#Is living or dying cruelest?

[decisivelyindecisivelibra]

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[reidsworld]

The Time We Have

Summary: Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Talks of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Mars speaks… gif is from pinterest!

Masterlist

Logan’s knuckles ache, the bones beneath his skin creaking with every movement as if they’re finally giving in to the wear of time. It’s a pain that never quite leaves him anymore, a constant reminder that his body is failing him, betraying him in ways he never thought possible. He’s lived more lifetimes than most, fought more battles than he can count, and somehow, it’s this—this slow, inevitable decay—that feels like the cruelest blow of all.

He’s not afraid of dying. That’s never been something that scared him. He’s seen it too many times, come too close to it on too many occasions, to feel anything other than a resigned acceptance when he thinks about the end. But this… this slow, agonising decline is something different. It’s not the swift, clean death he always imagined for himself, the kind that comes in battle, in the heat of the moment. No, this is something that eats away at him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but a shadow of the man he used to be.

And that scares him. Not the dying part—he’s made his peace with that—but the idea of leaving Laura alone in a world that’s anything but kind. He’s fought so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a life he never thought he’d have to walk away from before it was time. The thought of her being alone, without anyone to protect her, has kept him up more nights than he can count.

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s never been one to share what’s on his mind, to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But it’s there, every time he looks in the mirror and sees the new lines on his face, every time his claws take just a little longer to come out, every time he feels the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.

It’s a bitter realisation, knowing that his time is running out. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he’s slowly dying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The adamantium that made him unbreakable is now his undoing, poisoning him from the inside out. And there’s no one left to save him, no one who can stop the inevitable.

He’s spent his life fighting, surviving against impossible odds, but this is a battle he knows he can’t win. It’s a fight he’s destined to lose, and it’s not something he’s ever been good at accepting.

And then, he met you.

You came into his life like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He didn’t want to let you in at first, didn’t want to admit that you could make any kind of difference in the mess that his life had become. But you were persistent, stubborn in that way he’s come to admire, and somehow, without him even realizing it, you slipped past all the walls he’d built up around himself.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met. A mutant, yes, but your powers weren’t about brute strength or regeneration. Instead, you had the ability to manipulate energy, to create barriers and shields that could protect those around you. It was a power that reflected who you were—a protector, a guardian. And it was exactly what he and Laura needed. Before he knew it, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Laura who first noticed the change in him, the way he seemed lighter somehow, less burdened by the weight of the world. She’d always been perceptive, too smart for her own good, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it.

“You’re different,” she said one day, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “You’re… happier.”

Logan had grunted in response, not wanting to admit that she was right. He wasn’t used to being happy, wasn’t used to feeling anything other than anger or pain. But with you, it was different. You didn’t change his purpose; you just made the burden lighter, made it easier to carry on knowing you were by his side.

But you didn’t push him. You let him come to terms with it on his own, never demanding more than he was willing to give. You were patient, understanding in a way that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be on guard all the time.

And slowly, without even realising it, Logan found himself accepting the inevitable. He was dying—there was no denying that. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a death sentence. It felt like… closure. Like maybe he could finally find peace, knowing that he wasn’t leaving Laura alone, that you’d be there, that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

One night, as you lay curled up against him on the couch, your head resting on his chest, he found himself speaking the words that had been weighing on his mind for so long.

“I’m not gonna be around forever,” he said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of the truth. “I’m dying, and there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes full of understanding and love. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not used to this… to not knowin’ what’s gonna happen. To not bein’ able to fight back.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Logan,” you said, your voice full of warmth. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Laura and I… we’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know how much time I have left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But whatever time I do have… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You smiled, a soft, loving smile that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” you said simply, as if there was no question, no doubt in your mind.

And in that moment, Logan felt something shift inside him. The fear, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him for so long, began to fade. It didn’t disappear completely—he knew it never would—but it didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had Laura. And that was enough.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold on to this moment forever. You settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in the scent of you—something that had become so familiar, so comforting.

And then he thought about Laura, about the future he’d once feared she’d face alone. But now… now he had hope. You were by his side, and together, you could give Laura the life she deserved. She’d have you to guide her, to be there when he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a sibling to watch over her when both of you were long gone.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt like he could finally accept what was happening to him. He was dying—there was no escaping that. But it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like… a beginning. A chance to live the life he’d never thought he’d have, with you by his side.

And when the time came, when the poison inside him finally took its toll, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have you, and he’d have Laura. And that was more than he’d ever hoped for.

So, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your presence wash over him, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous life, Logan felt at peace.

