji a little too crazy.

“Baby,” he rasps, before ghosting his lips down your neck. His hand runs circles around your stomach, before slowly trailing down to the hem of your skirt. He toys with the waistline, shifting his fingers in and out, barely grazing your skin, then reaches for your button. “Please.”

Grabbing his hand and pulling it up to your lips, you laugh and say, “that’s far enough.”

A deep, permeating groan builds up in the back of Yuuji’s throat. It tumbles out when he shifts his hips forward, and his clothed cock slides between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” you chide, and turn in his embrace. Lust-heavy, brown eyes bore into yours. His face is rosy with frustration, and by just a quick glance downwards, you can see that the front of his shorts have a small, wet mark, right where his erection pops out. You try not to grin, and instead say, “it’s not the right time.”

Though your actions betray your words, because you scoot closer to Yuuji in your shared space on the couch. His dick presses against your pubic bone and slides up to your stomach. There’s a sharp inhale, and Yuuji’s cheeks inflate, as if he’s trying not to explode.

“You’re killing me,” he blows out. “Sending your boyfriend straight to his grave.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” You laugh while turning his chin to the side to expose the column of his neck. Smirking, you rake your teeth up his throat, relishing the shudder he gives off, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“I want you,” he hisses. “I want you so bad, baby. It’s not fair. Can't you just—just touch it. Just a little bit. It’s aching, baby. Aching for you.”

“Yuuji,” you croon, using his broad chest to level yourself up. You dig your claws into his pecs, causing him to release a low groan. “You love me, right?”

“Of course.” His voice is hoarse with need, just how you like it.

“And you’d do anything for me, right?”

His cheeks are pinker than his hair when he whispers, “yeah-huh.”

Dipping your head down so that your lips are a razor’s edge away from his, you ask, “then you can wait for me, right Yuuji? You can wait, and when it’s the right time, I’ll be sure to make every second worth it to you.”

A croaking noise cracks out of Yuuji’s throat. Goosebumps appear on your legs when he slides his fingers up your thighs, then tightens his hold on your hips, and pulls you down to grind against his dick. It presses against your opening, putting pressure on your clit. Your stomach does a little flip when he asks, “feel how hard it is, baby? Fuck, all I want is to feel you sink onto my cock, y’know. Stretch your tight lil walls. I'd be so careful with you too. Never hurt you.”

Cute, but you already know that.

“Tell me what you really want,” you whisper as your hips begin to roll, your center bobbing up and down his shaft. Yuuji pulses underneath you, his mouth falling open on a shaky exhale.

“Dick you down, hard and good-“ his mutter is practically a groan, his fingers digging into your sides-“hear you cry. Make you regret taking so long.”

Your excitement grows more palpable, your cunt throbbing. “More, Yuuji.”

Blushing, Yuuji gives you more.

“I wanna play with you too. Eat your little pussy until you're trembling, begging to cum. You probably taste so good. So slick and warm. I’ll see you fall apart—break even, and before you get to cum, I’d have you choke on my cock. Your lips are so perfect, I know they’d feel so fucking hot wrapped around me. I think about it all the time.”

“Do you, now?” It’s news to you, but you like it. Yuuji has a bit of a dark side—something you’d like to explore. Leaning down to flick your tongue across his earlobe, slow and sensuously, until you suck him in, relishing how his body tenses up, your body vibrates when his voice breaks on a shuddered gasp. Lowly you ask, “want me to be your slut? Make me take your cock like a good girl? Swallow all of your hot, tasty cum?”

“Fuck. Yes.” Yuuji greedily palms your ass, his thumbs creeping towards your core. When he reaches it, he teases you through your panties, sliding up and down your vulva. “God, you’re wet. I knew you’d be, but—shit.”

Moving an arm around your waist, he presses his knuckle against your clit, soothing it up and down. You twitch, following his touch, sighing softly as he exerts a little more pressure. His other hand trails up your back, until he twists his fingers through your hair, and pulls you into a deep, consuming kiss. His lips are hot, and wet, and needy. His tongue, desperate to taste you, teases your lips open and laps up your moans.

“You want it, too.” Yuuji breathes huskily, petting your hair back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your body flushes, liquid heat shooting down your belly to pool at your center. Yuuji sort of half-laughs, then proceeds to pull your damp panties to the side. However, the moment he reaches for the hem of his shorts, you grab onto his wrist and tut at him. His brows narrow in outrage, but he doesn’t say anything.

The difference between his strength and yours is monumental. Everyone knows how capable he is—his sheer power. He could easily throw you back against the couch and pounce on you, rutting into you to show you your place. It makes you curious. Being thrown around a bit seems like it could be fun. Yuuji asserting his dominance could be even more fun.

But he doesn’t throw you. What he does is far worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s not what you want to hear, but there’s a glint in his eye. It’s hard to tell if it really is guilt, or something else.

It’s something else.

Something like black carvings or tattoos appear on his face, arms, and chest. His body shakes, and soon, two powerful arms grow out from under his natural pair, and the slits under his eyes open to reveal scathing, red irises.

No.

Not him.

“Yuuji,” you whisper warily. Your fingers tremble as they reach for your boyfriend’s cheek. “Yuuji, please come back.”

But before your hand can make contact with his face, the monster wraps his fingers around your wrist, yanking your arm back as one of his other three hands snatches your other wrist. He’s quick to lean up and pull you closer so that your breasts push up against his hard, bare chest, your legs wrapped around his torso, and his cock pushing against your ass.

Lips wobbling, you make another pitiful attempt to call Yuuji back to you, but the words don’t come out right. They’re strangled and choked and-

“Pathetic,” the monster in front of you drawls. Keeping your wrists clasped together, he uses a free hand to wipe a renegade tear away from your hot cheeks. “Already crying and I haven’t yet done anything to you. Oh, there’s no need to pout, little one. Daddy’s here.”

Finally, you have enough sense in you to fight back, but it’s all for naught. Even though you try to kick, and you try to bite, and you try to wriggle yourself free, it’s all hopeless. His hold on you is vice, and if anything, he looks amused at your sorry struggle.

Your defiant gaze meets his, and despite the tears streaming down your cheeks, you muster the willpower to bare your teeth at him, and snarl. As if he could ever be intimidated by the likes of you.

He snarls right back, taunting you, making light of your hapless effort to try to threaten him. You jerk back in response, not realizing that you’d be pressed against his hard length. It throbs between your thighs. Your eyes go wide, and in response, the curse snickers.

“Keep wigglin’, girl,” he jeers, free arms moving around your back to lock you in place. “Feels good on my cock.”

Rebelliously, you still, hoping to make it so he gets the least amount of pleasure out of this as possible. If he’s going to kill you, you’d like to go out with some dignity.

As if reading your mind, he tuts at you, just like you did with Yuuji, then moves his cheek to nuzzle against your neck—a mockery of a lover’s touch. The soft charade ends before you can pretend it’s nice, though, because soon his tongue laves out, drawing a wet streak up your throat, before he briskly bites down, sucking harshly on your fragile flesh.

A scream burbles out of your esophagus, but it does nothing to ease the pain the curse is inflicting on you. One of his hands moves up your chest. It gropes your left breast, thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple. He sucks and licks until you’re sure he’s left a giant mark on your skin, and when he’s happy enough with his work, he begins kissing you down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your jaw.

A unique languor disperses throughout your body, sucking your desire to fight. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve tired yourself out, or if you’re just…relieved he’s not hurting you—not in a way that you never wanted Yuuji to, anyways. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up.

There’s one thing you haven’t tried yet, and though it seems your throat to do it, you have no other choice but to try.

“Please,” you begin, feeling lower than dirt at having to beg for your release. “Let me go. I can’t do this…”

“And why should I?” He whispers, cool breath blowing against your cheek.

“Yuuji, he—“

“—offered me a deal,” the monster admits, all teeth. “So long as I don’t inflict any permanent damage on you, and he can feel everything we feel, I can do with you as I wish.”

No. Yuuji would never.

“You’re lying,” you murmur, although when you think about it, you’re not sure. Yuuji had…an odd expression right before the other appeared.

“Whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter to me. I’m in control now, and, little girl, it’s been so long since I’ve had my way with a woman. I plan to cease every second of this. Whether you’re willing or not, I will take you, and oh-“ his voice drops an octave when he says, “I promised him that you’ll like it too. Not that that will be any trouble.”

Unceremoniously, his tongue sweeps your lips, and even though you try your hardest to keep your mouth, when sharp teeth bite down on your bottom lip, you grant his access with a yip.

The kiss is leisurely, like he has all the time to waste on molding his lips to yours. His tongue stroke against yours. Beside yourself, you melt into him, picturing it’s Yuuji you’re touching. He hums, seemingly content with your compliance. When he pulls away, his smirk makes your heart jump. His eyes, Yuuji’s eyes, are still so soft. Deceiving.

He lifts you so he can get a better look at your body. Hands roaming your body, he gazes at you appraisingly, and says, “I’ll admit that the brat has good taste. You’d be the perfect woman if you weren’t such a prude.”

With that, Sukuna tears your shirt off your chest—the flimsy and annoying obstruction—to reveal the sheer bralette underneath. Your nipples press against Sukuna’s hands, hardening when he palms you covetously. His smirk widens.

“Not a prude,” he muses darkly, “a tease.” He pinches your nipples hard, making you half-cry, half-moan. “That was cute. You’re gonna be fun.”

