#the painfully long fist fight in They Live

[hag-lad]

Last night, my brother and I were talking about our favorite sequences in film, and like 2/3rds of mine were fight scenes. Or torture. I didn’t think I was this much of an edgelord, and yet…

[lemonlover1110]

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji won't tell you he loves you, even when it's so painfully obvious.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Slight Angst

*The prologue is here🥹

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji has never felt more alive before. Toji’s known love before, but not like this. It isn’t sweet or comforting… Thrilling, yeah, he’d say it’s thrilling. He feels like a dumb teenager again, but he loves the feeling.

You’re sitting next to him in the car, singing along to the song on the radio as he drives you home. He has a hand on the wheel, the other caressing your thigh. It’s a little late, but your night is just getting started.

“Your singing is awful.” Toji tells you as he parks in front of your apartment complex. He turns down the song still, wanting to hear your voice better even when he claims it’s bad– That’s how he knows something is wrong with him. Toji would tell you to shut up if you were anybody else.

He turns off the car when the song is over, and you whine because he’s ruined your fun. You quickly get over it when he opens your car door, offering his hand, which you take to prompt yourself out of the vehicle. Your arm enlaces with his before you begin the short walk back to your place. 

“Your dad told me to make sure you get home safe, so no funny business.” Toji says, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s the one that breaks the rule first each and every time, it’s annoying to hear him say that even when he’s clearly joking.

“Step-dad.” You correct him, though you know it goes in one ear and out the other. He’ll make the same mistake over and over again. “Since when do you listen to him?”

“Since he promoted me.” Toji responds, which earns a chuckle from you. That’s fair enough. He lets go of your arm, choosing to rest his hand on your lower back until you’re finally at your door. 

“Alright, see ya.” You open the door and enter the place without even looking back at Toji. You’re shutting the door, but his hand stops it. His arm wraps around your waist and he brings you back to him.

“That’s not a proper goodbye.” He says, and there’s a smirk on your face. He’s not going to leave so easily, but you aren’t going to let him have his way so quickly. You’re convinced it’s the reason why Toji always comes back at your doorstep, seeking more. 

Since the very beginning, you both agreed that you didn’t want something that required commitment. It started off as something casual, but slowly your relationship has evolved. It’s come to the point where you call him your boyfriend to others– Though, when someone asks about your relationship status, you tell them you’re single. 

“No funny business, Mr. Fushiguro.” You remind him, and you feel his grip tighten. You can’t keep up the act for too long, quickly melting with his touch. He knows the effect he has on you, and you have to put up a fight at the very least to put off the illusion that you’re wrapped around his finger. 

“Since when do you listen to me?” He asks, and you hold your breath. You bite down your lip before slowly turning to look at him.

“You wanted me to take you more seriously this week, and I’m doing what you told me.” You’re fighting back on smiling right at his face. You’re right, you had a minor argument earlier in the week because you ‘treat everything he says as a joke’. He purses his lips together, thinking of his next words. “Do you have an issue with my attitude?”

Instead of answering, he chooses to pick you up from the floor, throwing you over his shoulder before walking inside. He shuts the door behind him and idles in your living room. Should he throw you on the couch or take you straight to the bedroom?

“Put me down, Toji!” You yell, hitting his back with your fist. It causes no pain or discomfort to him, so he’ll ignore you. On the contrary, your fist hurts from making contact with his back. “Toji! Put me down you big buffoon!”

He puts you down, per your request, gently laying you down on the couch. However, he gets on top of you so you really aren’t free. There’s a smirk on his face as he looks down at you, which slowly fades away as he looks into your eyes. His cheeks turn pink as he looks back and forth between your eyes and lips.

He’s in love, he really fucking is. Even at the mere thought of your presence, his heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest. How can he not love you? You’re so fucking beautiful, and that’s the least impressive thing about you. You’re compassionate, intelligent, hilarious, respectful, responsible– The list goes on. You’re everything that he isn’t. 

“Toji, get off me if you aren’t going to do anything.” You stop the train of thought that goes through his head, and he proceeds to listen to you. You sit up on the couch, while he stands up, making himself welcome at your home and going to your kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

“You want some tea?” He asks as if you were the guest in your own apartment. You sigh, standing up from the couch and following him to the kitchen. You stay quiet, and he takes that silence as a no to his question.

You sit on the counter, watching every move Toji makes, in complete silence. Toji appreciates your gaze on him… But he can’t help but feel as if something’s wrong. You’re completely quiet, there must be something wrong.

“What’s on your mind?” He speaks up, not being able to bear the silence for too long. Silence between you is usually a good sign, he enjoys your presence as simple as it can be but there’s something up with you tonight. You’re watching him as if you were trying to figure something out. You shake your head, as if you have nothing to say but he knows you do, “I know that pretty little look on your face, you’re thinking of something.”

“I want to introduce you to my family.” You tell him, and he freezes. He furrows his brows before chuckling.

“Your family already knows me.” He answers, though he knows exactly what you mean. He’ll play dumb, that’s what he does best. He hears the water boiling, and he turns his attention to that. He hopes that with his answer, you’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t want to flat out tell you that he wants to keep things a secret.

“Where’s my mug?” He asks, searching the cabinets for the mug that he usually drinks from. That’s how serious things are, he has his own coffee mug at your place. He spots it, behind a nice tea set, one that’s usually hidden away. 

“I want to introduce you as my boyfriend.” You continue your conversation as he prepares his tea. He’s more than capable of talking as he pours boiling water into the mug, but he’s not saying anything. Your words fall on deaf ears. “Toji, I know that you heard me.”

“It’s such a big step.” He responds, and you feel your heart drop. A sheepish smile comes to your lips, and you nod in response. You’re not one to argue much, and you definitely aren’t a woman who will beg. 

If he’s not ready, then he’s not ready. He knows that you won’t wait around for him forever. He lets out a low laugh before saying, “Plus, I wouldn’t want your dad to kill me.”

“That man won’t be the one to kill you if you keep calling him my dad.” You stick your tongue out at him, and he stops what he’s doing to walk over to you. He loves that you’re sitting on the counter, with little room to escape. His hands go on either side of you, a cocky smirk all over his face.

“You killing me? I’d pay to see that.” His face is inching closer to yours, stopping when he’s practically breathing on your face. His nose touches yours, and you feel your body get hot as your heart threatens to beat out of your body. Your hands go behind him, interlacing on the back of his neck. His voice is much lower when he speaks again, “My big girl hurting me, oh I’d kill for that.”

“Since when are you a masochist?” You ask, and you hear him chuckle. When it comes to you, he’s everything under the sun. He’s looking into your eyes, getting lost in your gaze within a matter of seconds. 

He really is in love, it’s fucking sick. 

“Since a pretty little thing threatened to hurt me.” His hands go to your thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin. If he continues, he won’t stop until he’s satisfied– Not that you particularly mind either.

“Your tea is going to get cold.” You remind him that there’s something waiting for him. You’re just waiting your breath, knowing that Toji has long forgotten about it. The moment he put the mug down, the tea was wasted.

“Good. I always burn my tongue for being too impatient.” He steals a kiss from you, and when he pulls away, you bring his head back. His lips are overpowered by yours, your tongue making its way into his mouth, pressing against his own. It’s more passionate than the innocent kiss he had stolen from you. It’s hard for you to stop once he gives you a taste. 

“Toji…” You place your forehead on his when you pull away. You look into his lustful eyes, the urge of asking a question that you shouldn’t ask now, overtaking you. But you will, because in order to get what he wants, he’ll say anything you want to hear. “Do you love me, Toji?”

His hands cup your face and he presses his lips against yours. It’s just one kiss. Then two. You lose count, and you’re getting lost in his touch. You’re melting with his every move, and the desire to hear him say he loves you grows. You’re desperate to hear it, even if it isn’t true.

“Toji, answer my question.” You put your hand over his lips, stopping him from kissing you more. It’s to no avail since it takes no effort from him to remove your hand, and resume kissing you. You don’t stop him this time, instead, you allow yourself to indulge.

You accept the silence as a no, which you won’t take to heart. He doesn’t have to tell you that he loves you when he doesn’t. It’s unfair to him when you agreed in the very beginning that this is something casual. You put him on the spot in hopes that he’ll take what you have more seriously, but he isn’t going to because it isn’t what he signed up for… So why does Toji act so loving?

Your legs wrap around his waist as he picks you up before carrying you to your bedroom. He knows exactly where to go, not needing to look away from you for a single second. He continues to kiss you so needily, he’s searching for something that only you can provide. 

“I need you.” He slips in inbetween kisses, which nearly drives you insane. It’s not what you asked to hear, but you’ll take it. He gently lays you down on the bed, once again on top of you and leaving you without an escape route. He kisses you slowly, his lips slowly moving down your body.

Toji’s kisses come to a halt when your clothing gets in the way. He wants to curse at the fabric for covering you up and making his job slightly more difficult. He gets up from the bed and hurriedly takes off every article of clothing that denies him the lovely view of your body. He nearly wants to rip apart every piece but he won’t risk you getting mad at him for it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Toji says, licking his lips before tracing back all the places he’s kissed, just this time he won’t be interrupted by anything. He’s going to fulfill himself to his heart’s content.

He kisses down to your breasts before focusing his tongue around your nipple. You feel a warm hand travel down your body, and getting caught between your thighs. You inadvertently get shy with him, even when this has become part of your weekly routine. He always manages to get past it, spreading your legs apart and stopping his mouth to tell you, “Now’s not the time to get shy, beautiful.”

His mouth wraps one of your nipples, sucking on it, as two fingers run through your slick folds. You’re already so wet for him, and he’d tease you for it but his mouth is too preoccupied to mutter a single word. Toji’s priority at this moment is making you feel good– As well as enjoying himself.

You’re softly moaning while Toji flicks his tongue, and his fingers rub your clit. He detaches his mouth from your nipple, his lips going up to messily kiss yours before going back to your breasts. His mouth wraps around your other nipple, beginning to suck as two of his fingers apply pressure to your entrance. 

“Toji–” His name rolls off your tongue when he pushes his fingers inside of you. It’s the sweetest melody for his ears, motivation to keep him going. Your voice is all he needs to hear. 

He doesn’t waste a single second in satisfying you, curving his fingers so they hit just the right spot. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, pleasure already consuming you. Your thoughts from earlier are long forgotten while he’s doing what he does best.

Your moaning gets louder as his thumb begins to play with your clit. It’s getting harder for you to contain yourself, since he’s stimulating you in every way possible. He’s moaning on your tit, the vibrations of his tongue nearly sending you over the edge. 

“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He praises you, finally detaching himself from your breasts. His eyes focus on your face and the look of bliss that’s written all over it– And he isn’t even close to being done. 

Toji takes his fingers out before the pressure that builds up in your lower abdomen can release. He’s usually not impatient, but his cock is throbbing in his pants and if he doesn’t deal with it soon, he’ll lose his mind. He almost feels bad for leaving you unsatisfied… Almost. The whine that leaves your lips makes a smirk appear on his face, making him comment, “Aw, you need me so badly?”

“Just hurry up.” You respond in complete annoyance. You’re clenching around nothing, needing him to fill you with pleasure. Just for tonight, he won’t tease you more. He just needs you so much, he can’t waste any more time.

Toji strips down from his clothes, spitting into his palm before taking his cock into his hand. He slowly strokes his cock as his eyes watch you… What position will he take you in tonight? Before he can even decide, your legs wrap around his torso. He’ll watch your face contort with pleasure to serve as another stupid reminder that he’s in love with everything you do. 

Toji’s cock runs through your folds, slowly inserting himself into you. A soft moan escapes his lips as he feels you around him, feeling too good. This is what he’s been waiting for all night; his definition of a proper goodbye from you.

When he bottoms out he gives you a moment to adjust, until you’re moving for him, a little too desperate to wait any longer. Toji’s hands hold on to your hips as he begins to move for you. Toji hates the feeling– He’s in ecstasy the moment he’s inside of you. He’s addicted to you like a drug, how is he supposed to ever move on?

“You feel so fucking good.” He says through gritted teeth, trying to contain himself. Although he sees that it’s not only him that’s struggling in keeping control. You’re arching your back, eyes rolling to the back of your head and lips parted as Toji hits every right spot.

“It’s too much, Toji!” You’re practically yelling, even when he isn’t doing much. He just does everything right even when he’s barely trying. It boosts his ego.

“You can take it, baby.” He answers as his hand goes down to play with your clit, adding even more to your pleasure. You’re completely putty with his touch. You’re absolutely nothing. It’s hard not to be when a simple touch of his makes you euphoric.

“Toji– Fuck!” You moan, and he fucks you with more vigor every time he hears his name. It fuels him. He wishes it was a sound he got to hear each and every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. 

“Keep saying my name, beautiful, it sounds so fucking hot.” He says and you chant his name as many times as he needs to hear it. Your mind is completely clouded, you’ll do his every request with the promise that he’ll satisfy you.

Maybe you should use the situation to your advantage– Hear what you want to hear, but you can’t. Toji’s completely dominated your mind and body.

You get louder as your orgasm nears, slowly taking over you. You’re clenching around him, getting him to moan your name because of the way you feel around him. Your hand is gripping the bed sheets, shutting your eyes as the pleasure of your body consumes you as a whole.

You feel Toji force your hand away from the bedsheet, forcing your fingers to intertwine with his. Your legs spasm as you reach your climax, a loud moan almost drowning out Toji’s words, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

It doesn’t take too long for Toji to follow your lead, too worked up from the mere thought of being with you. Toji fills you up with his cum, not even bothering to make the effort of pulling out. He never does anyway, he’s not going to change tonight.