Mars speaks… (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[justapigeonn]

i know mapleshade being overused is no hot take in the warriors fandom anymore but you can't imagine my disappointment to find out later in the book that this voice in tigerclaw's head was never simply just his own self criticism but just mapleshade being mean to him for some reason

it would've been so interesting to see that despite how cruel he was to those around him, the one he was cruelest to in the end, was himself - that thistleclaw's brutal treatment really stuck with him in more ways than one, that he considered himself a failure if he did not push his ambitions to their very limits and succeed at what the mentor he both respected and resented failed and would not dare to do.

i also love that despite it's minor failings, this book also gives us a slight layer of nuance to his character - that despite him being a despicable character till the very end, willing and ready to kill and manipulate his way to the very top, there's still a hint of discomfort and remorse at the possibility of his former clanmates dying in the forest fire

he excuses his discomfort to mapleshade as him not being able to destroy them himself, but the horror and dread he feels is evident.

despite us knowing very little about their overall relationship, later on he's relieved to see that his former mate goldenflower is unharmed. given that we're never shown or told of any instances where's they're openly affectionate towards one another and he doesn't technically have any 'need' for her to survive (i say this with the assumption that the only big reason that tigerclaw even had kits to begin with was for a legacy and an ongoing bloodline, not for a happy family and out of sheer undying love for goldenflower), it's bizarrely sweet to me that he finds comfort in knowing that she escaped the fire, along with their daughter tawnykit.

and then, of course, the famous bramblekit scene where fireheart snatches him from the tree and the two barely escape with their lives.

this book, despite showing him committing numerous despicable actions and murder innocent cats in cold blood through his own eyes manages to give tigerclaw just a shred of humanity and care for those he once held close(ish), that despite him denouncing starclan again and again, he still whispers a silent thanks to them for saving the life of his son, that, despite his sheer undying hatred for fireheart, he puts his own pride aside for a brief moment and silently entrusts him with bramblekit's life.

when tigerclaw gave strict orders to the other shadowclan warriors to not follow him into the fire, he did so knowing that they could've seen him at his very worst - his absolute lowest point. he knew there was a large possibility that he could've easily been witness to the violent ends of his former mate and kits and lost himself there and then and potentially (in his eyes) lost the respect of his new clanmates as well, because to him in a sense, caring is a show of weakness, even for him. and idk there's just something weirdly nice about that - that despite how horrible he is there's still some depth and remorse to be found in his character and idk i just think that's neat

[genericpuff]

also love how you described aphrodite as a war goddess in your family tree chart!!!

ahh thank you! I know it's very divisive as to whether or not Aphrodite is a war goddess, much of the sources on Aphrodite Areia seem to be predominantly linked to the Spartans, whereas Hellenism worshipped her primarily for love, sex, and fertility, which is what she's widely attributed to today while her connections to war have fallen to the wayside.

But I personally love the duality of her being a goddess of both love and war, as both come from places of deep desire that are often intersectional - many men have gone to war and died in the name of love, and many more still have experienced the pain that love can bring. In that way, though you could argue that she may not have been specifically worshipped as a war goddess such as Athena or Ares, you can't really separate war from what Aphrodite truly represents - desire.

I know by default many people will say that Aphrodite is the "greatest goddess" simply because of the superstition that comes from worshipping anyone else more than her, but what makes her so powerful and respected is love itself, an emotion and state of being so pure, so twisted, so painfully human, so universal regardless of the context in which it's being experienced that it can be used as any amount of justification for both the greatest heroics and the cruelest betrayals. Love is a paradox, simultaneously worth living for and worth dying for, an overwhelming joy for another being that can be felt instantly but just as quickly turn foul. Paris was gifted the love of Helen, which initiated a ten year long war on Troy; Odysseus persevered for 20 years in the name of love, sacrificed six of his own men for love; Orpheus defied death for love, and brought about his own downfall in love; Hades abducted his bride out of love, inevitably dooming the Earth to death and decay for half the year at the hands of a loving mother grieving for her lost daughter.

Even when Aphrodite isn't physically present in a story, she is there in the actions of a story's characters made out of love and desire, and she is as inevitable as the Fates and the passage of time. Aphrodite is a goddess of love and war because love is war, and so to try and separate her from war feels like a severe underestimation of the power she possesses over mankind more so than any other god or goddess. Though you could argue her domain over human emotion and their consequential actions limits her in her influences unlike that of the primordials or Titans, without man to worship them or perceive them or tell stories of them, then what is left of gods? Unrequited love and desire.

[serickswrites]

Lie Still

@lurkingwhump gave me such a delightful idea for this little piece

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, rescue, unconsciousness, bed side vigil, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

The world Whumpee lived in was hazy. Hazy and narrow. Logically they knew this meant they weren't going to live much longer, that Whumper had gone too far and cut too deep. Logically they knew that they were bleeding out and would be gone soon. But they were too tired and too cold to care.

They were so tired. They could barely keep their eyes open. Each time their eyes drifted closed, they knew they had to open them again. They couldn't let the last few moments of their life slip away with closed eyes. Even if the world was hazy.

Sounds were muffled and distorted. They thought they had heard Whumper talking to them. Then the sound of a fight. But that didn't make sense. Whumper had them all alone. There was no one else here. Perhaps their mind was playing tricks on them.

But their mind played the cruelest trick of all: Caretaker. They could hear Caretaker calling to them. They began to cry as they realized it was their dying brain trying to soothe them. To give them one last measure of comfort as they faded into oblivion.

"Whumpee, darling, it's ok, you're ok. I've got you," Caretaker murmured in Whumpee's ear.