“I don’t want this,” you pant, hating the sound of desire coating each word. “I don’t…”

“No?” The curse—the monster—looks amused, a dark gleam in his eyes. A sharp fingernail trails down your bare stomach, and you shudder as heat rushes towards your center, and down between your thighs. Sensing your inner response, he sneers up at you, and in one horrifying second, your boyfriend’s body splits open, revealing a dark, cavernous hole in his stomach. It contorts in an odd way until sharpened teeth, and a long, pink tongue appears. The stomach grins, right before its tongue slowly licks up your center.

The shrieking begins when the licking doesn’t stop. The slow, rhythmic laps soak through your panties. It moves in an undulating motion, thick and wet, forcing you to ride it like a mechanical bull. It’s so strong that even when you close your thighs around it in hopes of maybe squeezing it enough to hurt, it doesn’t do anything except make the monster below you chuckle. It’s completely violating you, not only licking your pussy, but your ass too. Everything is so wet, and sensitive, and hot, that soon your crying evolves into moans, and you can’t help but clench on top of this intrusion.

“Such a responsive little slut for someone who doesn’t want this.” One of the curse’s four hands pets you down your bare back, until it lands on your ass. He gives it an appreciative squeeze, first to feel you, to claim you, then to hold you in place as his stomach tongue begins vibrating at a high intensity.

“No,” you whimper when you begin to feel something coiling up on the inside. The pleasure is so startling, so intense, that you begin to mewl. You’re begging, but you’re unsure if it’s for him to stop, or if it’s for him to let you cum.

With two hands still holding your wrists together, and the others now sitting behind his head to cushion him, he watches with moderate interest as you come undone.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, “you want to cum for me, little one? Let me taste your pleasure?”

“No,” you say again, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to picture you’re anywhere else. “Yuuji.”

The curse tightens his eyes and groans.

Suddenly, the stomach-mouth closes, and you’re lifted up, your panties pulled to the side, and placed back down, his palm pressing into your cunt. Without registering what is happening, you blink at him, a question building in your foggy mind, but you never get to ask it.

Something warm slides up your slit, flirting with your opening. It twirls around your clit, and you begin to shake, realizing that it’s another tongue. He’s eating you out from the palm of his hand, and it only intensifies your tension. You’re burning from the inside out, your pussy pounding as the tongue slides in and out…in and out.

“Say my name,” he hisses, jaggedly, like he’s barely keeping it together. “Say my name, and I’ll take pity on you.”

“Ah…fuck…” Resolve crumbling, you fall forward and onto his chest. His fingers rake up your back, only intensifying your pleasure. Your hips wheel around, chasing his palm…his tongue…your ecstasy.

“Say it,” he commands. The palm’s mouth closes around your clit and starts to suck. Holding back your moans becomes unbearable. It’s all you can do to stop from screaming again, and even then, it’s not much.

“Sukuna!” You plead, tears dotting your eyes. “Please—ah! Please let me cum! Sukuna please, god!”

“So good, little one,” Sukuna coos, “so sweet.” He sucks and nibbles and licks amplify, and you squirm and gyrate against his tongue, barreling towards what was before a very elusive edge. You go over with a trilled moan, trembling, crying, euphoric.

Absolutely devastated.

And it’s not over. He’s not done with you.

Before you can stop vibrating, Sukuna pulls you up against him, lining you up with him. His cock head pries at your center, breaching your surface when he kisses you roughly. It's a vicious and animal, all encompassing kiss, like he’s been starving for it.

“Sit on it,” he instructs. His hands move up and down your sides, either to comfort you, or to remind you that he could force you down if he was so inclined. “Slide down on my cock like a good girl. I want to be buried inside of you.”

When you begin to descend, Sukuna sharply snaps his hips upwards, forcing himself in urgently. The sudden intrusion is enough to make you yip, your body set aflame. Sukuna’s—Yuuji’s pupils expand, his eyes growing darker as he watches you struggle to take him in. There’s no time to get used to his size. He’s moving, and you have no choice but to react. Reluctantly, you stretch for him, and he slowly moves out, only to harshly push back in.

“Beautiful,” he rasps. The praise sends shivers up your spine, and makes you pulse around his cock. You’re sure the evil bastard can feel it, too, because he cups your jaw, and exalts you. “Pretty girl, you feel so good. So tight. A natural submissive, too. Isn’t that right?”

You’re about to object, and when he senses it, he pulls you off of him, and throws you to the floor. You have no time to run, because he climbs on top of you, shoves your head down to the floor, and pulls your ass up.

“When I ask you a question, you answer me,” he rumbles against your neck. It’s violent, but one hand is still on your ass, caressing you soothingly. “You say, ‘yes, daddy’ like my sweet little girl. Unless you want me to treat you as a cum-dumpster—some whore to spill my seed in.” His thumb begins stroking your ass hole, and your body shivers in anticipation. “In any hole that I want. Do you understand me?”

“…yes, daddy,” you weep into the carpet and pray for this to end soon.

Sukuna guides his shaft back inside of you, and it presses against a spot that makes vision darken for a second. He’s relentless when he drives into you, over and over again. His heat surrounds you, weight pressing you into the floor. His large hands rub your skin, petting you all over, and the caresses almost make this intimate, until his touch, again, travels to your other hole.

Trepidation pumps through your blood, making you squeeze his cock. The fear is something electric and addictive, and it has you warbling. He groans, picking up his pace, but his thumb doesn’t leave its place.

“Are you afraid, little one?” Sukuna’s timbre takes on a darker edge. “Scared I’m gonna do the same thing to your ass that I’m doing to your beautiful, fucking pussy?”

The right answer eludes you. You’re not thinking. Your walls close around Sukuna every time he speaks. Every time he pushes himself to his hilt, fills you up, and claims you. By the tears staining the carpet, you can assume that yes. You’re very afraid.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl, right before Sukuna twists his fingers into your hair, and pulls you back. Two arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing you to him, and his last hand reaches around you to rub circles around your too-sensitive clit. “Ohhh, god. Yes.”

“You should be.” He latches onto your neck and sucks violently. You scream as your second orgasm rips through you, forcefully shaking your entire body as Sukuna hammers into you, his pace kiltering off. He’s about to chase you.

“Daddy, please, no…” not inside. Not inside.

Sukuna scoffs, gives you several more cruel pumps, then pulls out, straining you to fall on your back so he can stroke himself off, spraying hot, white ropes of cum across your hot stomach.

“Mine,” Sukuna declares. He smoothes his hand over your sweaty belly, spreading his cum across your skin. “The next time you tease the brat, I’ll take more than your pretty pussy, little girl. That’s a promise.” He dips down low to glide his tongue up your cheek. “So don’t you hesitate to call on me again.”

Then, the marks and the arms disappear, the second pair of eyes closing. The brown eyes that blink at you, shining with something like shame or pleasure, are Yuuji’s.

“Baby…” He says, and you don’t have it in you to cringe away from him when he crowds you into a hug. He pulls you against him, kissing your temple, whispering apologies. He asks if you’re okay, and you don’t know.

But you can’t stop thinking…about when the next time you’ll play the “Tease Yuuji” game.

[mothwings-rosethorns]

"Oh yea try to fucking deny it buddy look at her!! She's fucking dying in your arms and you have the gal to say you didn't do it??!?" Virility knew his code skills there was no way Vermin could be in such a state, not when she was hard coded into the game. She could be injured certainly and even killed but that was all temporary. She'd reset perfectly fine as if nothing had happened but this.

The alarms blaring on his screen told him this was something extreme and if he didn't fix it it was permanent. Her code itself was being outright attacked.

At the accusation Virility's entire bodied shuddered. His eyes flicking to solid black for a second before he reeled himself back in. He stood his ground shaking off the desire to switch into his true form. For he knew if he gave in Vermin would be destroyed as well. Clenching his fists tighter digging his claws into the palms of his hands til they bled he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Me? You're fucking joking right?? I didn't do ANYTHING but help her you fucking idiot!!" He shrieked back.

"I let her into my game. I listened to her. I did everything she asked. I treated her like one of us. I gave her a home!" Virility's tail swatted at the ground aggressively the marble floor cracking sending spiderweb cracks outward from the area of the blow. The anti-virus panted heavily.

"She begged me to sterilize her, so I did. She wanted me to treat her like all the other whores in our game so I did. She wanted to see you again after last time so I made that dress and I dolled her up just so she could be happy and you think I'M the one who thinks less of her?? You call her weak but she's the strongest virus I've ever fucking dealt with! Why else would you think I'd let her fucking stay??" Another ripple of black swirled through the mantid's eyes. His horns lengthening slightly a he was starting to lose control.

Vermin made a small noise at the outbursts. Turning weakly to look at the mantid. Locking eyes with her Virility felt his anger being replaced with concern. Worry filling his eyes as he saw how quickly she was fading. He didn't have time to bicker and argue. Before he could issue Alexander to set her down again the beast's boosted voice rang out.

The loudness of Alexander's voice didn't seem to phase the anti-virus but he knew now he'd have no way of hiding this incident from his boss. Another mess for him to clean up. Typical.

"My friend?" Virility spoke as he stood tall staring Alexander down as he marched up to him as he asked. Not blinking or breaking eye contact as he closed the gap between them. "No, she's not my fucking friend you idiot, she's my queen."

Vermin blinked weakly up at Virility. She seemed about to try and speak but Virility quickly raised a hand to silence her.