Toji pulls out, laying down beside you as you both pant to catch your breath. After this he’ll run you a bath and leave after a couple of kisses, it’s his usual routine. A routine he made to not get attached… A routine that’s gotten him nowhere.

You turn your head to look at him while he stares at the ceiling. The answer is no, but the question still weighs heavy on your chest. “Toji…”

“Hmm…?” He looks back at you, and there’s a spark in his eyes that’s unmistakable. You know that actions speak louder than words but you need to hear it.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You respond, and a slight frown appears on his face.

“Why do you need to know?” He questions, and you feel your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You bite down your lip, wondering if you should drop it. Never ask him again, even if you know you’ll regret it in the near future.

“I–” A sigh leaves your lips. You can’t hide it from him, even if he doesn’t love you or care for you the way you care for him. “My parents want me to get married soon.”

He knows. He knows all about your situation, more than he’d like to know. Toji doesn’t say anything to comfort you, instead, he brings you close to him. He kisses the top of your head, instead of telling you all that he wants to say. He’s not going to tell you all that you want to hear.

“I’m not worth it.” He mutters. He doesn’t want you to ruin your future for him. Toji wants the best for you; after all, he is in love with you.

Even though it's different from the love he's experienced, he's still in love. No amount of arguing with himself will disprove it.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, hope in your eyes that he’ll say something more. You’d do anything to have him say just a little more. But he shakes his head, refusing to elaborate.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Toji changes the topic, standing up from the bed and walking to your bathroom.

He’ll continue the routine, knowing it’s one of the last times that he’ll get to do it.

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏

luke castellan who never lets second in command!reader out of his sight. and if he does, he always knows where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with. when the som trio first infiltrate the princess andromeda and barely escape with their lives, luke is on a warpath straight back to his cushy suite. he whistles sharply and you (who had been reaming out some dracanae for letting the kids get away) are quick to follow.

standing at his side as he addresses his army, you are all-glaring, deep frowns and snarls. arms crossed, spear at your side, violent energy pooling at your feet. it’s why luke chose you.

but when he pulls you into the room and locks the door behind you, your fingers shake in anticipation and you glance up at him through your lashes, the most painfully beautiful look of longing shining up at him. he groans into his fist and sits on the edge of the mattress, his other hand gesturing for you to start the show.

it always starts slow — the peeling of your shirt from your skin, the dropping of your cargos. but then he can’t hold it in anymore, and he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap, taking your mouth in his. his hands, rough and callused, travel along the planes of your bare skin. skin that hasn’t bore witness to the horrors you inflict — your back, your thighs, your sternum.

he flips you onto your back, and you wrap your legs around his hips (he liked to keep his clothes on whenever he took you. it reminded him who was the boss of who whenever your pussy made him forget) and he trails kisses from your ankles to that sweet sweet spot — his fingers working more gently than they ever would when wrapped around the hilt of his sword, or even the base of his cock.

he devours you like it’s his last meal, and then politely waits for you to come down from your orgasm before burying himself balls deep between those supple thighs of yours.

(he would never admit it, but his favourite part was watching you pant underneath him after a star-seeing climax. watching your legs tremble slightly, staring intently at the pink blush on your cunt as you sucked in puffs of air impatiently. he would tut and tell you to take your time, “i’ll wait as long as it takes.”)

and as soon as you give him the nod, all pleasantries fly out the window. he is grunting into your neck, hands wrapped roughly around your legs and hips, indenting you where nobody would see but him.

one time you got cheeky, reached down and squeezed his ass. he sat up on his haunches, pulled you into this lustrous position on his lap and didn’t pay your squeals any mind as he committed his sultry revenge.

when you were done, he’d lean back to inspect his work. palm himself after tucking his cock away, fighting the urge to get hard again just from watching you come down from the excursion. his lips would part as you redressed yourself, eyes searing into your skin.

and when you were ready, as always, he’d open the door and wave you through, slapping your ass as you passed him.

“good job.”

[awearywritersworld]

"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

[sykoangels]

Hate fuck Logan?! You finally cave in one night and you both settle things in bed but you’re like a massive brat😎 you have to deal with evryone teasing and making comments while Logan’s or smug

hi anon!! I believe in brat tamer Logan supremacy!!! This also gives mean Logan vibes as well! I’m literally living for it!

content warnings: dubcon and angry sex

The dimly lit hallway of the X-Mansion was a stark contrast to the blazing fury that burned between Logan and you. The mission had been a disaster and the tension that had simmered beneath the surface for months now boiled over into outright hostility. You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you stalked ahead, your fingers twitching with the urge to flip him off. "Damn it, Y/N, would you slow down?" Logan growled, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife. "You're acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get their way." You whirled around, your eyes narrowing in defiance. "Oh, shut it, Logan! You think I don't know how much you love playing the diva? Always demanding everyone cater to your precious needs like a goddamn servant

Logan's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't need this shit from you, kid. You've been nothing but trouble since you got here." "Kid?" you spat, taking a menacing step towards him. "You think you're so tough, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, motherfucker—you're just a jaded old man who can't handle anyone calling you out on your bullshit." Logan's eyes darkened, and he closed the distance between you in three long strides. His breath was hot against your face, his scent intoxicatingly potent. "Maybe you need to be reminded of your place," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. You smirked then let out a giggle, tilting your chin up in challenge. "Oh, please, Logan. If you think you can scare me with your threats, you're more delusional than I thought."

"Is that what you want, bub?" he hissed, his grip tight but not enough to truly hurt. "For someone to put you in your place?" Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. You glared up at him, defiance still burning in your eyes. "Go ahead, then. Show me how tough you really are." Logan's gaze flicked down to your lips, and the corner of his mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Oh, I will," he promised, his voice dripping with menace. "But you might not like it." Before you could respond, his mouth crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss. It was anything but tender—his lips were rough, demanding, and his teeth scraped painfully against your bottom lip. You gasped, partly in shock and partly in response to the savage intensity of the kiss.

He took full advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming it with brutal possessiveness. You struggled against him at first, but his hand tightening around your throat pushed all thoughts of resistance out of your mind. Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping the leather of his jacket as you yielded to the force of his kiss. When Logan finally pulled back, you were breathless, your lips swollen and throbbing. He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered, "Don't fight it, Y/N. Just take it like the good little girl you are"

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, and you managed to croak out, "Fuck you, Logan." He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, trust me, you're going to do a lot more than that." With no further warning, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head against the wall. His other hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest on your hip. The roughness of his touch sent a bolt of electricity through you, and you shuddered involuntarily. "Tell me you want this," Logan demanded, his voice gruff. "Tell me you want me to fuck you hard and make you beg."

You bit your lip, the sting from earlier adding to the fire already burning within you. "Do it, then. Prove you're not all talk." His eyes darkened with lust, and he gave you a feral grin. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking that defiant little spirit of yours." In one swift motion, he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The sudden movement made you gasp, and Logan took full advantage, grinding his hips against yours and eliciting a moan from deep within your throat. "That's it bub," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You like that huh? Beg for it you fucking brat.”

You could feel his erection pressing insistently against your core, and the thought of having him inside you, filling you, sent a wave of heat crashing through your body. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of begging—not yet. "Get on with it, Wolverine," you taunted, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Or are you too much of a pussy?"Logan's grip on your hips tightened, and he slammed you harder against the wall, his growl vibrating through his chest and into yours.

Logan's grip on your hips tightened, and he slammed you harder against the wall, his growl vibrating through his chest and into yours. Before you could brace yourself, he plunged into you, his cock thick and unyielding. The sensation was almost too much, a sharp ache followed by the overwhelming fullness of his intrusion. You cried out, both in pain and relief, your nails digging into his shoulders. Logan paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Good girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now let's see if you can take it."

With that, he began to move, his thrusts harsh and unrelenting. Each stroke drove the breath from your lungs, your back arching off the wall in reaction. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every rough patch of skin, as he claimed you with brutal efficiency. "Harder," you gasped, unable to stop yourself from pleading. "Fuck me harder, Logan." His answering growl was primal, and he redoubled his efforts, his thrusts becoming even more savage. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls, and you could feel the climax building deep within you, threatening to overtake you at any second. "Yes," Logan groaned, his voice strained with effort. "Take it, you little bitch. Take it all."

At that moment, you couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began. All you knew was Logan, his body moving against yours, his words driving you closer and closer to the edge. "Please," you whimpered, your voice broken. "I need—" Logan cut you off with a brutal thrust, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of your neck. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, and you shattered around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you trembling and breathless. As you rode out the waves of ecstasy, Logan continued to pound into you, his own release fast approaching. He withdrew briefly, only to slam back into you with even greater force, his control slipping away. "Come for me, Logan," you panted, your voice weak but desperate. "Make me your slut."

That final degradation was enough to push him over the edge. With a roar of triumph, he came, his seed filling you as his body went rigid with release. For a few blissful moments, there was nothing but the two of you, joined together in the aftermath of fierce passion. Slowly, Logan pulled out of you, gently lowering you to the floor. You slumped against the wall, your legs too shaky to support your weight. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, before offering a small, almost sardonic smile.

"Feel better now, brat?" he asked, his voice softer than before. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could form a single word, the door to the hallway swung open, it was none other than Scott Summers strolling in. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before him. Logan turned to face him, his expression shifting back to its usual stoic mask. "None of your business, Cyclops," he replied, his tone dismissive.

“I owe Storm so much money…because if y’all did what I think you did I’m going to 150 dollars in debt.” Scott said slowly walking away. You look at Logan as you’re still slumped against the wall before cringing realizing what had happened. “this will never happen again I still despise you. I kinda of find you pathetic still.” You say weakly.

Logan looked at you with a smug look on his face rolling his eyes knowing damn well you were lying.

This unfortunately became more then a one time thing

[helaintoloki]

hi can you do a ben hargreeves x reader where you comfort him after a mission because you know how he doesn’t like to you use his tentacles and how feels like a monster. Just major fluff I miss ben

a/n: i love writing ben fluff your wish is my command anon <3

warnings: brief mentions of blood, lots of comfort and fluff

Blood cakes itself into the crevices of your finger nails as you diligently scrub the metallic scented stains off of Ben’s favorite sweater. The sound of the running water from the sink fills the somber silence as the boy sits quietly and watches you work. He hasn’t said a word to you in over an hour, but you know better than to push him. This isn’t the first time Ben has sought out your company after a miserable day, and you surely doubt it will be the last.

You’ve lived across the street from the Umbrella Academy your whole life, and ever since you were five the Hargreeves have always been your closest friends. Despite their lives being full of heroism and extraordinary power, they enjoyed the normalcy of your life and relished in being able to live vicariously through you. They loved to hear you recount your day at school or your trip to the local mall; they asked about a million questions regarding your family and what it was like to have a real mom and dad. You were their window into the real world and the person that could keep them grounded even on the toughest days. As a result, whenever one of the children was having a particularly rough day they’d seek solace in the refuge of your bedroom.

And that’s exactly why it didn’t surprise you to come home after school and find Ben waiting awkwardly in the center of your room as he tried his absolutely best to avoid getting blood on your carpet. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know why he was here in the middle of your bedroom, and you didn’t press him for details as you immediately got to work cleaning the mess.

After some time you’re able to get his sweater perfectly spotless and hang it to dry before joining your friend who sits somberly upon your bed. He’s too ashamed to look you in the eye, but he doesn’t push you away when you carefully wrap your arms around his figure and pull him into your chest for comfort. Out of all the Hargreeves siblings, Ben seeks you out the most, so you’ve come to learn that all he usually needs is a soothing hug during times like these. It isn’t long before his shoulders quietly begin to shake in time with his sobs, his fists grabbing handfuls of your shirt to ground himself into the present as you reassuringly rub his back.

“You had to use your powers today,” you prod gently, though your words come out as more of a statement than a question. You already know the answer based on his demeanor, but you feel this is something you must voice aloud anyway.

“I’m a monster,” he cries miserably into your chest prompting your heart to ache painfully in response. You hate that he sees himself in such a way; Ben is perhaps the kindest boy you’ve ever met, and you wish he could view himself through your eyes and realize just how special he is in spite of his abilities.

“You could never be a monster, Ben,” you assure him with a tight squeeze before pulling back to see him eye-to-eye. “Every day you and your siblings fight to keep the world a safe place. You are so selfless and kind and important, and the portal in your chest doesn’t change any of that.”

“Is that really what you think?” He utters meekly, sniffing back his remaining tears as he slowly loosens his death grip on the fabric of your school uniform shirt.

“I would never lie to you, Ben” you reiterate with sincerity in your tone. You offer him a kind smile and use the pads of your thumbs to wipe away his tears before confessing, “I love you too much to do that.”

His breath hitches softly in his throat at your words, and he’s quick to swallow down his nerves before stuttering out a rushed, “I-I love you too.”

Your room grows silent until the only sound that fills the space is your quiet breathing. A look of understanding is shared between you then, and now it is Ben who pulls you into his embrace for the tightest hug imaginable. While he had once feared having you anywhere near the monsters’ den, he now held no trepidation at having you so close to his chest. He loved you, and you loved him in spite of the thing he hated most about himself, and in the safety of your room he could finally feel whole and at peace with his flaws.

Ben will always come to you in search of comfort, and you will always be there to give it to him.

[httpsdana]

hi girlll, i just love ur gavi fics, if your not busy could you write one with him and the reader, where they have an argument because he’s been really distant and she thinks he doesn’t love her anymore, so she moves away and he tries to get her back?? sorry it’s so long and a lil specific 💘

Distant Hearts~Pablo Gavi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

The evening was quiet, the air thick with tension as y/n sat across from Pablo in their shared apartment. He’d been distant for weeks — late nights, brief answers, a coldness she couldn’t ignore any longer.