Whumpee sobbed harder as they lay there, the hallucination of Caretaker stroking their hair as shadows moved in and out of their field of vision. Even though Caretaker was supposed to be a measure of comfort, it hurt Whumpee. Hurt worse than the pain of being cut open repeatedly by Whumper. Hurt more than any torture Whumper had done. Because Caretaker wasn't here, but Whumpee wanted them. Wanted them more than anything.

"Keep your eyes open, darling. You're doing so great. Please, come on. Look at me, Whumpee. I've got you."

Whumpee wanted to look at the hallucination. Wanted to listen to Caretaker's voice. Because even if Caretaker wasn't really here, they were soothed. As Whumpee let themself fade into oblivion, they could have sworn they heard their hallucination crying softly.

***

Caretaker froze the moment they entered into Whumper's torture chamber. Whumpee was restrained to a metal table in the center of the room, their abdomen and chest cut to ribbons, their blood flowing over the edges of the table and onto the floor. The floor was slick with Whumpee's blood.

"What did they do to you, Whumpee?" Caretaker muttered as they hurried over. The medic had called for them to hurry, that they weren't too late, but it was close.

They could see Whumpee was blinking slowly, their breathing shallow. Between the deep slash marks in their body and blood loss, Caretaker knew Whumpee was going into shock. And if they lost consciousness, Caretaker wasn't sure they would wake up. "I'm here, Whumpee."

Whumpee was unresponsive to their words. "Whumpee, darling, it's ok, you're ok. I've got you," Caretaker murmured in Whumpee's ear.

They were unsure where they could touch Whumpee. Between the team of medics working to stabilize Whumpee and all the injuries on their body, Caretaker wasn't sure where wouldn't hurt. They stroked Whumpee's hair and murmured in Whumpee's ear.

"Keep your eyes open, darling. You're doing so great. Please, come on. Look at me, Whumpee. I've got you."

It didn't matter how much they begged Whumpee to keep awake. They knew Whumpee wouldn't be conscious for much longer. Their only hope was that the medic had done enough to stop the bleeding to get Whumpee to the hospital.

But as they watched Whumpee's eyes close, no longer fluttering open, panic gripped Caretaker's heart. As Whumpee took a stuttering breath and went still beneath the medic's hands, Caretaker looked around, desperate to find any help.

"It's ok, Caretaker, I gave them something to make transport easier," the medic reassured Caretaker. "I'm going to try and dress some of these, it's going to hurt. I want them to be comfortable."

As Whumpee was whisked away from them, Caretaker tried to swallow past the lump in their throat. Whumpee would live. Whumpee had to live. Caretaker wouldn't be able to living in a world without Whumpee.

***

"What did they do to you, darling?" Caretaker whispered to the near silent room. They had taken up residence in the chair next to Whumpee's bed the moment the doctor said that they could. Whumpee hadn't woken yet, no one was sure when, or even if, Whumpee would wake up.

The only thing that told Caretaker that Whumpee was still alive was the whirring and hissing of the ventilator and the steady, regular beeps of the heart monitor. Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was alive. They weren't too late. They squeezed Whumpee's hand. "Please come back to me, darling. I'm here. I've got you. Please come back to me."

Death would not be good enough for Whumper. Caretaker was going to rip Whumper apart limb from limb the moment Whumpee was stable enough for them to leave. Caretaker couldn't risk leaving and having Whumpee fade away to nothing.

Caretaker's rage was nearly all consuming. To be angry, to be ready to destroy Whumper felt so much better than to give into the terror that had been gripping Caretaker's heart since they found Whumpee. Since they nearly lost Whumpee.

Whumpee was strong. They were a fighter. Caretaker kept reassuring themself that Whumpee would wake soon. That Whumpee would be ok. That they would heal. They wouldn't lose Whumpee. Whumpee would be ok.

Caretaker didn't want to imagine what would happen otherwise.

***

"Darling, you have to stay in bed," Caretaker urged Whumpee four days later.

Whumpee lay against the pillows, their face glistening with sweat. But they had the look of determination on their face that Caretaker knew was dangerous. "Darling, you are still so weak. Please, please lay back."

"I....I am tired of....being in bed." Whumpee's speech was still stilted, every word and effort for them to get enough breath to speak. Whumper had injured their lungs. Whumpee was determined to stand today. They pushed off again and tried to rise.

"Darling, you will tear your stitches. Please, lay back. For me?" Caretaker put a gentle hand on Whumpee's shoulder and guided them back down to the pillows.

Whumpee didn't want to admit it, but Caretaker was right. They were so exhausted. What little energy they had evaporated with their attempt to sit up in bed. "Maybe....maybe I....could nap....for a while."

Caretaker smiled softly at Whumpee. "I think that's a great idea, darling." Caretaker took Whumpee's hand in their and squeezed. "I'll watch over you. Rest, please, darling."

Whumpee's eyelids slipped closed as they could no longer fight the weight. "Love you," Whumpee muttered as sleep claimed them again.

"I love you, too," Caretaker said as they leaned down and kissed Whumpee's forehead.