Carefully he took her small body into his arms holding her bridal style. Her hand weakly reaching out to Alexander as she was pulled away.

"He's not leaving." Virility stated red and gold eyes shooting the beast a challenging look daring him to try and walk away from this.

Pulling a blanket form his inventory Virility quickly laid it out with his forelegs and settled Vermin down on it. It wasn't the best but he didn't have time to drag her to a better location. Soon as she was on the ground his tail's needle slid into the exposed vein beside her remaining heart gem.

Vermin let out a sharp cry of pain. Virility pet the top of her head gently before turning to his screens and pulling up a holographic keyboard. Fingers dancing across the keys at an insanely quick rate. With a direct hook up he could more easily access Vermin's code. Now he just needed to clear out the errors and locate the source of the distress and remove it. Not an easy task with how tangled up her code was.

"Don't just stand there make yourself useful. Talk to her. Hold her hand kiss her fucking anything. It's the least you could fucking do." Virility snapped tail twitching as wave of glitch spread from Vermin into him. But he ignored the pain and continued to work not bothering to look up from his displays.

Vermin was growing weaker and weaker she didn't even react when Alexander attempted to force her heart back together. She simply lay in his arms. Her once aggressive tight grip becoming slack gently pets as she stroked him as he hugged her.

"te amo..te amo..t.̸.̸t̶e̴ ̸a̴-̵a̷m̴o̵.." she reassured him. He broke her heart but the part that was still attached belonged to him and him alone. She wouldn't stop loving, she couldn't stop loving him. He was hers for as long as he wanted to keep her around.

Her head slumped back her long hair draping over his hands she struggled to remain conscious. Her eyes dulling as she forced a smile up at him.

"to̴g̵-̵-̸t̷o̵g̵e̶t̴h̵e̵r̸ ̵f̴o̴r̶e̴v̷e̴r̴…̵i̶n̸ ̴y̶o̶u̷-̸-̷-̴̭̿y̷̥͈̟͛̓͠o̸̝̅͒͆u̶͔̭̓r̶͍̹̗̎̑̅ ̸̗͐b̶̡̟̦̔e̷̻͆̈́̂l̶̳̙̒̈l̶̨͙̑̆y̸̹̯͎̕͠-̷̫̠͇̀̕-̷͔̠̿͐͘-̸̙̗̀" Vermin's body seized as a massive glitched coursed through her. Her appearance flashing colors, showing her previous forms for a split second before settling back to her current form.

She let out a small noise, panting as she struggled to stay awake. Her complexion paling as she continued to lose blood.

"v̛.̶.v͜i͏riĺ.͡.͞" her voice distorting as she tried in vain to speak.

"What in the shit are you two fuckers doing?!?!?!" Virility's voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and aggressive. His normal sugary tone entirely gone. His phone in his palm was pinging repetitively as alerts of Vermin's deteriorating state where sent to him.

Virility kept his entire game under close inspection and that included Vermin despite her not being originally a part of his game.

The red rose was fuming glaring absolute daggers at Alexander. Tail raised, needle brandished as he moved slowly forward body tense tight. While he wanted to simply dart in and grab Vermin he knew better and chose to keep some distance should Alexander choose to lash out at him.

He eyes went from Alexander to the bloodied mess of Vermin in his arms. A pang of annoyance as he noticed the copious amounts of blood staining the dress he worked so hard to code. Vermin's body twitched as a series of glitched phased throughout her being. Snapping his gaze back to Alexander Virility's thorns spiked out shifting and rubbing against his smooth scales to create an audible hiss.

"Put. Her. Down. NOW." He snarled the command. He didn't know what was going on but he assumed her state was Alexander's doing. Nothing could screw with code this badly other than a virus.

His phone continued to ping and in a rush of annoyance and rage he pulled up his code editing window flipping the screen and enlarging it to show Alexander a window absolutely drenched in red warning alerts. Yellow and red text in large font reading out various errors that popped up over and over completely smothering the screen.

"Look!! Look at this fucking mess! Do you know how hard it's gonna be to fix this shit??!??! What in the CPU where you two fucking idiots fucking doing??!??"

Vermin looked tiredly from Alexander to the anti-virus. "Viri̕l̸í…" her voice failed again, another ripple of glitches washing over her as her body distorted and warped. The gem Alexander had attempted to fit back on falling off again.

It skid across the ground, stopping at Virility's feet.

The mantid stared down angrily at the gem. He knew he should have patched the shit out when he had the chance but Vermin had insisted on keeping it. He hated his past self for being such a kindhearted idiot. He looked from the gem to glare at Vermin who was still trying to hold onto Alexander.

She seemed so pathetic now laying in the large monster's grasp. He watched as she tried to keep giving Alexander kisses and pets, apparently trying to soothe the beast despite the fact she was the one completely falling apart. The red glint of her precious ring caught his eye.

He let out a deep growl, tail thrashing behind him wildly as he wanted nothing more than to rip that pretty ring off her finger and use it to gouge out Alexander's eyes.

"Put. her. down." he repeated again. Hands clenched tightly as he waited for the beast to do as he demanded.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hello, my dears! This request came from my Ao3 account after my Alcina mirror sex fic posted. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it  😏🤤 - noooooo please don't leave it there i need to see alcina lose control with that big strap this was so hot 🥵    

****

The refreshed feeling of cool mahogany against your feverish skin, the deep heat that seemed to roll off of Alcina’s body in sweeping waves, the words that now spun unhindered through your bliss hazed mind.. ‘Be a good pet, and brace yourself’’. And god, how badly you wanted to show her just how good you could be. How well you could submit. How desperately you wanted her to destroy you - ripping that safeword straight from your breathless lips. 

Alcina’s heady pheromones swiftly enveloping you - intoxicatingly indulgent - the full length of her leaned over the back of you, casting your body in a deep shadow. You could feel her warm breath ghosting over your neck and shoulders as she leaned in a little closer, sending a prompt shiver down your spine. 

“Such an intoxicating pet you are.” She murmured, placing a soft kiss to the base of your neck. “The things that you entice me to do.” 

You let out a strangled moan as she followed her sweet kisses with the unmistakable sharpness of her teeth. Alcina’s strap still stationary inside you - buried deep within your aching core. And it took everything in you not to buck your hips back into her out of pure desperation. Even if the thought of her punishing you made your whole body fill with heat, fill the uttermost need. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to completely demolish you - to wholly wreck you - stopping herself just short of ripping you apart. 

You shivered as her warm breath skated across your back and shoulder blades. The length of her tongue exploring the base of your neck before finally finding your ear. 

“And so delicious, too.” She whispered. 

“Ah-! Please, my lady.” 

“And so sweet.”

She punctuated her praise with an absolutely indulgent thrust, forcing you to cry out. 

“So obedient.”

Another as she nipped at your soft skin. 

“So perfect.”

Fireworks building behind your eyes as your deeply flushed face fell flat against the vanity. Each praised filled thrust causing an immense and unyielding heat to spill over you. She was meticulous in her movements, as she was with everything in life - a woman in control - slow, teasing you, but always hitting exactly where you needed it. . 

“Mmph… th-thank you, my Lady.” 

“Ah, but shouldn’t I be the one thanking you, my pet?”

She purred softly against the soft skin of your neck before licking over it - relishing in the deep shudder that spilled across you. 

“For.. for what, my Lady?”

“Why, for being so utterly divine, my pet.” 

You whimpered again at her praise, at the feeling of her strap filling you so completely - over and over again - as if she moved her hips to some unknown rhythm. Your fingernails clawing deeper into the smooth mahogany beneath you with each masterful thrust that she gave you. Moaning louder as the width of her hands found your hips, driving your backside firmly into her.

“No coming without my permission, pet.” 

Alcina’s words alone were enough to compel the relentless fire in your core to ignite even further, willing a most delicious whimper to slip past your lips. 

“Y-yes, my Lady.”

“And keep your eyes on me.”

“Mmph, fuck.. Yes, my Lady.” 

Your voice was breathless - barely above a whisper as you did your best to return your gaze back to the mirror in front of you.

“That’s a good pet. Watch mommy as she wrecks you.” 

The sultry tones to her voice, the slight growl that lay dormant just beneath, murmured huskily into your overly flushed skin. The soft skin of your cheeks - the fine lines of your face - every singular detail of your body steadily becoming blurred by the fierce blush that moved unhindered across it. The feeling of her large frame against your backside as her calculated thrusts remained at an achingly slow pace. Each one forcing juices to drip deliciously down your  heated thighs. Her large hands encasing your hips and up to your sides, holding up your body like a lifeline. Half lidded eyes locked onto golden embers as the sheer power of Alcina continued to completely unravel you - slow and steady - a keen smirk curling across her devious lips as her fingers began to roam.  

“That’s it, my pet. You are doing so well.” 

A shudder of a breath, an absolute desperate moan cutting through the cool night air as the imposing girth of her fingers found your clit, circling it slowly. Her other hand at the small of your back, giving herself complete control of every movement you made. Quickening the pace of your hips - large, generous circles over your clit - willing you to cry out for her even more. Forcing you to whimper - to claw, shake, tremble with absolute need for more - for release. For anything that your Lady was willing to give you. Feeling your hips jerk into her as your peak became closer and closer to the edge. 

“Ah.. mmh.. fuck.. I’m .. I’m close, my lady.” 