Tonight, she decided to bring it up, to figure out where they stood, but his indifference to the conversation felt like a slap to the face.

y/n took a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the floor as she gathered her words. “Pablo… do you even want to be here anymore? Because lately, it feels like you don’t.”

His face stayed expressionless, a slight shrug his only response. “It’s… complicated.”

She looked up, anger rising at his detachment. “Complicated?” she laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “That’s it? After everything, it’s just ‘complicated’?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me what happened,” she said, frustration leaking into her voice. “You used to talk to me, Pablo. You used to be here, not just physically, but actually here. Now, it’s like I’m living with a stranger.”

Pablo’s gaze fell to the floor, his silence digging deeper into the wound. “Things have been… difficult for me. I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Figure it out?” she echoed, feeling a lump form in her throat. “What about me? Did you ever think about how I feel, wondering if you still care at all?”

His face softened for a moment, guilt flashing across his eyes, but he looked away quickly. “I didn’t mean for you to feel that way.”

“Then why didn’t you just talk to me?” her voice broke, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I would’ve understood, Pablo. I love you, and I would’ve done anything to help you. But instead, you just shut me out.”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” he murmured, barely audible.

“A burden?” y/n shook her head, the words feeling hollow. “Being with you isn’t a burden. But you’ve made me feel like I am one.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Pablo’s gaze was fixed on the ground, his fists clenched by his sides, but he said nothing, didn’t reach out, didn’t even try to bridge the gap between them.

Finally, y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her coat and bag, her heart breaking with each step towards the door. “If you don’t want to fight for this, then I won’t stay and beg you to care.”

He looked up, surprise and something like regret flickering in his eyes, but still, he didn’t move. He stayed rooted in place as she opened the door and walked out, not stopping her, not even calling her name as the door clicked shut behind her.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The weeks that followed were painfully quiet. y/n moved in with a friend, spending her days trying to keep busy, but the empty spaces where Pablo used to be haunted her. At night, the memories of his touch, his laugh, his voice — they filled the silence, refusing to let her move on.

But Pablo wasn’t faring any better. At first, he convinced himself it was for the best, that maybe he needed this space to figure himself out. Yet as days passed, the loneliness grew unbearable, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Late one night, he found himself scrolling through old photos on his phone — pictures of the two of them laughing, y/n's face illuminated by sunlight, his arms wrapped around her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until now, how hollow everything felt without her there.

That night, after wrestling with his thoughts, he finally caved. He grabbed his phone, dialing her number with shaking hands, his heart pounding as it rang.

When she picked up, her voice was guarded. “Pablo?”

“y/n…” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for everything.”

Her silence was deafening, and he braced himself for her to hang up, to finally cut him off for good. But then, she sighed, the sound weary. “It’s been weeks, Pablo. Why now?”

He closed his eyes, guilt twisting in his chest. “Because I was stupid. I thought pushing you away would make things easier, but it’s just made everything worse. I miss you. I miss us.”

“Missing me doesn’t change what happened,” y/n said, her voice softer but laced with hurt. “You chose to push me away, to shut me out when I needed you.”

“I know, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it,” he replied, his voice raw. “Please… can we talk? I need to see you, to explain everything.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, he thought you might refuse. But then, she sighed before speaking. “Fine. Tomorrow, at the café near the apartment.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The next day, he arrived at the café early, nerves clawing at him as he waited. When y/n finally walked in, looking hesitant and guarded, his heart broke all over again. She sat down, crossing her arms and fixing him with a steady gaze.

“Alright,” she said, her voice cold. “I’m here. Explain.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately, with everything after my injury and playing again, and I… I felt like I was failing, like I wasn’t enough. And I thought that maybe you’d be better off without me.”

Her expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “So, instead of talking to me, you just… shut me out? How was that supposed to make things better?”

He looked down, shame washing over him. “I thought I was protecting you from my problems, that maybe if I distanced myself, you wouldn’t have to deal with my mess."

y/n shook her head, disbelief and frustration mingling in jer eyes. “Pablo, don’t you get it? I wanted to be there for you. I was ready to go through anything with you, no matter how hard. But instead, you made that choice for me. You left me alone, wondering if I’d done something wrong.”

He felt the weight of her words settle in his chest, heavy and suffocating. “I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I should have trusted you… I should’ve known that I could lean on you. But instead, I let my fears get the best of me. And I lost you because of it.”

Her gaze softened, though hurt was still etched in her features. “Do you even realize how much that hurt, Pablo? Watching you pull away, wondering if I meant anything to you anymore? I thought… I thought you stopped loving me.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide and filled with regret. “No. No, y/n, I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. I just… I got lost in my own head. I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you space to have a happier life, and I couldn’t see how wrong I was.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if the weight of the last few weeks was crashing down on her. “you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. That was never your choice to make. All I wanted was for us to be honest with each other, to face things together. But you shut me out, like I wasn’t enough for you to trust.”

He swallowed, feeling every word like a punch to his gut. “You’re right. I should’ve trusted you. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but… I want to make things right. I want to be the person you deserve, if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, the silence between them was tense, stretching as they both processed the words left unsaid. y/n's fingers drummed nervously against the table, eyes cast downward, lost in thought.

“How do I know you won’t just shut me out again?” she asked quietly, her voice fragile, filled with the fear of being hurt once more.

Pablo reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. Sje didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into his touch either.

“Because losing you made me realize how much I need you. I’ve spent these weeks replaying everything in my head, realizing just how much I took you for granted. I promise, I’ll never shut you out again. I’ll fight for us, every single day. Just… give me a chance to prove it to you.”

She looked at him, the vulnerability in his eyes pulling at her heart. “Pablo… you have to understand. This wasn’t easy for me. I loved you, I still do, but I’m scared. You broke my trust, and I don’t know if it’s something I can just forget.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “I don’t expect you to forget. I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild that trust, to show you that I’m serious. If it takes months, years, whatever… I’ll wait. I’ll do it right.”

A part of her wanted to believe him, to take his hand and go back to the way things were, but another part — the part still wounded and wary — held her back.

Her hand tightened slightly around his, and he took that as a sign, a glimmer of hope. “I miss you,” she whispered, almost too quietly. “I miss the way things used to be. But I’m scared, Pablo. Scared that I’ll come back and you’ll hurt me again.”

He shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. “You won’t lose me again. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to you, be honest with you, even when things are hard. I won’t let my fears come between us anymore.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it. I need time, and I need to see that you’re serious. If we’re going to try again, we need to take it slow.”

A faint smile broke through his serious expression, relief shining in his eyes. “I can do that. As slow as you need, I’m here for it.”

After a pause, she added softly, “And if we do this, we’re in it together. No more shutting each other out, no more making decisions alone. I need to know that you’re really here.”

“I promise,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’m here, y/n. I’m not going anywhere.”

The conversation hung in the air, a fragile hope between the two of them. And though there was still a long way to go, a piece of her felt the weight lifting, knowing he was ready to fight for her— for both of them.

[noira-l]

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: The one who promised to give you the whole world, has just taken it away from you.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader, geto suguru x f!sorcerer reader (mentioning)

warnings: heavy angst, hurt/little (no) comfort, after 'premature death', suguru deflection, outburst of anger, description of the burnt village, description of heavy feelings, crying/hysteria, mention of blood.

author's note: We are beginning the origins of a hard and dark period in their lives. One that will leave a mark for years to come. I'm planning a few chapters like this, to show what happened before it all started. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Everything you had known and were familiar with up to that point - ceased to exist.

The realisation you had achieved seemed to dull your mind. You could not even flinch. Only your eyes showed what was happening inside you. Your mouth could not open.

The scorched earth seemed to soften at your steps. The ash was still in the air, even though the dust had settled a very long time ago. The smell of scorch, blood and pain lingered in the air. A stench settled in your lungs, a void in your head, and your body clung to the ground, trying to let you know that you should focus at this point. The colours of black, dirt and grey blurred before you, creating an unpleasant contrast with the green and vibrant scenery far, far away from this circle of death. You couldn't get the word out - still.

The noise in your head. Outside - silence.

Deadly, burned, silence.

One of the last houses had just collapsed, leaving a cloud of incinerated debris and silence. There is nothing left. Absolutely nothing.

Your house, his house, the whole village. It has disappeared.

The streets in which you used to fly kites disappeared covered with the debris of buildings, broken trees and piles of bodies that lay scattered all over the place. The fields you once harvested from, unable to produce crops again. The building you once called home, unusable. Everything was empty, crumbling under your touch with ease. Even the bodies that lay twisted in painful grimaces.

Of all this, only one small button survived, shining far away on the horizon. Left as a signature, a memento, or perhaps proof that what had happened was true.

How could you believe that he had done it?

--

Loud slam.

A chair smashed against the wall. The whole room in shambles. Desk bent in half. Books scattered in every direction, mementos broken, personal belongings stuck in different ends of the room.

Another loud bang, an attempt to break the next piece of furniture, successful. The wooden limbs of the last chair hit the old floor again and again, practically creating holes in it.

Scream followed. A long, loud frustrated one. It expressed anger, pain, helplessness, agony. The voice faltered slightly as the furniture cracked. The sound turned into a sob, full of bitterness and tragedy. Tired breath mingled with it, fighting to take control of your lungs.

Your knees fell to the floor, powerless. And your body followed immediately afterwards on its own.

Thick tears obscured your vision. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't see anything, everything inside you was twisting, aching.

You thought you were dying.

Spasms overwhelmed your body, driving you into hysteria. A million thoughts streamed into your head. Questions, questions, questions.

Why? What happened? How?

Frustration, clenched your hand. Bitterness closed your mouth. And helplessness trashed his room. You became a vessel of your emotions.

Trembling.

Every bone in your body, every muscle clenched. Your breathing uneven, trying to bring calm to your body, to no avail. Your fists clenched painfully, to the point of blood, your teeth clenched, trying to stop everything that was happening inside you. You tried to kill these feelings inside you, to use every force known to you to stifle all this mass that seemed to torture you from the inside.

whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

Why? Suguru, love?

.

WHY?

Another scream, this time equally mixed with crying. A fist impetuously hit the floor, once, twice. A pause. Then a third and a fourth. Streaks of blood flew from the force with which your nails dug into the skin of your hand, on impact, tearing everything more. Your blows made a hole in the wood.

You lay down on the damaged floor, curled up in a ball, squeezing your body inwards as if you were trying to absorb yourself. You made no attempt to open your eyes. The whole world had lost its meaning anyway. There was no point in looking at it. Everything had fallen into misery.

There was nothing you could do anymore. He was gone.

I don't understand - That's all you kept repeating in your head.

You don't know how long you lingered in his room, your thoughts jumping from blaming yourself, looking for a reason, to dreaming figure thoughts of making things right. At one point your head became totally empty, but you kept crying, sobbing endlessly.

Someone's presence appeared close by.

Satoru had been standing there for a long time.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do, how to react, what to say, so he stood in front of the entrance to the room, paralysed, analysing everything that was happening.

He heard every sound, the screaming, the crying, the pleading. He saw every blow, the broken piece of furniture, your cursed energy that was about to smash the whole room from the force with which it was rising. This sight frightened him, because it manifested everything he felt internally, only he forbade it to himself and didn't let it show.

You, you did not shy away from expressing the storm that was now raging within you. Like a weather phenomenon, lightning was coming out of you, destroying the room, thunder, in the words you spoke and rain, in the form of the thick tears you shed from yourself. Gojo knew that after every storm there would come silence, he was just waiting for it to calm down.

And so it did, your cries, though still there, were getting softer and softer. He leaned over the mangled body and glanced at your face.

Satoru had never seen someone so… defeated in his life.

Grief, sadness, despair painted your face in such a way, that he was sure, he had not had the correct definitions of those words before.

The sight of you, broken and fragile, pulled at something deep within him. The words he had always used to comfort others, to lighten the heaviest moments, failed him now. They felt hollow, meaningless in the face of the raw devastation before him. He reached out a trembling hand, hesitating just above your shoulder, unsure if his touch would bring you any solace or only deepen the chasm of your sorrow. He stopped his hand.

He didn’t know what to say, how to heal the wounds that had torn through your soul. All the power he possessed, all the strength he wielded, was useless against the reality of loss that had shattered your world. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, yet he felt utterly powerless in this moment.

He also torn his world apart.

He took half of his heart too.

Satoru knew, how you felt.

He didn’t say anything. Words felt useless in the face of such overwhelming grief. What could he possibly say to make this better? To fill the void left behind? He knew words wouldn’t bring him back, wouldn’t undo what had been done.

So he stayed silent, allowing the quiet to settle around you both, a cocoon in the ruins of what was once a room full of life and memories. Satoru knew this wasn’t something you could just move past, something you could heal from with time alone. It was a wound that would leave a scar, a permanent reminder of the loss you’d endured.

But he also knew you wouldn’t have to bear it alone.

His presence was all he could offer, and as inadequate as it felt, he vowed to stay by your side. He’d seen the destruction, felt the raw energy of your pain, but he wasn’t afraid of it. Satoru had faced countless dangers, had walked through hell and back, but this—being here with you in your moment of utter despair—felt like the hardest thing he had ever done.

Because you were showing him what he couldn't afford on his own.

Which he wanted so damn much.

He wanted to fall apart, to break down, to cry, to get angry, to shout, to scold himself - everything.

However, he couldn't.

His strength was a curse.

"The strongest" cannot be like that.

Time passed slowly, each minute stretching into eternity. He could feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on both of you, but he stayed, unwavering. He stayed because he knew you needed him, because he couldn’t bear to leave you alone in this darkness.