Which is why they were going to end Whumper at the first opportunity they could. Caretaker knew that their colleagues wouldn't let them get close to Whumper. Wouldn't let them be alone in a room. Still, there was always the opportunity for something. Because death was not good enough for Whumper. Not after everything they put Whumpee through.

"Sleep, darling, I'll keep you safe. I'll always keep you safe. I love you so much, darling," Caretaker murmured again as they watched Whumpee relax into a deeper sleep.

[rebelsafoot]

i think one of the cruelest parts of ambers death in house is that she had to figure out she was dying herself. no one told her, she just heard her symptoms and put the pieces together. that is so fucked up to me, having to diagnose your own death. having to be the one to admit that youre not going to live, having no one to soften the blow. like i know i am probably looking Too Much into this but OHHH it kills me. someone who put so much of herself in her work, someone who was a representation of house who does anything to get a diagnosis, i think its so tragic and its also the only way she would go. of course she knew immediately that she was dying, and of course she said it out loud. its such a small moment but it just shows so much of who amber was and how strong and brave she was and i just love her so much and she deserved so much better

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Was just thinking that some of the cruelest pranks one could play on Color would probably be something like making him think someone he cares about is hurt/dead/dying, making him think that his camera or photos are destroyed, making him thinking that a gift given to him by a loved one was destroyed or one he gave to a love one was.

Making him think that everyone forgot him, either by removing/hiding things important to him and things he ties to identity, or ignoring him and pretending no one can see or hear him. Him waking up one day completely alone with no signs that anyone else was living with him. let him be walking with friends somewhere only to turn around and they’re gone.

Or make him think he’s back in the void. Turn off all lights, lock him in completely pitch black room and don’t allow him to hear or become aware of anything outside that door.

this are all very horrible “pranks” to do to someone and would very likely re traumatize someone. Which is to say..

someone should totally do it.

but who..nightmare on purpose? epic/delta or the murder time trio? in which case how would color react then.

[vulnonapix1234]

DP x DC au

Consider: Danny not only gives Clark shit about the whole Conner situation, but he kidnaps him as a new cousin/sibling/ family member.

The soul of a clone is quite special. Souls form due to the things you live through, the emotions you feel, and the bonds you have with others. Clones do not have that in most cases.

Conner for example was made in an test tube and dramatically aged up. He was fed endless information, but never felt any emotions till he was freed.

As such, he can't control them. They scare him, which turns into anger.

He was unstable and he and his soul would have collapsed, had he not been around the young justice, who were able to hold him together with the bonds they formed.

Had they not been there, his physical form would have collapsed, just like his soul. He would have died in the cruelest way possible.

Needless to say, Danny still loved all the soul blobs that come into his realm. He felt a connection to them, especially after meeting all of Dani's siblings. Those who never had the chance to truly form.

Cloning happens a lot more often than he would like. A clone truly having the chance to live? Not so much.

So, he kept an eye on Conner from the shadows.

(It was his dearest who found him. Trucker still loves technology and especially the one the justice league owns. He hacked it and found their "lost son". Conner's siblings all arrived and waited for him)

The Thing about Conner is that just because his soul stabilized, his body wasn't save. His human and krypton genes weren't as compatible as Lex believed.

It wasn't just the fact that Conner wasn't aging.

He was actively dying without knowing.

His cells were devouring each other. Plain and simple. The older he got, the slower they regenerated.

He wouldn't make it past 10 years, if he was lucky.

This saddened Danny greatly.

Conner deserved to grow old with his friends, the family that formed his soul.

But Danny knew better than to Intervene.

He would sit back and await him together with his siblings.

At least that was his plan, till the big justice league summoned him.

"Take care of this fucking intergalactic problem and you gain parts of my soul."

That were the words of the soul slut. It was easy for Danny to change up the contract Constantine created.

His surprised face when the whole man realized that was amusing. Especially since he realized it after the league signed it.

So, he collected the boy after the deed was done. The way Conner's friends fought to protect him warmed his heart.

He still took him home, after killing off his human side and stabilizing his body by turning him into an halfa.

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 7 : I'm home

Macaque is seized by some feelings, he let it go

The sun was above him. Not the pleasing, blooming light he was used to, the one that embraced him like a long lost lover, the one that made him feel like living was a gift. 

The sun above him was cruel. It burned his eyes without a shred of pity, rays falling upon his battered flesh like a rain of knives. It wasn't the friend he was accustomed to, it was the King of the sky, gazing at his dying body without any mercy. The cruel light veiled the sage’s shoulder, like a glistening cape made for the holiest, the mightiest of beings, the ones siding with goodness. 

And Macaque wasn't good. He was the demon that tried to make the chosen one bleed, the fool the heroes trampled on to reach higher heights. He was nothing but a shadow, a fickle, shapeless thing, easily burned by the light it stupidly fell in love with. The winds were right, it was madness to love someone who will never wait for your steps, who will never bend to your level. They had whispered truth in his ears since the dawn of his birth, but he had ignored the warnings, choosing to follow the shadow of a monkey coated in gold despite knowing he will never be enough for him. 