A spin to your surroundings as the deep seated pleasure swiftly dropped from your body just as quickly as the warmth of Alcina’s fingers left your clit. Her strap completely still - teasing inside you - so desperate for release that you could feel your heartbeat clench  around it. 

‘Mmh.. such a good pet.” 

She stroked over your hair affectionately, bringing a small kiss to your shoulder before nipping at it. Each mark that decorated your body connected like a singular lay line to her heart. Thumping loudly with each soft kiss that she gifted over them. 

“Please… please, my lady..” 

Sometimes you hated how weak she made you, how completely desperate she could get you to be - but in retrospect, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She chuckled, pushing cool breath across your heated skin, “Always so needy for your Lady, hm?”

“Mmph-!” 

The sound that left your lips was one of pure desire - of utter need. Wanting her to take your body as it was - to do everything that she had ever fantasized about - ever dreamed about. You squirmed against her without a moment of a thought, bucking your hips back as the need between your legs turned into a frenzied ache.. Swallowing hard as you watched the dangerous glint sweep over her eyes. 

“Now, now… be patient, pet. You’ve been doing so well.”

She nipped at your shoulder blade hard, drawing beads of crimson swiftly into her eager mouth. Sucking indulgently as the width of her finger pressed firmly against your clit.. An exquisitely intoxicating mix of sensations as she put the trio into steady motion. Her experienced mouth drinking from you as if you were her last and final meal. Her finger generous against you as she circled it steadily over your aching clit. The strap that could easily destroy you, delivering nothing but the most delicious thrusts as she matched the three in perfect rhythm. 

“Fuck.. I’m... “ 

“Always so vulgar.” 

It was barely a murmur against feverish skin - a mutter of a whisper - as Alcina’s masterful hips quickened their pace. The width of her spilling over the back of you as she brought you to the edge of pleasure and back again. Denying you time and time again. Chuckling at every curse that slipped past your lips, smirking at every whimper and moan. Half lidded eyes locked onto hers as you obediently held her gaze. 

 “I can smell how desperate for release you are, my pet.” 

A deep thrust to your swollen core, pulling an utterly desperate moan from your lips. 

“Ah-! Please.. “

“Tell me badly you want it, pet. Use your words.” 

“I need it.. ah.. so badly.. please.. Alcina…”

Her name skipped through your haze filled mind like a fever dream. Echoing against the strumming of your own heartbeat. The only thing able to cut through it was the deep and guttural growl that compelled itself out of Alcina’s body. Suns dissolving into slivers - a total eclipse of her eyes - dilating fully as large fingers wrapped firmly in your hair, pulling you straight back with an unyielding force. The length of you flush against her, every cell in your being set ablaze as she held your body in place. A sneer like smirk, a flutter of her eyelashes as Alcina swiftly brought her mouth to the crook of your neck, sinking the sharpness of her teeth deep into your soft skin. Growling louder as you moaned. Swift euphoria sweeping over you like a tidal wave - a current - an exquisite undertow as she pulled the crimson straight from your heated flesh - panting slightly as she pulled away.

“How easily I could drink you dry, pet. How quickly I could leave your body lifeless, right where you stand.” 

She brought her teeth back into you harder this time, earning a sharp yelp to force its way  past your lips. The width of her hands moving quickly - one to your throat and the other to your hips. A sublime heat as the sharp sting of her claws seeped ever so slightly into your flesh, causing you to whimper. The length of her tongue licking expertly over your wounds as she delivered a forceful and indulgent thrust to your core.

“And yet.. you fear me not.. do you, pet?” 

“N-no, my lady… m-more...” 

She tightened the grasp on your throat, forcing your gaze to her own. An almost primal look upon her face as the hand that held your hips in place moved indulgently to your clit, circling it once. 

“Ah-! Please, Mistress!” 

You knew you were playing with fire - knew that your words were tempting the beast inside - and you didn’t care. You relished in it. In knowing how easily she could destroy you - how swiftly she could  break you - how wholly and completely she could make you hers. And you knew you should be scared, knew that the dangerous glint that now spilled relentless over the blacks of her eyes, was nothing but absolute in it’s warning.

“Oh, my pet… always so unsatisfied, hm?”

“Ah.. yes, my lady… please.”

“How absolutely divine you smell when you beg for me.” Her breath was stifling against you as she leaned in further. “Well… as you wish.”

You watched the tiny beads of crimson drip deliciously down your neck as she tightened her grasp a little more. An absolute predatory look to her eyes as she shifted her stance slightly, widening your legs for her even more. The tips of her barely extended claws teasing over your inner thigh before allowing the smoothness of them to ghost over your clit. You shuddered, dropping your gaze for less than a second before the strength of the fingers tightened once more - pulling your eyes immediately forward.

“That’s a good pet.”

You watched as the blush across your face grew even deeper. Watched as a deep seated pleasure sweeped over the fine lines of your face. As the juices began to flow steadily from your core. As the whites of your teeth found your flushed swollen lips. The length of her strap deep inside you as she started a strong and merciless rhythm. The fingers around your neck, firm - the ones on your clit, generous and indulgent. Both supremely arousing .. both pushing you closer and closer to the edge

Watching obediently as the first orgasm washed over you. A white hot pleasure spilling across the landscape of you - ripping your name from her lips like an prayer. The pace of her hips unyielding as she forced one orgasm on you after another. Each wave of pleasure more delicious than the last - crashing over you in ways that you didn’t even know possible. And you wondered how many times you had screamed her name. How many times she’d made you plead for more -  begging for her not to have mercy on you. Her normally calculated movements becoming more frenzied in nature with each plea. A sheer primality rolling over her in steady waves as she drove her strap into you with unrelenting force. The sun already started it’s ascent into the dawn stricken sky by the time she was done with you. By the time she returned your breathless body back to the smooth mahogany below you. Her cool breath skating over your crimson skin as she whispered softly into your ear. 

“Just one more time, my pet. Just come for mommy one more time.” 

And you did, hard - harder than before - harder than ever. Full white out behind your eyes - the entire room spinning as her words skipped across you like a free wielding star. It was all consuming, enveloping you in a pleasure so thick that you were sure you felt your toes curl - your soul shake. Juices gushing from your core as Alcina’s strap pushed over and past the brink of pleasure one last time. Panting as your whole body shuddered. Your flushed face flat against the cooled wood of the vanity, your hitched breath only growing deeper. 

‘You did so, so well, my pet.” 

She purred the words into you, peppering soft kisses up the side of your neck - a soft smile against your skin as her lips found your temple. 

“Mmh.. thank you, my lady,” 

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you, my pet?”

“Hm? For.. for what?”

“Why, for being so utterly diving, my pet.” 

You chuckled at her on-going quip - letting the blissful haze swiftly pull you under, barely hearing the last words that she muttered against you.

"Rest up, my pet. I expect your tongue in me by breakfast."

[gerec]

Au-gust 2022

Previous prompts here: AU-gust Challenge 2022

11. Twisted Fairy Tale

Pairing(s): Cherik Warnings: Threat of noncon mentioned

-----

When Charles opened his eyes, he was no longer in the huntsman’s cabin, resting instead under the stars and surrounded by a soft bed of fur. Upon closer inspection he realized his error; that it was not bedding but the warm bodies of giant wolves curled around his body. There were six of them, all beautiful and larger than Charles by far, their sharp claws and teeth sheathed as they slept under the moonlight. And though they looked dangerous even in the midst of such peaceful slumber, Charles was not afraid – not as he’d been of his stepfather, or when the huntsman threatened to cut out his heart after he’d violated his body – as he would undoubtedly be dead already if the wolves meant him any harm.

(Also, he remembered the large, silver wolf that had burst in and saved him from the huntsman, then carried him away from the bloody carnage upon his back.)

The memory made him shiver, even encircled by the pack, and Charles slowly and carefully pulled himself up into a seated position. Only a few feet away sat a man before a small cooking fire, stirring what smelled like a delicious stew. He was very handsome with broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones, and waited patiently as Charles watched him with assessing eyes. Then he was waved over and offered a piping hot bowl, which Charles devoured hungrily as the stranger looked on.

“Thank you,” he said, once he’d finished his meal, and wrapped the wool blanket the man offered tightly around his shoulders. It was cold outside as the wind howled through the branches, and his thoughts turned melancholy remembering his homey quarters in the castle he would never see again. “You were the one who saved me.”

“Yes, my name is Erik,” the man said, handing him a flask, prompting him to take a sip of something strong and bracing. “I was…following a scent I was tracking when I heard your screams. I’m glad I was able to save you from that blighted huntsman. His cruelty has been known to me and mine for as long as we’ve lived in these woods.”

Charles shuddered. “He was an evil, evil man.”

Grimly, Erik nodded in agreement and asked, “You haven’t told me your name. Or how you came to be in the huntsman’s grasp.”

Though Erik seemed trustworthy and had already saved his life once, Charles didn’t think it prudent to share all his secrets with a stranger. Perhaps once they knew each other better he would reveal himself as the Crown Prince, and that it was his stepfather Kurt who sought to kill him to usurp Westchester’s throne.

“My stepfather paid him to kill me for my inheritance,” he explained. “And once he realizes I’ve escaped, he’ll send others to hunt me. He’ll never to satisfied until he holds my heart in his hands.”

Erik frowned. “There is no one who can take you in and protect you? None who would go up against your stepfather for your sake?”

“None,” Charles said with a shake of his head. “None would dare go against him for fear of their own lives.”