He felt that if he left you alone with this, he would lose another person he somehow cared about.

He also felt he would lose himself, because by letting you go, he felt he would be giving in on his own emotions that were manifesting through you.

Eventually, your sobs quieted to soft whimpers, and then to the occasional hitch of breath. The storm within you had subsided, leaving behind the debris of what once was, but there was a stillness now that hadn’t been there before. It was the calm after the storm, the silence that followed the chaos.

But it was a scorched.

One battle won, not a war.

This war will prove to be a long one. Painful.

It will be very hard to win.

Satoru does not know if he will be capable of winning it.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[evren-d]

EDIT: definitely turned into a massive rant about Vander's politics, I tried to not be petty and I failed, I can't fix it with another draft, he drives me nuts. In this unassigned essay I literally will...

Vander criticism incoming because I re-watched the Sevika rematch in the last drop and holy moly did he do Vi dirty (What his guardianship style meant for Powder, Mylo, and Claggor all deserve their own posts) and I can’t think about Vi’s struggles without thinking about VanderLand™. Not saying he didn’t do good, not saying he couldn’t have been worse, just that…:

Vander preached against fighting, but lived (comparatively) large off of his reputation for fighting AND through the exchange of a blind eye from the enforcers in return for keeping his own community under heel. Grayson saying, “I keep out of your business and you keep your people off of my streets” or whatever, suggest to me the passes that Vander has enjoyed in his interests over the years.

His thriving business, the life he projects, no fighting oppression, only bar-keeping, but we see him throw his reputation around as a favor to to his friends, like Huck and Babette. Would the undercity merchant/business owner class want your protection if they knew what was up? Maybe, Benzo was on board. What about the rest of the undercity that aren't enterprising? Silco saying, "Not JUST for the Lanes, but for the whole of the underground," is huge.

It pays to be Vander’s friend, but no one else could possibly realize the success that I think he pretends he did. The lifestyle he's trying to get Vi to subscribe to (VanderLand) doesn’t actually exist. Everyone is seeing that but him and Vi is boiling over in confusion and frustration and self-doubt and anger.

If any other kids had caused the damage in Piltover that made Marcus go all ham, their parents would not have had the luxury of negotiating with Grayson, and I honestly don't believe that Vander would have turned himself in to protect them. When Vander or Grayson die, the little pocket of safety that he's carved out for the lanes will be lost, this only benefits a select few for as long as Vander can pull it off.

Bless you Sevika for leaving him behind, my god. The way he claims all responsibility for the day of ash is honestly just insulting. If you hadn’t led them across that bridge, maybe someone else would have, my guy.

Look at the lengths Sevika and others go to to fight YOU so they can have another chance to fight the real enemy without you protecting your cushy life (and kids, yeah, yeah, but it’s still painfully short sighted. People had kids the first time around, some people in the bar calling to fight back with Sevika surely also have kids. That’s -why- they want to fight) all over the conversation. He talks to vi like he opened and closed the book on revolution - get out of the WAY OLD MAN.

To Vi he’s like, Yes, I live a better life for myself, my family, and my friends leveraging just the sheer -memory - of when I used to fight, but you can’t.

There's a difference between self-defense in dangerous streets and planning a heist to steal your way through life, but he seems to lump them together. Then in the same conversation telling her that fists aren’t the answer, he checked quality assurance checked that she kicked Deckard’s ass, because ultimately that is what he expects from her. Attacking the root cause of gangs like Deckard's is immature and selfish, but you better be a good enough fighter to beat the shit out of them on call. WHAT a moving target.

What I saw in Vi’s delirium in the bar in the Sevika rematch was Vander dissing her guard and telling her she has no choice but to keep fighting, that she’s needed, whether she’s wanted or not. And yeah, it’s not Vander that said that, it’s in Vi’s head, but it's reminiscent of things we did see him tell her as a teenager, that message of “you are the only hope that the people you love have, you're responsible for everything that happens when you interact with them, you're not allowed to not interact with them, in fact you must -lead- them. Also, you're stupid.”

For that to be what her brain cooks up for her mentor to say to her to stay conscious and in the game, the way that she accepts it with a huffed laugh and it actually HELPS HER is so gaahhhhhhh.

Fundamentally, (in the admittedly very little we saw in act I of uniquely stressful time,) I feel that he offloaded the effort and responsibility of mentoring, nourishing, and raising all four kids individually, to Vi. He literally made the others leave the room before giving the soft side of his lecture in the basement, then barked at, confiscated from, and threw stuff at the Mylo and Claggor on his way back upstairs. To expect Vi to take his guidance in, make sense of it (impossible), and redistribute it to the others is not cool, and that's why he makes me grump.

[whereslynx]

Hi, please, please, could you make one where Oscar Diaz ends up fighting with the reader??? and he ends up saying horrible things to her and she is furious, but then there is a happy ending, please?!?!?

I believe Oscar would cry 🤏🏻😒

a/n: OFCCC👏👏 haven’t written angst in a fat minute, so i’m a bit rusty!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The tension had been simmering for days, an invisible line between you and Oscar that neither of you had crossed until now. The nights had grown longer, filled with silent dinners and conversations that felt half-hearted, missed texts, and nights where Oscar wouldn’t even come home. Neither of you knew how to bridge the widening gap. But tonight, the silence broke.

You stormed into the living room, the door slamming behind you, the sound echoing through the room. “Oscar, what the hell is going on with you?” Your voice cracked through the air, filled with frustration that had been pent up for too long. “You’ve been distant—shut off, and I’m tired of trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

Oscar sat on the couch, his posture rigid, the tension in his body unmistakable. His hands were clenched into tight fists, resting on his knees as if he were trying to keep himself from snapping. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and when he finally stood up, it was slow and deliberate, like every movement was calculated to contain the anger simmering beneath the surface. His eyes met yours, hard and unreadable, a storm brewing behind them.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice was rough, already laced with irritation, the edges sharp. The defensive tone hit you immediately, the frustration that had been building between you both finally bubbling over. “Ain’t nothing wrong. You’re just overthinking, like always.”

His words came out clipped, dismissive, as if he was trying to shut down the conversation before it even started, but the tension in his shoulders and the way his fists flexed at his sides told you there was more going on than he was willing to admit.

“Overthinking?” you repeated, letting out a bitter, humorless laugh as you took a step closer, the hurt unmistakable in your voice. “Oscar, you’re not here anymore. You barely talk to me, and when you do, it’s like I don’t even exist. I’m not making this shit up!”

Your words hung in the air, raw and exposed, but instead of softening, Oscar’s expression hardened. His eyes flickered for just a second, a glimpse of something beneath the surface, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by cold defiance. He squared his shoulders, his stance becoming even more rigid, as if bracing for a fight.

“I’m handling business,” he shot back, his voice sharp and dismissive, like he was throwing up a wall between you. “I don’t have time to sit around and coddle you all the time.”

The word hit you like a slap, stinging deep, and for a moment, your breath caught in your throat. “Coddle me?” you echoed, disbelief mixing with the pain that now bubbled up as anger. Your hands trembled at your sides, fists clenched tight as you fought to keep control. “Is that what this is to you? I’m your girl, Oscar. I’m not here to be an afterthought.”

He didn’t flinch, his jaw set as he glared back at you. “Well, then stop acting like one!” he snapped, the anger in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His eyes flashed, frustration pouring out now. “You’re always on me, always needing something. I can’t breathe half the time!”

The room seemed to close in, the weight of his words crashing down between you, each one pushing you further apart. The vulnerability of the moment twisted painfully, the raw emotions hanging heavy, suffocating.

You stared at him, your heart sinking fast, like it was being pulled into some dark, empty place you hadn’t expected. He had never spoken to you like this before—never with such coldness, such cruelty. His words echoed in your head, stinging, unraveling everything you thought was solid between you. “So, what?” you demanded, your voice trembling, caught between anger and heartbreak. “I’m just too much for you now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Oscar ran a hand over his face, dragging it down like he was trying to wipe away the frustration that was building inside him. Every line of his body was tense, coiled like a spring about to snap. “I’m just trying to keep it together, alright?” he shot back, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard. “I got enough on my plate without you adding to it.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, each one sinking deeper than the last, cutting through the air between you. Your throat tightened, but you swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears spill. “If I’m so much of a problem,” you said, your voice thick, barely holding steady against the wave of hurt, “then why don’t you just leave? Why are you even here?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, your words hanging in the space between you like something final, something breaking that neither of you knew how to fix.

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick and heavy, both of you standing there, breathing hard as the weight of the argument pressed down on everything. The tension was palpable, and then, like a balloon slowly deflating, Oscar’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. He took a shaky step back, his hands falling limply to his sides. “You really think I don’t care about you?” His voice was low, raw, almost broken.

The vulnerability in his tone made your chest tighten, but your anger was still too fresh, too sharp. “I don’t know, Oscar,” you bit back, your voice trembling as you blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. “You sure as hell don’t act like it.”

He turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged animal, frustration radiating from him. “I’m just—” He stopped mid-sentence, running a rough hand over his face, his movements frantic. The fight in him seemed to evaporate all at once, leaving only the bare truth behind. “I’m scared, alright?” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. The typical growl in his tone that he bared against the world was nowhere to be found. “I don’t know how to do this. How to be what you need me to be. Every time something goes wrong, I push people away, and I don’t know how to stop.”

His confession hit you like a tidal wave, the sudden weight of his words crashing over you. The anger that had been swirling inside you began to ebb, replaced by something softer, something sad. For the first time in the midst of all this, you saw past the frustration to the fear lurking behind his eyes. The fear of losing you, of failing.

“Oscar…” you whispered, your voice gentler now, the hurt still there but fading into understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking as he finally turned to face you, his eyes glassy, emotion spilling out. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I’m scared of screwing this up. Of losing you.”

His admission hung in the air between you, softening the tension, but the sting of his words still lingered. “You hurt me,” you whispered, your voice small, raw with emotion. “You can’t just say things like that, Oscar. You don’t get to push me away and then act like it doesn’t matter.”

“I know,” he muttered, his hand reaching out as if to touch you but stopping halfway, unsure. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve how good you’ve been to me.”

You took a shaky breath, still holding onto the anger but feeling it start to crumble in the face of his raw vulnerability. “Then why do you keep doing this? Why do you push me away?”

“Because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he said, his voice thick with frustration and guilt. “I’ve never had something this real, and it scares me. I’m scared of losing you, so I mess it up before you can leave.”

The honesty in his words hit you like a ton of bricks, the truth of his fear unraveling everything. “Oscar,” you said, stepping closer to him, your anger slowly dissolving. “You don’t have to be perfect. I just need you to let me in, not push me away.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of the shit I said. You mean everything to me.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him—Oscar, the tough, unbreakable man, standing before you, breaking down in the face of his own fear. Slowly, you closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. “But you gotta stop pushing me away.”

He leaned into your touch, his breath shaky as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I love you so much.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pulled him closer, your foreheads resting against each other. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Oscar nodded silently, then pulled you into his arms with a desperate kind of urgency, holding you so tight as if letting go might mean losing everything. His body trembled against yours, and you felt the soft, quiet sobs wracking through him, the weight of all the anger, the fear, dissolving into something raw and real. You held him just as tightly, your arms wrapped around him, anchoring him in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve you. After everything I said…”

“You do,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you pressed your forehead against his. Your fingers threaded through his hair, soothing the tension that still lingered. “You do, Oscar. Just… don’t shut me out again, okay? I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

He let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening, as though he was trying to ground himself in your presence. The storm between you had passed, leaving behind something fragile but healing. The fight, the harsh words, all of it seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you—holding on to each other like lifelines.

As he held you, the world outside faded into the background, the sounds of the night muted by the quiet space you shared. For the first time in days, the knot in your chest loosened, and you both breathed a little easier, knowing that no matter how bad things got, no matter how much hurt had been thrown around, you’d always find your way back to each other.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, it felt like enough.

[sourbites]

What Remains After Fury

You knew Metallica, and everyone involved, were stressed for weeks building up to the Seattle event. It's been built up in everyone's minds to be this huge thing, and it's honestly really freaking James out. He's been restless, and sleepless, and his temper is more brittle than ever. Which has rubbed off on the others. Lars and James are fighting like never before, Jason's everyone's punching bag, and Kirk can't keep them calm and together forever. With that awesome environment, everyone on the team has been just as brooding, skulking around the venue at rehearsal as if they're being forced to show up.

That's why you're so surprised when you see James, a giddy James, floating around backstage when he's got an encore to show up for in a dozen minutes or so. You know it's James, even with his back to you. You'd recognise him off the beating of your own heart if you had to.

Gently, mindful of his recent mood, you remind him. "Don't forget your encore, James." You say coolly, masking the schoolgirlish sigh you want to swoon out at the sight of him.

Beer in hand (as usual), he turns to you: "I won't. Just wanted to come see you. How you doin', darlin'? Workin' hard?"

It's funny how he almost sounds southern, despite living in California for most of his life. That bluesy purr of his voice does nothing to cauterise the red-hot lust spilling out of you as if you have a bleeding head wound. It certainly feels that way sometimes, as if your mind fogs. Grinning, James raises his brows at you expectantly. Oh fuck, he's expecting an answer.

You swallow dryly, almost stupefied. "Shut up, that's not nearly as smooth as you think it is."

He laughs, his shoulders shaking subtly as the air enters and exits his chest. A thick bicep curls around the top of your shoulders, bringing you to his side for a quick hug. His skin is warm, molten hot — a little clammy from performing for at least two hours by now.