Tears nipped at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He held them inside of him, drowning his own heart, his own lungs with sorrow. He would never let the sage see his tears, never again. He would die with fire in his eyes and a sneer on his face, mocking the King till his inevitable end. 

Sun Wukong wasn't golden anymore, his fur was soiled by the warrior's blood, gold strands coated in the liquid life of the one that loved him the most. Macaque gazed at the sage's eyes, two murderous red bolts glaring at him with disgust, something he never saw before on a face so sweet. Macaque had never been afraid of the sage, he never understood the tales painting him as a ruthless monster. 

How can a monkey so kind, so accepting, so illuminating be a monster ? 

He understood now, in the face of the red coated beast, staff raised above him, light gliding on it, like the sun itself blessed this death. He understood the terror that seized people when they glanced at the Monkey King. 

“You're my best friend in the world Liu'er !”, lies echoing in his mind, lies he fell for willingly, lies he had hoped were truth. The Six-eared Macaque, tricked by lies, the vilest disgrace, the cruelest downfall, of all for him. 

He had nothing left, he realized as death fell upon him in the form of his King. His home was Sun Wukong's, his people were Sun Wukong's, his goals were Sun Wukong's, his heart was Sun Wukong's. And now, his life was in the hands of this man. 

"I love you." He whispered, the truth he never dared to utter falling through his lips with ease, the foolish thing in his chest beating with the senseless hope that these pathetic words would be enough to grace him mercy. 

Sun Wukong stopped, staff grazing the warrior's face, and Macaque hoped for a second that he would be spared. That, at last his friend would remember their kind days, and let him go with the winds. Macaque had done wrong, he tried to hurt the monk, but he wasn't the worst, he had heard of demons doing more dreadful things to the pilgrims, and of them being spared by the King. To begin with, he never planned to kill Tripitaka, he only wanted Wukong to come back to the place he belonged. Contrary to many others, he wasn't motivated by greed, or lust, but by love, surely this would grant him his King mercy.

Surely, Sun Wukong would remember everything he had ever done for him, and let him escape. 

The sage let his staff fall upon him, the weapon tearing his eye, digging its way through his skull. Macaque screamed, all hopes burned forevermore, as he felt life evade him. 

“I like you more than anyone else, Liu'er”. 

"Liar." Muttered the macaque as death came and dragged his soul to hell’s depths. 

Macaque woke up with a trembling heart, it wasn't the first time he dreamt of his death, but it became more frequent since sleeping beside the sage. He turned towards the golden fluff ball curled up in his left, still paralyzed by his dream, and felt his fear spikes. It wasn't easy to wake up besides the one that killed him after he dreamt of his death, it made the lingering memory of the nightmare more real. Macaque closed his eyes, and concentrated on his surroundings. He focused on the peaceful breath of the sage, of the way his fur felt pressed on his left side, warm and soft, on the way his own heart was beating, on the chants of nature outside the shack. 

Sun Wukong, the pilgrim, wasn't here, the one beside him was an overgrown puppy too needy for his own good. He wasn't Liu'er anymore, weak, pathetic Liu'er lying on the floor as his King ended him, he wasn't the same. 

The sage stirred, ears flapping slightly, but he didn't wake up, only snuggling closer, snout diving in the warrior's fur. Macaque had tried to sleep elsewhere, to stop The King from joining him, but it had been useless. Sun Wukong didn't sleep if he wasn't pressed against the warrior, he always barged in, uncaring of doors, locks and hisses. 

The King began to shake, body overtaken by tremors as he pressed further in the warrior's side. Macaque wasn't the only one haunted by nightmares, he noticed that Wukong had his fair shares of tortuous dreams. The sage never made any sounds when he dreamt of horrors, he shook and cried, but his voice never rang. Macaque had wondered more than once if he had been unaware of some of the sage's nightmares. If, in their past, Sun Wukong had woken up in the middle of the night after being tortured by his own mind without the Macaque being there to wipe his tears. 

It shouldn't bother him, it shouldn't hurt him. He tried to ignore the way Sun Wukong would flinch when Macaque grazed his forehead, the way he hid behind him when smoke arose from fire, the way he looked at scalding food with narrowed eyes, the way he would still when something fell on his back. 

He tried to ignore how Sun Wukong was hurting, but it was becoming more and more difficult after each day at his side. 

“This is only because the shaking is bothering me”, reasoned the Macaque as he petted the sage, combing through his fur and scratching in-between his ears. The sage continued to tremble, but he began to purr, a weak thing barely echoing, and Macaque stayed there, incapable of finding sleep after reliving his death, incapable of closing his eyes with a trembling mess at his side. 

Sun Wukong stopped shaking after a while, his tremors leaving him as the nightmare faded away in a kinder dream. Macaque gently pushed the sage away, and escaped the sofa, relieved to see that the King was still sound asleep, even if he did whimper slightly. The warrior took his phone and turned on a dim light to navigate more easily, he slipped out of the shack and sat on the threshold, looking at the falling waterfall with faraway eyes. 

