#why not slice off a finger before they die so you can use it

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[prodbymaui]

Fraying Hearstrings

we were so beautiful, we were so tragic

The saying goes that time heals all wounds, yet with every tick of the clock, it feels like the cuts in your heart become shallower while the pain only burrows deeper.

“That was so embarrassing. Why would you do that?” Jaehyun's voice slices through the tension in the room, sharp and unforgiving, as he tosses his things onto the sofa, hastily following after you. His hair is disheveled, the stress showing in the wrinkles of his crumpled dress shirt.

“Embarrassing? Really, Jaehyun?" you snap, turning to face him. Your finger jabs into his chest before his hand grips your wrist with a force that’s all too unfamiliar. You flinch, momentarily stunned by the person in front of you—your husband, or at least, the man who used to be.

“Yes! You were embarrassing,” he seethes, shoving your arm away. “Throwing a tantrum like some kid who didn’t get their way? In front of my colleagues, my boss—God! Do you ever think before pulling stunts like that?”

He scoffs, letting his gaze rake over your tear-streaked face with a disdain that cuts deeper than any words.

“Or were you too busy trying to prove you were ‘right’ with your baseless accusations?”

A bitter laugh escapes you, disbelief spreading across your features. You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself from the hurt threatening to spill out. "Baseless? Are you kidding me, Jaehyun? I saw you, with another woman, sitting on your lap!"

"Keep your voice down. The kids are asleep!"

You scoff, voice trembling with both rage and heartbreak. "Now you care about the kids? After everything, you suddenly care about them? Is it because you're scared they'll realize their parents' marriage is a farce, that it’s not as perfect as we pretend it is? Or is it because you’re scared they’ll figure out their father’s a lying, cheating bastard?”

You stand there, the air thick with tension, your heart pounding as Jaehyun’s expression shifts from anger to something almost unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he might say something—apologize, perhaps, or at least try to explain himself. But instead, he just runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his features.

“Look, can we just—” he starts, but the words die on his lips when you shake your head, the gravity of the situation pulling you further from him.

“No,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. “You don’t get to just brush this off. I can’t believe you’d think I’d let it slide after what I saw.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand, cutting him off. “I deserve better than this, Jaehyun. Better than to be treated like a fool. You’ve made your choice.”

His eyes flash with something that looks like guilt, and for a brief moment, it feels like you’re peering into the depths of his soul. But then he masks it with defiance. “You’re overreacting. You don’t know the whole story!”

“Then tell me!” you challenge, desperation creeping into your voice. “What could possibly justify you sitting with another woman like that?”

He falters, his bravado slipping as he grapples with his own defense. “It wasn’t what you think. She was just—”

“Just what?” You interject, your voice rising with frustration. “Just a friend? Just work-related? I’m done with the excuses!”

Jaehyun’s shoulders tense, his anger flaring again. “You think you can just accuse me and then walk away? This is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous? You’re the one who was caught! You’re the one who made a fool out of me!” 

The room crackles with tension, each word throwing more fuel on the fire. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you made such a scene!” He shoots back, his voice rising.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so careless!” You yell, frustration boiling over. “You’ve turned this marriage into a joke, and I’m sick of it!”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be here fighting with you? Maybe we’re just better off apart!”

The words hang in the air, sharp and stinging. You freeze, your heart racing at the sudden clarity in his statement. 

“Are you serious right now?” You demand, disbelief etched on your face.

“Yeah, I am!” He snaps back, anger and hurt twisting his features. “Maybe we’re just tired of trying to fix something that’s already broken!”

A bitter silence follows, the realization settling in like a heavy weight. You look at him, eyes blazing, and for the first time, you see how worn down he truly is. 

“Fine,” you say, voice trembling with emotion. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just stop fighting it.”

“Maybe we should,” He replies, his voice cold and distant.

With that, the air between you shifts, the warmth of your connection replaced by a chilling reality. You turn away, tears threatening to spill as you grapple with the decision that has emerged from the chaos. This fight may have revealed the truth you both have been too afraid to confront: it’s time to let go.

[syluscore]

Everybody's Gotta Die Sometime

~step brother Ghostface! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

happy halloween to my ghostface leon fuckers. and to hopefully my new ghostface leon fucker recruits. <3 (shoutout to @lipglossanon for making me discover my love of stepcest. and shoutout to @delusionalbunni for requesting this. and everyone in the discord server for giving me ideas constantly)

Word count: 5419

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DON'T FUCKING EAT IT, dubcon, noncon, dom leon, stepcest, kidnapping, drugging, bodily harm, wounds, cuts, blood, knife usage, serial killer, murders, stalking, pervert leon, discusses scenes from Scream, pet names, degradation, praise, dry humping, aggressive sex, finger sucking, slapping, ass slapping, daddy kink, baby trapping, forced impregnation, talk of body changes, talk of lactation, spitting, blood eating, BREEDING KINK, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and more dirty talk then you'll know what to do with

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!

“Run, my pretty bunny,” he whispers in your ear before pushing you down into the mud. A yelp of pain escapes from your throat as you connect with the unforgiving ground. Blood is already running down your chest from where he cut you just moments ago. A little slice to show you just how serious he was. And if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you’re sure it’d hurt like a bitch.

“By time I count to twenty, you better be out of my fucking sight.” 

You push yourself up with all the strength you can muster and force yourself to move forward as he starts counting behind you. The drugs are still flowing through you, making your blood feel thick like honey. Your brain is enveloped in a dense fog that has you disorientated as you weave through the heavily wooded forest.

You know you don’t stand a chance; of course you don’t. But he wants to play this stupid game of cat and mouse, so you’ll play along; it’s probably the only way you’ll make it out of this alive. 

Your legs are unsteady as you traverse the uneven terrain, using tree branches to keep yourself up on your feet. 

Why you of all people? 

The Ghostface copy-cat killer has been terrorizing this small town for months now and you’d never heard of him taking any of his victims to the woods to play “chase.” His murders have always been quick, spontaneous, and brutal. There had never been mentions of a second location. 

You must be one lucky girl. 

You remember walking home from work. Sure, it was late at night so it was pretty dark, but you didn’t have any other choice. Your boss asked you to stay late, and if you had any hope of being brought on full time, you couldn’t say no.

So you said yes and before you could make it home, someone was grabbing you from behind and holding a towel up over your nose and mouth. Then everything went black.

And then you woke up, tied up in the woods with a bag over your head. The bag was quickly yanked off and the first thing you saw was that fucking mask. The Ghostface mask. 

You tried to fight him as best as you could, but you were far too weak, and he was far too strong. You never really stood a chance. You pleaded with him, begged him to let you go, but you were only met with anger. 

You knew you were poking the bear when you told him he wouldn’t actually do anything. And when he sliced you open across your chest with his blade, you only really had yourself to blame. And when he told you to run, that he wanted to play with you, you weren’t in any position to fight him on it.

So now you’re running through the dark wooded area. You don’t have a fucking clue where you are, you don’t know where you’re headed, you don’t have a plan, and possibly the worst part? You don’t know where he is. You somehow preferred being in that small clearing with him taunting and tormenting you than being out here amongst the trees all alone, every little sound making you jump out of your skin.

How long have you been running through the woods? Time seems to be passing by so slowly as you put forth your best effort. You’re leaned up against a tree, clinging to the bark to keep from completely toppling over. You’re so lightheaded, your head spinning, you don’t know which way is up and which way is down as the world spins around you.

Your lungs ache from the overexertion, the only things you can focus on being the sound of your heart beat pounding in your ears and fighting back the vomit threatening to spill from your throat. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your arms too weak to keep hanging onto the tree. You feel yourself falling backwards, feel yourself fainting and not being able to do anything to stop it. 

Before your body can connect with the ground, arms are wrapping around you just like they had before you passed out the first time. You groan out in pain as you’re laid gently on the forest floor.

Your head is still spinning, your eyes unable to focus as you hear a distant voice talking to you.

You slowly come back to yourself and when you do, you realize you’re looking up at Ghostface himself.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” He questions you. You try to answer him, but your words die in your throat. You’re still feeling too weak to even speak.

You look up at the moonlight breaking through the trees above you, thinking about how pretty of a view you get to witness while dying. You guess if you did have to choose, this is the sight you’d choose to experience while your body slowly gives up on itself.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when hands grasp your face firmly and pull you to look ahead of you. It takes a minute for you to fully process that Ghostface no longer has his mask on. And you’re sure you’ve died or are hallucinating as death pulls you under when you see the killer’s real face. And it’s not just any face, because that would be too simple. No, it’s one you recognize and one you recognize well.

You choke out words, them barely coming out above a whisper, “Leon? Is that you?”

His cocky, shit eating grin takes over his entire face. You don’t need him to respond anymore. That look is undeniably and so certainly Leon fucking Kennedy.

“In the flesh, baby sis,” he rubs his thumb across your cheek. 

“Are you- you’re Ghostface? Like, the Ghostface?” You’re trying to process what’s happening, but it’s so fucking unreal. There has to be some other explanation. 

“You’ve always been such a stupid girl.” He shakes his head as he fights back a smirk. “You never connected the dots? Never pieced it together for yourself?”

You stare up at him, giving up fighting your tears.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you. All the random murders? Oh baby. They weren’t random,” he laughs with a look of disbelief on his face. “Let’s see. Your boyfriend? Couldn’t have him thinking what’s mine belongs to him. That girl that used to live in our neighborhood? She was always such a bitch to you.”

You search his face for any signs of what he’s getting at, but you don’t find any answers. “I don’t understand.”

“How about that barista who always had an attitude with you? Your old manager who made you uncomfortable and didn’t give a shit?”

All you can do is stare up at him. What does your old boss have to do with this? And what barista is he talking about? They’re all bitchy at the coffee shop near your place. If someone was ever nice to you there, you’d be worried about what’s wrong with the world.

“Oh! I know what’ll make you a happy little bunny! Any guesses?”

“I don’t suppose it’s you changing your mind and letting me go?”

Leon bursts out laughing at your response, “You’re so silly. No, baby. I found the lady who did that hit and run on your car. She was drunk off her ass that day and the day I found her. It amazes me how the police could never find her, yet it only took me two days. Now they’ll really never find her.”

He brings his face down to yours, until he’s barely a few inches away from you.

“You killed them?”

“Every one of them.”

“And what about the others?”

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Some were for practice, some were for fun.” He shrugs as if he isn’t admitting to a bunch of murders. “But if they were an inconvenience to us, they had to go.”

“None of them had to die, Leon.”

“Everybody dies, bunny. Better to be by my hand than some flesh eating disease, right?” The hand not caressing your face starts to slowly roam your body, his fingers gently running down your side. 

“Please let me go. You don’t have to do this.”

You try to shake yourself beneath him, but he’s using all of his weight to pin you to the cold, muddy ground.

“Big brother just wants to take care of his little sis,” Leon coos at you, his fringe sticking to his forehead as the blood there slowly dries.

“You’re not my fucking brother, Leon. We haven’t seen each other since we were kids.” Your voice is mean, a complete contrast from the way you look. Covered in mud, tears, sweat, and blood. You can taste it on your lips.

He laughs down at you. “We haven’t? Baby. I see you all the time. I see you behind the counter at work. I see you at the grocery store when you need to pick up some milk and bread. I see you when you check your pockets for your wallet and keys before you go in the back door of your house.” He drags his knife down your neck, hard enough to sting but gentle enough to not break the skin. “I see you with your fingers buried deep in that tight cunt when you think no one is watching. I don’t just see it either, I hear it. I hear how loud and needy you are. It’s as if you’re subconsciously begging for big brother’s cock. Calling out for me to stuff this little pussy full, breed that tight hole until you can’t take it anymore. I see you everywhere you go baby, even in the privacy of your own bedroom.”

You can’t formulate a response, so you just stare up at him dumbfounded. You hope he’s bluffing–he has to be bluffing.

“So maybe you haven’t seen me since we were kids, but I see you all the time, sweet baby sis.”

“You’re lying. Anybody could say that vague shit.” You give him a dirty look as he presses the blade harshly against your skin. You hiss out at the stinging pain and cringe as you feel your warm blood ooze from the fresh wound.

“Oh? You don’t believe me?” You shake your head, further cutting yourself on the knife, yelping before stilling yourself once again. Quickly trying to correct your mistake.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he shifts his eyes as if deep in thought. “What about that step brother porn you’re always watching? Oh step bro, we can’t do this. Mom and Dad will catch us!” Your face heats at his words. “Or maybe when you shoved your hand in your panties while watching Scream? You came how many times? Do you remember, baby sis?”

You stumble over your words. “I-, um, well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You give him a stern look, trying to emphasize your seriousness, but it’s useless.

His hand quickly wraps around your throat and squeezes. You struggle beneath him as your air is cut off, but he only squeezes tighter. 

“Stay. Still!” He screams right in your face and you freeze in fear. You hold yourself as still as possible despite not being able to breathe.

“Remember when you came when Tatum got stuck in the garage door? Or maybe when Billy revealed he was Ghostface? Or when Billy and Stu were stabbing each other?”

“No,” you squeak out, barely able to speak with your constricted airway. 

He squeezes even tighter, your face is on fire as you gasp and whine for air.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking brat.” He shakes your whole body with just the grip on your throat. “You gonna tell me the truth?” He yells out as your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen.

He loosens his grip enough to allow some air to enter your lungs. “Tell me, god dammit!”

“Okay!” You choke out and he releases your throat. You desperately suck in air and cough from the ache in your throat. “Okay. It’s true, okay?”

“What’s true? Use your words, princess.”

“I fucking touched myself while watching a Ghostface movie! Is that what you wanted to hear? Wanted to hear me admit it even though you fucking saw it! I got off watching it, okay?”

More tears stream down your face, shame filling you after your confession. Speaking the words out loud makes it all the more real, all the more embarrassing.

How the fuck did you end up here? Exhausted in the mud beneath your ex step brother?

He sits back on his haunches and picks the mask up off the ground, quickly slipping it back on and adjusting it back into place. When his hand falls back to his side, you notice the blood smears left behind on his white mask. Your blood stains it. 

“See something you like, princess?” Leon quirks his head to the side, his voice teasing. Your face immediately heats up from being caught staring. You hadn’t meant to be staring so long.

You avert your eyes, looking off into the trees and avoiding his mask completely. 

“Why do you think I wear this fucking mask?” He spits out, aggressively grabbing your chin and making you look right into the empty eyes of the mask.

You whimper out and shake your head no. He lessens his grip on your chin in favor of running his thumb softly over your cheek. 

“Oh, baby. It’s all for you. Don’t you see it? I killed them all for you, I chose this mask because it gets you all wet, and now?” He chuckles and brings his mouth up to your ear. He whispers as if he’s divulging you in some deep, dark secret, “Now, I’m gonna fuck you while wearing this mask. And you’re gonna fucking love it.”

Your jaw drops as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Wha-what? No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He grinds his pelvis into your abdomen and that’s when you feel it. His hard cock pushes against you and it solidifies his claim. He’s really going to fuck you.

And you want to be disgusted, you want to scream and push him off, but you don’t say a word as you clench your thighs together. You had been so caught up in the chase, so caught up in putting up a fight that you didn’t stop and realize how fucking wet you are.

You cringe at the throbbing in your cunt. Your panties and thighs are soaked, you’re sure you’ve soaked all the way through your pants as well.

You want to explain it off. It’s just an adrenaline response, it’s out of your control. But as he continues to grind into you, you find your hips raising up and meeting his rhythm. Your lip is bleeding from how harshly you’re biting it, your hands curled into clenched fists.

“There she is. There’s my dirty fucking bunny. Knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, knew you needed your big brother’s cock.”

You whine at his words, his clothed crotch grinding into yours causing your panties to dig into your throbbing clit. The friction is so good, it has sweat beading down your back, but it just isn’t fucking enough. Not nearly enough.

“Leon,” your voice is high pitched and whiny. You lift your hands from beneath his thighs and reach out to cling to him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists in one of his hands and pin them above your head.

“None of that, baby sis. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Please,” you both continue rolling your hips together, finding an achingly perfect rhythm. If he keeps this up, keeps grinding into that spot that’s just right over and over, you’re gonna cum just like this. 

He grinds into your clit particularly hard and it has your eyes rolling back, a pathetic moan falling from your lips and echoing out in the empty woods surrounding you.

“Please what, princess? If I don’t know what you want I can’t give it to you. And I’ll stop right now.”

“No!”

“Then use your fucking words, you dumb bunny,” He spits at you angrily. His muffled voice through the Ghostface mask sounds like sex itself. He could say anything to you right now and it would have you drooling for him.

“Wanna cum,” you whine out, toes curling in your shoes.

He slows his hips, just barely continuing to grind into you. “Not enough.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me. I need you inside of me.”

“See? Not so hard is it? You want big brothers cock stuffing this slutty pussy full?