"I'll take your word for it," He hums, slowly slipping his hand down low, low, low. Dutifully following the surface of your back, the dips of your spine, until he reaches the small of your back. Thick fingers grope into your shirt, rounding out around the swell of your hips.

There's a heavy pause for a moment or two. His hair swooshes around as he looks around backstage. Most other crew members are tuning stuff and messing around with lights. AKA: doing what you should also be doing.

"Fuck it," You hear him murmur lowly. "You wanna take your break right now?" The question is directed at you.

You wring your hands in excited nervousness, despite finding yourself nodding. "We shouldn't take too long, though." You remind. The clock's still ticking, and there's a mass of fans preparing for an encore, crowding around the stage restlessly.

"Don't you fuckin' worry about that," James' hand is already rushing you into some emptied-out storage room, hot on your heels himself. 

The door to the little room slots closed, the lock following soon after. The four walls are bare save for a shelf where James is already surrendering his bottle of half-savoured beer. The light is an old, warm-toned fluorescent that flickers painfully every few seconds— as if it's sighing in exhaustion.

With both of his hands aching with idleness, James busies himself by slipping his warm, big palms over your figure, drawing you in with both his index fingers hooked around the belt loops of your skirt. You walk the three steps towards him until your frame bumps into his. Greedily, his hands cup your waist, gathering the material of your shirt into fists. His hot mouth is on yours, devouring your every breath. Your skin rasps against his moustache, a cool nose nudging into his. Just to make matters worse and get you further under his spell, he grazes his teeth against your lower lip, heavy-handedly groping your ass through your skirt.

You don't have time for the slowness, and James doesn't have the sobriety for the tenderness. Skirts are bunched up around the waist, and fly zippers are hatefully yanked down. Tongues swipe over lips, and corners of mouths, getting tasted indulgently. His tongue's in your mouth, and you react on instinct, sucking around it as your palms slip under his shirt, venturing up, and raking your nails back down. He shudders, patting you on the ass in his approval. You smile inwardly, nipping at his neck before you sink to your knees. It's a Pavlovian reaction, to kneel around James' thighs or at his boots.

With prying hands, you manage to tug down his boxers enough. His cock is already heavy and hard, springing up and smacking into his abdomen. Wrapping a hand around his base to secure him, you lean in, your soft breath hot against his skin. You can see the chills on James' arm before he reaches to you, threading thick ringed fingers through your hair reverently. You mouth at his head for a few moments, your lips sliding over his ever-wettening tip. With a few kisses, you sink further onto him. Your tongue flutters around his shaft, tracing the art of the vein that runs along the underside of his impressively thick cock.

James hisses once your drooling lips take him into your mouth. Precum beads a pearly, translucent shine around his peachy-skinned tip. The bluntness of his short fingernails scrape along your scalp, fisting your hair at the crown of your head. You can feel his pelvis and hips flinching. He's holding back. You try to ease him into the hollow of your throat, knowing that eases him.

"Nah, sweetheart. No time for that." James sighs, before practically scalping you with how much force he uses to yank you off him. You follow, jerked backwards with a throaty gasp.

He cups your cheek, stroking down your messy hair. "Later, alright?" He promises, grinning again.

You're guided to stand up, your back firmly pressed into the wall. His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste the deeply malted beer on his breath. Fuck, he makes you dizzy. James cups your thigh, steering it around his hip. With his other hand, he gathers your panties and ushers them to the side.

You find your place in the crook of his neck, sighing as he glides his now glistening cock over your wettened slit. In a dull, ache, tingle, James bullies his way into you, his fingers splayed and gripping onto where your hip meets your thigh in vehemence. He bumps against your cervix, his hips jutted forward as if he wants it to bruise you. Shuddering, your breath stops with every time you meet.

Golden, shining locks are swept to the side as you sink your teeth into James' flesh, tongue swiping over the slab of meat that connects his neck to his broad shoulders. You can almost feel his rock-hard cock in the pit of your lungs each time you ambitiously try to breathe. God, he's a monster.

Heated limbs wrap around heated limbs as he carves his hips into yours as if he's a worshiper of some deity, and you, his worshipee. A cry is forced out of you as James withdraws himself, only to pour into you, burning your bruise-tender skin as he goes. He stumbles faster and faster into you, smothering a palm to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your noises. As if that makes anything more subtle. The room is full of heavy breaths, skin punching into skin, and the obscenely vulgar sounds of slicked arousal drooling and bubbling from your puffy cunt with each schlick and schlock of James' thrusts. But sure, you need to keep your noise down.

Tears prickle at your waterline. Each shaky inhale is gutted out of you, your moans stuttering every time you're fucked into the wall.

"Shh, attagirl. Keep quiet f'me," James rasps out, grazing his teeth into the shell of your ear for a moment, dipping further into your warm bubble of space. Furiously charmed, you lean into him; maybe to take some weight off of your one leg that's not wrapped firmly around his waist.

James' hips are snapping into yours, bucking and pressing as if he intends to flatten you. You feel malleable anyway: like hot clay, a pile of mush that's bolstered up with every nasty hurl of his aggressively penetrating cock.

As if you weren't already close to going into cardiac arrest, you can hear the winding corridors quickly fill with hustling and bustling. The encore must be close. And James is missing (or busy, is a better term for it). And the man in question doesn't even seem to notice. His chest rumbles with a deep, rich moan. He bows his head down, caressing the base of your neck with an open mouth. Your pulse is thrumming. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage. You're not sure what will remain of you after James' fury.

"C'mon, sweetheart," He coaxes between smoky gasps of breath. "I know you're close." He goads. You can feel his smirk against your skin.

His calloused fingertips sweep up your throat, cupping your cheek. Uncharacteristically tenderly, he plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You grip him, any part of him you can manage, in a blind panic. His hair, his shirt, bicep, forearm, shoulder. Anything and everything that will help anchor you to reality as the sheer consciousness is viciously and thoroughly fucked out of you. Brain melting and going straight to that wild, fluttery pit in your stomach that thirsts to boil over.

You throw your head back against the wall, otherwise limp with jellified limbs if not for James being your pillar. Sensing what you're about to do, he cements his hand to your mouth again, forcing you to swallow the lewd moan that's heavy on your sex-liquored tongue.

"Jesus Christ," James marvels at you, his gaze falling to watch your soaked cunt withstand every vicious stroke of his cock into the channel of your insides. You squeeze your eyes shut as James' rhythm falls faster in a never-ending inward thrust. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and gives it a few overzealous swipes. Your body replies with a wobble. Then the squelch of cum as your aching hole gushes around him, pulsing and milking his cock to follow in your actions and just let go.

Your head swings back and forth between keeping James here for a little while longer and finishing him off to send him back onstage. If you concentrate hard, you can hear Lars' yells for James sandwiched between panicked "fuck"s.

James is hitting something tender and spongy when he finally finishes. His whole body shudders, his shoulders tensed, and his hands locking around you, iron-gripped. He gives a few shallow, half-hearted thrusts just to get it all out of his system (until tonight, inevitably).

"Fuck," He sighs, easing out of you with one hand, the other gingerly guiding your leg down. He fixes himself up, tucking his half-hard dick into his jeans. He swipes his beer off the one lonely shelf mounted on the wall, greedily swallowing it down his throat.

"Keep that pussy juicy, sweetheart. M'gonna eat it later." He grins, giving you a pat on the hip before reality hits him, and he rushes out of the room in a blur for his encore. You're left with the reek of sex and the syrup of mingling cum between your legs.

[katsukikitten]

Izuku spits in your mouth, it's his guilty pleasure.

"You need some help right, Princess?" Tipping your chin up so that he can look you in your eyes. Letting his thumb slide over your plush bottom lip. Dark emerald eyes at half mast as he looks down at you, quieting the whimpering groan that climbs up his throat.

Slowly allowing his thumb to penetrate your lips, your tongue swirling around his thick digit before giving it a teasing suck and this time he can't hide the sound that sends a jolt straight to your clit.

"Now you're being my good girl?" At this point the man towering over you is drunk with want, need , that drips from the angry tip prompted by his twitching.

He presses firmly, flattening your tongue with his thumb, admiring you like a painting. Gazing long enough that he watches drool slip past your lips and down your chin to drip onto your bare chest as he stands fully clothed.

Still in his dark slacks and crisp white shirt from his boring pro hero meeting. His emerald tie wrapped tightly around your wrists, binding your hands behind you as you sit on your knees all because of one, or several, bratty text messages you sent him while he was presenting for the hero commission.

He gathers the saliva in his own mouth, letting it fall to the tip of his tongue as the wet muscle hangs past his lips. He's patient, watching the silvery string fall towards your open, hot mouth.

But you aren't, wiggling and whining before gravity blesses you and the string connects him to you before he pushes his tongue against his teeth making a hissing sound when he blows. The glob lands next to his thumb on your fluttering tongue.

"That enough? Need more?" His voice is a soft, rumbling timbre, his cock painfully hard as he watches you nod. Reacting the action one more time until he can't take it, especially after the loud moan you let echo around your shared living room.

"Sorry Princess, I can't wait anymore, okay?" It comes out as a shaky breath, growling when his belt fights against him as he keeps his thumb planted on your tongue.

Pulling his pants and boxers down to rest under his thick freckled ass as his fat cock springs free. Tip sticky from the need for you that weeps. He takes his free hand and grabs at the base of his thick shaft, resisting the urge to spread the pre along his length.

Tapping the tip to your tongue that fights against his thumb that keeps it flat. Sliding into your mouth making your jaw burn as you adjust to him and the hold he has on your chin, hitting the back of your throat and when you gag around him he finally loses it.

Removing his thumb and taking both of his hands to fist your hair, roughly bobbing you onto his cock until he's bucking his hips into your hallowed cheeks.

Gagging and bringing forth more saliva that helps him glide in and out of you with ease, and although he loves your pussy, worships it, nothing compares to the sinful way you look up at him.

Pleading tearful eyes with your bratty mouth stuffed with his cock, pre and drool falling past your lips collecting on your pretty tits that jiggle with each thrust.

Izuku never could last during head or when he can face fuck you as punishment. Especially when he knows how wet your pussy will be for him once he's done, that's where he'll give you hours of pleasure but for now he'll take your advice of 'be fuckin selfish for once!'

So he is.

Groaning loudly as he lets his head fall back for a moment, emerald curls sticking to the nape of his neck before he looks back at you. Letting hot ropes of sticky cum coat your mouth and throat. A gleeful moan as you swallow around him, taking everything he has to offer and even with your hands tied behind your back you try to overstimulate him.

Try to get him to whimper, which he does, only for you. Cheeks a burning red but his eyes aren't innocent and doe like, no, you get a different kind of Izuku.

You get the hungry, needy, obsessive Izuku that stares into your soul before he withdrawals. Picking you up in one of his strong arms and holding you close, letting his and boxers fall to his ankles before stepping out of the. His free hand shoving two thick fingers into your drooling cunt with ease.

"See you love when I face fuck you." Playfully you shake your head no and his chuckles, "Oh? But your pretty pussy says she loves it." He finger fucks you harder, wants your moans to be heard by the neighbors. Wants that wet sticky squelch of your slutty cunt to be heard too. Doesn't care if they sell the audio to some trashy news station for the highest price.

Doesn't care if the tabloids buy it and play it for all to hear. Then they'd know exactly who this pretty cunt belonged to.

"You love it, princess. It's why you're so wet for me." He angles his fingers just right, pressing on that spongy spot and had he not been so strong he would have dropped you from how harshly your back arched into his touch.

"M-more, Zuzu." Another whine as he teases you, borderline edges you with each thrust as he guides you to his oversized bed. Tossing you on to the bed hard enough you bounce just a bit before landing on your own hands, legs spread open to steady yourself but Izuku admires the view, "I need you."

He let's his darkened emerald eyes snake up your body, predatory gaze locked with yours as he leans over you, letting his semi hard cock press into your glistening folds. Biting back his own groan when he feels arousal on your thighs making your skin stick to his waist.

"Then you better beg for it Princess." He leans down and kisses you with his hand gently placed on your throat, soft squeeze when he pulls away, smile on his lips.

"Like you were in all those filthy messages you sent me earlier."

[redrandomposts]

WEEPING BC I READ YOUR RESPONSE WHILE I WAS ON THE WAY HOME FROM AN ERRAND LMAO

imagine hyuna manages to catch ivan before he runs away, but she doesnt stop him bc she saw how miserable he was while he was at base and maybe he can find another human settlement where he can be happy at least ? so she provides him w a radio for emergencies and some provisions and makes him promise her that he'll at least send a message every once in a while so she'll know he's safe.

ivan was long gone when till finds hyuna standing by that one window facing the rising sun. till looks a lot more frazzled than hyuna has ever seen him, and thats saying something.

(he just remembered the end of r6 and theres two lifetimes fighting for dominance in till's mind)

till asks hyuna if she has seen ivan.

hyuna remembers the ever-present broken look on ivan's face every time he sees till and every time till pushes him away with cruel words and even crueler fists.

hyuna tells him no.

----

of course hyuna does tell the adults in charge of ivan's departure. they inform the other human settlements to look out for ivan and they move on with their lives.

while theyre saddened by ivan's departure and wish they couldve gone with the kid (he was twenty, barely an adult !), theyre at least comforted by the fact that he wasnt chaining himself down by his guilt anymore.

----

as days go by, hyuna notices the changes in mizi, sua, and till.

she never personally told them that ivan left but someone mustve told them nonetheless.

theres a new tension between the formerly-inseparable mizi and sua.

(mizi remembers the moment sua lost her life in front of her and, knowing what she knows now, wonders why sua kept her ignorant until the very last moment.

"i wanted to preserve your happiness."

"by making me lose you?"