For long moments, Erik was silent, and Charles took the time to admire his profile in the firelight. Something about the man – the Lycan – made him feel safe and protected; even his wolf scent smelled like the woods and the rain to Charles’ nose. It was unlikely that he would be allowed to stay with Erik and the others for more than one night, which stirred a longing in him that he couldn’t explain.

“Though I would gladly protect you from your stepfather’s people, you cannot stay with us—”

“I know,” Charles interjected with a smile, “you’ve done so much for me already.”

Erik smiled. “You cannot stay with us as you are, is what I meant to say, Charles. You must be part of the pack to have the pack’s protection. I cannot simply make it so even as their leader.”

“Are you suggesting that I…join you?”

“It is a choice,” Erik said, “and one not to be offered or taken lightly. We would become your family, yes, but you must then abide by our rules in turn. Our life is not one of idleness and luxury, and you would be expected to take a mate among us as well.”

“A mate?” Charles cried. “But how—”

“You must be given our blood and turned,” Erik said, “and the process is both painful and irreversible. But once it is done, you’ll be able to transform at will, and would be far better equipped to deal with any hunters on your trail even if caught on your own.” Then he reached over and took up Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently as he added, “Take your time and think on your decision. We will not pressure you to join us, and will happily escort you far from these lands should you wish to go on alone.”

Charles nodded, and slid his hand gently from Erik’s grasp. “Thank you. I shall think on your offer.”

Then he returned to his spot and laid down, feeling Erik’s eyes follow him as he curled amidst the slumbering bodies.

[jaskierswolf]

Your heart beats like wings

Written for the Teef Week Event in @thewitcherbog.

Ship: Gerlion

Rating: E

CW: Fae!Dandelion, biting (and drawing blood), mating bites (of sorts), wing kink, coming untouched, blow job,

_

Geralt had always known there was something not quite human about Dandelion. Whenever his golden-haired poet was near, the wolf’s head would hum quietly on his chest, a fact that Dandelion seemed to delight in. Whenever they shared a bed or curled up together on the forest floor, Dandelion’s long lutist fingers would wrap around the wolf, calloused fingertips tracing the fur on its ears and muzzle. But Geralt never asked, and Dandelion seemed content to keep the mystery a secret. Years passed, decades, maybe nearing a century, Ciri blooming into a beautiful young lady, zipping off through time and space, Yennefer still scouring the Continent for a way to take back what she believed was stolen from her, and Regis settling down in Toussaint with a fellow vampire, popping in to see Geralt and Dandelion on occasion.

No one seemed to notice that the seemingly human bard hadn’t aged a day over the cruel winters and burning summers that had passed.

Geralt noticed but he was scared, scared of losing the one constant in his life. If he asked, if he drew attention to it, the peace surrounding them might shatter and he’d be left alone, always waiting for his friends and family to arrive, isolated.

Dandelion hummed, tucking his hair behind his ears before leaning down to press a kiss to Geralt’s neck, sucking a bruise into the tender skin, his hips rolling over Geralt’s cock. Ever the poet, Dandelion murmured a steady stream of praise as he trailed his lips under the line of Geralt’s jaw, whispering rhymes and verses as he nibbled Geralt’s ear.

“What thoughts are rattling through that pretty little head of yours, my darling?” Dandelion asked as he sat up onto his heels, his fingers tracing patterns into Geralt’s chest, not dissimilar to the runes on his swords.

“Nothing to worry about,” Geralt muttered, pulling his husband into a kiss to finally silence him. The words melted into a soft moan as Dandelion’s lips parted easily under Geralt’s, elderflower wine still on his tongue, sweet, delicious, divine.

They kissed some more, lazy and slow, a simmering heat gradually building into something more insistent as Dandelion’s hands finally wrapped around Geralt’s cock.

“You’re lying to me,” Dandelion hummed, hand slick with oil even though Geralt never heard the cork pop. “Tell me, dearest, please.”

Geralt’s eyes fluttered closed, Dandelion’s fingers working magic along his hardening cock, making it difficult to think about anything else. “You,” he finally mumbled, “was thinking about you.”

Dandelion giggled, the sound making Geralt’s medallion vibrate a little more against his chest. “And what about me?” Dandelion asked, his voice ever musical and beautiful, one carefully trimmed nail running along Geralt’s cheek.

“You- you never age, Dandelion. Why?” Geralt asked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he finally voiced the question that had been haunting him for years.

The poet sighed, pressing his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck, fingers wrapped tightly around the wolf medallion. “I was wondering when you would ask, my dear witcher.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as Dandelion sat up, legs resting either side of Geralt’s waist. He continued to trace patterns into Geralt’s skin, until the quiet became almost unbearable, crushing Geralt under the enormity of its weight. The question became a burning sword, ready for Geralt to fall upon, the destruction of everything he held dear. Until, in a strangely vulnerable voice, Dandelion spoke once more.

“Promise not to hate me, Geralt, darling, please.” His voice cracked, shattering along with Geralt’s heart. They may have had their spats over the years but to hear that his husband doubted him so… it was unforgivable. He would spend the rest of their days together trying to make it up to Dandelion, until his husband truly believed how much Geralt loved him.

Geralt took one of Dandelion’s hands in his, placing a kiss to each knuckle before gently turning it over to kiss the palm. “You must think me mad,” Geralt reminded him, echoing words from so long ago, “if you think I could ever hate you.”

And still Dandelion remained silent, cornflower blue eyes locked on his, lacing their fingers together. “Even if I’m a monster?”

If it weren’t for the sincerity in Dandelion’s voice, Geralt would have assumed the poet was joking. How could his husband, kind and gentle Dandelion who threw up at the sight of blood, think he was a monster? The most vicious Dandelion ever got was when he was up against Valdo Marx in a bardic competition, but his old rival had passed many years ago.

“Even then.”

“Are you- are you sure?”

“Dandelion, speak,” Geralt said, squeezing the poet’s hand in his.

“Very well.”

But instead of speaking there was a sudden burst of magic in the room, Geralt’s medallion jumping off his chest, the teeth of the wolf almost snarling as it vibrated wildly. Dandelion’s features blurred and changed, his already sharp cheekbones becoming more angular, the fingers between Geralt’s lengthening, claw-like nails replacing neatly trimmed ones. When Dandelion opened his eyes once more, cornflower blue irises now glowed with slitted pupils not unlike Geralt’s, and when he smiled, Geralt saw a row of sharp teeth glistening between rosy pink lips. His golden ringlets parted to reveal two curled horns, but what really drew Geralt’s attention were the shimmering rainbow wings that unfurled from behind his husband’s back.

He was beautiful.

“Dandelion,” Geralt breathed, unable to think of any other word.

“Hello, Geralt.”

“You’re- you’re beautiful.”

Dandelion’s eyes fluttered shut, a serene expression gracing his lips, and the room seemed to glow from whatever magic the poet was weaving, his hair gently blowing in a breeze that Geralt couldn’t feel. Behind him, Dandelion’s wings beat slowly, catching off the candlelight and sending glittery sparkles of light cascading across the room. It was captivating, enchanting, alluring, and Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off his husband.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice distant to his own ears.

“Hmm, well, I rather think you should,” Dandelion giggled, leaning down to press their lips together.

Geralt’s fingers tentatively reached out to caress Dandelion’s wings, making the poet shudder, a soft gasp falling from his lips, the taste of wild flowers on his breath.

“Again…” Dandelion murmured, and so Geralt stroked along the seemingly fragile veins of the wings until his husband was a quivering mess on top of him, cock hard and leaking onto Geralt’s stomach. “Oh gods, Geralt.”

“I’ve got you, Dandelion,” Geralt hummed, his fingers digging into Dandelion’s thighs as they rutted together, Geralt’s cock aching between the curve of Dandelion’s arse.

“Julian,” Dandelion whispered. “My name is Julian.”

Geralt blinked up at his husband, cheeks flushed bright, the very picture of ethereal beauty. “Julian,” he repeated, “my flower.”

As the name fell from Geralt’s lips, a strange silver light whipped around his husband, connecting his heart to Geralt’s, and he cried out, lost in pleasure as he came, purely from the caresses to his wings. He collapsed forward, sharp teeth latching onto Geralt’s shoulder to muffle his cries. Geralt hissed in pain as the fangs sank into his skin, but the pain soon succumbed to pleasure and he thrust up against Dandelion’s arse, hands still exploring the colourful wings that were so alive beneath his fingers. Every touch tingled against his skin, hot and cold at the same time, magic in its rawest form, making Geralt feel dizzy.

Dandelion moaned, releasing Geralt’s shoulder for barely a second before kissing over the wound. His husband then wriggled from Geralt’s arms, kissing down Geralt’s body as he shuffled down the bed, each kiss was accompanied by a sharp bite until Geralt’s skin was a map of unfamiliar teeth marks, some bleeding, some not, Dandelion didn’t seem to care. Wherever his razor sharp teeth did break through Geralt’s skin, there was a thrum of magic, building and building inside of Geralt, until he could almost feel Dandelion’s heart beat right alongside his. Wings fluttered out behind Dandelion, now out of reach but still so captivating.

“My darling, my husband, my Geralt,” Dandelion murmured between kisses, gazing up at Geralt with glowing blue eyes as he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s hip.