He had gotten out of the shack once or twice, to find food or simply to call for the wandering King, but he had never gotten too far, he knew Sun Wukong hadn't too. Macaque turned on the phone to shake off his thoughts, he fell upon the group chat the kid had created, and was quite surprised to see the two kids very much awake at this ungodly hour. 

Emo Monkey (he wasn't responsible for this nickname, but he hadn't found the way to change it yet) : why are you both still awake? 

The chaos child ( he learnt quite quickly that this name was really fitting for the dragon girl and her chaotic ways) : The hot topic monkey is awake! My monkey bestie here was showing me all the cute pics of Wukong! Great stuff. 

The girl had been quite reserved at first, he didn't even know why the kid added her in the first place, but she quickly spammed the group chat with memes and other things Macaque didn't really get. She was also collecting pictures for blackmail on Wukong and, well, who was Macaque to not indulge this? 

Everyone's favorite : we're having a sleepover but without being in the same room! :) 

Emo Monkey : You should go to sleep, you're gonna whine about it tomorrow if you don't. 

Everyone's favorite : yes, Mama Mac. 

The chaos child : AYO, AFDGYC, that's funny as hell. 

~ The chaos child changed Emo Monkey username for Mama Mac~

Mama Mac : I'm not appreciating this teasing.

The chaos child : that's because you're no fun. 

Mama Mac : And you're insufferable. Go to sleep, child. 

Everyone's favorite : the mom has talked, Mei. 

The chaos child : Nooooo, but MK. We still have so many pictures of Monkey King chewing on stuff to see. 

Mama Mac : the pictures will still be here tomorrow. 

The chaos child : who would have thought the emo monkey was secretly caring. 

Everyone's favorite : I saw it coming the day he didn't kill Monkey King for hugging him! 

The chaos child : the good old days. Eyo, you think I could see the King? Kinda wanna snap pictures of him myself, Macaque's suck at taking pictures. 

Mama Mac : hey! I'm still here. My pictures are fine. You just don't understand my art. 

Everyone's favorite : idk, Monkey King has been more calm these days… 

Mama Mac : he's still stressed as hell, the guy tried to break in when I was taking my bath, again. 

The chaos child : kinky 

Mama Mac : no, don't even think about it. 

The chaos child : too late. 

Mama Mac : Anyway, he's still unstable, come at your own risks. 

The chaos child : I like risks! 

Mama Mac : I will not be responsible for her death. 

Everyone's favorite : this is terrible mom behavior Macaque, :(

Mama Mac : I AM NOT A MOM! 

The chaos child : poor guy, he's in denial. 

Everyone's favorite : he'll come around. 

Mama Mac : I hate you both. 

The chaos child : *gasp* but we're so adorable, how could you! 

Everyone's favorite : impossible, we're unhateable! 

Mama Mac : debatable. 

The chaos child : you're just a cranky pants monkey. 

Mama Mac : both of you need to sleep, and to shut your mouths. 

Everyone's favorite : night Macaque, cuddle Monkey King for me. 

Mama Mac : Absolutely not. 

The chaos child : we know you do, there are pictures.

Mama Mac : He forced me. 

The chaos child : likely story. Just go back to your “nemesis” *COUGH* “boyfriend” *COUGH*. 

Everyone's favorite : they could be good friends, yk. 

The chaos child : when you're someone rivals for years, it's not rivalry anymore, it's gayness. 

Everyone's favorite : I can't argue with the facts, they're gays for each other, and it suddenly made a lot of sense. 

The chaos child : this is a bitter ex situation. 

Mama Mac : you both are delusionals, and blind. 

Everyone's favorite : THE HERO AND THE WARRIOR WERE LIKE THE SUN AND THE MOON.

The chaos child : that's like peak gay behavior. 

Everyone's favorite : How could I not see it before, nobody calls his rival the sun without feelings.

Mama Mac : it's poetry, POETRY, it's not literal. 

The chaos child : wow, gay poetry. 

Everyone's favorite : I'm questioning every interactions, how could I not see the gayness! 

Mama Mac : I'm out of here. 

The chaos child : you run away bc yk we're right, mah boy, you are gay. 

Everyone's favorite : the tension was so obvious too! Omg, it's like an enemy to lover situation! 

Macaque scowled and put aside the phone, not wanting to be teased anymore. Those two definitely had a running imagination, and way too much energy at this ungodly hour. At least, their silliness did chase his somber thoughts, and the lingering feelings of his nightmare. The warrior sighed and looked at the waterfall, eyes lost in violent water. His fingers twitched and his heart stuttered, he was seized by the want to explore his old home, the want to walk on familiar paths. It wasn't the first time he felt that way, but, till now, he had always ignored it, always pushed it away. 

It was becoming harder to not give in when what he longed for was within reach. 

The warrior was startled by a quiet chirp, he turned and saw Sun Wukong groggily trotting towards him. The sage sat beside him and yawned, eyes clouded by mist, his golden tail tied itself to the ebony monkey's hips. 