You arch your back, pushing your body up into his in desperation. “Yes. Please, fuck. Need your cock.”

“Who’s cock?”

“Yours?” 

“Nu uh, not good enough.”

You whine out, kicking your feet in frustration. “Big brother’s cock. I need my big brother’s cock inside of me. I wanna feel it.”

He sits back on his haunches, releasing your hands from his grasp. His hands go down to start undoing his belt as you reach out and palm his cock through his black jeans.

You gasp as you feel how fucking big he is.

Leon clicks his tongue as he releases his belt and slowly starts working the zipper on his jeans down, “What? Not what you were expecting?”

You whimper at his cocky tone, unable to speak. The only thing you can focus on is getting his cock inside of you.

“Need your big brother to fill you up with his big cock?”

“Yes. Please,” you whine as you wiggle beneath him. You can’t make yourself stay still, your body thrashes with need. 

His pants are undone, barely hanging onto his hips when he releases your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position. He grabs your shirt and quickly pulls it over your head, tossing it off to the side haphazardly. He doesn’t even bother pulling your leggings off, grabbing the crotch and tearing it open.

“Hands and knees,” he instructs you and you immediately comply, rolling over and pushing your ass up in the air for him.

He groans at the sight of your lace panties clinging to your pussy, your arousal working as a glue. He tears your leggings further, not stopping until your whole ass is exposed for him.

He runs his fingers over your panty clad pussy and it has you pressing yourself back into his touch. He makes a sound of disapproval before a loud smack rings out, followed by a sharp stinging pain in your ass cheek. 

He presses his chest into your back, bringing his mouth down to your ear. “Such an impatient slut,” he growls as he grinds his bare cock against you. 

You go to turn your head to look back at him, but his hand is quick to grab your face and force you to look forward, before his hand roughly covers your mouth.

“Stay fucking still,” he hisses out at you, causing all of your muscles to freeze up in fear. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you hates it, but another part, a much bigger part, loves it and has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it. Stay still like a good fuck bunny for your big brother.”

You feel him pull your panties away from your pussy and bunch them up and out of the way, before his fingers lightly graze around your needy hole. 

“So fucking wet. And you tried saying you didn’t want this,” he chuckles directly into your ear, sounding like pure sex to you. He releases your mouth and instead pushes your face to the ground and holds the back of your neck instead. 

His free hand leaves where he was teasing your hole, surprising you when he grabs one of your hands and brings it back to your wet cunt.

“Feel how fucking wet you are.” He pushes your fingers up against your soaked clit and your legs quiver at the sudden stimulation. “Feel that, bunny? Feel what your big brother did to you?”

You moan out as he continues rubbing your fingers into your clit.

“Yes,” your voice comes out whiny, “Big brother gets my pussy so wet.”

“Good girl. Should I give you what you want? Want me to shove my cock in my little sister’s pussy?” 

You push your ass back against his groin again. “Yes, your little sister needs her pussy bred.”

He pulls your hand from your clit and brings your wet fingers up to your mouth. “Here. Open up and tell me how this slutty pussy tastes.” 

You’ve barely opened your mouth before he’s pushing his fingers down against your tongue, causing you to eagerly lick and suck them clean. 

“That’s it, taste this sweet fucking pussy for me. Such a good slut, huh? Nothing but a fuck bunny for me,” he shoves his fingers to the back of your throat, forcing you to fight your gag reflex while tears slip from your eyes.

You choke around his fingers and he quickly pulls them from your throat.

“You like tasting your own slutty pussy?”

You can’t stop the moan that slips past your lips, “Yes. I love it.”

“You love what? Come on, baby. Use your words so I can reward you.”

Another harsh slap to your ass has you yelping out, “I love tasting my own pussy. Love when big brother makes me taste myself.”

You crane your neck to look back at Leon and he lets you look at him. Mask still in place, t-shirt bunched up above his belly, his pants and boxers pushed down his thighs. 

His cock is right against your needy hole. Just one small movement of his hips and you could finally feel him inside of you.

“There you go. Watch as big brother spreads you open on his cock.”

And then he slowly pushes forward and you look into his mask as you finally feel him inside of you. 

Your pussy is immediately clenching around him. Weak little moans continuously falling from your lips as he pushes in further and further. 

“Such a tight pussy, fuck.” He praises as he bottoms out and holds his dick inside of you. “You were made to take big brother’s cock. Look so fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper softly into the ground at his words, staying still and willing yourself to adjust to his massive dick. You feel split in half already and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

His hand runs up and down your back, along your spine gently. “That’s it, you got this, pretty bunny. Gonna bread this tight cunt, ruin you for anyone else.”

“Pl-please,” you whined out, “Please fuck me. I want it so bad. Big brother, please-”

You can’t even finish begging before he’s pulling out and roughly shoving his cock back into you.

“Oh my god,” your voice comes out in a tone you don’t even recognize as your own. “Yes, yes, yes, please. Oh fuck.”

He roughly grips your hip as he effortlessly thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

“You like that, baby sis? Already going dumb on my cock and I haven’t even properly started fucking you yet. Such a pathetic little whore, my pathetic little whore. Taking my cock so fucking well.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slowly starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. 

“All yours. Your whore,” you aren’t able to finish your statement before he starts aggressively fucking his cock into you. The only sounds leaving your mouth are broken gasps. The pleasure is too intense for you to make any other noise, mouth stuck open on a silent moan.

He moves his hand from the back of your throat, instead grabbing a handful of your hair harshly and yanking you back until your head is against his shoulder. The moan you release is nothing short of pornographic at the pain in your scalp.

He chuckles before speaking right against your ear, “Fucking take it, you stupid whore. Dumb little sis likes it rough. I’ll fucking give it to you just like you want it. Gonna fucking break you.”

“Oh fuck yes, daddy,” you don’t even register the words you’ve said until Leon let’s out a loud moan.

“Daddy? You dirty little girl. Want daddy to breed you? Need daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You’re too far gone in a pleasure filled haze to be embarrassed about calling him daddy. Fuck, you’d call him anything he asks right now.

“Gonna let daddy put a baby in you? Keep you tied to me forever.” He’s practically growling in your ear at this point, so worked up over you calling him daddy. “Gonna swell up with my baby and everyone will know how good I fuck you.”

“No, daddy, we can’t,” you try to reason with him through your brain fog.

He laughs loudly in your ear. “But I can, and I will. God, your boobs are gonna fucking leak all over. Gonna fucking suck those milky tits dry.”

You can’t stop yourself from clenching around his dick at his filthy words.

“Ugh, knew you’d like that. Gonna be tied to daddy forever. You’ll never fucking escape me. Gonna keep this pussy stuffed, gonna make you pop out all my babies. Gonna fucking show you how much of a daddy I am, baby.”

He quickly pulls out of you making you whine out in disappointment. But it doesn’t last long, as he throws you on your back. He wraps your thighs around his hips and shoves his dick back inside of you. 

He goes back to his unforgiving pace and all you can do is stare up into the Ghostface mask, which only intensifies your pleasure.

Your hands trail up his chest until you’re gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer into you. You go back and forth between staring into the mask and squeezing your eyes shut.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you're desperate for skin to skin contact. So you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head, but in the process, you pull his mask off with it. 

Then it’s just you and Leon staring right at each other’s faces. Sweat pours from his forehead, his mouth slightly agape as he pants from the exertion, and his eyes blown wide with lust. He looks like an absolute madman, but you suppose that’s because he is.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up into his body. Your chest presses into his as you connect your lips with his. One of his arms wraps around your lower back while he uses his other arm to hold you two up. He thrusts, never once slowing.

The kiss is sloppy. Your tongues immediately come together and explore each other completely. Spit drips down your chin as you moan into the kiss.

He bites your lip, you bite his. He sucks on your tongue, you suck on his. He sucks your lips until they ache, and you suck his lips with everything you have.

You finally break the kiss, but keep your foreheads pressed together. 

Leon pushes your bodies down, your back connecting harshly to the cold ground. He grabs your calves and brings your ankles to his shoulders.

“Oh god, daddy. Yes, fuck, please, fuck, just like that. Please, please, please, daddy, fuck.” You don’t process anything you’re saying. Words just keep falling from your lips as he continuously pounds deeply into you.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up, baby sis. And you’re gonna take all of it. God, gonna breed my baby sister’s tight pussy. Gonna let daddy breed you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please.” 

He brings his hand down between you two, ru

bbing your clit harshly causing you to cry out loudly at the intensity.

“Who’s gonna breed this pussy? Who’s baby is gonna grow in this fucking belly?”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your whole body feels more and more wound up, fastly approaching your release.

“Fucking answer me. Who’s breeding this tight cunt? Who’s cock are you gonna cum all over?”

“Yours. Yours, daddy. Gonna, fuck, gonna cream my big brother’s big fucking cock.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how good big brother’s cock is making you feel.” He’s groaning, borderline growling, as he ruthlessly pounds into you.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look into his eyes. “You daddy. You’re making my slutty pussy feel so fucking good. God, your cock is making my pussy feel so good. Big brother’s cock is making me feel so good. I wanna cum all over it.”

“Come for daddy, then. Cream my fucking cock like the dirty whore you are.” He pulls his hand from your clit so he can hold your thighs up more firmly. “Rub yourself for me. Wanna watch you push yourself over the edge.”

Your hand quickly reaches down, quickly rubbing fast circles on your soaking wet clit. 

“Look at me while you cum on my cock. Be a good whore and look at who’s fucking you like this.”

You bite your lip until you taste blood again. Moaning loudly as you stare up at Leon and rubbing your clit furiously. You’re desperately trying to cum, desperately trying to push yourself over the edge. But no matter how close you feel, you can’t send yourself over the edge.

Until a stinging, blinding pain seers into the back of your thigh and you can’t even process the warm blood pouring from the freshly sliced wound before you’re cumming. Cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Not one inch of your body isn’t shaking, not one part of you not exploding with intense pleasure.

You’re screaming, your throat burning from the strain. You have to force yourself to stop as the overstimulation sets in.

“Dad, daddy, please. Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” You’re practically sobbing now, but your request is ignored.

He pushes your ankles off of his shoulders and you immediately lock them behind his back. One of his hands grips your jaw and spits on your cheek.

“You’re gonna fucking take it, fucking whore.” His other hand runs down the middle of your chest, coating it in fresh blood. You look down and see your dry blood combining with the new blood, staining nearly your whole chest red.

A sharp slap meets your cheek. Your cheek burns and your ear rings from the sheer force of the hit. Before you can even yelp out in pain, his blood soaked fingers are being shoved into your mouth and you’re immediately hit with the copper taste.

“I’m cumming, fuck. Breeding baby sister’s greedy fucking hole. Take it, you stupid slut. Fucking take it, fuck.” His thrusts slow, but are just as hard as he cums deep inside of you. 

You’re too distracted sucking his fingers clean to register what the stinging pain in your abdomen is. 

Leon groans and moans above you as he comes down from his high. He finally looks back down at your face and can’t stop himself from smiling at the blood and dirt all over your body. He could eat you alive right now, and he just might.

He slowly pulls his spent cock out of you, causing you to whimper at the sudden emptiness and the feeling of his cum steadily dripping from your abused hole.

He sits back on his haunches and lets out a throaty laugh. “Would you look at that,” You follow the direction of his eyes down to your abdomen where you see blood pooling. He quickly picks up his discarded shirt and wipes away the excess blood, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

But he finally uncovers his handiwork for you to see in all its glory. And you gasp out in shock at the sight of it.

Carved into your skin are messily drawn letters. L.S.K. 

“See? You’ll never forget who you fucking belong to now.”

~masterlist~

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part Pilot

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

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

The hair on the back of my neck rose half a second before something hard hit my head. I couldn't see anything but I could still feel when I hit the pavement. I rolled onto my back and tried to kick up at whoever was there.

Multiple hands grabbed me and dragged my across the hard ground. I felt my strength slowly coming back with my sight. There wasn't much to see as three dark figures towered above me. My back cracked when they slammed me into the wall.

One of them grabbed my jaw and dug their fingers into my cheek. I tried clenching my teeth but they easily pried my mouth open. I tried flicking my wrist but the rocks under my feet barely moved. They had hit my head so I couldn't use my magic. Now they were trying to drug me. Keep a mage discombobulated or high and they can't use their magic.

One of them had their entire weight on my legs and the other had my arms pinned against my side. They slipped a powder past my lips and clamped my mouth shut. I took a deep breath before they pinched my nose. I had only seconds before I passed out and they could get the rest of the powder down my throat. It was already soaking into my tongue and cheeks. I tried scrapping it against my teeth.

The weight on my feet disappeared. I tried kicking them but there was nothing but air. I pulled my leg up and dug my heel in their groin. They fell back and slammed into the wall behind them at an inhuman speed. I reached for the last attacker's eyes and dig my nails in. He let go and jumped over me as if to run. I immediately spat on the ground and wiped my tongue with the back of my hand.

I looked around at the dark alley. Everything was starting to double, the colors a wild red and blue. Some of it had gotten into my system. I saw two men laying still on the ground, the other running for the bright road. Something flew past my face and strikes him dead center in the back of his head. His body fell limp.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

I turned over my shoulder to see Alastor, the Radio Demon, towering above me. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark alley and his coat was as red as blood. I knew he was tall but he looked even more terrifying in person. His long, red fingers were outstretched in a kind gesture.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Is that any way to treat your savior?" He moved his hand closer, edging me to accept his offer.

"Why would you help me?" I rubbed the back of my head and winced. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. He stood a full head taller than me but he seemed oddly skinny. He didn't have the muscle I had.

"I know rumors deem me a dark light, but I can assure you I'm still a gentleman at heart. How could I let those fools continue their assault?" He wiped his hand on his coat as if I had some kind of germ or disease on me.

"I didn't ask for the help so I'm in no way obligated to do anything you ask," I said. I looked down to examine my hands because that was better than staring at his terrifying eyes. I lost my balance and fell backwards into the wall.

He grabbed my wrist and roughly pulled it up. I tried pulling it back but he held on painfully tight. I could picture him using his sharp teeth to slice it off in one bite. But he didn't. He dropped my hand and grabbed my chin next. He turned my head as if examining my neck. I tilted my head back and pulled away. I slammed into the wall again but tripped on my own feet, landing right on my tailbone.

He leaned down and grabbed my face again. I tried digging my nails into his wrist but my strength had disappeared. The drug was taking full effect now. "Let go of me, demon," I spat. He used his other hand and dragged a claw down my cheek. I cried and tried pushing him away with my feet. He stepped back, his smile never fading. I covered my bloody cheek and stared him down.

I had managed to stay free for five years. I wasn't about to fall into another mage's trap. I wasn't going to go back. I would rather die trying to escape the Radio Mage than go back. I knew his patience was thin and nothing immoral was off the table for him.

He reached up and touched his cheek, his claws coming back with a dark liquid. He looked down at his fingers before slowly meeting my eyes. That's when it clicked. I felt a rush of cold reality over my body. Matching cuts. A soulmate match.

I put both hands in the ground and pushed myself up. I ran down the alley, jumping over my attacker, and bolted for my home. I tripped several times but nothing was going to stop me. People stared at me as if I had seen a ghost. They didn't know that I had seen worse.

Everything hurt by the time I reached my apartment. I hadn't seen him since the alley so I hoped that meant I had lost him. I fumbled with my keys, struggling for several minutes to get the small key into the lock. I fell into my apartment and slammed the door shut with my feet. I turned the lock and crawled into the corner of the living room. I hugged my legs and stared into the dark apartment. Everything was spinning and unnatural colors jumped out at me. I felt jittery, like everything inside me was buzzing.

I stayed there for several minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock at the door. What was I thinking? I had just led the most powerful mage on this side of the country to my doorstep. I should've hid somewhere else. He of all people could follow someone without being noticed.

The only tell of time was the old clock on the fireplace mantle. I stayed in the corner for nearly forty-minutes, unmoving. Time seemed to be past uncharacteristically fast. I blamed the drugs on that. How long before this wore off, again? It wasn't the first time I had ingested this type of drug. It was the drug they used to keep mages from using their magic.

I finally found the courage to stand. I flipped the light switch and walked along the wall to the bathroom. I fell against the sink, clinging to the edge just to keep myself up. For such a small amount it was having a huge effect on me. Had the drug gotten stronger or had it been that long since it was used on her?

I turned on the faucet and gulped down the cool water. I splashed my face and tired to blink away the bright colors. No amount of drinking or splashing could return me to my normal state. I practically choked on the water and finally turned it off, grabbing the towel off the rack and pressing it to my face. I carefully straightened my feet and tried standing up. I felt more sturdy on my feet now. This meant that I had passed the peak of the drug. I was on the hill down to my normal state.

I let out a sigh and hung up the towel. I looked at my red eyes and saw another pair behind me. I screamed and spun a cast back at him. I slipped and fell into the old tub. I slipped into the corner with my hand outstretched. The faucet dug into my spine. He practically glided into the small room.