"...")

till ... hyuna doesnt know what goes on with that kid. one moment hes watching both his friends like hes afraid theyll disappear in the blink of an eye, the next moment hes writing lyrics and music like a madman and searching for ivan like a man starved.

hyuna doesnt get it. with how much sua and till practically shoved ivan away, they shouldnt be this affected by his departure, right ?

ah, whatever. that's their problem now.

----

at first, ivan sent her check-in messages maybe once or twice a week. the most he's gone without any contact has been two weeks and that was because he had trouble finding batteries.

and then his last message came in.

the first thing she hears is static and gunshots.

finally, ivan's voice comes in. he doesn't sound so good.

"--oona, noona im sorry--"

"ivan, what-"

"--n't know how but -- found m--"

static. gunshots. a pained noise. more static.

then, silence.

hyuna needs to get a rescue team out there as soon as possible. she has his coordinates, she can-

"was that ivan ?"

fuck. how long has till been standing there ?

"hyuna... was that ivan ?"

----

anyways :> hyuna gets a rescue team for ivan and they manage to get him back to base in one piece but hes hanging on for dear life lol. imagine he got shot in the same damn places he was in the past life and bleeding out from the mouth too.

till sees and is immediately gut punched into a harrowing flashback and panic attack and hyuna wonders just how she was saddled with such troublesome juniors.

i, too, got possessed it seems LMAOOOO

— 🌦️

do u need a tissue for your tears, 🌦️?

imagine there's a spy rebel that was promised a lot from the aliens and sent ivan's signal to them, so the aliens are able to track him...

till is beside ivan's bed, sifting through hastily-drawn sketches from the middle of the night, lyrics that seem more like chicken scrath, and melodies that's played repeat in his head.

ivan looked the exact same as he had in round six. blood spilled, a slight smile when he caught sight of till—till didn't deserve it. he didn't deserve the heartfelt smile, the bleeding heart ivan gave to him, the all the ivan put to him but never got back.

he painfully remembers the night of their escape, too. ivan was stressed beyond relief, and when they made it out, he looked to the sky as if expecting something. till hadn't recognized it then, but he does now; the look in ivan's eyes resembled heartbreak, sorrow, grief, mourning.

till looks down at ivan. in the past decade since they've escaped, he's never seen him so relaxed.

[sanarsi]

hello, my dearest Nari 🧡

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

ps almost sent you nudes

Father’s Love

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Life is a bitch that can surprise with reverse version of Joel’s nightmare. Warnings: angst, canon violence, child!reader Wordcount: 1,2k An: I wanted to write more so I don’t promise there won’t be a part 2. A wonderful plot twist was created in my head ugh. This is a part of this -> challenge by my lovely Aly (literally my muse) who almost!!! sent me dirty things.

Masterlist

Joel knew what he needed to survive.

As luck would have it, everything was within reach.

A working car, a gun and ammo, food supplies, and a few other things. The only thing standing in his way was a man, tall man and obviously well-trained, maybe a military? Joel had killed a lot of people and felt no inhibitions about doing it again, especially with such good loot waiting for him.

So he waited, hidden in the bushes, and silently just watched.

He wanted to wait until dark, maybe even until the man fell asleep, but the perfect opportunity presented itself earlier. The universe itself was giving him signs that he had to do it. And he had to do it now.

As quietly as he could, he reloaded his weapon, never taking his eyes off his enemy. The man sat with his back to him, completely unaware of anything, changing the bandage on his foot.

There was no better opportunity and Joel knew it. So he pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the forest and birds fled from nearby trees. He only watched as a limp body with a hole in its head fell to the ground. After that, there was dead silence.

He waited a moment, but definitely too short, before he decided to come out of hiding.

Maybe if he had stuck to his own principles back then he wouldn’t have done almost something he would regret for the rest of his life.

Hearing was faster than his sight at someone’s footsteps, he automatically aimed the gun in that direction. For a moment he didn’t know if he saw correctly when a child appeared in front of him. A little girl who was terrified and trembling with fear.

She looked exceptionally well-groomed. Unworn jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers that looked almost new. No scars or dirt on her face. But it was her eyes that gave away the most — she didn’t see much evil. She looked as if Joel was the first person to make her realize that such a thing really existed.

Joel let out a slow breath and relaxed his muscles as he looked at her longer and longer. He lowered the gun a bit and with every passing second he saw her more closely, clearly. He felt a growing weight in his chest, as if the consequences of his actions were looking at him with those big tearful eyes. He didn’t want to think about what appeared in his head at the thought of the child but when her gaze fell on the body lying a few feet behind him, he knew that the weight of guilt was just starting to crush him. Slowly and painfully.

“Daddy?” Her soft, breaking voice pierced the heavy silence. He shivered at the sound, so reminiscent of the one that followed him in his nightmares. Tears welled up in his eyes and he didn’t fight them when they started to roll down his cheeks.

Karma caught up with him in the worst possible way.

For the first time in several long years, he felt like he had failed again. Like his nightmare had become reality again, but this time, he was the one who caused all the evil.

He knew that with another burden he could not continue to live. He could not allow his nightmare to gain the strength to crush him.

So he let his instincts take over again.

“Hi kiddo,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice and managed a gentle smile. The girl met his gaze again. Tears refused to escape her eyes. “What’s your name?”

Joel watched as she clenched her fists tighter around the sleeves of her sweatshirt and shook her head, clearly not wanting to answer his question.

“’s all right,” he tried to assure her. As proof of his words, he slowly crouched down and tossed the gun aside. “See? I won’t hurt you.” He spread his arms in a friendly gesture and, despite the tears glistening on his cheeks, tried to look friendly.

You had to trust him. He had no other choice now.

“You seem like a smart girl.” He smiled wider. He almost managed to ignore the pain in his heart. “I’m sure your dad taught ya a lot of things, right?”

She nodded uncertainly. He tried to stop himself from moving too aggressively, not wanting to scare her. But the urge to grab her in his arms now and apologize for what he had done was overwhelming, almost unbeatable.

“Your daddy tell you how to cope when he can’t do it for ya?”

She denied again, “No.” Her soft and uncertain voice almost broke him in half.

He could hardly believe that after everything he had experienced, he found himself again in the same and yet completely different position as so many years ago. But life was a bitch.

“Can I show ya?” he asked, wanting to give her a choice, an illusory possibility, but she was just a child. A child he had hurt just as someone had hurt him.

Her chin quivered as she nodded, “’kay.” She was on the verge of tears. Her small body was shaking, whether from the cold or the emotion he didn’t know, so he barely managed to restrain himself from pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I know you’re a tough girl,” he praised her with a wide smile he was holding with all his strength. “You’re smart and I’m sure you could handle any obstacle, right?”

She listened to him carefully. She was fully focused on him and that made things much easier. She had to see only him, she couldn't look at the dead body lying behind him.

She couldn't.

“Mhm,” she murmured softly, clenching her fists tighter.

“Attagirl.” He laughed through his tears and took a deep, calming breath. “Your daddy said if he couldn’t take care of you,” he began slowly, moving closer to her. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t back down. “I have to do it for him.”

He stopped in front of her and watched her reaction. She seemed to process his words, as if she didn’t understand their meaning. Seeing her confusion, he slowly knelt down in front of her with a warm smile and watched the confusion in her eyes for a moment.

She was so small, so innocent and pure…

“So you are my daddy now?”

And he barely stopped himself from choking on his tears.

He sobbed, covering his mouth and nodded without thinking. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t let you see his hesitation. So he was sure of his new role. He was sure that he had to become a father again.

And he became it the moment she pressed herself tightly against his chest, burying her face in his neck, and his arms closed her tightly.

He felt it. Again. The strength that came from holding a small being in his arms, someone who depended only on him. And this time, he knew he wouldn’t fail, can’t fail.

Tags: @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @puduvallee @luciaispunk @theoraekenslover @bbyanarchist

[kendsleyauthor]

#11 anon here again! glad to hear you’re still taking prompts. i love your and mary’s works ❤️ im shy so i stay on anon, but seriously, so much love to you guys! anyway, if youre so inclined, might i suggest prompt #1? keeping it simple. #11->1 lol. all your characters are awesome — i don’t think andreas and lorelei have been prompted yet, so maybe this can be a vote for them? but also, id love to hear more about the godlike trio; they’re so fun! what is their origin story?!! again, dealers choice, and thank you kindly !💕❤️

LIVING NIGHTMARE

TW: Drowning, fearplay stemming from genuine anger

Print / Trinket Universe (Andres and Lorelei)

~1800 words

G/t dialogue prompt list

Thank you so much for the prompt and the love, beautiful! I know it's been a long time, but I am determined to catch up as much as I can!! As far as the Godlike trio, it would be sooo fun to explore their origin story one day! It is dense, but it essentially involves human sacrifice, trickery, and immature nature god politics 😋

As for THIS story-- reader, if you're new to the trinket universe, this interaction may be startling lol. The TL;DR for this particular situation is that Lorelei must live in secret for her and Andres' safety 👀

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her. Immense pressure sits on her torso. Does it count as drowning if she wouldn’t be able to draw a full breath anyway? Her heels slide against the bottom of the glass, tractionless. She claws at the finger pinning her down.

Each swipe weakens.

The pain begins to fade. It’s almost peaceful.

She hears that’s what happens right before you die from suffocation.

Calm.

Quiet.

Free.

But a peaceful death is too much to ask for.

The finger relinquishes pressure, and she is wracked with agony. She draws in a lungful of whiskey and thrashes. Although she wants nothing more than to fade away, to kiss this hell goodbye, her body fights to survive.

She pops up to stand on trembling legs, leaning hard against an ice cube. The coldness burns. She coughs raggedly. Laughter rumbles from above. Her recovering vision registers the giants around her as nothing more than massive blurs of color.

The shape of a hand hovers over the glass before descending upon her again. She manages a single, pleading whimper before she’s forced onto her back, pinned to the bottom of the glass.

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her.

Immense pressure—

“Lorelei!”

The voice was familiar. Loud, but not at all the same as the booming laughter.

She flinched awake, gripping fistfuls of blanket as she gasped for air. Each breath was a painfully overwhelming gift. She squinted in the lamplight which cast the sprawling living room with warmth. The high windows gave view to an overcast night sky.

Safe.

“Lorelei.”

Blinking, she made sense of Andres’ form leaning over her on the side table. To her confusion, there was no softness in his voice, no suggestion that he intended to soothe her from the nightmare. No, he wanted her attention, and anything else she might feel was secondary.

“Andres,” she said groggily.

“What is wrong with you?” He sounded like he was making a great deal of effort not to shout. She shrank away from the bite in his voice. “What were you thinking?”

Frowning, she sat up slowly. She couldn’t relinquish her grip on the blanket—not with the way he was looking at her. She felt like a child using her covers as a shield against the boogeyman. This had to still be a nightmare. There was no reality where Andres would glower at her like that anymore. If he was especially bitter about losing a game, perhaps—but even then, he scowled with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what she could have done in her sleep to piss him off.

“Were my screams of terror too loud?” she managed to croak. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”

He didn’t seem to register nor care what she said at all. “Madison Jones,” he said flatly.

Her heart climbed into her throat. Now she really wished she was dreaming.

“H-how…” But she knew at once. She must have forgotten to log out of the alias account. She wet her lips. “Let me explain—”

“How?” he snapped, voice rising. “There is no explanation that makes this any less idiotic! You are smarter than this, Lorelei!”

Heat flashed through her, vicious and all-consuming. “It’s idiotic to want to check up on old friends?”

“Wanting is one thing.” The ice in his voice threatened to douse her fire. “Doing… Doing this is…” His jaw worked as though he was too angry to speak. 

He brandished his phone in her direction, the screen aglow. She turned her head. She didn’t need to look. He had gone through the chat logs of her alias and found every incriminating conversation of the past six months. Her hands shook on the blanket.

“I’ve been careful,” she said, softer. “They have no idea who I really am. They think I’m an aspiring player, new to the scene. A long-distance friend that they will never, ever meet.”

Tears pricked her eyes. God, she was pathetic.

And Andres wasn’t helping. He shook his head. “This ends now.”

“Please—”

“No. I cannot allow you to put us in danger like this. How could you be so stupid?”

The wildfire ignited again. She stood, shoving her blanket aside. She didn’t care that she had to crane her neck to meet his frostbitten glare. “So that’s it? You’re ordering me to happily isolate myself from the rest of the world—even with a solution right in front of our damn faces?”

“Zorra,” he cursed—a particular insult he’d never once aimed at her. “Your solution is going to get us investigated and caught.”

Her voice came out like a fist was squeezing her throat. “I miss my friends!”

He scoffed. “Am I not enough for you now?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” She staggered two steps back, wondering how this could be the same person who cared for her, protected her. Sinking to her knees, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Should I be like this day and night? Thank you so much for being the only person in the world I can talk to for the rest of my life.”

For a single second, he looked hurt. “Stand up,” he gritted out. “I will not talk to you like this.”

But she was just as hurt and every bit as vicious, and she had to stop now before she said something she couldn’t apologize for. Rising to her feet, she turned her back on him and started for the makeshift stairway that would lead her to the floor. Throwing a pity party under a cabinet or sofa for the night would do her good.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To be alone,” she threw over her shoulder. “I can’t be around you right now.”

The last thing she expected was for him to deny her. Instead of sulking away or simply lapsing into disappointed silence, his voice lashed like a whip and made her flinch. “You are not going anywhere,” he said. “You are staying here. And talking.”

“About what?” She didn’t turn back, placing her hand on the railing. “Delete the profile yourself if it pisses you off so much.”

Silence. She thought that was the end of it, but no. “Come back,” he said through gritted teeth.