“Yours, Julian,” Geralt agreed, threading his hands through Dandelion’s soft blond curls, knuckles bumping against the newly grown horns. Unlike the wings, Dandelion’s horns didn’t appear to be sensitive in the slightest, but Geralt was still intrigued. He gripped one of the horns in his hand, guiding his husband lower, moaning with every kiss and bite to his skin.

Dandelion giggled, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s inner thigh, “Patience, love.”

“You try my patience, poet.”

“And yet you insist I’m not a monster,” Dandelion sighed, sinking his teeth into Geralt’s thigh.

Fire blazed through Geralt’s veins, crackling electricity, even as Dandelion’s tongue lapped over the bite mark. He knew there was some magic at play, but it was a part of Dandelion, a part that had remained hidden for so long and finally, finally, Geralt had been allowed to see.

The trust that Dandelion- that Julian had in him was almost overwhelming.

Glowing eyes met his and Julian winked, eyelashes even longer and darker than before. That was all the warning Geralt got before his cock was enveloped in the wet heat of Julian’s mouth, the bard already moaning around his length. Geralt’s own moans harmonised with his husband as his head fell back against the pillow.

He had a feeling he would be in for a long night.

_

Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[keisurou]

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni. 

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited. 

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :) 

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,” 

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?” 

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment. 

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,” 

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,” 

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast. 

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,” 

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. 

“So, no sex?” 

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?” 

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,” 

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed. 

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles. 

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory. 

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work. 

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.  

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,” 

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined.  But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue. 

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.” 

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle.  For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine. 

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets. 

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing. 

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh. 

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention. 

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?” 

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right? 

“She seriously never told ya?” 

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.” 

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing. 

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod. 

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers. 

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and- 

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size. 

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?” 

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length. 

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers. 

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him. 

He does it again, harder. 

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and— 

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge. 

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi. 

Thank you for reading :) 

Taglist: @lukehemmingsfan101​ @the-actual-audrey @Dontmindme:) @potaytopothato @jadasz @momoraen​ (those in bold could not be tagged). 

Click here for my taglist. If you would like to stop being on my taglist, please just send me a message. 

[americxn]

“What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

Kai Anderson x GN!Reader

This is definitely not good enough to enter, but I used the prompt from @tatesimper anniversary writing competition so I guess this is my entry? (fig, I’m so sorry for butchering such a good prompt lmao)

also, I realised when writing it that this could serve as a prologue to this fic:

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/652835852669648896/paranoia

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: genocide/murder mention, swearing (this is based off episode 11 of season 7)

The night air was cool on your exposed face as you took the front steps to the door of Kai’s house, not bothering to knock as you pushed it open, the warmth and light from within spilling onto the smooth concrete of the front step and pooling around your feet; having been in a committed relationship with Kai from a year and a half now, this house was practically your own. Stepping past the front porch after abandoning your shoes and jacket, you entered the uncharacteristic quiet of the house, scanning the hallway for any signs of life, usually abundant within these walls in the form of Kai’s blue shirt-clad, blindly deferential followers. 

 “Okay. A little bad news to start,” your body instinctively angled towards the voice, distinctly Kai, that sounded through the empty hall from the back room. You set off down the hallway, his voice growing in volume as you approached, somewhat confused. He hadn’t notified you of a scheduled cult meeting that evening and yet his tone of voice was threaded with the assertive cadence that he utilised only when addressing his followers.  “It turns out finding a thousand pregnant women to murder is super hard. No one will ever accuse me of lacking ambition.” He continued as you reached the threshold to the large room at the back of the house that served as a secondary living room; breath catching in your throat, you halted, your hand reaching for the wood of the doorframe to steady yourself as the meaning of his words settled into you. To murder? “So, Night of a Thousand Tates is off.” A ripple of groans and dejected sighs rose from the small sea of men at Kai’s words, quickly falling silent to allow him to continue. “But, Night of One Hundred Tates is on.” His words sent a wave of prickly dread spider walking down your spine; he hadn’t told you about any of this. Killing a thousand pregnant women? You wanted to stride into the room with a bright laugh to wave away his abhorrent words and demand for the real reason that he had called a meeting. But you knew. A terrible, truth filled part of you was all too aware that he was deadly serious A chorus of thrilled cheers drifted up from the small crowd in twisted elation with the newly revealed knowledge that their hands would still be stained with blood by the end of the night. Your breath became too loud in your ears, your mouth turning utterly dry as you examined your suddenly empty mind for a solution to Kai’s monstrous plan that you could use to convince him to call it off. But you came up short, taking a small step back into the safety of the dimly lit hall, your back coming to press against the wall beside the open doorway to ensure that nobody would be able to see you eavesdropping from within. This was too far. Kai had done many questionable, twisted things over the past year but this... this was too far. You were full of self hatred for the amount of things that you had stood aside for and let Kai go ahead with, but not this. You refused to take so much of an ounce of accountability for this. Pulling your phone from the confines of your back pocket, you drew in a shuddering, grounding breath, your thumb working on the keypad. The digit shook as it pressed onto the screen, your teeth catching between your lower lip as your gaze flicked from the brightness of the device’s screen to the open doorway at your side. The sequence of 911 you had typed glared up at you, bathing the underside of your jaw in artificial light as you craned your neck, leaning forwards slightly to peer into the room. Kai stood by the far wall, his men arranged in a neat group before him, all sitting straight backed to attention on their chairs.  Just behind Kai, displayed on the low table pushed against the wall were two silicone models of a woman’s torso, ripe with the swell of a baby within; one was positioned to the side as a cross sectional diagram, the other facing straight on, the small model of a baby in the third trimester curled up within the artificial uterus. Your attention snapped back to Kai as he took a step forwards to address the group.  “Look under your chairs, I’ve handed each of you a unique list of targets, all ready to pop.” Your stomach twisted in horrified disbelief as the men all shifted in unison, pleasure curling the corners of their lips upwards as they read the names of the people they were soon to mercilessly slaughter. You watched with teary eyes as an impressively built, stocky man who you didn’t know the name of slowly lifted his hand to the ceiling, Kai’s eyes immediately flicking to him in agitation. “You raise your hand one more fucking time and I will cut it off.” The powerfully built man visibly shrunk down into his chair at Kai’s hissed statement of reproval but timidly uttered his question of “how do we know they’re all pregnant?” Kai’s eyes flashed in impatient annoyance as he tore his eyes off the man, flicking them briefly up to the ceiling before deigning to answer. “Because Gutterball pulled the rosters of four ob-gyns, two Lamaze classes and a Momtra Yoga over on Main. Great job, Gutterball.” The blond man who went by Gutterball, sat on the front row of chairs close to Kai, beamed in self-gratified delight at Kai’s gracious recognition, lifting a fist into the air in triumph. Kai smiled proudly down at him before turning to address the group as a whole once more. Your eyes flicked down to the bright screen of your phone, the numbers displayed there beckoning. Your thumb twitched, a conflicted frown creasing your forehead as Kai continued on, pulling your attention back to him. “Manson’s family - I admire them, but they did get a little sloppy.” You watched on in nauseating alarm as Kai pulled a large blade from the black sheath at his hip with a flourish, the metal glinting in the light of the room. “Their message got lost in their mess. What we are doing requires more precision. It is imperative that both mother and child are impaled. Don’t fuck this up.” He scanned the gathering before him, gaze as sharp as the knife clutched in his grip before turning to the models behind him.  “Aim for the belly button but stab in a downward motion. If you stab straight,” in one fluid motion, he had buried the curved tip of the blade in the portion of the fake uterus just above the baby’s head with a solid thunk, “you miss the baby - and our entire message is lost.” Withdrawing the knife, he turned back to address his cult, the weapon hanging loosely from his fingertips by his thigh. “Tomorrow night, when your blades tear open one hundred pregnant bellies, you will be releasing a power into the universe. Detonating a neutron bomb of truth, blood and amniotic fluid. You will be galvanising an army.” “With their sisters gutted, women everywhere will be forced to react. They can’t ignore an injustice this brutal. They’ll have to rise up, and in their collective rage, they will train it on Senator Jackson, on all incumbents, on any of the people in power who failed to keep us safe. As the most vulnerable are slaughtered, as the pregnant bodies pile up on Senator Jack-off’s watch, we will be surfing an electoral bloodbath straight to Capitol Hill. And then… the White House.”  The collection of cult members all voiced their assent in a chorus of whoops and ovated cheers, a nauseating sense of unease dragging it’s claws up the length of your spine. You turned away with hot tears blurring your vision, not wanting to hear more, your phone a heavy weight in your hand and the decision it presented even heavier.