"Don't come closer!" I yelled. "My accuracy gets better every time."

"Your Slight magic stands no chance against me," he mused, "but I appreciate the confidence."

"The fuck do you want?" I demanded again.

"Should it surprise you that I want to meet my soulmate?" He tilted his head to the side.

"If you kill me you also die," I reminded him.

He chuckled. "I know how the magic of soulmates work, my dear." He stepped close and held out a hand to me. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done so already." The deepening of his tone didn't make me want to accept his gesture any more than already. "I'd like to have a civil conversation, if you don't mind."

It was another moment before I slowly laid my hand on top of his. He was careful to wrap his claws around my hand and didn't roughly pull me to my feet this time. I stepped out of the tub and let him lead me out of the room. He finally let go of my hand, gliding to the small fireplace and lighting it with a snap of his fingers.

He perched himself on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit in the other one. I quietly obliged, my eyes never once leaving his smiling face. His trademark cane seemingly appeared in his lap.

"What do you want?" I asked less aggressively this time.

"My my, you're a distrustful soul aren't you?" He leaned his cheek on his hand.

"With my history you would be too," I said.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Anything and everything. Really anything that pays me."

"A tradition-breaker I see," he said. "Most women your age are attending school or doing housework for a master or husband."

"Let's just say I'm not well liked."

"Did you know those men?" he prompted.

"No, but they probably knew me."

"Does that happen to you often?"

"It's not frequent but it's not possible to avoid either," I answered. My clasped hands were sweaty and my cheek pinched from the dried blood on it. He was still sporting the same cut on his own cheek, clearly visible in the firelight.

"What did they want with you?" He was sitting straight again with his legs partly crossed and his hands clasped in his lap. Everything in me was tense and conscious. My hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I needed to get the demon out of my house.

"I used to belong to a fight ring."

"Lovely." His tone suggested anything but that. He looked down at his watch and let out a short sigh. "My my, it's sure getting late. We should be heading back."

"We?" I stood up just as he did.

"I can't leave my soulmate in danger, now can I?" He stepped closed to me.

"I know how to go under again," I said quickly. "I'll be leaving town and changing my appearance. No one will know it's me again."

"Then I wouldn't be able to find you again."  His eyes grew brighter the further we walked away from the fire. I bumped into the kitchen table and tried to put it between me and him.

"I'm sure this will scar and you'll be able to tell it's me." I pointed to my cheek. "Or I could just let you know where I go. That way you know where I am."

"If I bring you with me I'll always know where you are." I found myself staring at a shadow the second his claws touched my shoulder. I turned and he shoved me into the wall by my neck. "Besides, I of all people could keep you safest." His claws squeezed my neck.

"I feel qui-quite safe, I'm okay. I-I assure you." I casted a forced smile up at him. The room seemed to darken around his bright red eyes.

"I'm sorry, dear, it's not a request." He slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me against him. He slammed his cane down on the ground with a cold THUD. His hand moved behind my back as the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. I instinctively grabbed at him to keep myself from falling. Wind whipped my hair around but I didn't dare let go.

My feet abruptly touched solid ground and the wind died down. I carefully let go with one hand to move my hair out of the way. Around me was a dark forest and the sound of waves crashing was apparent, as was the smell of the sea.

His chuckled vibrated through me and I jumped away. "Where the hell are we?" I turned around to see a dark mansion sitting on the cliff's edge. It's pointed roofs sliced through the light blue of the set sun.

"Welcome home, dear," Alastor said as he walked past. I spun in a circle, seeing nothing but forest and ocean. How far were they from civilization? For his reputation, probably hundreds of miles. Maybe even thousands. I crossed my arms and rubbed them to keep warm.

I turned around to see him waiting for me. His smile was still plastered to his face but his teeth weren't showing this time. He was leaning on his cane, if you called his stance leaning, at the base of the porch steps. I clenched my teeth and forced my feet to take one step after another.

Once I had reached him, he put a hand up to stop me. He tried to touch my forehead but I jerked back, my knees nearly buckling underneath. "Relax darling," he said, "I can ease the drug effect." I forced myself to be still as he swept his palm across my forehead. My vision cleared and the bright colors disappeared. I felt more stable but my magic was still out of service.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Home, dear." He turned and walked into the old house. I looked around once more before following him. Inside looked as dark as the outside. The door slammed shut and the lights abruptly lit up at the snap of his fingers. The house's true colors came through - a deep purple and velvet with dark wood accents.

To the right was the living room that held the warm fire and large windows. To the left was the dining room with what looked like stacks of old furniture and other timely pieces. Did he collect things?

"You don't..." I hesitated, "you don't think...that you can keep me here for the rest of my life."

"I do." He spun his cane and slammed it into the wood flooring. "Because just as you said, lovely, if you die, I die. You have made a name for yourself just as I have. You should be thanking me really," he said walking past me.

"Thank you?" I scoffed.

"I'm doing you a favor. No more of this running from town to town nonsense. Now you have a place to call home and don't have to worry a hair on your head about living to the next day."

"I'd prefer freedom over a fancy cage. I've survived on my own just fine for twenty-one years of my life. I'm no housemaid."

"Then let me put it simply." He stepped dangerously close until I jammed my heels into the door. He leaned down so his yellow teeth were inches from my nose. "You will remain here for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not." The room began to darken. "I have my ways of keeping people in their place. We may share scars but we don't share pain." His face contorted unnaturally and his eyes looked less humane. I felt sick. "You should remember that when you think of defying me. I'm called the Radio Demon for a reason." He abruptly stood up and the lights came back. "Sound good, darling?"

My shoulders fell with my spirit.

[lonely-hearts-assemble]

𝐀𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 ˚∗   

Born to be a housewife forced to be a bloodlust yakuza 😞 beware: this a bullshit

Masterlist!

“ you're staring ”

“you're old ”

“....”

“ not complaining though ”

“ ..... ”

“ did knock some sense into you ”

“ ..... ”

“ aaand reduced the medical bill ”

“ ...... ”

“but still, even Goo doesn't look as ol- mmph ”

You're rudely cutoff by a slice of apple being shoved into your mouth, his fingers lingering on your lips feeling you chew- scowling at first which gradually fades as you savour the succulent flavour inside your mouth

“ you and your big mouth are never gonna change, are they? ”

“ You're realizing that now? ”

Well– you do admit it was a stretch since in numbers, he basically wasn't old old, however his looks and behaviour made you think otherwise.

It was evident in the way the corner of his eyes had grown droopy and gaze tender around the edges. The rough epidermis of his face had began to crease.

The hints of grey flashed sliver lines in his hair under the light, plethora of them hiding beneath when your fingers wandered through his locks while he rested on your lap reading some book.

Lounging inside became more preferred over running ’buisness’ of who knows what, coming back drenched in blood with brand new scars to exhibit.

You witnessed the transition from him being all about suits and war to being all about a cute pink apron and a housewife.

This was the best thing.

Waking up to faint aroma that would drag you to the kitchen where your housewife boyfriend stood with his bare scarred back adorned by the the bows of the frilly apron.

' what a hunk' you won't fail to muse even in your grogginess as you hug this goon, feeling the texture and his muscles move under your cheek and palms. Something about this intimacy made you soo-

“ we have bed for a reason. ”

" nghh "

He can only sigh then carefully pry your arms off and put you up on the counter where you rub the sleep off your eyes.

Another major transition was that his kisses were no longer rough or devouring but... soft. Took you a while to get used to this one. Holding you firmly around your midriff with an arm and relishing in the feeling of how your lips fit– or so you assume when he's leaning against your forehead in the aftermath for few minutes, eyes shut.

But hey! Don't worry he would be rough when you wanted to

Another thing you noticed, that you hadn't before cuz of his stupid schedule and perhaps yours too was that- park joggun does every task, no matter how mundane or silly, quite earnestly.

Just the other day, when you in your misery were were whining about your tangled hair and painful knots, calloused fingers close around your palm and slip the hairbrush out of your grip.

You almost snorted as the scene unfolded in the mirror- your war-hungry expressionless boyfriend picking through every knot carefully, untangling you strands with so much care and focus and brushing your hair oh so delicately that one would think, for a moment, he hadn't gone off the deep end. When was the last time someone brushed your hair for you?

“ ahh a little to the left- a little more- yesss”

It's felt so good that you were hurt when it ended.

“ why don't you become my personal hairbrusher? ”

“ for 1 mil won ”

“ seriously? Gonna cling to that money lust till you die huh? ”

“ realizing now? ”

So much for changing. Ugh, you could feel him smirk even without looking.

[atlasscrumpit]

Yandere Miguel (Forced Age Regression)

You were strapped to a chair with a cloth tied around your mouth to stop you from making noise.

You were at a dining table as Miguel sat on the table and put his feet either side of your chair, towering over you.

"Now, babygirl. I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, I care about you, a lot. But, I didn't take into account that you're not that bright up there. And that's okay, my darling. It just means daddy needs to do the thinking for you. You've been a bad girl lately, little one. Not eating when daddy says, not listening to me or trying to run away. So, now daddy has to give you some special medicine." He said as you felt tears in your eyes while looking at him.

"It'll just be a small pinch, darling. I know you can be brave." He whispered getting off the table and bringing out a small box. 

He opened it and brought out a needle before administering it into your upper arm making you cry softly. 

"Shh, there we go, my brave girl. Now, daddy has to give you this everyday, I know it hurts but I also know how brave you are, isn't that right?" He asked leaning forward to kiss away one of your tears. 

He slowly untied the cloth around your mouth. 

"Please, Miguel stop this." You whispered as you cried. 

"Shh, baby it's okay. Daddy's gonna take care of all of this." He whispered reaching forward to hold your face in his hand. 

"I'm not a child! And I'm sure as hell not your fucking daughter, you sicko!" You screamed before he grabbed your face roughly. 

"Now, that's not language a little girl like you should be using! You will apologise or I'm sending you straight to your room without dinner." He warned as you glared at him. 

"What the hell was that medicine you gave me?" You growled as he sighed again.

"So many questions, little one. Why can't you just trust daddy?" He asked as you looked away from him.

"No, you just drugged me. How on earth could I trust you?" He asked as he suddenly came closer to your face.

He grabbed your face again and you could see the psychotic look in his eyes.

"Now, listen here. If you keep going on like this I'm going to have a special punishment for my little girl. I will slice open your throat, pierce your voice box, let you bleed out just to the point you think you're going to die and then bring you back scared with no voice. Daddy doesn't like scaring you, baby. But sometimes you make it hard, don't you?" He asked as you looked at him in fear, you knew his threat was real.

"So, now that I've gotten that out of the way. Are you going to be a good girl and have some dinner with me?" He asked, staring into your eyes as you nodded a little.

"Use your words, darling." He said running his finger down the side of your face.

"Yes..." You replied making him smile.

"Now there's a good girl." 

--

You sat at the table, thankful he had taken away your restraints. 

You slowly ate your dinner across from Miguel. 

"See? Isn't it nice when I treat you well?" He said as you kept your head down and nodded.

"Come on, sweetheart. Can you give me a little smile?" He asked as you looked up and smiled a little.

"Good girl, you're such a pretty girl. I'll let you pick a movie after dinner if you finish your dinner, darling." He said as you looked back down and continued eating.

You eventually finished and Miguel took your plate.

"That's a good girl, go get comfy and choose a movie I'm just going to clean up. Make sure it's nothing scary okay, baby? I don't need you up all night." He said as you rolled your eyes and went over to the couch and sat down.

You eventually picked out a movie, a comedy that was 'pg' and waited for Miguel.

He eventually came back and sat on the couch, pulling you into him.

"Let me know if you're falling asleep, love. You still need to shower and brush your teeth." He said as you nodded a little and leant against him, you were too tired to fight.

You knew whatever Miguel had given you was making you tired.

"Darling, don't fall asleep you need a shower." Miguel said gently shaking you awake.

"Too tired." You muttered cuddling into him more.

He smiled and stroke a hand through your hair.

"Okay, baby. Daddy will carry you to bed soon, you can shower in the morning." He whispered kissing your forehead.

"Say goodnight to me, baby. Don't be a naughty girl." He said as you kept your eyes closed still exhausted.

"Goodnight, daddy."

[drurrito]

Home

A/N: You're going to have to pry retired!avengers reader x Natasha au from my cold, dead hands. Anyway, I wanted to see if I could quickly churn out a little something before needing to focus my attention on this stupid MSJ memo.

From a drabble list: #34 - "The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

Parings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: time...and it's a little angsty ig but there's a happy ending.

----------------

You slice through the tape with ease and toss the box cutter to the side.

"Huh, so that's where I packed my boxing gear," you lift your gloves out of the box and set them aside. Moving has been anything but a breeze. Natasha finally pried your last remaining stubborn fingers that had a death grip on your life as an Avenger. Your retirement party was too-perfect. Even Fury was there to send you off. You hated it. Natasha knew from the jump you wanted to die an Avenger, not some washed-up hero that spent retirement trying to find anything to fill the bottomless void left from no longer being needed by the world anymore.

But you love Natasha much, much more than you hate not being an Avenger.

She tried to make it up to you, even picking a house that has a home theater and game room for your poker nights with Tony and the boys. Someplace by the beach while being close enough to the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility so you can sleep in as long as possible before having to train recruits.

Your new life scares you much more than any bullet, bomb, or power-hungry warlord ever could.

You hear the front door open and keys drop onto the new marble counter that Natasha spent weeks curating. The familiar clicking of heels draws nearer. You feel your wife's nails drag across your back before her fingers dig into the knots between your shoulders.

"There you are," Natasha's voice is so gentle, it has been since your retirement party. She always knew what she wanted with you, and you never gave her reason to doubt you would meet her halfway. Retirement was the last step she needed you to take into this new chapter of your lives. Most people would have rather opted to watch paint dry, but she would have waited forever for you if you needed it.

"How's the unpacking going?" Natasha rests her head on top of yours, letting her arms drape around your neck. You instinctively lean back into her and take a few breaths. Among the most chaotic scenes, Natasha has always been your safe place to land.

"We're making some progress," you trail off, both of your eyes scanning the room that's littered in torn, sliced, and otherwise unopened boxes. You feel Natasha heave a loud sigh against your back. Her arms come up to your shoulders to give you a sympathetic squeeze.

"Wait, why are my dishes in your underwear box?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment to buy yourself some time, "because...the boxes are labelled incorrectly."

"And who was in charge of labelling the boxes?"

"I was," you try not to sound so deflated, Natasha's laugh echoes through the mostly empty house.

"Should've hired the recruits to do our dirty work," she smirks and pulls out her phone, "I'll get us take out."

You watch her rattle off your favorite order as she walks down a barren hallway. Maybe retirement won't be so bad after all.

[astracora]

Love and Deepspace Series Masterlist

A Mandated Holiday Break (Poly LADs, Sylus-Centric) COMPLETE

Chapter One Why Sylus doesn't send them messages in any normal way, they'll never understand. He enjoys phone calls, texts them constantly, but whenever he wants to be dramatic, in flies Mephisto with a letter or a note, on a blaze of feathers and metal. Chapter Two His steps falter, looking at you, hearing his name. So warm, so sweet, so perfect. As you drift back off, he is walks down halls that aren't long enough. Into his lair and to a place he can't be disturbed with you. Chapter Three Calmed and riled and fragile but so warm and safe. The feeling is chaotic and terrifying but if he could spend his life feeling it, his very very long life. That only you can end, and when you choose to, he hopes it's alongside yours. Chapter Four What dragon is not greedy? What dragon would not want his greatest treasure at his side always? Chapter Five He refuses to let you think he is not earnest. Never to lie, never to flatter. You will never doubt his affections, he promises. Chapter Six You smell like his last meal in every life. Like he could bite down and die happy, your blood in his mouth and your soul in his chest. Chapter Seven He's sure if he were better practiced in his emotions he'd cry. Instead he just encompasses you in his body, squeezing and holding and drowning in you. Chapter Eight If he wakes up tomorrow and you are not here, he will find you anywhere. He has done it before, and he will do it for the rest of time, because you are the one who sees him. Chapter Nine You bite his nose and then his neck, but there’s no venom in it. He becomes far too busy squeezing your legs and kissing, open mouthed up your neck, to really care either way. Chapter Ten Sylus isn't used to people touching him. If anyone does, it's often sharp, and jagged and with intent to harm or kill. No matter how far back he thinks, he's known very little contact that hasn't come at a price. Chapter Eleven You're so smug, wearing a smirk he knows is an impression of him. All canines. He loves you, irritable little kitten that you are, because you're as smart as you are curious. As feisty as you are gentle.

The Cat Curse - MC Edition (Poly LADs, Sylus-Centric) ON-HOLD

Chapter 1 A dragon does not love lightly. Though you don't remember the depths he has gone to for you. This is an easy act of devotion. Chapter 2 He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Chapter 3 You think about his hand clasping yours in front of the datura, pulling you back despite the deep pit of yearning in your heart to bury yourself amongst the bright red flowers.