She said nothing, starting down the stairs.

A sudden tug at the back of her nightgown made her breath catch. She instinctively tried to wrench herself free, even if it would send her tumbling down the steps. In an instant, she was whisked off her feet. She gave a choked shriek as air whipped past her, and she found herself dangling in front of Andres’ infuriated face.

“Forgive me for not being better company,” he said venomously. “But I am trying to keep us both alive.”

Alive.

She was helpless.

She was drowning again.

“Stop!” she howled, half expecting precious air bubbles to rise from her lips. Her voice pitched into a scream that she only ever heard in her nightmares. “I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!”

As quickly as it happened, it was over. She only caught a glimpse of Andres’ astonished expression before he lowered her into his waiting palm and released her. She scrabbled back, bumping against his fingers and burying her face in her knees. 

“Lorelei?” he whispered. 

He touched her shoulder, and she screamed. The air whirled again, and she dared to peek out. His hand rested on the side table beside her bed, offering escape. She jolted out of her fetal position, falling to hands and knees in her desperation to get away. Stumbling to her bed, she pulled her blanket tightly over herself, shaking too hard to make it to a better hiding place. She didn’t care how childish it was—she needed to reduce her world to a small space of darkness.

“Lorelei.” His voice was reverent, dripping with regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her wail reduced to a whimper.

“No. No, I am.” His voice cracked. Another gentle touch brushed her back through the blanket, pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn’t scream again, dreading that he was about to pull the sheet off of her. But he didn’t. He kept stroking, his breathing unsteady. “Please come out. I never meant to scare you like that. I…” Silence dragged for several seconds, and the touch of his finger pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”

She quietly assessed herself. “No.”

Another pause.

“Can you show me?” His words were a plea, not an order.

Hesitantly, she sat up and pulled the blanket off her head, letting it fall to her shoulders. His dark eyes searched her intensely for any sign that his rough handling left a mark. Even when he seemed sure that she was unhurt, he stayed close, staring into her eyes.

She broke the silence floating between them. “I couldn’t help it,” she admitted, looking down in shame. “I… I can’t just pretend I didn’t have another life. I miss my friends. My family.”

For a moment, she worried his anger would rise up again. But he looked almost as exhausted as she felt. Glancing at his phone, he pursed his lips. “Your family is not in the chat logs,” he noted.

“I…” She sniffled. “I picked people I wasn’t especially close to.”

“Why?”

She managed the smallest laugh. “I know you think I’m an impulsive idiot. And you’re right, I can be. So I gave myself limits.” Her shoulders slumped. “I knew if I reached out to my family, I wouldn’t be able to keep the secret up. Sooner or later, I’d spill everything just so they wouldn’t have to live another day wondering if I was alive or dead or swimming in someone’s drink.”

He regarded her with raised eyebrows like something was dawning on him. “You were tangled in the sheets when I came in,” he said slowly. His expression fell, and she dropped her gaze. She’d opened up about the nature ofher recurring nightmares before. “It was a bad one. I should have noticed I should have waited.” He sighed heavily, and his finger returned to stroke her hair down. “Are you alright?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

His finger paused. “Do you want me to leave?” he murmured.

She could tell that her hesitation hurt him more than anything. But ultimately, she shook her head again. Raising her hand, she found his finger and guided it to her side. She leaned against the warmth of his skin.

“Lorelei…” His eyes flicked up and down, drinking her in with fondness steeped in loving fear. She braced herself for the inevitable—the gentle but firm order to never pull something like this again. But he was full of surprises tonight. “I trust you. Please—give me another chance to be the kind of man you are not afraid to keep secrets from.”

Her tears spilled over, and she pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “I think I can do that.”

(A/N: I've had this on the backburner for so long, I'm glad to finally post it! I'm sorry that my first short story in a while is a gut punch lol 💞)

[whumperstorm]

Suppressing Fire - Part 2

Content: Vampire whumper, defiant whumpee, burns, broken bones, begging, alcohol consumption, sickness, medical setting, dehumanization, mind control, non-con removal of clothing (nonsexual)

Keegan's escape attempt goes perfectly and she lives happily ever after. Just don't look at the- ignore the content tags. It's fine. Don't even worry about it.

Part 1/Previous/Next

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

Keegan is ready. The plan she's ended up with is a bit crude, but hey, she's working with what she's got. Luckily she managed some actual sleep after the vampire left her, so she's more awake and aware.

She doesn't know how long it's been, but she knows he must be returning soon. She waits with her ear to the door until she hears the telltale sign of footsteps headed her way. She swipes the pot of boiling water off the stove, hands covered by her sleeves in case this goes south, and stands next to the entrance.

-----

Last night, Kane visited the library and read some instructions on how to feed naturally, so he feels a little more prepared this time. He returns to the human’s quarters and opens the door.

Instantly, Keegan swings, drenching Kane in the scalding water and slamming the pot into his face for good measure.

Not wasting a second she whips out the kitchen knife and dives for his throat.

Kane screams as the boiling water instantly scorches his skin, pain exploding all over him and the pot only adding to it. In his state of distraction, he barely manages to dodge the knife in time, the blade slicing through his shoulder instead of its intended target.

He throws a punch straight into the human's chest, close after her attack. With a sickening crack of several bones giving way under the force, she's sent flying back across the room.

"You little shit!" he screams. But he can't deal with this right now: he's hurt badly. He turns tail, slamming and locking the door.

Keegan chokes as the vampire's fist collides with her ribcage. The air is forced out of her lungs but the pain screams for her, only doubled when she slams into the wall. She slumps to the ground with a grunt, barely registering the sound of the door slamming shut. All she can do is shoves her forehead into the floor, teeth clenched tight, riding out the pain. That could not have gone worse. Air slowly trickles back into her chest but every breath is agony as her clearly broken ribs grind together.

He's going to kill her now. There's no way he won't after she injured him so badly. She needs to get up. Grab the knife and be ready for when he returns. She wont go down without a fight. Her first two attempts to rise have her arms giving out on her and falling back to the floor as the pain spikes. But eventually, painfully, Keegan rises to her feet, clutching her stomach with tears running down her face. She hobbles over to the fallen knife and swipes it up, gasping for breath.

---

Kane doesn't return anytime soon.

He spends the night recovering from his injuries, cursing out his moronic, defiant human, boiling with rage as hot as the water that had drenched him. By the next night, he's fully healed, but he doesn't return to his human then, either. He needs a plan. He drinks a blood pack both nights.

Some of the human food he'd bought starts to smell, as he didn’t get the chance to hand it over, so he throws it away, leaving only the things that hadn't started to go bad. Gifting his human anything seems foolish right now, but food is a necessity.

His human will need to be punished, and her access to weaponry taken away. But first, he has to get in there and incapacitate her before she can launch another makeshift attack.

It's two nights after when he carefully opens her door a crack, just enough to peek in.

-----

Keegan watches the door for a long time, tense as a board and shaking with exertion. Eventually though, she can't stand her injuries any longer and half sits half falls back onto the bed.

She stares at the door from there for a while longer, just waiting for him to return. Her whole body throbs and her ribs scream. If this had happened during a hunt, she'd be off to the hospital immediately. But here, there's nothing she can do about it.

She ends up hobbling her way around the human quarters for the rest of the day. Every step threatens to send her back to the floor. Every sound has her whipping her head towards the door.

She's losing her mind from stress and constant pain by the time he returns. She's not even ready for him, lying on the bed propped up by pillows. She flinches, scrambling to get up.

-----

Seeing his human is unarmed, Kane opens the door the rest of the way.

Good. She looks like she's learned her lesson, learned a bit of respect. Unlike him, she still seems to be injured. "Come here, human," he orders, beckoning her forward.

Keegan does not approach. Not taking her eyes off Kane, she feels around for the knife stashed under her pillows. She pulls it out, letting the safety towel she covered it with fall away. It's still difficult to stand, but she hides her hunched position with a fighting stance.

Kane gives her an exasperated look. "You will not win. Drop the knife and come here, now, unless you want to earn yourself even further discipline."

She knows she's setting herself up for failure, but still Keegan does not move.  She knows she won't win. But what other choice does she have? She's already hurt. He said discipline, and even if that means he isn't going to kill her, whatever he's planning to do won't be pleasant. She feels unbearably cornered. She can't hold the knife steady, shaking with fear.

"Why-” She swallows. Her voice is raspy and rough. “Why don't you just persuade me." It's both an insult and a genuine, frustrated question. Why is he toying with her? She doesn't want her mind stolen, of course. But this awful helplessness where she can't help but fight, no matter how slim her chances, is driving her insane.

She knows how this will inevitably end. With her in a world of hurt that she could have avoided. But if she gives in now, willingly, something inside her is going to break. So she clings stubbornly to this one-sided stand-off.

"I don't need persuasion to make you behave!" Kane snaps, his prepared excuse falling flat- it's obvious that persuasion would be a massive aid in making his human behave. It only makes him angrier, more determined to prove it.

He rushes forward, his movements quick with vampiric speed. He grabs his human's wrist tightly, ripping the knife away with his free hand. Then he throws her to the floor, hard.

Towering over her, he pins her with his shoe on her back, undoubtedly adding extra pain to her unhealed ribs. "Persuasion or not, you will fucking listen to me!"

Keegan only has half a second to consider his response, that maybe he just can't use persuasion at all, before he's on her. She can't even attempt to defend herself; one moment she's standing and the next he's knocked her prone. Her heart pounds with terror and she chokes, biting her tongue to avoid screaming. Her resolve crumbles though when he steps on her back. The pain racks up to a ten and she screams as her vision goes white. She writhes under him but unsurprisingly gets nowhere. Instead she goes limp, hoping it'll stop him from crushing her ribcage.

"S-Stop, stop Fuck! Stop!" She pleads.

Kane stops pressing down when she goes limp, but still doesn't fully let her up. "That's please stop, sir!" he barks, boiling with rage. He can control this situation. He can force her to respect him.

Keegan sputters, recovering from the agony with shallow wheezing breaths. It's a miracle he hasn't punctured a lung.

She pounds a fist into the floor. She hates this. Hates it. It's humiliating, and there's nothing she can do. She's punching a brick wall. Her knuckles are already bloody and if she keeps pushing, her fingers are going to snap.

Her face burns with shame. "Please stop....... Sir." She grinds her teeth through the words. "Please let me up, or you might suffocate me."

Kane takes a step back, letting her up. He points to the bed with the knife- he has no intent to use it on her, he just happens to be holding it. "Go sit on your bed. Now." Seeing how hurt she already is, he adds, "I'll consider your punishment over if there's no more defiance from you."

Keegan cautiously rises, holding her ribs. She eyes the knife he's holding and flinches when it moves, but then slumps in relief at his words. She shuffles over and sits, stiff as a board, watching him. She doesn't want to promise any more obedience, but also doesn't want to piss Kane off any more. "I... I couldn't be defiant even if I wanted to." She settles on.

"Good. Stay there," Kane orders.

He goes to the kitchen and collects all the knives aside from the bluntest ones, then cuts the power cord to the stove. He takes the pot she'd used as a weapon, too. After removing the offending items, he returns with what's left of his human's food requests.

"No more sharp knives or stove for you. Modify any future food requests to account for that." He leaves the bag of food on the side-table by the bed.

Keegan watches helplessly as Kane takes away her weapons. The pain in her chest has become significantly worse after being shoved to the ground. Every breath is a struggle and she can feel her bones grinding as her lungs expand. She very carefully shifts backwards until she can lean back on her pillows again. She lets out a whine of pain.

She hates herself for being disappointed when Kane breaks the stove. She has bigger issues to worry about, but it still sucks that she won’t be able to cook her meals. Especially now that she's going to be stuck here at least until her ribs heal. ‘Don't think about how it might be longer than that. Don't think about how you don't have another plan.’

She nods in defeat when he returns. She wants to ask for pain meds, but doubts he will oblige given her rebellion being what caused her injuries. Though, she does not like the idea of hobbling around for the next two months in constant pain.

"Could I... get pain medicine? Like acetaminophen?"

"You may not," Kane decides. "This is the consequence of your own actions."

Keegan isn't surprised. It was worth a shot.

Kane doesn't bother trying to get his human to stand for feeding, sitting beside her on the bed. "I am going to feed now. You will behave, and there will be no more discipline."

Her heart rate jumps back up when Kane gets close, the disastrous feeding from three days ago still fresh in her mind.  She does not want to deal with that on top of her chest pain.

"Y-yeah, ok." She swallows, trying to speak clearly. "Just- you've figured it out, right?"

"I've got it," he insists, before biting into his human's neck.

The attempt isn't disastrous like last time, but he hasn't 'got it'. He doesn't feed with experience, and it's not comfortable for either of them- though most of all his human- but there's no pressing matter like last time.

When he's done, he licks the wound closed and stands up. "Have a new list ready for me tomorrow night. After that, I'll collect them on a weekly basis."

Keegan grimaces as Kane feeds. It hurts, and it’s weird, but at least she's not gushing blood. She shivers with disgust when he closes the wound, she'd much rather deal with it herself. Maybe she'll put "bandages" on the list too. When Kane stands up she wipes off her neck with her sleeve even though the skin is sore.

"Sure." She says. "Anything else?" ‘Please go away now.’

"No." Kane leaves her alone once again.

He feels some mild sense of success, having broken his human's will. He's won. But something still doesn't feel right. It's a thin mask disguising her boiling rage. But that's the best he's going to get, he supposes.

Keegan slumps back after Kane is gone. She's utterly miserable. Lying painfully in bed and cursing her failed escape attempt. She wants to cry again. She bites her lip to stave it off.