"You usually never woke up this early." Muttered the warrior, and the sage replied with a grunt, tail squeezing the macaque's waist as if he would disappear at any moment. "Yeah, okay, you're cranky, geez." Snickered the warrior. "You wanna take a walk?" He didn't know why he asked, why he dared to fathom it. He regretted asking the second he heard himself, but he didn't take it back, letting the sage decide for him. It was easier to let someone else decide for him, but it raised, at the same time, a bitterness he knew very well. No. He wasn't a follower, not anymore. "I'm taking a walk." Corrected the warrior, he rose, startling the sage, and walked towards the waterfall. 

Sun Wukong followed after him, this time not walking in his shadow, but beside him. Macaque hesitated before the waterfall, tiredness gnawing at him, doubts blooming in his mind. He knew giving in to this desire was bound to break him, he knew, deep within, it was a bad idea, it would shatter every wall he had tried to build. But he was tired of fighting against his own wants, tired of pretending he didn't long for his home, for places that were once familiar. 

Tonight, he wasn't strong enough to resist temptation. 

The macaque passed the waterfall, and walked in the forest. He knew where he wanted to go, the place he wanted to see the most. Flower Fruit Mountain changed, a fate inevitable, for it was a place holding life, and life was never static. It was strange, to see familiar blending with newness, to see trees marked by his claws tangled with trees he had never seen before, to see rivers he dived in flowing in new places. It was bittersweet to feel the weight of time, but it was also reassuring to see that he hadn't been completely erased, that his memory resided within the steps he imbued in the mountain. 

Sun Wukong looked around frantically, ears twitching at every sound, tail lashing excitedly behind him. It wasn't the first time the King walked in the forest, he wandered sometimes, pushed by childish wonder. But it was the first time he walked with Macaque, mayhaps this was enough to make it new and exciting. 

Macaque stopped before a cliff, and laid under a towering tree, watching the glimmering sky with a hammering heart. The sage laid beside him, snuggling him shamelessly. This was his haven, the place he sneaked in when life was stretching him thin, he spent hours napping under this tree, hours watching the sky change, hours cuddling with his best friend. 

Nostalgia didn't seize him, no, what drowned him was something he never expected. Relief. As if the weights he had dragged for days suddenly disappeared. 

"I'm home." Whispered the macaque, as if he didn't quite believe it, or perhaps didn't want to. Feelings surged in, it burned to lay there, his skin scorched by memories, but he didn't move, didn't dare to. "I'm home." He repeated, more certain, more firm, as if to chase away any doubts lingering, any fears shackling him. "I'm home." And he let the tears fall down, not capable of holding them together, not capable of hiding the ocean dedicated to his lost home he hid for eons. 

He was home. This wasn't the shadows of a tree laying on the roadside, or the shambles of an abandoned house, this was home, a land with a place for him. He let himself be overwhelmed, be drowned by feelings, he was home, and it hurts, it burned him because he knew he couldn't stay forever, he knew he would be chased one way or another, nobody wanted a battered shadow in his land. He knew this was weak of him, to give in to his own longing, he fought it for so long, only to crumble because he wasn't strong-willed enough. But it also soothed his bleeding heart, the one longing for safety, familiarity, warmth. He was home, and for the first time since he landed there, he cried. 

The first tears were small, quiet, a weight barely there that could be wiped by a single flick. But the more he cried, the louder he became. The tears surged in, one after another, his face crumbled, pain etched on his skin. He cried, till his whole body was shaken by tremors, till his voice echoed in the night, old wails stumbling one after another. He couldn't stop, shaken by the storm, drowned with his own tears, he couldn't even breathe. 

It would be a stupid way to die, but fitting for the fool he was. 

Golden arms hugged him, he was pushed in a soft chest, petted by familiar hands. Coos and purr echoed in his ears as he curled on himself, shaking as if he was standing on the coldest mountain. Magic surged in his veins, a way to calm him, to ground him, to appease the storm seizing him. He cried till the sun rose, never clinging to the golden fur, but diving in it greedily. 

When he looked at the one hugging him, he realized the other must have used quite a lot of magic to calm him, the glamor etched in his forehead faded away, revealing a wound in the shape of a crown. 

"You overdid it." Mumbled the warrior, voice rough, abused by cries. 

Some of Sun Wukong's glamours did break after he was reduced to this state, notably the one on his eyes, but the one on his forehead was special. It was stronger than any other veiling his body, carefully weaved, made to withstand anything, and stand (like the one on the macaque's face, one he refused to take down, no matter if he died of magic depletion). 

The macaque traced the scar with his eyes, he raised a hand, but hesitated when the King flinched. 

"I'm… it’s okay, tell me if you want me to stop." Muttered the warrior, he traced the wound with his claws, heart beating frantically. Perhaps, he was tired after crying for so long, after being overwhelmed by his own feelings, but he couldn't deny what was in front of him anymore. 

Sun Wukong was hurting, and as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, as much as he wanted to think of his killer as a ruthless monster, he couldn't when one graze on his wound was enough to make him shake.

The macaque poured the drops of magic he received in his fingers, he ignored the pain seizing him, and veiled the wound with renewed glamor. It wasn't as strong, but it would do for now. 