Turning Point (Poly!LADs - Pre-relationship) COMPLETE

Part One Sylus feels like he should be making notes, these people are the closest people to his kitten, other than the other hunters you're closest to. Every bit of information he has about you, builds that puzzle up, but he notices blood on the floor. Part Two You'd spent this whole time ignoring it, like if you ignore it, it won't turn into a monster and rip you apart. It sits there, silver metal and black leather. The urge to throw it doesn't come back, which surprises you. Part Three It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench. Part Four He thinks about the trembling in your body, the tears that won't fall in your eyes. He is stuck. Xavier is stuck, like he's holding you under a meteor shower again. Shaking you. Part Five It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him. Part Six His hand itches, the thorn wall is thick. He knows it will slice his hand open if he reaches through it. The pain would be worth it, just like every stab of his ice is worth the moments he protects your back. Part Seven You want them to know, you want to tell them that they are where you belong. You want to believe that with the dagger in your hand, you can protect it and them. A future where, even if it ends before you want, you will always cherish it. Part Eight It is measured, it is careful, and it is spoken on a tremble. Unused to vulnerability, wilfully shown. A wound on display, not hidden and kept under covers. No longer smothered under the bloody blanket, no longer trembling in the darkness.

EVER's Tool (Poly!LADs - Established-relationship + Caleb/MC AU) ONGOING

Chapter One His eyes halt and hold on your form, there is no metal. He looks at the twisted carapace of a wanderer. Segmented into a limb, and long clawed fingers. Sylus feels as though he is staring at his own limb, long ago. When his claws could cut through your flesh with ease, and he could not feel the heat of your skin properly through his own. Chapter Two You think about the man with the green eyes bending down in front of cats, extending his fingers, and frowning just slightly when the creature bolts. You think about him offering bonbons out of his pocket. You think about white lab coats and glasses pushed up as he smiles, as he tends to a jasmine. Chapter Three Kissing you, he imagines, he dreams about, but he knows it can never compare to the real thing. The warmth of you and the taste. Still, he sinks and he devours and he thrills. You gasp against his mouth, reaching up to him, and he responds by pulling you even closer. As close as you can get, without fusing into him. Chapter Four There is a biting, and vicious question that is out of his character, but is full of frustration and anger at all the things he has seen. That reminds him of Sylus on the floor, in pain, gasping. That makes him see the wanderer claw out the corner of his eye. That sees him stitching up a deep gash in Xavier's chest. That hears the eulogy from the bathroom as Rafayel mourns. Chapter Five Regrets ran deep in his home, he supposed. In you, though you refused to share them and kept marching ahead even when you were bleeding and drowning. In Sylus, though he took them a challenge, bloodied hands still reaching forwards. In Zayne, using them as a way to get stronger, to create stronger walls. In Xavier, a sharpening stone for his blade, and a reminder of what motivated him. In himself, chains that kept him tethered… an ache under scales.

Drunken Confessions (All LADs Separate + Poly!LADs) COMPLETE

Caleb This time he can't control the blush, because you do look happy. You've managed to turn in your stool and are now moving your hands up his shirt over his skin. The feeling is like lightning, running through his veins, tingling and burning everywhere your fingers pass over, and he quickly grasps your hands to hold your wrists in one of his. "Let's get you home, Pipsqueak." Zayne His cheeks feel warm, because he would. You look tired, sad, with glistening eyes and are dishevelled. Like a painting he'd see on the wall in a gallery, of beautiful sorrow. If it were a better circumstance, he would want this view every day. Xavier He will give you everything, he will. If you can be patient, if you can give him time. He will. He swears it. You're already asleep when he finally finds his voice again, when he feels the ache of hundreds of years subside. When he stops feeling every guilt and shade and shadow on his shoulders. Rafayel You laugh, softly, head falling down to his shoulder, nose brushing against his neck, and his head feels fuzzy. The sensation of your skin so warm against his, that feels like ice. Goosebumps raise at every point you touch. He can't tell what is the alcohol and what is the bond. What is you. Sylus There's a sigh he has to bite back, because he remembers you angry and full of fire, and broken. He remembers that amidst all the strength is a soul that has been twisted against its will. He takes your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look directly into his eyes, and smoothes his thumb over your cheeks, "You are worth the time, kitten. Worth the work. Worth it all. You could never bother me, in any way I do not want. Do you understand?" Poly!LADs Always too much fun with them, not a single dull moment, feeling them pull and draw out the parts of you that were stronger as a child. The joy, the thrill of life, the satisfaction, all the feeling of being able to just exist and be silly, to have fun. Lost somewhere along the way at the pain of an unknown timeline, at the constant hurdles of life demanding you grow stronger when you had no ground to stand upon.

<- Other LADs Masterlists

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Eight

( Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia )

SEX POLLEN/FUCK OR DIE / CHASTITY / SEXUAL COMPETITION

Summary: Coming home from work, all you want to do is collapse on the sofa with Frankie and snuggle but a mystery package makes your evening a little more interesting.

Day Eight of @absurdthirst's fabulous Kinktober prompt list!

Warnings: Mentions of food and drink, sex powder/pollen, arguing, Santiago and Frankie being dom if you squint, biting, oral - female receiving/male receiving, fingering, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), rough sex, choking, three-way, MMF, spit roasting, Santiago gets a little soft, no use of Y/N

(If I miss anything, please say and I’ll adjust)

Word Count: 4.5k

Notes: I originally planned to write a Leash and Collar story with Santiago on Day Six but never got the chance, that storyline however is alluded to here. Maybe I’ll write it someday.

You were ready to go home and collapse on the sofa after a long day at work. It was Friday night so Frankie would have order some form of take out, the fire would be on to take the edge off the chillier evenings and he probably would have stashed some snacks away from his daughter. All signs would point to a good night in, though your interest peaked when you opened the door to see Santiago also sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Santiago.”

Francisco was hidden behind the fridge door, “Drink?”

“Please.”

You pull off your coat and step further in, your cold nose immediately being alleviated by the warm orange glow filling the room.

“Your pizza’s getting cold.”

You scramble to get your shoes off, hurrying to make your way to the kitchen table, a cardboard box still steaming. Frankie always ordered your favourite, he knew each variation of your takeaway orders from the Chinese down the block to this, the pizza place just on the edge of town.

Sitting down, you open it up and sigh as the cheese stretches apart.

He places a beer in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How’ve you been, Santi?”

He snorts, “See, Fish, that’s how you welcome a guest.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m used to you coming and asking for a favour, hermano.”

“I’ve been fine, honey, just making sure my favourite pairing were ok.”

Actually, he was seeing if Frankie still had the hump about getting you a collar, everyone in the kink scene knows what a collar means and Santiago doesn’t necessarily own you. He’s put Francisco through too much shit to do something like it again.

You glance to Frankie, “It’s all been good.”

“You didn’t tell her how pissed you were, did you?”

“Of course, not. We’ve settled this, quit talking about it.”

You never questioned what they spoke about in their native language, it was clear they didn’t want you to know, it was also apparent that Frankie was annoyed and Santiago was fucking lapping it up, a smirk on his face.

“Now, now boys.”

You chew your food with a smile and the atmosphere calms.

They continue to ask about your day and all the usual tales about an ordinary suburban life before you can’t bring yourself to take another bite. As you tidy everything away, plating up a couple of slices for tomorrow, you catch an unopened parcel addressed to Francisco on the side.

“What’s this?”

Picking it up you see Benny’s handwriting.

“Why’s Benny sending you something?”

“I dunno, it’s Benny, he’s probably found something he thinks is funny.”

“Are you gonna open it?”

“No.”

You tilt your head, “Can I open it?”

Frankie shrugs, “Sure.”

Santiago has a glint in his eye, all he wants to do is take a jab at the fact he’s letting his girl open his mail. He chooses to keep his mouth shut because he doesn’t need Frankie throttling him this evening.

Popping the parcel on the table, you rummage for a knife to break the duck tape.

“Any ideas?”

“Nah, man, knowing Benny it’s some sort of odd sex thing. You sure you want her to open that?”

Frankie honestly couldn’t care less, Benny had sent him some shit in the past, including a fake letter with lacy underwear hanging from the seal. Benny thought he’d have a laugh however he used it as an excuse to move and never come face-to-face with that postal worker again. It was small, what harm could it do?

You press the blade along the sides first before gently cutting the box along the middle, then the next part, is a little bit of a blur.

Your soft touch meant the box didn’t quite do what it was intended to until your face was close. Whatever way Benny rigged it, the lid of the item inside exploded off like an overenthusiastic Jack in the Box, sending a smoke plume of pink.

You heard a chair scrape heftily on tiled floors, felt the pressure of hands grabbing your arms as your back met the countertop behind. Frankie spewed a variety of profanities, both in English and Spanish, as you choked and spluttered on whatever had come from that package.

“I’m going to kill him.”

You blinked, the pink still in your vision.

Frankie brought his hands to your cheeks, callous thumbs rubbing, his big brown eyes searching your face. There was a tingling sensation that spread down your face pleasantly, it wasn’t scary just unusual.

“Everything alright?”

“I - urgh,” you process your words. “What the fuck was that?”

To your surprise, Santiago was still sat down, brows knotted. Benny wouldn’t be this stupid would he?

He draws the box closer, pulling out two pieces of paper. The first reads ‘Have fun you two ;P’, and the second is a pamphlet in a pink equally matching the cloud that escaped.

“Shit.”

“What?” Frankie’s query came from deep within his throat, your pussy clenched.

“I’ve heard of this, it’s just hit the market.”

By the way he says market, you know he means a kinky one.

“Pope, I swear -“

“It’s a powdered aphrodisiac…”

Both you and Frankie look at him with confused expressions, he would never tell either of you how adorable you looked or maybe it’s because those tiny potent particles are in the air.

“And our girl just got a face full of it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh,” you say quietly.

That tingling in your face had travelled, you could feel it in every limbs, running through your veins, pooling in excitement. You wrap your fingers over the edge of the countertop to steady yourself, swallowing hard.

Frankie swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Oh no.”

You try to focus on your breathing, slowing down your increasing heartbeat but it’s seeming impossible, you can feel you legs turning to jelly. All you could think about was getting out of the space, containing your building ecstasy out of the vicinity of two men who, right now, were not burning with desire.

You take a couple of steps and Santiago is on his feet.

“Stop,” he comes forward.

“What, no, we’re not doing this,” Frankie blocks his path.

You try to make your escape as they start to argue.

“Are you serious, Fish? She’s got to get this out of her system.”

“There’s gotta be another option.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing that just wears off when she goes to sleep.”

You can’t remember their argumentative tones sounding this fucking good before. You were salivating at the thought of their heated bodies almost pressed up against each other, their hot breath teasing each other’s skin, muscle taut. The image wouldn’t leave your mind and you froze.

The noise that you released was both a cry of pain and pleasure.

Their voices hush before Frankie cautiously called your name.

Turning round, you pull at the edge of you skirt, your body vibrating. It was like you’d been called out at school, you couldn’t look either of them in the eye.

Santiago stood there as he does when things get serious, hands on hips, head hanging low. His eyes are dark.

“On the table.”

Frankie’s cock twitched, mouth hanging slightly agape and he looks back to you.

“Do as he says.”

He could be authoritative when he needed to be Frankie and it made your situation worse. You shuffle, the friction of your thin underwear threatening at your clit. Following their instruction, you pick yourself up onto smooth wooden top, feet dangling.

Santiago took the lead.

His touch sent electric shocks through your knees, pushing them wider. He lifts up your skirt and sees how dark your panties are, he hisses.

“You’re fucking soaked.”

Your lip quivered, “I’m scared.”

He picked up your chin, delivered you a soft smile.

“We’re going to help you, don’t worry.”

You laugh, built up nervous energy does that to you.

He waits for it to pass.

“Lay back for me.”

You continue to do as you’re told, your back meeting the table.

Santiago throws your skirt up and out of the way, fingertips grazing your thighs as he knelt at your feet. He trailed kisses up your leg, starting soft before growing heavier, his teeth nipping at your flesh before he soothed with his tongue.

Your breath was shaky.

“You’re going to be such a good girl for us, aren’t you honey?”

Frankie watches how you shiver, how your chest rises and falls as you steady yourself. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the sensation goes straight to his hardening cock, he can’t look away as his friend brushing the tip of his nose over your mound.

You mewl as he presses his lips against that built up bundle of nerves and groans.

“Feel free to step in whenever you like.”

Santiago glances over his shoulder, lips pouted, wet with the residue of your pleasure.

You pick up your head drunkenly, wondering why Santiago had stopped but also to look at him, eyes glossed with held back tears. The corner of your lips curl with a feeble smile, you’re worried about him.

“Just concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Frankie comes over and crashes his lips onto yours, your head falling back with the force of his action. You gasp, only allowing him to slip in his tongue and roam your mouth, yours working in tandem. He fumbles to undo your shirt buttons before his hands claw at freshly exposed skin, his thumbs following the curvature of your breasts.

Santiago hooked your underwear to one side, the tip of his tongue licking along the creases of your outer lips with careful precision.

You moan into Frankie’s mouth and he gladly accepts.

He pulls your shirt further open, catching the elasticated straps of your bra and running along the edge to free your breasts from the cups. He grabs them in handfuls, breathing in every delicious noise that escaped you.

Santiago’s cock was straining against his jeans, the air he was breathing thick with the scent of your juices. Letting go of your hip, he carries on licking you whilst his free hand pulled at his belt, popping open the button and unzipping with a satisfied sigh. He was throbbing, his balls feeling heavier than usual, he was going to take you on this fucking table if it was the last thing he did on earth.

Frankie finally let you come up for air but it didn’t mean he stopped.

His kisses ran down your neck and along your décolletage, his patchy whiskers scratching. You ran your fingers through his brown curls, nails digging into the scalp, raising his face up. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the saliva built against his cheeks, the colour of his eyes no longer visible.

And Santiago?

Santiago didn’t like not having some attention.

“Fuck!”

You cry as he presses his tongue flat against your cunt and licks in one lengthily swoop, your legs clamping around his head.

“Santi.”

Your shoulders fall back as he takes another lick.

If looks could kill, Santiago knows he’d be dead, the glare Frankie delivered him was enough to do that but it only made him smirk behind you. He chose to ignore the other man, taking two fingers and slipping them into your folds.

You moan, back arching as the spark ignited.

Frankie’s brows furrowed, expression stern but Santiago had only brought you closer.

Returning to your neck, he locked himself tightly into the crook, sucking hard.

“Shit.”

He was going to leave a mark.

His teeth grazed your chest, he moved down the middle before his slopping nose nudged your one breast. He pursed his lips before taking your nipple in his mouth and biting gently.

You hissed through gritted teeth, your hand reaching for the back of his head once again.

You were fit to burst.

Santiago was ruthless, pumping in and out of your weeping cunt at an alarming pace whilst Frankie was playing and nuzzling at your breast like a wild animal. You couldn’t see yourself but you know their brown eyes were dark, hungry to soak up every piece of pleasure you had to offer.

You weren’t going to last much longer.

The fever had entered every fibre of your being, ran hot through your veins and vibrated every muscle, your stomach coiling. Your skin was tingling, the pink film over your eyes lifting, bursting into white spots. Your walls were fluttering around Santiago’s digits and he knew exactly what he had to do then.

He straightened up, the tip of his cock notching the edge of the table as he continued to stroke you. He watched in delight as you dug your nails further into Frankie’s scalp, your neck taut as you gasped for air.

His fingertips curled, pressing into that soft sweet spot, thumb closing on your clit.

You screamed, snapping your legs closed yet you still didn’t give him what he wanted and that only coaxes him more.

He draws circles with his thumb as you visibly shake.

“Santi, please,” you whine.

You want him to stop, the sensation overwhelming, the blood rushing to your ears. Your hips rise to try and alleviate the pressure but he’s having none of it.

“You know what I want.”

His voice was low, gravely.

You sob. You were rarely a brat however you knew if you let yourself go, the flood gates would open and with the powder in your system, you had no idea of the outcome. But all three of you knew it had to happen eventually.

“Honey,” Santiago grazed his fingertips over your stomach, “Cum for me.”

He spread his hand and pushed you flat to the table, digging his fingers deep into that spongy spot and you unravelled. Your juices gushed, coating his hand as he removed it to rub over your clit and help you ride out your orgasm.

This is the first time Frankie has seen you squirt.

He finds himself unable to concentrate as he separates from your chest and watches your arousal soaks the kitchen floor.

“Fuuuck, querida.”

The comedown sent shocks through your body, toes and fingers curling.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you gasp for air.

“You don’t need to apologise.”

He kissed your lips gently and that’s all it took for the powder to take effect yet again. You deepen the kiss, placing both hands on his patchy jawline to keep him there.