She rummages through the bag Kane left and is disappointed to see that he didn't get everything. He did however get the cider, much to her excitement. She cracks one open immediately. It’s not cold, but it’s better than nothing. And maybe a buzz will help in lieu of pain meds...

-----

The next 24 hours pass slowly. Keegan can't do much, mostly bedridden if not eating or using the bathroom, and there’s nothing really to do in the barren human quarters. The boredom eventually has her trying to pace, but the discomfort becomes too much after a short while.

She writes a new list; lots of protein bars, microwavable meals, and simple snack foods like popcorn and chips. She also tries again with the fridge foods.

She ends up going through half the ciders, just to give herself something to do. It does help with the pain, but only a little, so every couple hours she takes out another. She falls asleep that night- or is it day? She doesn’t know- pleasantly drunk, pretending she's safe at home.

Kane comes back the next night, as promised. "Good evening," he says, like nothing's happened. He's pleased to find that for once, his human is docile, with no plan of attack.

She still looks poorly, so he generously offers her the option. "Can you easily stand?"

When Keegan wakes up she is greeted by the consequences of her actions and a prick standing at the door. "Hi. She says flatly. Her head feels... not great, but her chest is worse, now that the buzz has worn off. She wishes she had woken up earlier so she could've eaten and hydrated before the vampire showed up. Standing sounds hellish right now, but Keegan isn't a quitter. She pulls herself up with a hiss, then straightens up to stand at her full height; almost a foot taller than Kane. It gives her a wave of petty satisfaction.

Kane pulls her down so she's leaning over, then bites. He's instantly hit by the rancid taste: he'd thought she'd smelled off before, but it's worse than he'd imagined. Though his nose crinkles, he finishes his meal, then licks the wound shut.

"Ugh! What happened?" he asks, aghast. "What did you eat? Your blood's horrible!

Keegan just barely restrains herself from swiping at him when he pulls her down. ‘The bite is bad enough, don't fucking touch me.’ She lets him bite and lets him lick the wound closed all while repeating to herself that it's ‘just for now. Just until I heal…’ 

She's surprised by his reaction though. "Huh? I just ate the shit you gave me." She bristles at him, insulted by a comment towards her blood of all things. "My blood's fine!" Though, as she says that, it dawns on her. He must taste the alcohol in her blood. She certainly over-indulged. She keeps her mouth shut. Maybe if her blood tastes bad long enough he'll let her go.

"It is not fine," Kane insists. He narrows his eyes, suspicious. "You know something. You're doing something. I thought this misbehavior was over with!"

"How am I supposed to know what blood is meant to taste like? You're the vampire." She says, crossing her arms.

"Hmph." Kane goes to the kitchen and rummages through her food, but can't find anything suspicious. He doesn't know enough about human things. "I know you know. Confess now, or everything I've delivered so far will be banned from lists."

"What??" Keegan exclaims. "Oh come on, it's just normal food! Maybe my blood just isn't as good as you thought it was." This is ridiculous.

"Don't lie to me!" Kane begins to get heated. "I'm not stupid! I know you're doing something, and it's not going to work! Quit acting like a petulant child!"

"Then quit treating me like one!" Keegan spits back. "All this talk of 'discipline' and 'behaving' like I'm an unruly kid instead of a person you’ve kidnapped. Give me a fucking break!  You're already stealing my blood, sorry if it isn't up to your standards."

Kane slaps her across the face, hard. "You will behave!" he shouts.

But he smelled something on the human's breath- something he'd smelled when going through her food, too. He goes back, picking up a case with some kind of beverage inside. Cider, its label announces. "It's this."

Keegan yelps as her head whips to the side and her cheek explodes with pain. Her headache, that so far had been a dull throb, spikes unpleasantly. She holds her stinging face and watches Kane pick up the drinks. She doesn't answer, but her glance to the side gives her away.

"Get your attitude under control," Kane snaps, but he doesn't hurt her any further. He takes the case of cider, picks up the list he sees sitting on the kitchen counter, and leaves.

'Hypocrite." Keegan mutters after Kane has left.

Her cheek burns with the ghost of a handprint. It's a feeling Keegan hasn't felt in a while, and never from a vampire. She hasn't missed it. Kane's strike was certainly more painful, but the act itself is familiar in a way that Keegan is not a fan of. A fight, with punches and kicks and weapons, is all about survival. A slap is different. It's about control and discipline. It's personal. It makes her want to curl up and hide like she's a child again.

She focuses on hate instead. picturing all the ways she'll kill this monster when she gets the chance, so she doesn't have to think about it.

-----

A week passes with Keegan doing her best to heal. She tries to keep her mouth shut during feeding, but she's not very good at it. Comments and insults slip out more often than not. Her chest is a mess of purple and blue, and breathing is tough, but at least the pain fades a little every day. However, and it concerns her, she cannot stop coughing.

It started on the 5th day after the incident, and has only gotten worse with time. It jostles her healing ribs and makes it even harder to get enough oxygen. It has even interrupted Kane's feeding and given her another painful neck wound on top of everything else. She's absolutely miserable. She hopes for it to get better on its own, (it's not like she can go to Urgent Care) but by the end of the week she's bedridden and coughing up a nasty-looking phlegm.

---

Kane doesn't know much about illness, and what he does know he's heard secondhand from other vampires, more rumor than fact. He's never even had a pet, and knows even less about the phenomenon than those who might have had a sick cat. He knows there are different kinds of illness, some serious and some not. He knows that elderly humans are the more likely to suffer the more serious effects- in fact, he's heard that only elderly humans die of illness. He knows that most illnesses get better on their own, but that humans can also suffer permanent damage.

And he knows that his human is sick, and that she is not getting better.

Her blood tastes worse too, so it's even affecting him. It's a different sort of thing than what the cider did, and it's getting worse and worse by the night.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks when he goes to see his human that night. "Humans are supposed to recover from illness. Why aren't you getting better?"

Keegan groans when Kane returns, which quickly turns into a coughing fit. "It's my ribs. *cough* You fucked them up real bad and I- *cough cough* I can't breathe."

Keegan isn't a doctor, she doesn't know what's wrong either, but she has a pretty good guess. "I need medical attention." A hospital is what she needs.

If she'd asked a week ago, Kane would have dismissed her concerns. But now...

"Fine. We'll go after feeding," he decides reluctantly. "But you will behave yourself in public or else. I will not have you making a fool of me."

"We're actually going somewhere?" She asks, genuinely surprised. She didn't think it would be an option. She supposes it's not too strange for vampires to have somewhere to take their sick humans, but she'd never considered it until now. She kind of assumed they'd just... let them die. Her immediate thought is of course, ‘how can I use this opportunity to escape?’ But Kane's threat reminds her that one, if they're going out, they'll be surrounded by other vampires, and two, she's in absolutely no shape to resist right now.

"Yeah yeah, I *cough* I get it."

Kane’s feeding is a similar ordeal as it's been for the past week. He grimaces after closing her wound, wiping his mouth.

"Alright, come on then." Without warning, he scoops her into his arms, carrying her out the door.

Keegan shouts in surprise when she's lifted into the air. She struggles immediately, though it hurts to do so. "F-fuck! Stop, put me down! I can walk!" Her fatigued body would say otherwise, but she'd rather limp her way around then be carried by this guy. She turns her back just so and chokes in pain as her ribs shift.

Despite the human's struggles, Kane holds her steady. He looks at her like she's an idiot. "We're not walking. Settle down!"

Right, vampires... he's just gonna run there, no cars required. Kane takes off like a rocket and Keegan instinctively grabs onto his shirt as her stomach drops. It's exhilarating, the world around them a blur. In any other context Keegan would be cheering in excitement. Instead she squeezes her eyes shut and holds on for dear life. Kane doesn’t stop until they reach the Doctor’s Office.

-----

The waiting room Kane carries Keegan into is full of vampires, all there for a variety of reasons. Most vampires look perfectly healthy. One is there in a wheelchair, one leg freshly missing and seeping blood. The vampire looks to be in pain, but not otherwise concerned. One vampire couple is there, the wife heavily pregnant. Some vampires are there with humans, ranging from healthy-looking to sick-looking, all of whom share the same unaware, zombie-like gaze. More yet are there with animals: two vampires hold cages carrying cats, and one has an excitable-looking dog on a leash. Apparently, all are here to see the same office, and such matters are not separated by profession in vampire territory.

Kane sets her down. "Behave," he orders under his breath. He motions her to follow as he walks toward the front desk.

---

For Keegan, the doctor's office is culture shock to the extreme. Alarm bells ring in her mind being surrounded by so many vampires. The deadly, blood-drinking monsters that haunt her nightmares. And they are all just... existing. Like normal people. Going to the doctor for their various problems. Some even have pets. Keegan stares in awe.

God, and then there's the humans. horror creeps onto Keegan's face as she watches them, shuffling around with empty expressions like they're sleepwalking. She has an intense urge to save them, to tear them away from their abusers. But as Kane sets her down she realizes she’s just like them. Just another thrall. She might have her mind intact, but she’s no hunter here. She looks at each of them in turn, memorizing their faces. ‘I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.’ She follows after Kane, feeling nauseous.

"How can I help you?" the receptionist asks.

Keegan opens her mouth to explain but is interrupted.

Kane nods toward his human. "My human's sick and not getting better."

The receptionist gives Keegan a sympathetic look, pitying her. "Aw, well we can certainly help with that. Why don't you fill out this form and have a seat."

Kane takes the form and sits in the waiting room. He snaps at his human and points to the seat next to him, indicating her to sit there as he looks over the form. "How old are you?" he asks quietly, one of the questions on the paper.

Keegan does not like the look the receptionist gives her and she really doesn't like how Kane snaps his fingers. "I'm not a dog." she spits. Though she's painfully aware that she has more in common with the animals in the room than with the vampires. She slumps down into the seat and immediately gets hit with another coughing fit. "I'm twenty." She wheezes once she has control of her breathing again.

Kane shoots her a death glare at the outburst, but he doesn't want to make a scene here, so he lets it slide. Only twenty. So young, he almost feels bad. Maybe he would if she were better-behaved.

He writes her age where it says to, then ticks off boxes. Coughing or sneezing. Change in smell or taste of blood. Lethargy. Behavioral problems. He writes a very brief summary of how her injury took place, leaving out details that make him seem pathetic: calling her attack attempted, rather than successful. This is humiliating. He's even more soured when he hands in the form.

It's not long before they're called up. A staff member leads them to a room, chatting with Kane on the way.

"We do offer services for those experiencing difficulty with persuasion," she remarks cheerfully at one point.

Kane glowers. "I've attempted."

The room looks mostly like a regular doctor's office one might find in human territory. The staff member gestures for Keegan to sit in the patient's chair. "Have a seat just there," she says, speaking directly to her for the first time.

Keegan can try to pretend this is a normal doctor visit. If she doesn't look too hard. She sits where indicated, hoping the rest of the appointment will go smoothly.

"Now, since you've indicated your human has behavioral issues and you won't be doing it yourself, we'll be using persuasion on her for the duration of the appointment," the staff member tells Kane.

"Go ahead," Kane agrees, face reddening with embarrassment.

Keegan's eyes widen. She opens her mouth to say ‘wait, no you don't need to do that-’ but the staff member puts her under before she can speak. She's overcome by pure mild contentment, her will and emotions stolen from her.

The appointment does, in fact, go smoothly. Her vitals are taken, the doctor comes in and examines her, ordering her this way and that. Kane looks away when the doctor lifts her shirt to examine her ribs, and doesn't look back until she announces that the examination is over.

The doctor diagnoses her with pneumonia and broken ribs. The ribs will heal on their own in about two months with no further trauma to them, and Kane is given an antibiotic for the pneumonia. The doctor also tells Kane not to feed from her until the pneumonia clears up, which should only take about a week.

He pays for the appointment, and Keegan regains her will and emotions when they're out the door, retaining full recollection of the visit.

Kane shoves the antibiotic at her. "Hold this while I carry you home," he snaps. He's in a bad mood.

Keegan is no stranger to the feeling, but coming out of persuasion is horrible every time. She flinches away from Kane hard, fear written all over her face. She takes the medicine on instinct, then wraps her arms around her stomach defensively. She feels violated. It was completely unnecessary too, she would've cooperated.

At least she can remember what happened. They could have done anything to her back there, but it was just a normal examination. The removal of her shirt doesn't even really bother her since it makes practical sense. Though she still blushes in humiliation. Kane's pissed off though. Why? She didn't do anything wrong. Half the time she didn't have the willpower to anyway. It makes her feel terribly unsafe.

---

It's humiliating. Kane shouldn't need to have the doctor keep his human under control during an examination. He shouldn't need to come in for an ill human because he couldn't keep her under control without violence. He shouldn't need to feed from blood packs again because of it, like a commoner or a child. The way the doctor's staff had said ‘We do offer services for those experiencing difficulty with persuasion’ burns through his mind, over and over, knowing it will never work. Knowing he's tried it all.

He scoops his human up and runs her home, seething over the experience the whole time. He drops her off in her room.

"Follow the instructions on the bottle. I'll see you in a week." He slams the door shut and storms off.

---

Keegan relaxes significantly once Kane is gone. She could feel his anger simmering the whole run home and kept her mouth firmly shut for her own safety. She is glad to have a week to recover without him feeding more. she can't imagine it was helping the healing process. She reads the bottle and takes the medicine, then goes to take a hot shower to wash off the feeling of vampire hands all over her. The heat feels amazing on her bruises as well.

Two months. That's how long it will take her ribs to heal. She has two months to bite her tongue and behave while planning her next escape plan. She cannot fuck it up this time. She might not survive it if she does.

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

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