Sat on the edge of Kai’s large bed, your knee couldn’t cease it’s anxious bouncing, your lower lip chewed raw by your teeth. The door swung open suddenly, sending your heart leaping into your throat. Kai stepped into the room, the small smile stretching across his lips broadening as he beheld you perched on the mattress’ edge. “Hey, when did you get here?” He questioned, reaching to tug you to your feet and wrap his arms tightly around you in a warm embrace. “I only got here like five minutes ago.” Your lie was muffled into the thin shirt at his shoulder, his hands splayed flat on your upper back as he held you close to him. Withdrawing yourself from his grasp, you frantically scanned his face, heart sinking at the pleasure dimly glowing in the depths of his dark eyes, pleasure fuelled not by your sudden appearance, but in anticipation of the merciless slaughter that he would be carrying out in mere hours time. “What?” He asked curiously, his head tilting slightly in concern as his smile faded, caught in the grave despondency of the stare you had him pinned under. His tape-wrapped hands settled on his shoulders; shaking him off, you stepped away, your chest bubbling with emotion that was dangerously close to spilling over. Dropping your gaze to the floor, you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, forcing the tears that threatened to flow to stay at bay. Groaning through clenched teeth, colourful sparks flashing through your blocked vision from the force with which you pressed your hands into your eyes, you blindly felt Kai’s warmth as he stepped forwards to comfort you. Dropping your hands, you retreated another step, Kai stilling at the look of stangled confliction latching onto your features. “What happened?” Voice breaking, you brought a hand up to press against your forehead, icy panic unfurling in your gut amongst the turmoil of roiling distress flooding through your insides. Kai looked utterly lost, his eyes boring into yours as he searched for an answer to the question that he couldn’t understand. “What the fuck happened to you, Kai?” His heart splintered at the raw anguish in your choked, lamenting tone, automatically taking a step towards you, wanting nothing more than to smother the emotions swarming your features. “I used to be so, so happy with you.” His lips parted in disbelief as you continued. “I would’ve done anything for you.” You couldn’t help the tears that spilled over, your voice pushing past the quivering of your lower lip and growing in strength, your breaths turning sharp and rasping as they were sucked in between your passionate words. “Y/n…” He didn’t know what to say as he watched you struggle to keep a grasp on coherency.  “I don’t know what happened to him. To the Kai that I fell in love with. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I don’t know how to get him back.” Sorrow gave way to desolate fury as you plowed on, your jaw clenching as you stepped towards him to deliver a harsh shove to his hard shoulders. Kai fell utterly silent, stumbling back slightly under your touch, unnerved and unsure by the eruption of messily confessed words that spilled from you, seemingly out of nowhere. “Answer me.” You demanded gruffly, shoving at his solid frame once more. “I… y/n, I don’t know-” With a third shove, his eyes flashed in agitated warning, silently daring you to repeat the action a fourth time. You did, shoving at him with as much force as you could muster, breathing hard when he took ahold of your wrists, pulling you to him and pouring his branding stare onto you. “Stop.” Your face was flushed, plump tears cutting through your face and dripping from your chin as you plowed on. “What happened, Kai?” His nostrils flared, eyes wide in confusion as he battled to grasp onto your thoughts, to make coherence of the biting words falling from your lips. “What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?” Your ragged breaths filled the sudden silence in the room, the roaring silence infiltrating Kai’s head drowning out all other sense as he stared down at you in cold disbelief, your eyes wild and face screwed with festering ardour, raw and demanding, your lashes damp with bitter tears. A symphony of surprised shouts echoed up the stairs from the ground floor of the house, Kai’s attention snapping to the door at his back and eyes flooding with sharp panic. He released his hold on you as the cries from below grew in volume, laced with alarm. A single gun shot rang out and it was your turn to take ahold of Kai, the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists warm under your fingers. His head whirled back to you, his eyes alight with uneasy confusion, his gaze frosting over. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a single, lingering kiss to his lips, your own wet against him. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, several heavy sets of footsteps sounding from behind the door as they thundered up the stairs. Kai’s eyes frantically searched yours as he pulled against your unrelenting grasp, his gaze briefly parting from yours to snap to the door as the sequence of footsteps and shouts grew louder. “But I can’t let you do this.” His throat bobbed, his eyes widening in terror as the reality of the situation settled over him. “I sentence you to rot.” Tugging at his wrists, you forced your face closer to his before muttering to him, your breath hot on his face and the recognition of your betrayal manifesting in the cold fire smoldering in his gaze: “Just like how my love for you has turned to rot.” His face contorted in rage as the bedroom door was forced open, the panel of wood swinging open and hitting the adjacent wall with a bang, several armed policemen flooding into the room. You loosened your grip on his wrists, stepping away as two of the men took ahold of Kai by the back of his shirt, twisting his arms behind his back. He shrieked in rage, straining to turn his head towards his assailants as they began to pull him from the room. Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, you locked eyes with Kai’s as he turned back to you, cool rage simmering in his dark gaze, his lip curled into an enraged snarl. He pinned you with his stare, not even bothering to fight against the men holding him as he was pulled from the room, a savage promise glittering in his unrelenting stare. A promise of vengeance. Of suffering. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @mossybank @tatesimper (dm to be added or removed <3)

[cdroloisms]

so... the red banquet, huh?

im not going to lie, i was cheering on the eggpire the entire time (/lh) - what can i say, something abt the demon possessed resident evil crew just speaks to my heart. theyre FUN, ok? 

anyway, a lot of people were theorizing abt what c!dream showing up at the banquet could look like - and, well, i thought i’d write my version of it. this takes place in the “guard dog au” developed primarily by a gc im in on twitter (@stabbysideblog being the main originator of it, do check sunny out !!) - the basic premise is post-getting the revive book from c!dream, c!quackity continues to get his, uh, “use” out of him by basically treating him as a bodyguard/guard dog as he goes around the server - which should probably give you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go :] 

tws: death, grief, implied torture, starvation, abuse, blood, murder, unhealthy relationship, dehumanization, possession, trauma, mental illness, violence, dark content, dark imagery, emotional distress, mental instability, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (not really, but a very dark portrayal of him) 

A strangled sob claws its way up Puffy’s throat as she watches Foolish fall.

He drops in a spray of golden ichor in the crimson, brilliant green eyes trained on hers, jaw slack in horror, pain, dipping to the ground and whiting out before he’s even fully collapsed. The others’ screams hardly even meet her ears; all she can see is her son, falling, her son, dying, her son, that same sunlit kindness still held in the curve of his lips in this room that knows nothing but pain and betrayal, gone gone gone gone-

Because of her.

Ant’s still staring at her, pupils thinned to needles from the brightness of the lava at their backs, ears alert but stance entirely calm as he twirls his sword, still dripping gold. His mouth is moving but she cannot hear anything above the ring ring ringing in her ears, the world swirling and blurring dangerously from the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, Ant’s eyes polished rubies where there had once been a cloudless sky. Bad gestures at the crowd, pushed back towards the lava’s fire in their fear, leaving her to stand in the middle of the room as one desperate dying scream, the egg, standing as a silent witness to it all-

“Bad-” a flash of blue, and there’s someone standing in front of her, shoulders pulled back, a diamond sword glittering their right hand, “Stop it.”

“Quackity.”’

Bad snarls, tail whipping back and forth; Puffy takes a step back, then another, shoulders still shaking in grief for her son, for her friends, for everyone who’s about to lose their lives in this twisted realm of crimson and hellfire. There is no fear on Quackity’s face though he stands unarmored, and for the first time in this awful day something like worry flashes over Bad’s face. There’s history here, she realizes - what did Bad say about Quackity attacking? - but none of this is making sense, not the self-assured way Quackity is carrying himself, wings relaxed and folded at his back, not the simmering unease making itself known in the foreign cadence of Bad’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done,” Quackity says, voice almost patronizing, like a parent stumbling in on the mess their child has made out of their bedroom, “this is impressive, I’m not going to lie, this is quite impressive.” Puffy swallows thickly, hears the shuddering gasp of someone behind her - Fundy, probably, or Sam - as Quackity’s voice drops. “You have to stop right now.”

“Stop?”

“This whole Egg thing is just getting out of control - you just killed a man,” Quackity stalks across the netherbrick floor like he has all the time in the world, ignoring the crossbows that the Eggpire has trained on his back, guarded only by the off-white shirt he’s wearing, an untied tie hanging limply around his neck. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth - my son, they killed my son, she means to say, but the words stick to the walls of her throat and only escape her lungs in another series of wracking sobs. “Is that what you wanted to do, Bad?”

He laughs - laughs, of all things, and there is something here that Puffy is missing, that isn’t clicking through the muddied fog of grief hanging grey and suffocating around her head, but Quackity is speaking again and she can’t think about it all, not now, “-and I’m not gonna have it anymore, Bad.”

He slips over by the crowd, eyes glancing all of them huddled in one fearful mob over the tables, eyes dark and daring and cold; the Eggpire keeps their eyes trained on him, Bad’s eyebrows furrowed, Ant’s muzzle twisted in a snarl. Puffy watches, their words passing over her like water skidding against the surface of a rock splitting a stream in two, heart thudding in her ears, marking out the heartsick beats in this poisoned melody - one-two, her-son, her-son, her-son-

He stops in front of her in the middle of monologuing, eyes trained on her own like he’s trying to tell her something. His eyes flick down and she follows their gaze to his other hand, the one not clasped around a sword handle, watches as he gestures vaguely in the direction of the Eggpire. She frowns, confusion cutting through the grief - what is he trying to say? - and Quackity sighs, index finger slashing in the air in the shape of what might be an A as he spins on his heel to walk back towards Bad and the others.

“So how about we just stop playing?”

Quackity smiles, teeth white and glittering from the lava’s glow even as the Eggpire surrounds him, pushes him back against the wall. Bad seems to hesitate, hand clasped around the trigger of a crossbow he keeps pointed at the other’s head; when he speaks, he almost sounds mournful.

“I can’t,” he mutters, quiet, stepping forwards as his shoulders straighten, pushing Quackity back in a motion that the others are quick to follow. Puffy watches, an awful sinking feeling falling through the hole left in her chest by the sight of her son, falling, her son, dead - watches as Quackity’s wings open, shine golden in the lava’s light - what is he planning?