Santiago unzips his top before desperately pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. The sweat already clung to his chest, pre cum already leaking from his cock as he shred his trousers too. Tucking his hands underneath your hips, he hauled you closer to him in one motion, ripping you from Frankie.

He balanced your lower half on the edge of the table.

“Wouldn’t you prefer the bedroom?”

“I need you here…”

He shook his head, focusing on playing with your clit against the radiating tip of his cock. It sent a shiver down your spine, a ragged breath falling from his lips as he stroked your folds. Your hands gripped the wood for dear life, you were in trouble.

“Now.”

And he pushed himself deep in one vigorous snap of the hips.

Santiago groaned, his chest rumbling against you as he brought your body to his.

“Still so tight,” he slurred to Frankie.

“Even after that? You’re losing your touch.”

You have time to catch your breath, walls pulsating around him.

“Eh, I’ll make sure you eat your words later.”

“We all know you’ll be the one with a dick in your mouth.”

Santiago squinted at Frankie to gage whether he was lying through his teeth except the man kept a straight face. Santiago had seen Frankie’s cock in the showers during their years in the military, he knew he’d be a decent size when he was hard, he’d gladly take him.

Ok, now this conversation was taking too long. You groan, “Please, hurry up and fuck me.”

The boys share a laugh.

Neither of them were used to you being like this. Sure, you always wanted sex when it came to it but this was desperate and needy and that mouth of yours, Santiago couldn’t get over it. You were normally so pliant and good for him that he may have to ensure he puts your mouth to good use later.

He swats your ass, sending a shockwave that bucks your hips.

“Been as you asked so politely.”

His grip on your hips tightened, fingernails digging into hot flesh and the thought of your trouble got worse, you were in real fucking trouble now.

Santiago had always fitted in you, his length perfect, his girth enough to stretch you but pleasurable and with the powder, you were riding high. He wasn’t like his usual, meticulous self, he had lost as much sense as you.

It was fast and rough, his cock gliding through your slick.

Everything within you burned, the sounds filling the room, the grunts of Santiago and the moans of you a musical unison.

Frankie couldn’t believe what he was hearing or seeing, every detail crystal clear like he was watching a film against a cinema screen. How every thrust of Santiago’s hips sent a ripple through you muscles, boobs bouncing, your knuckles turning white as you held on, your expression scrunched as he pushed you closer to your next release.

Then there was his cock, hard and constricted against his jeans, he had to get involved before he blew his load.

He scrambled to get his clothes off, the heat now radiating from him.

He was never a selfish lover so he found it surprising that how Santiago dominated you was a bit of a turn on. Maybe that’s why you agreed to their offer when the four of you met that evening, each one of them were different and you liked every single one of them for just that reason.

Though the blood was pumping quickly through his veins, Frankie approached the table cautiously.

Santiago caught him out of the corner of his eye and slowed, he needed to because he knew he was close.

Frankie took your chin, soothed you as he brushed his palm across your face, a thumb rubbing your cheek bone. Your expression relaxed, head falling to the side so you could drunkenly look at him and he smiled.

“Think you can handle me too?”

His thumb crept to you mouth and Santiago stopped, drawing circles on your thighs, cock steady inside you. He waited to see if you’d answer, he knew when you got overwhelmed or had a face full of aphrodisiac powder, your brain would get foggy.

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, only enough for Frankie to hear, he leans down and delivers the lightest of kisses. You chase for him yet he pulled back, wrapping his other hand around his cock and bringing it to your lips. Much like how Santiago’s looked, the tip was flaming bright, the veins that ran his length bulging at the work of the powder.

Your tongue flicks over your bottom lip before you lick the precum off his tip, he hisses at the touch. Flitting your eyes to his face to check he’s ok, you carry on, taking the end into your mouth and circling the ridge where his skin had pulled back.

The shiver travels through him, a strangled moan that has Santiago’s cock twitching.

“Did you teach her that?”

Frankie laughed cracking under the pressure of two sets of eyes on him.

“No, she does that all by herself.”

“Fuck, how is she so good?”

“I wish I knew.”

Santiago really did because if that was just natural, he was jealous.

You circled Frankie’s tip once more before loosening your jaw and took his length in your mouth, the edge of your nose tickling at his matching brown curls at the base.

Santiago watched you pull back and match the rhythm with his hips.

As you guided yourself back down, Santiago pushed himself back in, your moan travelling along Frankie’s cock. He wrapped his hand the back of your head, fisting your hair as he helped you take what you could, your walls flutter.

“You two are gonna be the death of me.”

You and Santiago shared a look, Frankie unaware as his eyes were screwed shut.

He picked up the speed as you did you best to keep up, humming as your lips tightened around Frankie who steady you more. Santiago took both your ankles and placed them over his shoulder, practically folding you in half as he brought his weight down on you. He couldn’t keep it up much longer and if he was going, he was taking you both with him.

His next thrust hits deep.

The notion knocked the wind out of you, Frankie’s cock falling out of your mouth as you came for air.

Santiago din’t care, the way your cunt reacted to him was so intoxicated and he wanted that over and over until he filled you. Frankie couldn’t blame him either, he needed you to take him more so he could cum down that throat of yours.

They both knew you had it in you but right now, the room almost spinning as the fiery sensation entered every bone.

Frankie guided his cock back to your mouth, pushing gently at the back of your head.

Santiago was relentless, his balls shrinking as they seemed to overfill. His legs were cramping, his knees protesting yet he couldn’t stop. His grunts were now animalistic in nature, the chase for his release timeless.

You couldn’t tell how long the three of you were in that position, could only tell when they were both close and beginning to falter.

Frankie’s fingertips came to your stomach with a featherlight touch and you open your eyes to see his, irises so blown they were black. He pawed at your breast, squeezing a puffy nipple between his thumb and forefinger, your cunt holding closer to Santiago’s cock.

“We’re not gonna last much longer,” Frankie says.

You hum a response before he brings you down his cock and presses you into his belly, your throat constricts and he slides you back. He relaxes his hand on your breast and draws his hand up you décolletage, resting it at the bottom of your neck.

This is his tell.

He pumps you up and down his cock, noting the stutter in Santiago’s hips.

“Ready?”

Frankie puts his hand around your neck and applies light pressure before forcing your head down to the base of his cock. Every part of your body becomes tense, your walls trapping Santiago’s cock deep within you.

“Shit,” he chokes.

He comes thick and fast, his chin falling to his chest as he holds your hips up, his seed spilling messily out of you folds.

You whimper, your legs shaking as your orgasm washes over you.

Frankie felt your back beginning to lift from the table and he knows he’s got a fleeting moment to notch himself a little further. He squeezes your neck more, brings you closer and you feel him at  the back of your throat. That immediate muscle spasm causes his cock to twitch and you suck as he groans.

The salty tang fills your mouth, Frankie’s grip loosening against the back of your head.

You slide back, milking his cock as much as you can before you removed him from your lips with an accompanying pop, a string of your saliva trailing.

He snapped to his senses and cupped your face in his hands, “I’m sorry, querida, are you ok?”

You look up at him with swollen lips and glossy doe eyes, fluttering your lashes, dumbfounded.

Santiago stroked your ankles then pulled himself out of you, the cum pooling onto the table. You body shudders from the lose and he presses a smile to your skin before lowering your legs to the table.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He knew you were cock drunk.

“Querida?”

Frankie brushed his nose to yours, teased the hair that clung to your forehead.

It was like you were under water, their voices were muffled and the scenery was swirling, light brighter from the refraction.

“I’m ok,” you mouth was drying out.

He kissed you softly, laying you back against the cooling wood.

“There’s some bottles out in the garage.”

Once you all made it to the bedroom, you were there for the night so Frankie saw it best to stock up. He took the full glass from Santiago, who continued to saunter around the house nude, his soft cock already beginning to harden.

“Are you serious, what is up with you?” Frankie gestured.

“Fuck you.”

He knew the other man would let him too.

Returning to you, Frankie helped ease you from the table, getting you to sit up straight. You took the water from him and chugged it down, he immediately got you another one.

Santiago came back into your view.

“Can we go somewhere a little more comfy?”

“Of course, honey,” he kissed your temple.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. Though you were loving the attention Frankie and Santiago were paying you, you prayed it would end soon just for your pussy's sake.

“D’you want me to carry you?”

Frankie’s fingertips grazed your hip, gently coaxing you to come with him. Your eyes flit down to his cock, his desire apparent, and he looks away sheepishly. A smile drew across your face as you entwined your fingers into his.

“If you don’t mind.”

Sure, the night wasn’t the quiet night in you expected but thank god Frankie and Santiago were there to alleviate you.

—

“Can’t sleep?”

Santiago sat in the glow of the television, volume low.

You shake your head.

He smiled, “Apparently you might be the only person who’s ever had a face full of Aphrodite’s Powder.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?”

He hummed in response.

You hadn’t moved from the nook in the hallway, your focus on playing with the sleeve of Frankie’s flannel shirt you wore, legs fidgety.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Frankie’s out cold and I’m… still itchy.”

Santiago put his phone down and beckoned for you to go over. You scuttle, legs aching and settle into his lap. He coils an arm around your frame, pressing a shoulder to his, your head resting against his temple. With his other hand, he drops two fingers to your clit and draws careful circles.

“I don’t have the energy to fuck you.”

“I know,” you kiss his salt and pepper hairline, “this will do just fine.”

Everything about the evening became a blur, they pushed you through one orgasm then another then another before you’re sure you blacked out. You wake up to the stillness of the house, the calm of the morning sun breaking through the kitchen window. The television had switched off on it’s own accord and Santiago was sleeping softly, his hand resting between your thighs.

Yes, this will do just fine, you thought, nestling back under his jaw.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

KinkVember 11 - Knife Play

Slasher Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bambi x Transferrable Skills Simon

Read on AO3

CW: Knife play, blood mention, CMNF, explicit consent, check ins, abrupt ending

Notes: This is from a project that I'm percolating on with @sentientcave. All you need to know about that, right now, is that for Good and Plot Relevant Reasons, the various versions of the 141 I've written, and some of their darlings, have met and are in an interesting Liminal Space, where they are passing the time.

This is not cannon to either Slasher Handler or Transferrable Skills at this time.

PS: Haha, yeah, it's late. I feel a little bad about it, but I am also being nice to myself about it. Happy KinkVember!

Ghost is not as big as your Simon, but his presence is… overwhelming. He sits on the couch, bare faced, the way he never is around the other versions of himself. His blue eyes burn into yours, before he flicks them down to take in what you've worn for this experience. Simon's shirt hugs your curves and sits lightly on your hips, the only thing you're wearing other than a pair of lacy panties. You clench your toes when he looks at your bare feet, inexplicably shy.

He unsheathes the knife.

When you take a reflexive step back, Simon is there to catch you. One of his large hands rubs your shoulder, the other caresses your throat. "You're safe, Bambi. You trust me?"

"I trust you," you answer. "You won't let me get hurt, you won't get mad, you won't punish me."

"'m gonna hurt you," Ghost says. He cocks his head. "You know no one stays dead here?"

"You do anything she doesn't want," Simon rumbles above your head, "and I'm going to make you wish you could die."

Ghost sits back, cocking his head. "Never said anything about doing anything she don't want. Just said the truth of what she's asked me for. To hurt 'er. And that I can't kill 'er."

You feel a lot less brave, now that you're looking at the unsheathed knife in his hand. "What if I change my mind?"

"Then we check in," Simon answers, fingers pinching your earlobe. He nudges you forward when Ghost holds his empty hand out. "You chose him. I trust you."

"You just said you'd make him wish he was dead."

"'e said the same thing to Roman," Ghost chuckles. He catches your wrist with surprisingly gentle fingers. He moves so fast, you don't have time to flinch. The knife is just there, against your hip, lifting the hem of Simon's shirt to expose pink lace.

"Aren't you pretty?"

"It's all I could find," you whisper as the sharp edge of the blade plinks through rayon and elastic.

"Price is a demon, an' he likes pretty girls," Ghost rumbles. "'s true in every reality."

The panties barely make a sound as he slices through one side, then the other. You don't even have to step out of them, they just flutter to the ground. He uses the sharp tip to poke through the hem of the shirt, but simply lifts it. At your puzzled face, he raises an eyebrow until you get with the program and pull it off all the way.

Ghost gestures with a finger for you to turn around. You gulp as you do, looking up into Simon's concentrating face. Ghost's hand on your hip pulls you back, until you're plopped unceremoniously in his lap, Simon following to tower over you both.

"You know it could scar?" Ghost asks, perfunctory.

"I know," you whisper.

"You say stop, it stops. Acknowledge," Simon prompts, taking one of your hands in his. Ghost pushes your shoulder forward until your chest is pressed against Simon’s front, your other hand braced against his hip.

You gulp. "Acknowledged."

The first bite of the knife against your left shoulder blade is a shock. You can tell it's a small cut, but it stings, and you're not sure why you're surprised. You don't really have time to brace before the knife is back.

Ghost moves so fast, so methodically. You imagine it's like getting a tattoo as he works his way across your shoulders. Eventually the sting seeps into you and turns into a warmth that flows down your spine until Simon is holding you up.

The pain makes things a little fuzzy and warm around the edges. The little knicks lose their edge, and you nuzzle into Simon’s belly with a hum.

Beneath you, Ghost is hard, but you kind of expected that. His hand doesn't waver, though. He just pauses when you squirm against him and resumes his work when you settle again.

You are surprised when you feel Simon getting hard against your breasts. Ghost pauses as you tip your head up to look into Simon’s dark eyes, then resumes his methodical work.

“Sits like a dream,” Ghost says behind you.

“She’s perfect,” Simon says, stroking gentle fingers over your cheek. When you catch his thumb between your lips, he groans. “Color, Bambi.”

You’re still lucid enough that the words come easy. “Green. Please.”

“Good girl,” Simon rumbles, and his other hand dips down to touch the top of your back. You can’t help but shiver as he brings the red tips of his fingers up to his lips.

[scarletqueenx]

chapter eight - i know the end

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

A/N: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

(the gif is my faceclaim of ophelia, but you can imagine her however you want)

You felt like an idiot sitting in that motel room bed in a small town in Missouri. Ophelia had insisted on getting off the bus after hours of travel on claiming that the vehicle smelled terrible and was super uncomfortable. Now the demon was sitting on the couch, watching TV while you could only think and worry about your little brother.

"You should eat something, I don't want you to die of inanition." Ophelia spoke.

"Why do you care?" You asked with frustration. "You just want the book. I honestly don't know why you're keeping me alive."

"You're right, I don't care." Ophelia said, but the lack of answers to your last question left you wondering.

"Why are you keeping me alive anyway?" You frowned.

"It's none of your business."

"It's my life, I think it is."

Ophelia sighed in frustration. She didn't have much to lose by telling the truth, but that wasn't her style either. "Eat, or I'll tell my friend to start cutting off your friend's fingers." She smiled. "Deal?"

Seeing her serious expression on her face, you could only accept your situation and open the pizza box she had ordered, grabbing a slice of it to take a bite. Ophelia smiled victoriously.

"I think I'll go take a bath." You spoke after a few minutes. "You think I can do that?"

"Do whatever you want." She said without bothering to look at you. "But if you go out the window and try to escape, say goodbye to little Peter and sweet Maddie."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of leaving. And I can't call anyone either, you have my phone." You pointed, grabbing the bag with the book and a fresh change of clothes before heading for the bathroom. Ophelia rolled her eyes as she watched you disappear behind the door.

Meanwhile, back at your family's house, Peter had managed to hide, force open the door to your father's office and hide in the small hiding place behind one of the bookshelves. It was one of the small hiding places your father had prepared after the 1994 incident, although that was something Peter didn't know about. The boy just thought that those hiding places were due to the antiquity of the house.

In the living room, a demon that had possessed the body of a young man kept Maddie tied to a chair while he searched the house for the young Holloway boy and waited for Ophelia's instructions.

Peter knew what he needed in order to fight a demon, but at that moment he didn't have his weapons with him. He only had a pocketknife and his almost dead phone. So he decided to use the latter to dial your number, but it was quickly sent to the voice mail button, making him curse. He didn't know any other number by memory, and yours was the only one on his contact list. But then he remembered the call he'd had with Dean back in October to remind him of his sister's birthday. The number was registered, he just had to press the call button.

And so he did, waiting a few tones before the older Winchester brother voice came from the other end of the line "What?" Peter caught the angry tone in his voice with ease, causing him to be slightly startled.

Dean heard his nervous breathing as his only response. Peter meant to say something, but the loud sound of one of his father's office doors being forced open caused him to remain silent.

Sam looked at his brother with confusion as he saw the frown on his face and the worried look in his eyes.

"Peter?" Dean spoke again, this time much calmer. But either way, no one answered on the other end of the line. And after a few seconds where all he could hear was the boy's breathing, the call was suddenly cut off due to the lack of battery in Peter's phone.

Dean frowned, looking at his phone with confusion.

"What's wrong?" His brother's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, forcing him to look up at him.

"We have to go to San Francisco."

"What? Why?" Sam frowned as he watched his brother starting to pack up his things.

"Something's wrong."

"Don't you think we should call his sister? Maybe he was just playing some kind of joke on you." Sam asked a few minutes later as they left the room and walked across the parking lot to the car.

"You didn't hear his breathing, Sam. That wasn't a joke." Dean answered him.

"Okay, fine. But still... She was on her way back to her house, wasn't she?"

"She was worried about her brother, yeah." Dean nodded.

"In the time it took us to pack up and get in the car, she could have already gotten there and sorted it all out." Sam noted as he sat in the passenger seat.

Dean sighed, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket to dial the your number. Sam looked at him with expectation as he tried to ignore the bad feeling that had settled in his chest.

"She's not answering." Dean informed him after several rings.

"Fine." Sam agreed then. "Let's go."

Dean didn't need to hear anything else before he started up the Impala and drove off from that motel.

Back in Missouri, as the bathtub filled with hot water for your bath, you pulled the book out of your bag and nervously turned the pages.

You remembered Carter had claimed to have seen that book and Maddie in his dreams. At first when he had admitted to having powers, you figured it was some sort of visions, maybe premonitory dreams. But of all the spells and symbols written in that book there was one you were able to recognize as soon as you saw it. A communication spell.

Now, there were already two people, well, one person and one demon who had assured that you were the descendant of a witch and therefore you had to be one too, so what did you have to lose by trying?

However, that spell only worked to communicate between witches, so your only option was Carter. You only hoped that if you succeeded he wouldn't ignore you and talk to your father once Henry arrived in Salem.

But as you turned the pages of that book, you seemed to realize one thing for the first time. That book had multiple handwritings in it. Ophelia's name was written on the back cover, in the first handwriting of all, but it was clear that book had belonged to multiple witches over the years.

Ophelia was lying to you. Which was no surprise coming from a demon. But, why?

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

When he arrived at the mental institution and learned that Carter was no longer there, Henry knew things were much worse than he first thought. He tried calling you, Peter and even tried your house phone, but they were all out of service.

With nowhere else to go, Henry decided to head to Christine's house, where he began searching for the only weapon he knew could do something against a demon.

"Come on, Christine. Where the hell did you put it?"

"I'm sure that what you're looking for isn't in hell. But out of curiosity, what is it exactly that you're looking for?" The distinguishable voice of his son spoke from behind him, paralyzing him. "Oh, Henry, Henry. I thought we'd been through this years ago. We were on such a good place with that deal, but you decided to screw it up." Carter approached him, placing a knife against his back in a threatening way.

"You're not Carter." Henry then assumed as he listened to the tone of his voice.

"Carter escaped on his own from that place, I was just waiting for him outside." The demon possessing his son explained. "Come on, I know you're glad to see me again."

"Go to hell." Henry said, clenching his jaw.

"With pleasure." The demon smiled as he faced him. "But first I've got some things to do and we've got some things to talk about."

The fact that Carter was possessed meant not only that Henry was in danger, but also that your efforts to communicate with him were completely pointless. It meant that the you were completely alone and that any plans you might have had to get rid of Ophelia would be useless without help. The only weapon and defense you had was that strange knife that demon hadn't even asked about.

"I was thinking you'd drowned in there." Ophelia commented as she saw you come out of the bathroom. "Come on, we must keep going on our journey."

You frowned. "But we haven't even slept."

"I don't need sleep. I don't care what you do during the trip. I rented a car while you took that relaxing bath. I'll drive."

"Right, because it would be very convenient if I fell asleep so you could steal the book, kill my brother and my friend and disappear." You crossed your arms.

"Yes, it would." She admitted. "But it's all up to you. You just have to stay awake. I'll buy you a coffee and everything if you behave yourself."

"Great." You sighed in frustration as you grabbed you things.

Ophelia smiled, following your steps out of the motel room.

While you left Missouri, Maddie felt useless, stupid and completely helpless sitting tied up in that chair in the middle of the main hall of the Holloway's house. There was no sign of Peter and she didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried about it, but at that moment the only thing she could do was to follow that demon with her eyes. After five years he hadn't even changed his body, he was still possessing the guy with whom he had killed her mother.

"I shouldn't be here." The demon muttered as he paced back and forth. His gaze watching every door and every window, as if he was waiting for someone to burst in. "She's going to kill me."

Maddie didn't want to ask anything. She preferred to remain silent. If he forgot about her presence that would help with her survival. But Maddie had the soul of a cat, and curiosity was always her weakness.

"Who's going to kill you?"

Her question drew the demon's attention back to her.

"Did I say you could talk?"

"No, I..."

"The shut up." He ordered.

With a slight nod, Maddie looked back down to the floor. Her breathing getting heavier and heavier as she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

After a few seconds, which for her felt like an eternity, the demon finally left the room to continue his search for Peter. It was then that Maddie felt two small hands touch hers.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Turning her head slightly, Maddie saw the blond curls of the boy, who was crouched behind her, cutting the ropes on her wrists with a pocketknife.

"Shh." The boy shushed her, placing a finger over his lips and moving to stand in front of her to cut the ropes on her ankles.

After his failed call to Dean, the boy had found what little courage he had left to face the situation and leave that secret place to rescue Maddie.

Staying silent, Peter pointed to the bookshelf next to the television, walked over to it and somehow activated a small mechanism, opening it as if it were a door. Maddie frowned, but after a quick glance around the room, making sure the demon hadn't seen them, she followed him to what appeared to be a secret hiding place.

"What is this?" Maddie whispered, descending a small ladder until she reached the small, secret room.

"My father built it years ago. There are places like this all over the house. Well, smaller ones. This is the main one." Peter explained, crouching down in front of a small wooden storage case. "This is where we keep our backup weapons. Here." He turned to her, handing her a water pistol. "It has holy water in it."

"It doesn't matter. We can't kill him, he'll come after us." Maddie answered. Peter shook his head.

"I don't know which door he used to enter the house, but it wasn't the front one. The trap is still there, intact, I've seen it. If we lead him into it he will not be able to get out and we will be safe. Then we just have to exorcise it." He explained, taking a Bible out of the case.

Maddie looked at him in amazement. "When did you learn all this?"

"When I was 5 years old I saw The Exorcist for the first time. The next day my sister made me memorize the page where the passage we need can be found."

"She made you?" Maddie raised her eyebrows.

"It's not as bad as it sounds." Peter assured her. "I've had a normal childhood for the most part, really."

"This isn't normal." Maddie assured him.

"Maybe not this, but I took swimming lessons, played baseball and went to school like a normal kid. My dad and her never missed one of my games. I had my first kiss when I was 11, and I made Christmas ornaments in kindergarten." He explained. "My sister just wanted me to be prepared for something like this. And believe me, I'm glad I know what I have to do."

Maddie listened to him carefully. Peter's hadn't been the most normal childhood, but it was as normal of a childhood that a kid like him could get.

"Wait." Maddie grabbed Peter's arm as she saw him about to leave the secret room. "It's almost dawn. We spoke to your sister a few hours ago. Maybe we should wait for her to get here."

"She may be on the other side of the country. She won't be here until tonight."

"I know. But I've never fought a demon before, and neither have you, no matter how many things you know about fighting them. This can go wrong in so many possible ways. And if anything were to happen to you... she would kill me." She assured.

Looking into her eyes, Peter remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about her words. A part of him wanted to fight this demon, to show him that he wasn't a helpless, scared little boy who could be messed with. But on the other hand, Peter was a scared little boy. He was so scared that he hadn't even been able to explain to Dean what was going on. He was so scared that he had frozen and had suffered a panic attack before he went to Maddie's rescue. Peter just wanted his father and sister back, to hug them and feel safe again. He wanted his house to not be invaded by a demon, for it to go back to being the safe place it had always been.

"Okay." He said after a few seconds. "We wait for her."

Maddie sighed in relief as she gave him a slight nod.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Dorian, the demon that was possessing Carter's body seemed to be wasting time despite having claimed to have things to do and things to talk about with Henry. The man didn't know what he was supposed to do, the demon had taken his phone and his only gun. Henry was no fighter and he knew that in a matter of seconds Dorian could kill him, but he didn't understand why they had been at Christine's house all night without doing anything.

"I'm happy to report that your daughter is on her way to San Francisco." Dorian smiled, sitting down on the couch next to him. Hearing that, Henry couldn't help but close his eyes in frustration and worry. "Ophelia is with her right now. I'd say in about two hours she'll let us know about the death of your two kids. After that, I will get into your body and you will have the pleasure of killing Carter with your bare hands. I know you've been looking forward to it all this time."

Henry looked up at him, confused by his words.

"The one I want to kill is you." Henry corrected him.

"I'm sorry, that won't be possible."

"I thought you only wanted to kill Peter. That's what you said last time."

"Plans change, Henry. And we've learned new information. After tonight, Ophelia will have the powers of your three children, and we will finally be able to defeat Lilith and rule hell. After that, we will destroy all of God's creations and it will all be ours."

"A fantastic plan. Very ambitious." Henry muttered, sarcastically.

"I see where your kids got their sense of humor." Dorian commented with amusement, getting to his feet. "Listen, Henry, this isn't personal. It was a long-term plan. There was a plan to free Lucifer and it was necessary for your wife's family lineage to continue for years to come to your three kids. With the birth of the three of them the plan was set to begin. Ophelia and I want something very different. Screw Lucifer. We will raise the Apocalypse on Earth. We will rule Hell."

"You two or just her?" Henry raised his eyebrows.

"She'll get the power from your kids, but we'll do it together."

"You sure will." He scoffed.

"You knew they were special." Dorian said.

"They're my children, that's all I had to know." Henry declared, raising to his feet. "They're special to me because I love them. They didn't ask for any of this, Laurel didn't ask for any of this, and I certainly didn't ask for any of this"

"It's their destiny, it's written."

"Screw your scriptures."

"They're not mine, Henry, and you know it."

The sunny California sky had been covered by a gray, almost black mantle of clouds, announcing a big storm. That image sent a shiver down your spine as Ophelia and you entered the state. You had spent the car ride awake, struggling with exhaustion and trying to come up with a plan to get out of what seemed to be the end of your and Peter's life. Hopes of being saved by your father had vanished when Ophelia had let you know that Henry was trapped in Salem in the company of a possessed Carter. The only ones who could help you now were Dean and Sam, but neither of them had any knowledge of what was happening. You were alone, and as much of a hunter as you were, you had never come across anything like this.

Rain started pouring as soon as you got out of the vehicle. The house in front of you no longer had that homey aura. Everything was dark, cold and desolate. You wanted to run away, to scream, to cry. But as you walked up the porch steps, you just prayed that someone would come and help you.

"Calum! Open the door!" Ophelia shouted beside you. But no one answered and no one opened the door.

A loud bang was heard a few seconds later, accompanied by the sound of glass shattering. Your senses were instantly alert as Ophelia held you arm tightly and spun you towards the back door of the house.

"Calum!"

"Die, you son of a bitch!" Peter's voice was heard from the kitchen of the big house accompanied by screams of pain from a person completely unknown to you.

"That little runt." Ophelia complained next to you, letting go of your arm and kicking the door open.

A baseball bat hit her head the second her heels hit the wooden floor of the house, knocking her to the ground from the unexpected hit.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met." Maddie stood before her. "My name is Maddie Lockhart. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"Isn't that from a movie?" Ophelia frowned, standing up with an angry look in her eyes.

"The Princess Bride, you bitch." Peter shouted from behind before blasting her with his holy water pistol.

At some point during the day Peter and Maddie had grown tired of waiting. That demon kept calling their names as he searched the house for them. Describing the ways he was going to kill them and remembering how he had killed Maddie's mother. That had been enough to make the girl angry and give her the courage to come out of hiding. It was two against one and they had turned the house into a shooting range, setting up traps and shooting the demon with the holy water guns, torturing him until they led him to the demon trap at the entrance of the house.

"All right, that's enough." Ophelia reached out her hand, throwing Peter and Maddie against different walls in the kitchen, keeping them pinned to them as you entered the house. "The book. Now." The woman demanded, turning towards you.

"Sorry, change of plans." You declared, pulling out the strange knife Maddie had given you along with the book. Ophelia smiled, looking at the weapon in your hand.

"And what do you plan to do with that, huh?" Ophelia raised her eyebrows. "It's over. Give me the book and I'll spare the three of you."

"You're lying!" Peter exclaimed. "Her friend has been planting explosives all over the house."

You looked up at him in confusion.

"You said killing one was enough. You said you would kill Carter." You recalled, turning your gaze back to Ophelia.

"You said it yourself, plans change." Ophelia shrugged. "Now, give me the book."

"What book? This one?" You took it out of your bag, showing it to her before throwing it on the floor and kicking it with your foot towards the living room.

"I see you want to die fighting." She observed. "All right, I like it. I'll give you what you want."

Releasing Peter and Maddie, Ophelia walked straight to you. You quickly ran out of the kitchen through the door that led directly to the entrance of the house. Ophelia thought about going for the book first, but she was so tired of dealing with you that finishing you off had become her priority.

With the knife in your right hand, you tried to fight Ophelia when she grabbed your arm and pulled you back, stopping you from going up the stairs.

The other demon, who you now knew was named Calum, walked past you after Ophelia broke the demon trap with her powers, and walked straight for the kitchen.

"Take the book, you idiot." Ophelia yelled at him.

"But the boy..."

"Forget about him, I'll find him after I kill her."

Following her orders, Calum did not hesitate to go to the living room in search of the book, but when he got there he soon discovered it was no longer there.

"Sorry, dude, the book is mine." Peter spoke, hitting him over the head with it. However, this hit did nothing to the demon, who turned to the boy with a blank expression on his face. "Come on, man, I'm sure we can discuss this. Just don't do anything you'll regret." Peter said taking several steps back.

By the time Dean and Sam arrived at the house the first thing they encountered was a demon holding Peter by the neck against a wall. The boy could barely breathe anymore as he continued to struggle to get free. Before either could do anything, you appeared in front of them, with your back to them, and lunged at the demon to separate him from your brother.

Holding the Colt in his hand, Dean aimed at the demon, but before he could fire it, the demon was already dead and the body of the boy it had possessed fell over you, completely dead.

Breathing rapidly, you pushed him away, pulling the knife blade out of his chest and looking at him in confusion. Your eyes then rose to Dean, but clouded by your fear and adrenaline you couldn't seem to recognize him. Your body acted automatically, ready to kill him too.

"Wow, wow, wow." Dean blocked your hand, taking the knife from you in one swift motion, turning you around and wrapping you into his arms to stop you from fighting. "Sweetheart, I'm not a demon."

You felt your back hit against his chest and as you recognized his scent of leather mixed beer, you breathing began to calm while your eyes fell on your little brother.

The room fell silence, leaving only the quickened breaths of Dean, Peter and you to be heard in the room. But then a distant cry broke it.

"Maddie." Peter muttered, rising to his feet to go in her rescue. But Sam acted quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop him from leaving the room and walking away from them. "Get off me." Peter shoved him hard and slipped out of his grip, running to the back yard of his house, where Ophelia was beating the girl he'd been living with for the last month.

As soon as she saw him, Ophelia let go of Maddie.

"I was waiting for you." She said, walking towards the kid.

Maddie crawled across the floor, grabbing her ankle and knocking her to the ground.

"Hey, you bitch." You called out from the doorway. Ophelia looked up at you from the ground. "Say goodbye to your precious book."

You didn't know if your plan would work and the book would be destroyed, but to your luck it did. As soon as you drove the knife blade into it, the book burst into flames.

"No!" Ophelia cried out in despair as she watched the book turn to ashes in front of her eyes.

A large beam of bright light came out from inside the book, blinding everyone present. It lasted only a few seconds, but when they finally were able to open their eyes, Ophelia had disappeared and Peter and you had fallen to the ground, unconscious.

Dean ran to you while Sam passed by his side to get to Peter and Maddie.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked Maddie.

"Yeah, a little sore. Is he okay?" She asked, trying to ignore the pain in her body to get closer to the boy.

"He's breathing." Sam replied after placing two fingers on Peter's neck.

"Let's take them to their rooms." Dean said, holding you in his arms. Sam nodded, doing the same with Peter.

"Wait." Maddie spoke, making the two brothers turn to her with expectation. "There are... explosives in the house."

"Yeah, well, we'll take care of it. You're not going in until we make sure you're not one of them."

"She was beating the crap out of me." She reminded him in disbelief.

"I don't care. You're not going anywhere near them." Dean declared.

Letting out a snort, Maddie accepted his orders, watching them enter the house with Peter and you. Being left alone in the yard, Maddie got to her feet as best she could, walking over to the remains of the book to look at them closely. Your knife was still there, covered in ash but completely intact. Still, when Maddie pretended to grab it, its handle burned her skin, causing her to let out a wince.