“You know why I can’t stop.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh through his lungs, “Bad- you and all your buddies here, drop your weapons, and leave. Let all of these people go.”

“Or what?” Ant’s voice is sharp, but Quackity barely pays him a second thought, swinging a glare at his head and cutting him off.

“I’m not talking to you,” he laughs, dismissive, “I’m talking to Bad.”

“No-” Puffy watches as Bad’s hand tightens on his crossbow, punctuating the word with a step forward. “You put your weapon down. If you wanted to stop us?” He’s too close to Quackity for Puffy to make out either of their faces, crossbow bolt aimed and ready to send straight through his skull. She stiffens, sees from the corner of her eye as the ones beside her look away, and resigns herself to the inevitable spray of blood on brick - not again not again don’t make me watch again - “You should’ve brought more than just yourself.”

Quackity laughs.

“I did,” his voice is dangerous in its levity, making Bad, then the rest of the Eggpire step back as his wings spread open further, watching with bated breath and wide eyes as a swarm of white descends from a hidden hole in the wall, “Or, well, I did the next best thing. I brought my worst enemy.”

“What?”

“Alright Quackity, where’s this Egg thing?”

Technoblade jumps down into the room in a familiar purple-black blur of expertly enchanted netherite armor, form impeccable despite the seeming exhaustion in his voice. At his feet, a pack of wolves gather, pace, muscles coiled and clearly ready to strike; he rolls his shoulders back, signature fireworks loaded into his crossbow, and the crowd behind Puffy immediately breaks into shocked murmuring and soft cheers.

On Quackity’s other side, someone else flips into the room, wearing a suit of all things, crisp and well-pressed; Purpled grins, entirely too gleeful as the Eggpire presses back further, held off by the dogs swarming and growling at their feet.

“Purpled- we hired you!”

“To be frank with you, Bad, a sword appears in Purpled’s hand and he flips it casually, blade thin and gleaming, “Quackity just had the better price.”

“We- we still outnumber you!” Bad’s voice is a near-scream in its desperation, his tail lashing back and forth as he shifts his weight forward, “It’s four against three- we’ll still win-” Despite herself, Puffy’s mind spins; either way, they’re still at a disadvantage from sheer numbers alone, never mind Quackity’s lack of armor. Maybe if they all work together, they’ll be able to sufficiently stop them, but there’s no way she can see this ending in anything less than a bloodbath-

“I didn’t want for it to come to this, Bad,” Quackity’s voice drops low and sweet, the sincerity in his tone belied by his glittering eyes and jagged grin. The shift in tone sends a shiver down her back, has even his allies shifting uncomfortably in what seems to be confusion - Puffy catches something like a murmured no from Sam, behind her, before Quackity whistles, loud.

It all happens too fast for her to follow; one moment, the Eggpire is standing, weapons raised and ready to fight; the next, and there is a new netherite-clad figure in the middle of the room, signature sparks of purple from a pearl still glittering around them, axe buried into Antfrost’s chest. The room devolves into shrieks as his body dissolves, Bad gasping sharply and something dark bubbling in Puffy’s chest - good - as the newcomer in the room moves over to Ponk, bloodstained axe swinging in a downward arc, only barely stopped in time by a diamond sword catching on the crook of the blade.

“Go!” Quackity’s voice rings out above the chaos, and Techno and Purpled - seemingly shaken from their shock - fly into motion, fireworks bursting in flashes of red and black that send Puffy blinking out stars from her eyes, Purpled moving to match blows against Hannah and Techno’s army biting at the ankles of the Eggpire leader. Around her, people scream in relief, cheering as the Eggpire, clad in eggshell-blue, are pushed back one by one, hindered by a shifting wave of teeth and claws and clashing blades and netherite moving smoothly over the uneven floor - Bad screams, “RETREAT!”, and they disappear into the wall.

Purpled curses; “I’m going after them.” Puffy watches, still reeling, as he dives into the corridor that Bad had revealed, a flash of purple and blue melting into the shadows; the mystery figure - still hauling a heavy, bloodstained axe, nearly dragging against the floor - moves forward as to follow.

Quackity snaps his fingers, and the figure stops, turns, immediately moving to the winged man’s side. Behind her, Puffy can make out cheers, gasping, hysterical sounds of relief; she can’t join them, feels nothing but the shuddering weight of her grief pressing further on her lungs as the adrenaline fades, head dizzy with Foolish’ sharp gasp in pain, Ant’s yowl of agony. Her eyes flick to the side, catch on Sam pacing, muttering under his breath; when his eyes meet hers, they widen in something like - alarm?

She shakes her head; she can’t think about all of that, right now. Her hooves stumble over the vines and rot strewn over the floor, carrying her forward to the glitter of gold on red, to where her son had fallen and she could do no more but watch with a scream caught between her teeth.

A hand lands on her shoulder- “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time.”

She whirls around; Quackity’s looking down at her, face twisted in sympathy. Behind him, the armored stranger looms, hair long and tangled, helmet keeping their face in shadow and hiding their features from view. There’s something distantly familiar to them, in the way they shift from one foot to the other, something that makes her eyes narrow and throat tighten-

“Who are you?” The words tumble from her mouth, making Quackity freeze, jaw snapping shut, the figure behind him tensing almost imperceptibly under their armor. “Who-”

Quackity’s eyes are dark, piercing; she can’t read them, the flat line of his mouth as confusing as it is frustrating. His eyes flick up to somewhere over her shoulder before moving back to her own

“How rude of me,” He smiles, gold tooth glinting, “I didn’t even introduce our special guest.”

His right wing presses against their back, and they drop, immediately, to their knees, making her step back in shock. Quackity’s hand slips easily under the edge of their helmet, ripping it off with little care and letting their hair fall in a wave of dusty browns over their face; he pulls the strands back roughly, revealing the paleness to their skin, the hollows in their cheeks-

“Dream?”

Her breath shudders in her chest, eyes snapping up to Quackity, still smiling, hand still pressed against the back of his skull. Dream’s face is pale, thin, clawed with new scars that highlight the jut of his cheekbones and the dullness of his eyes. He looks up at her, eyes glassy, skin almost grey, and for a moment she’s looking at Foolish, eyes unseeing in death, the luster of his skin stolen like the air from his lungs, and she nearly screams.

“Puffy, Puffy,” Quackity murmurs, almost kind, “It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine now.”

“He- he’s supposed to be in prison,” she hisses, not missing how he flinches, not missing how even that is hindered by the hand braced against his head. He looks strangely small kneeling at Quackity’s side, dwarfed by the netherite he’s wearing; even with an axe strapped to his back, the blade still wet with crimson and reeking of iron and decay, he hardly looks like the villain that had terrorized the server, the son she could no longer recognize in the midst of the bridges he burned.

“Oh- don’t worry about him,” Quackity shrugs, wings fluttering, “It’s all being done with the Warden’s permission, Puffy, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, his hand tightens on the other’s hair, tugging his head back by the roots; Dream hardly even reacts, simply letting himself be manhandled, throat bare and exposed to the air, similarly criss-crossed by scars. “He’s perfectly well-behaved now, you see?”

Her throat closes, the pit in her gut torn open by the sight of her son with a blade skewered through his heart only growing wider, hungrier, by the dullness in the eyes of the other. Foolish’ death had happened too fast for her to react: one moment, he was staring at her, eyes mournful in goodbye; the next, he was a tumble of gold and green and blue against the floor, half of his name still not having left her lips. Dream’s head swivels to hers, face entirely blank; there is nothing quick written in the gauntness of his face, more scar tissue than skin, in the shadows under his eyes or how they seem to stare, unseeing, in the long, knotted strands of hair twisted over Quackity’s knuckles. He looks like he’s been dying, slowly, for months, and the screaming cry of YOU FAILED ringing in her head in Ant’s voice only grows louder.

“What did you-” the words scrape roughly against the inside of her mouth, “What did you do?”

Quackity shrugs, letting go, and Dream’s head tips forward to stare at the floor. “What had to be done.”

He clicks his fingers again, and Dream stands, falling behind Quackity with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Quackity hands him back his helmet, keeping his hand stretched out, palm up, even after Dream takes the netherite and fastens it back over his head. Puffy watches, heart stuck in her throat, as Dream fiddles with something by his throat, pulls out a thick coil of iron chains, pressing the end to Quackity’s outstretched hand - the other side, she realizes, fastened around his neck.

Her breath stutters when he looks back at Quackity, gut roiling at the familiarity - it’s an imperfect copy of the way he used to look at her, a skittish shadow at her tail, all awkward smiles and fidgeting hands. Only now, his eyes don’t dance with the same light, his lungs shivering in fear instead of wheezing laughter; she watches as his head follows Quackity like he’s the only person in the room, a duckling imprinted on the nearest person and ready to follow to the ends of the world and further, and her heart shatters all over again.

“Anyway,” Quackity’s eyes soften, lips curled in sympathy, “My condolences, Puffy, for your son. It really is a tragedy.”

She watches him leave with tears in her eyes, a sob once again caught in her throat. The images overlap - Foolish, smiling under the sun’s glow, sitting on the roof of his summer home - Dream, grinning in the treetops, eyes as green as the leaves surrounding him - Foolish, falling in a spray of ichor and a gasp of pain, Dream, grey-eyed and silent, dead as the crimson rot surrounding his beaten body-

My condolences for your son, Quackity’s words echo in her skull, and not for the first time, she laughs miserably, tears falling from her eyes.

Which one?