"That knife was able to kill a demon." Sam spoke from the doorway of the house. Maddie looked up at him. "Do you have any idea where she got it?"

"I gave it to her." She revealed. "But it was her mother's, Laurel. My mother had it safely tucked away in a safe box at home, with the book."

"Would you mind telling us who you are?" Dean asked, crossing his arms as he stood next to his brother.

"Maddie Lockhart." She answered, resting her gaze on him. "She asked me to stay with Peter during the holidays until their father came back."

"Her father. Do you know where he is?"

Maddie shook her head.

"He was already gone when I got here." She explained.

"Here." Dean handed her a bottle of water. Maddie looked at it with confusion but still grabbed it. "I'm Dean by the way. And this is Sam."

"Winchester. I know." She nodded, taking a drink of water under the watchful eyes of both, but especially Deans. "It's holy water, isn't it?" Their silence was enough of an answer for her. "I guess I passed the test. Your turn." She declared, handing the bottle back to Dean.

"Yeah, right." He scoffed.

"I'm not joking." She assured. "How else am I supposed to know you guys aren't demons?"

Dean sighed, sharing a look with his brother.

"She's kind of right." Sam admitted.

"Fine." Dean sighed, taking a swig from the bottle before handing it to Sam, who did the same.

Maddie sighed with relief when she saw that the water didn't cause them any pain, which meant they were all human and no one was possessed.

"We're all clean."

"We should pick up the explosives." Maddie spoke, walking into the house.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam walked after Maddie, worried about the bruises and the cut on her forehead.

"Yeah, it's nothing." Maddie assured him. "Are they all right?"

"I hope so. I'm going to try and call Henry while we wait for them to wake up." Dean said, receiving a nod from both of them.

Just like that, as Dean tried to contact Henry, Sam and Maddie began to clean up and search for the explosives that Calum had placed in the house.

Keep Reading: Chapter Nine

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[isisthedemon]

Poppy Playtime X Hunger Games

This part is mostly about Harley and Poppy, with a tiny bit of the main character at the end.

————————————————————————

Part 7

Poppy was running through the forest with a knife that was the size of her. Oh how she loooved being tiny one! She had been practicing using weapons that were bigger than her. She also has a note Harley gave her on their first day. 

There are bombs. Acid, fire, ice, electricity, and smoke, all of this stuff was in the supplies. Poppy needed to set a trap of some kind, trap someone.

She used some of the leaves, bark, and pine needles. Vegas came walking along and she stepped on the trap. She heard it before it activated, and she quickly evaded it. Vegas flipped her hair as Poppy silently got onto her backpack and found razor wire.

It would cut Poppy’s hands if she wasn’t china. Poppy used this to set one of the traps she’s learned.

She’s been practicing making traps, learning what plants to eat, how to purify water, how to use her small stature to her advantage. She even asked Harley, naturally he said yes for her to train.

Poppy set a trap just like she has a thousand times.

“I should have asked Harley for a preview of the arena.” Poppy whispered. Poppy climbed up a tree and saw Cruz walking by her.

“Okay this is fine,” Cruz says with panicky laughter. He trips the trap, but the razor wire  caught on his neck instead of his legs. Cruz claws at his noose, slicing his fingers. He flops around like a fish out of water. His fingers at the joint by the nail and his head got sliced off. Poppy looked away as his body crumpled onto the forest floor.

“I’m sorry Cruz….” Poppy says. While she never liked him she never wanted him to die. She takes the razor wire and runs at the cannon fires.

-

Harley Sawyer watches every screen that was playing like it was in his brain. It’s still horrifying, being a computer. He would cross his legs and watch if he still had a flesh body.

Now he has a body, a robot body but still a body. He called them Harley bodies, and he can split his consciousness into them and have them act on his own accord.

It felt dystopian to him, the man who made living toys. Even then he knew what he was doing was dystopian, and he wanted it.

“Mister Harley Sir?” It was the voice on microphone CC8337, he looks through the cameras in that room and an eye appears on the screen to accompany him.

“Yes?”

It was two 13 year old girls holding large handfuls of silver. They must have taken job after job, or even traded jobs for their friends.

“Uh- I was wondering- if we could-“ The one with the thick glasses chokes on her words. Her friend clears her throat. “We want the game more interesting. It’s going to be boring, only 4 people are dead out of 20! We were wondering if we could pay for a disaster. Make the game more interesting.” 

Harley chuckles.

“What a marvelous idea. I will allow it. Very Orwellian.”

“We already live in a dystopian world, why change it?” The one with the thick glasses says. Harley marked the one with glasses to become an experiment. The other one was marked to be a scientist. 

“What are your names?”

“Cassidy.” The one with the thick glasses says.

“Estella.” The second one says.

“Perfect.” Harley says, a form of nostalgia coming over him. He missed Estella, that stupid girl who was one of the only people who didn’t want him like this. She was his favorite.

“What did you have in mind ladies?”

-

Poppy walked and watched as the sun above her getting swallowed by pitch black. Poppy started to panic and she climbed up a tree. Poppy felt her eyes get wet. “Come on Poppy… if you can survive a heart attack you can survive a little darkness.” She whispered.

A bright light the hit her face as the Harley Body walked around, not caring if it was seen. 

“Poppy…. I know you’re here.” Harley calls out.

Poppy holds her breath as Harley walks past. Hours passed and the lights came back on. Surprisingly none of them died.

-

“Harley and Poppy are so cute!” Some guy says.

“Say that to my face.” Harley says so quickly that he forgot that he’s supposed to be eavesdropping. Harley has found a love for eavesdropping ever since he became a computer.

The man stays quiet. “I would talk to him before he makes the human centipede real.” Another man whispers.

“Ooooo! Good idea!” Harley says with no intention of doing that. The men look three seconds away from pissing themselves.

“I-I was just saying… you and Poppy have real enemies to lovers vibes.”

“Enemies to lovers- she’s 17! And I’m….. 30 in 94’….. I’m 69!”

“You’re just as old as Tessa!” A guy says.

“I’m more offended that you called me a pedo.” Harley says in a disgusting tone.

“Shipping can get you a lot money.” The man says. Harley sighs. “These experiments… are children. The oldest is Miss Delight at 21. The scientists are adults. The youngest is 20, the oldest is 64. This is a game to show how experiments interact in high stress situations. And how the human psyche would react to seeing their loved ones in the Hunger Games. This is not Fifty Shades of Grey!”

The two boys look at Harley.

“You know what that is?”

“Of course I know what that is? You don’t think I see all of you reading Twilight, and A Court of Thorns and Roses? Also a lot of you have looked up an unholy amount of fanart. I know damn well what it is. Speaking of what it is, both of your Adam and Eve products have arrived.”

The two men turn red.

“How did-“

“Maybe don’t log into that stuff on company hardware.”

‘The powers back on.’ A little voice in the back of his head says. Harley leaves the two men and goes back to watching the games. Millions of cameras were watching their every move.

Harley felt his brain ticking, someone’s playing Solitaire.

-

I hear the cannon go off and it makes my bones shaking. My brain goes back to …. Miles. I killed him. Me. I need something to get my mind off the sound of his eyes popping out. I spot Kissy Missy picking blueberries. 

“Kissy…” I walk up to her. She turns around and holds up her hand to show me some blue berries. I take some and eat them. “Thank you. Can we work together? Just for a little bit?” I ask. Kissy holds my hand. I help her pick blueberries. 

“Kissy. I’m really sorry you had to be here. I….. I probably could have done something. Xander liked me enough.”

Kissy pets my head. We both sit down and eat the blueberries. Then everything goes black, and I grab Kissy. She holds me close and starts to hum a lullaby. It’s the same one that Doey was singing!

“It’s okay Kissy.” I whisper to her. She’s shaking and holding me close. “It’s okay.” That’s when our faces were illuminated by a bright screen.

“You’re not Poppy, but you will do.” Harley says. The faint glow of a knife in his hand.

“Run.” I say as Kissy picks me up. She runs at inhuman speed away from him. And soon enough the lights turn back on. Kissy sets me down and nods her head.

“Yeah….  I hope we don’t have to run into each other again.” I nod and turned the opposite direction.

-

I open my eyes as shake Doey awake. “Hm? Is breakfast ready?”

“No, what was the lullaby you were singing?”

“When you woke up? It’s a silly old song that we sang to the littles in the orphanage. Something to get them to sleep. I-Ivan loved to sing. He was in the choir, sang as a soprano.”

“Do you mean tenor?”

“No. He can sing high.” Doey says with smile.

“Sing something so that I can hear.” I say quickly. Doey looks at me in panic. “S-Sing? Sing what?”

“Just something.”

“U-Uh…. I know you’re that wild and violent flame.” He starts singing. I don’t know why but I felt like playing the electric guitar. He comes to sing hitting every note.

“What’s that from?” I ask. It’s probably from a game, or an anime.

“Um Jammer Lammy. We have a PS1 in the orphanage. It’s dying, but it’s all we got.” Doey says with a shrug.

“When we get out I’ll buy them a new PlayStation.”

“A PS2?” He laughs. I laugh with him.

“No, like a PS5 of something.” I get up and walk to the entrance of the cave.

“He the blizzard is dying down!” I say as my stomach growls. I walk back to Doey.

“No! Don’t come near me!” Doey says quickly. He looks at me up and down, his stomach growling. 

“I’m hungry….” He mutters.

I stay away from him. I nod and sit away from him. 

“Doey… what’s life feels like as a dough thing?”

“It’s as if you’re water, you’re just flowing and forming.” Doey says with a smile. “It’s kinda nice. Nothings holding you back.”

“Yeah. I bet.” I say, bringing my knees to my chest. “Do you want to hear a story?”

Doey nods and I started to tell him a story from my childhood. Just some stupid story of when some girls got trapped in a school and pulled a Lord of The Flies. Doey falls asleep to my story and I put my jacket on him as the storm dies down.

————————————————————————

Sorry this part took so long, I had to add more to the original because it was a little too short. I hope you all love it!

[klausinamarink]

For Klaus’s Birthday Special 💜💜💜

How about a combination from your list, of Accidental Confessions and “Two shots of vodka.”

“-seven bottles of vodka, four bottles of rum and whiskey, three bottles of pineapple and tomato juice, two bottles of syrup, eight cans of gin and tonic, four bowls of sliced fruit, and a plate of sugar.” Steve finished counting off all of the items on the table. “Anything else we’re missing?”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully before he snapped his fingers. Steve watched him rummage through one of the bags before pulling out two small delicate mini-umbrellas. Eddie opened them and placed them carefully next to the empty glasses. 

“Now we’re ready,” Eddie grinned at Steve. It sent some happy shivers up his spine as usual.

“This is still the stupidest idea ever,” Robin said from her seat next to the camera.

“It was your idea!” Steve said. 

“No. It was some random Patreon request from five months ago that you and Eddie insisted on doing. And it was only five dollars! Five!”

“Ready when you are, guys,” Jeff said, apparently taking their single brain cell for the moment.

Eddie jumped first onto their ‘intro’, “Do you guys love to drink at bar?” 

Steve crossed his arms as he pressed his, “But can’t afford it in this economy?” 

As practiced, they both swept their arms over the crowded table. “Let us be your guides!”

The Patreon request had made it sound easy: make some cocktails and other alcoholic drinks for designated events without looking up any existing recipes. The only problem was that neither Steve or Eddie knew any bartending 101. Except when they had discussed it over about tossing it aside, they both immediately realized wait, this is a good idea.

After they laid down the ground rules - only seven drinks will be made because they will not die of alcohol poisoning just for Youtube views -  Jeff took out a card, chuckling as he read the first prompt. 

“A drink for the babysitters.”

“Ooh!” Steve’s eyes lit up, “I know this one!”

He grabbed the neck of an unopened vodka, grabbing one of the empty glasses. “So here’s what we need-” 

Steve wrestled with opening the bottle. Eddie tried to help but Steve slapped him away, barely containing his giggles as he finally opened the vodka. Was it weird that he already felt kinda drunk?

“Two shots of vodka!”

Steve poured a considerable amount until it looked about half full. He drank it all, shuddering from the burn sliding down inside his chest. Steve smacked his lips together with satisfaction.

Everyone stared back at him expectedly.

“What?”

“Is- is that it?” Eddie asked, horrified.

“Yep.”

“That can’t be it!” 

“Dude, you clearly don’t babysit enough hours as I did.”

“You called that two shots? That was half a bottle, Steve!”

Robin started cackling, “Nevermind, you two are brilliant!”

“Ah yes, the babysitter’s cocktail,” Jeff nodded sagely, “I would recommend one shot for it though.”

“You heard Jeff!” Eddie threw his hands on Steve’s shoulders and started shaking him. “You’re already killing yourself with the vodka stuff! Think of your liver, big boy!”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up. Okay, the vodka was hitting him quicker than he expected.

Sadly, Eddie’s focus was returned back to the task at hand. Steve’s gaze lingered on his flexing hands and tattooed arms. By the time he snapped back to attention, Eddie had thrown together a-

“The hell is that?”

”It’s a fruit cocktail!” Eddie beamed, holding up his hideous drink. Steve gripped onto his own thigh just to prevent himself from leaning forward and smothering Eddie whole like a lust-ridden snake. 

“That’s what you would give for- sorry, what he’s making a drink for?”

“First dates,” Jeff snickered, “Now I know why Eddie’s been single for ages.”

“Hey!” Eddie’s face reddened, “Only because I’ve been wanting to ask Steve on a-”

Eddie suddenly shut up so fast that his jaw clicked. He looked anxious, glancing over at Steve before he started to gulp down his drink.

“Ask me what?” Steve felt an inkling of something. It better not be the inevitable dread of yet another relationship falling into ruin. 

“N-Nothing!” Eddie coughed, clearly regretting his improvised beverage. 

“Were you about to ask me out, Eds?” Steve wished he could smack himself for even asking the words aloud. But the vodka made him loose and a little braver than he usually was.

Eddie tugged a lock of hair over his mouth. He looked even more red than the tomato juice. He murmured something under his breath.

“What’s that?” Steve leaned in closer. Their breaths mingled together. They both smelled nasty but hey, Steve had some odd things awakening inside of him since meeting Eddie. 

“Yes…” Eddie spoke more clearly, barely looking at him.

“Yes what?”

Eddie groaned. Then he straightened up, clamped his hands on both sides of Steve’s face, and cried out, “I’ve been wanting to go out with you for a very long time, Steve!”

And then Eddie surged forward to kiss him.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s torso as he tasted the sharp tangs of vodka and pineapple. He pushed Eddie’s hips back, holding him against the table counter. 

Robin screeched, “DON’T MAKE OUT ON THE TABLE!” 

Steve probably would have flipped her off, but he had a more important task in hand and that was pushing his tongue down Eddie’s throat and hearing his soft moans.

Until some cold water sprayed at his face.

“Hey-!” Steve broke away, only to be nearly blinded by more water. Next to him, Eddie hissed like a cat.

Jeff stood in front of them with a spray bottle in hand. He looked clearly done with their shit while Robin seemed to be either laughing her ass off or performing an exorcism on herself. 

“This was supposed to maintain your sobriety, but I think you two can just go to horny jail instead.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Prisoner: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Now that Charlie is out of the way, you're getting your kids whether they want it or not. You're not asking this time. If they don't hand them over by sundown, Y/N won't be coming for them. The Scarlet Witch will, and they won't like what happens if she does.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

It takes you six hours to get to South Dakota and you pull up to the farmhouse that Cas told you about. The barn looks abandoned but you'd be a fool if you didn't prepare for some kind of trap. You get out of the car and approach the front of the barn. You blast the doors in so quickly that a bunch of dust kicks up. If anyone is inside, all they're going to see in the darkness and dust are your bright red eyes.

You walk inside the stuffy barn that's cluttered with shit. Trinkets, boxes of clothes and other items, furniture, and a bunch of things covered with cloth tarps. You yank one off to reveal a mirror underneath it. It looks like no one has lived here for a long time. You run your hand across the surface of the table, chuckling at the dust on your finger. You should have known Dean wouldn't have allowed Cas to give up your children so easily. Dean would die for them. He would have died before letting Castiel tell you.

A floorboard creaks behind you and you look at the wall in front of you with a smirk.

"You're either stupid or you want to die."

You turn to see Dean standing on the other side of the barn.

"Well, I've never been the smart one."

"The kids were never here, were they?"

"Nope. I guess you're not so smart if you let a mere human play you."

You shrug out of your jacket and toss it across the room.

"I'm done playing nice. I've been very generous and have let you live multiple times. I even gave you three strikes, but now you've pissed me off."

You conjure a bright red ball of magic and are going to throw it to Dean but he does something that completely takes you by surprise. He conjures a blue ball of magic and sends it your way. You move out of the way and watch as it explodes a lamp. 

"You pissed me off," Dean glares.

"Now it all makes sense," you smile. "You have my soul. That's the only way you'd be able to use my powers."

"Yeah, and I'm going to use it to kick your ass."

"Tell me something, Dean. What happens to my soul when I kill you?

"Why don't you find out."

You shrug. "Your funeral." 

Dean sends a blast of blue magic at you but you easily duck out of the way before it can hit you. You send a sharp hit at him with your magic and he goes flying across the room and over a large table. 

"You cannot beat me!" you yell. "I've lived with these powers my entire life! You've only had them, what, a couple of months? We are not the same!"

Books immediately fly over to you but you blast them away from you while you continue to walk closer to Dean. You catch a flying book in your hand and fling it like a frisbee over at Dean when he pokes his head up from behind the table. He ducks immediately just as the book slices through the air. If he hadn't been so quick, his head would have been shot clean off. Magic flies through your body and shoots out from your hands but Dean sticks his hand out and creates a forcefield, one that you can't penetrate. Your magic bounces off it and almost hits you in the head.

You close your eyes and focus on your own magic. When you open them, your irises are deep red. Red mist starts pouring out of your hands, creating clouds of deadly magic. The mist travels all over the floor and seeps into the ground above. Your magic travels over to Dean and pours out from the ground below him, and he immediately starts coughing. He lets down his forcefield and doubles over as the pain of your magic enters his system. You walk over to Dean and kick him in the face, and he falls to the ground in a fit of coughs.

"You're weak and spineless, and you're a shitty witch."

Red magic covers your right hand, and you're about to punch him in the face when he catches your punch with blue magic. His eyes shine bright blue. The real you is inside him aiding him. It's going to be tough to beat yourself, especially when you're trying to kill the man of her dreams. He punches you in the stomach with his other hand, and you go flying across the barn into the wall. The entire barn shakes with the force.

Dean grabs a metal pole and transforms the end of it into a sharp edge. He feels you helping him in every way that you can from inside his head, and he knows he'll be able to beat that. Dean runs over to you and shoves the end of the sharp pole right into your abdomen. You gasp and grip the pole while staring at Dean with deadly eyes. He shoves the end of the pole into the wall tightly so that you can't pull it out.

"What are you going to do now, witch?"

You cough and blood shoots out of your mouth. Instead of accepting defeat, you laugh. You grab the end of the pole and snap it in two using your magic. Dean's eyes widen when you take a step toward him. He keeps backing up when you keep walking, forcing yourself to slide off the pole from the other end. You finally get free and stumble forward, and you grab something to keep yourself from falling. You yank off the sheet covering a mirror and grin. You lay your hand flat on the surface and spell it, immediately spelling every reflective surface. You lift your shirt to see your wound shining red as it closes.

"Looks like you're going to have to try harder."

You run at Dean and punch him in the face, and he knocks into a bookshelf that has the books flying off the shelves. He watches as one of them hits a mirror and disappears into it. Whatever passes through the mirror will get stuck in the mirror realm, and he has a feeling you're trying to get him in there. Not if he can get you in first.

You blast him with magic but he counteracts it with a blast of his own. You're too strong to fight off with you coming at him like this so he needs to think of something outside of the box if he's going to get you inside the mirror. He looks at the mirror you uncovered after freeing yourself and he shoots his hand out toward it. Blue magic encompasses the thing and he pulls it toward you and him. The mirror smacks into you from the back, swallowing you up whole. Dean jumps out of the way so he doesn't get sucked in, either. The mirror falls to the ground and shatters into pieces.

Dean pants when it suddenly becomes silent. Sam steps into the room with a gun in his hands and looks at his brother with hope.

"Did we do it? Did it work?"

Dean shrugs in response. He looks behind Sam at another mirror and sees you standing in the mirror with a glare. Dean sends a blast at the mirror so destroy it so you can't get through.

"Cover the mirrors! All of them! Any reflective surface!"

Dean and Sam work to cover every reflective surface so you can't crawl out of one. Once everything is covered, both brothers stand in the middle of the place. Suddenly, one of the covers gets blown off by you. They don't have time to react because you're already crawling out of one of them. It's not as easy as you'd like it to be. You're going through cut glass so every part of you is cut deep by the glass. However, your wounds glow bright red as your magic works to heal you.

Your right hand is the first thing out with broken fingers angled every which way. You grip the side of the mirror and push through it so that the entire top half of your body is now through the mirror. There are cuts all over your face and body but your magic heals them like it's the easiest thing in the world. You fall to the ground with the bottom half of your body still inside the mirror. You push yourself through it and crawl on the ground broken bones and all. You manage to get completely through and stand up but your neck is broken in different places as well are your arms. They snap back into place and you snap your head right side up. There is a deep gash going from your forehead down to your neck but it glows with red magic and is healed within seconds.

Both brothers back up in fear but Sam raises his gun to fire at you. You raise your hand and shine your red eyes at him, causing him to freeze and fall under your spell.

"Change of plans, Sam. Dean is your new target." You look at Dean with a hardened look. "Shoot to kill."

Sam immediately turns the gun on his brother and begins shooting at him without mercy. You smirk and sit back to watch because maybe this is when Dean dies, maybe not. Dean moves behind different covers to avoid getting hit before Sam obliterates that, forcing Dean to move to the next one.

"Sam! Fight it! Fight the compulsion!"

"You're not a match for me, Dean!" you say. "Just give up and accept sweet death. It'll be nice to have a demon around again. Maybe this time, we can do things the right way!"

"Sammy! Fight it! What you're feeling isn't real!"

Sam closes his eyes and tries to fight the compulsion you have on him. He thinks about how much you love him and how you'd never do anything to hurt him.

"I knew something was wrong, and if you were you or if the situation were reversed, I know you wouldn't want me to give up. I know you wouldn't have given up on me, so I fought with you every step of the way. Every time I brought it up, you'd force me deeper into my body to deal with it on my own.

"So, that night when you pulled the gun on me and threatened my daughter's life, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Everything I forced down came rushing out. It's why I yelled at you to leave me alone. I didn't deal with it in a healthy way, and I took it out on you. I can see just how much you've been trying these past few months. It took me a while, but I finally can see that it wasn't you. It was your body, but it wasn't you. I'm sorry, Sam."

By the time you're done, you're in tears. You're stuttering and sniffling, and you're pretty sure that your nose is dripping snot. You wipe your nose with your sleeve and stare into Sam's eyes. There's a lot of emotion in there, and you miss seeing that so much.

"I just want my best friend back," you hiccup. 

"I do too. We're both sorry because we're both at fault," he sniffles as a few tears drip out of his eyes.

"Clean slate? Please?"

"Yeah. Clean slate."

You're going to get your best friend back and so will he. Sam snaps out of your trance and turns the gun on you. He only has to shoot once before you blast him through a thin wall and into the next room. Dean gets up and you send a steady stream of magic right at him. He does the same and the two opposing forces meet in the middle to form one big ball of purple magic. You push harder but he pushes back just as hard. He's not going to let you win.

"Sam! Do it now!!" Dean yells.

He wants to be strong but you're just a tad stronger. You push the purple ball closer to Dean knowing it will kill him if it reaches him Sam steps through the hole he made with a different gun this time. He aims it at you and pulls the trigger, and a sonic sound wave shoots right at your head. The pain you're feeling is nothing like you've ever felt before. You stop your assault on Dean and fall to the ground with both hands on your head. It feels like your head is being split in half slowly and at every seam. You're screaming in pain but Sam doesn't stop. Sam and Dean walk closer to you, and you look at your husband with pain in your eyes.

"Dean, please!"

It takes two more seconds of the gun to make you pass out. It takes Dean three seconds to realize he won.

"I did it. We did it," Dean smiles. "We won!"

"Come on, I don't know how long she'll be out. Let's go reunite our girl with her soul."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[sundazetales]

Little dabble fic where Logan finds a stray cat and takes it home

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Once Wade had taken Logan in, Logan hadn’t left Wade’s side. He followed him on his jobs, staying close to Wade’s heels. He joined him on dog walks and slept at the foot of his pullout bed. He refused to share the bed with Wade, knowing the man would wake up to Logan’s claws buried in his chest, bleeding out. Wade had laughed at him, saying him, saying he was unkillable and Logan’s perfect bedmate, but Logan ignored him and slept on the floor. Wade had since brought him a futon, pillows and blankets.

He was by Wade’s side now as he helped him clear the apartment of the party, filling a black plastic bag with paper plates stained by cake. Wade nodded approvingly as Logan removed the rest of the trash from the apartment into the bag and then tied the bag into a neat knot; he slipped out of the apartment using Wade’s keys, the ones with too many key rings; they jangled as he walked down the stairs and out into the street.

The cool autumn breeze lifted leaves off the ground around him; they whirled helplessly before falling to the ground again. It was then that Logan spotted a mangy black cat staring up at him from beside the dumpster, its eyes yellow and wide, observing him. A layer of filth slicked down its fur, and Logan could smell retrovirus deep in the cat’s bone marrow, a sharp, putrid odour. He placed the bag down carefully, so as not to make any sound, and crouched down, he reached his hand out, his fingers uncurled, and the cat eyed him tentatively.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you,” Logan promised. The cat stepped forward, then back, and then forward, sniffing at Logan’s fingers. Before pushing its head against Logan’s fingers, Logan gently stroked it. Before scoping it up, it hissed and scratched at him, but Logan continued to stroke a hand down its back, and he held it close to his chest.

“Calm down already, cos I ain’t gonna leave you here to die,” Logan told the cat, who scratched his hand in protest.

“Stop fighting me.” Logan growled, the cat then sliced at his jaw. Logan tried again, keeping his voice soft,“I’m trying to help you, it's warm inside, I can clean you up, make you a bed and feed you, but I can only help you if you don't run away.”

The cat glared up at Logan, unblinking and curious, it hissed before settling down. Limp and tired. The cat accepts its fate.

“That's better, you'll prefer it where it's warm.” Logan said.

Logan made his way back into the apartment. Wade was drinking a fresh beer when Logan entered, holding the cat in his arms.

“What you got there, Peanut?” Wade said, raising a hairless eyebrow.

“A stray.” Logan said,

“Yeah, but why has my big kitty brought a little stray kitty into the apartment? The cat stayed put in his arms as Wade walked over to Logan.

“It looked like it needed a home,” Logan said.

[sticky-badger]

------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }------------

Demon Slayer: Forbidden Science

Aaah, my friend, I tried my best. I really did! Muzan is just so hard to write as a Lee!!!! 😭 I hope this satisfies you buddy!

Summary: Doma gets a hold of one of Muzans experimental toys, learning of a secret about Muzan that no one ever has before!

Lee!Muzan, Ler!Doma

Tw: Mild swearing

----------------------☆ ☆--------------------------

"Doma... Y-You really shouldn't be touching that... L-Lord Muzan... He'll get m-mad!" Hantengu mewled as he cowered on the steps of the gravity defying infinity castle, watching as Doma's curiosity got the best of him, and he started fiddling with Mizans chemistry setup that had been left unattended for a brief moment. They had been called in to give updates on their side missions and left to wait for Akazas arrival.

"Aww, come on now, I won't break anything~ I just want to know more about our precious leader!" The blonde sociopath chimed in response from the floor overhead. He pulled open a drawer in the desk of the setup, his eyes widening as they fixed on something alluring.

"Oooh, what do we have he-"

"Doma." The emotionless tone made him jump as he turned to see Muzan glaring at him.

"Ah~ Lord Muzan, you're back early!" He grinned, opening his arms for a hug, instead just getting a hand sliced off in an instant. This was nothing but a slap on the wrist to Doma.

"Oop! Are you mad at me?" He pouted, flexing his wrist as the fibres of his arm started growing to replace the lost limb with Muzan just glaring in disdain. "Forgive me, I just can't help but be curious about what my Lord finds interesting." He chuckled, poking his tongue out before zapping onto the tatami mats below, taking a seat and looking upwards at his master.

Muzan just sighed, looking over his equipment. He knew Doma wasn't so stupid that he'd actually toy with his experiments, so brushed off the thought. "Touch anything you aren't supposed to again, and you'll lose something far more important."

"Yes'sir!" Doma winked, saluting him before Muzan vanished along with his little hobby table.

Once satisfied that he was gone, Doma pulled an odd looking doll from the waistband of his trousers, smirking at its appearance. "I never knew you'd be into dolls, Lord Muzan~." He chuckled to himself, pleased to now have something to keep him entertained.

Little Hantengu trembled as he watched Doma fiddle with the item he had stolen. "Oh no, oh dear! Doma, you'll get us all in trouble! Put it back, put it back!"

"Oh please, its just a dolly. What amount of trouble could such a little thing cause?~"

Would it end in a serious beating? Definitely. Would it be worth it? Absolutely.

----------

Doma sat quietly for a few minutes, playing with the doll in hand, holding its 'hands' and having do little dances on his lap. It was made from fabric, a dirty white stained with various patches of dark, probably blood. It was limp to the touch, filled with sand, and had two small buttons for eyes.

Unknown to Doma, It was a voodoo doll. Not like traditional 'ushi no koku mairi', which involved a paper doll being nailed to a tree. No, this one looked to be from far away lands, which is why he didn't realise just what it was he had stolen.

Moments passed before Muzan suddenly appeared again, glaring down upon Doma from an elevated platform. He was pissed.

"Give that back immediately." He spoke coldly, having found out about the item his underling had stolen.

Doma looked up at him with a childish pout as he cradled the doll to his chest. "Aaah, Lord Muzan, you're so cruel! Pwease let me hold onto it for a little while longer?" He was met with silence as Muzan appeared before him, with his hand extended, demanding the doll he returned to him.

As Doma considered his options, which at the moment were, a) give it back or b) die, he found himself stroking the dolls back with the tip of his finger. "It's so cute, though! Can you make one for me? Uh..."

Doma looked up at Muzan, blinking as he watched the powerful demons demeanour falter. His hand trembled slightly, and he seemed to be holding his breath behind... a smile?

"Lord Muzan?" He tilted his head, his thumbs now kneading into the dolls thighs as he let the head flop.

A tingling sensation worked its way up Muzans thighs as Doma played with the doll, making his breath hitch in his throat as he bit back a giggle.

"Just give me the- Gh! Doma!" He yelped, suddenly hugging his waist as Doma poked the dolls tummy.

The blonde's eyes lit up as all the pieces started to fit together. "Ooooh! I get it now! This is a clever little doohicky~" He smirked, slowly tracing his claw like nails across the dolls side.

Muzan glared daggers at his stupid underling, cursing the day he invited him to join. "Doma, I swear if you don't g-ehehe!" And there it was, that one little lapse in his focus that allowed the giggling to begin.

"I got you noooow~" Doma chimed, skittering his nails over the dolls tummy.

"Dohoma!" Muzan made a grab for the doll, losing his balance as he leaned over to try and snatch it, landing by Domas side in an utterly embarrassing display of weakness.

"Stohop!" He growled, angrily trying to withhold his laughter, seeing Doma smirking at him cruel only made the situation worse.

"Ah, Lord Muzan! You really do have a cute face~ Worry not, I'll keep this our little secret~" He winked, pressing into the dolls hips with an eager grin. "Now then, where is your most ticklish area? I wonder~"

"You bastard! Ahaha! G-Give me the damn doholl!" Another desperate grab was made, another epic failure as Doma simply raised the doll out of reach.

"Oooh, your hips aren't bad, what about under here?" This was far too fun. Doma stuck a finger under the dolls limp little arm, wriggling it around playfully as he watched Muzans reaction.

He arched his back, clamping his arms to his sides as he thrashed helplessly. He would certainly be making Doma suffer for this betrayal!

"Stohop it! Shihit! Ahaha! I-I'll kill you!" His pale cheeks flushed with colour, an odd sight indeed, but a pleasant one nonetheless.

"Oooh, what a pretty shade~ It matches your eyes! Tickle, tickle, tickle~"

Muzan attempted to throw a punch, his strength being sapped by his laughter, a feeling so foreign to him. It was maddening. He felt his breath growing short as he struggled to keep his eyes from squeezing shut. This was almost true helplessness at such a stupid thing!

"Dohoma! I-I- Gh-! Dahahamn it! You son of a bihitch! Ahahahaaaa!" He gave up, his body curling in on itself as he laughed freely. It was strange how fun he actually found this. Being able to laugh like this. It was pleasant.

"Now then, let's find all the other spots, shall we?"

"Naaaaaaa!"

---------

Almost an hour later, Mizan is huddled up on the floor, catching his breath as Doma smiles down at him. Very proud of his discovery and achievement.

"Aha, Muuuzan? Are you okay? I didn't mean to-!" He gasped as Muzan gripped his shirt, pulling him close. He said nothing, but the death glare suggested that Doma was in deep trouble.

"Um, can I get a head start?"

"No..."