The warrior sighed and dived in the sage's chest, not caring about anything, too tired to fall prey to hatred. He purred when the sage scratched his ears, it felt good, he could see why the golden monkey liked it so much when he did it. It felt nice, to be embraced, to be in familiar arms, to let go of his anger, and let himself enjoy what was given. 

"I'm sorry." Muttered the ebony monkey, he didn't know if he was apologizing for crying like a newborn cub, or for things he did long ago, he didn't care. "And thanks."

+

I did some doodles for another au of mine, the bimawen au, and I was : why not do some for this story too??

So here is a doodle of feral Wukong and Macaque,

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[karasbroken]

A few months ago I went off on the reason this particular tiny moment intrigues me:

To John, Scorpius is a mythic, nigh omniscient and omnipresent monster under his bed. John "thinks" he's hiding his Achilles, but really, Scorp just doesn't have a reason to shoot yet. But what is undeniably true is that Aeryn is John's weak point. His face in Promises when Aeryn makes him promise not to kill Scorpius is terrible, gutting. She's carving pieces of him up to ask that of him. But he can't deny her. If he does she'll leave again and he can't bear that.

So I had to go gif it today. I've been thinking about why I keep doing John moments on Tuesdays, and I will try to mix it up eventually. The whole cast is full of amazingly detailed performances and I have an endless set of moments to choose from. But there's a couple reasons I'm stuck on John.

One is that I've been writing in Aeryn's head for a solid 8 months now. 125k words of looking out through her eyes, and what does she look at? Mostly John. So I'm always rewatching bits thinking about how she sees him. I've just started a John POV fic so my eye might turn back on her for a while.

The other main reason is that Ben is just an amazingly emotional actor. So much so that the other gif I was thinking about making today was something from Constellation of Doubt, where he has so many moments of being completely dead inside. (I know we never see it, but I'm positive he went back on the lakah for a while.) It's bone chilling when he isn't emoting, because Ben just gives everything into especially John's pain and his love.

But yeah, this moment, it's both of those together and that's why I find it compelling. His worst nightmare is here, staring him in his face. The woman he loves beyond hope and reason is dying and the monster he fears the most, who he lives with every day and cannot escape, may be her only hope.

I understand why Aeryn does this, she has so little left of herself that her honor is all she's clinging to (and she's not in her right mind). But this might be the cruelest moment of their relationship, when she abuses his love for her to preserve her honor. I really wonder if not telling him about the baby, which honestly we can't be sure at this point she even knows about, is even the reason John rejects her at the end of Promises. I think he may not even realize it, but it's actually this moment that breaks what was already fractured. The beginning of his understanding of just how far he will go for her, and that he can't trust Aeryn not to ask for what he should never give her.

[nancy-drewdles]

What if they actually did break the curse in 4x03?

Temperance knew that Ace is Nancy's blind spot and that she will do everything to protect him. I'm sure she was aware that Ace will do the same. She is an excellent fortune teller and all that.

What if Nancy almost dying was a failsafe in case they ever manage to destroy the curse? What if that was supposed to happen?

What if her plan was for them to always live in fear? Not knowing if they managed to break it or not.

"Maybe we think we broke the curse. How will we ever know that she didn't plan another twist? We will always be looking over our shoulder."

Well, how would they you know that they didn't?

Fear is the enemy of love.

What if she was counting on them to always be looking over their shoulder? For them to always be on edge? For that fear and that doubt to destroy their relationship?

Wouldn't this be the cruelest joke she could play on them.

[crookedfandomquill]

I’ve decided that the thing that hurts most about s1 Jang Uk vs. s2 Jang Uk is that the sharp, inquisitive, openly spiteful part of him is now so muffled by grief and hopelessness. It’s still there, but he’s been cut down in a very real way, as we saw in the flashback with Park Jin. He was forced to give up on avenging his love, forced to work for the people who were to blame, forced to tame his ambitions and his image to make others more comfortable. He’s bearing this immense power that’s more a millstone than anything, and he’s bearing the knowledge that his lover is dead, and in the cruelest way possible. Not to mention the trauma of dying violently, resurrecting as an all-powerful monster, learning that he was born from rape and sorcery… He’s in a dark place.

And now he has Bu Yeon, who is the open, unbroken, unknowing soul of the woman who trained him, loved him, and murdered him, the woman who gave him purpose and agency for the first time in his life and truly Saw Him. And now she’s doing it all again, and of course he’s falling in love with her again. And that light is coming back into his eyes, the mischief and the cunning and the determination. He came back to life 3 years ago, but now he’s finally living again. Because of her.

[lunasglow]

Sorry to team green, but you have to admit that GRRM had zero chill when he wrote their deaths.

Otto beheaded on Rhaenyras orders as a traitor.

Alicent living the longest and hating her factions color.

Aegon II dying to poison, a “woman’s weapon,” before having his claim fall to his rivals son when it could have gone to his daughter.

Aemond being pierced in the very same eye he kickstarted a war over.

Daeron being burned alive under a crushed tent after sacking Bitterbridge.

Their deaths are packed with the cruelest irony and I really do live for it, personally.

[nym-wibbly]

a big, soft, comfortable, comforting, private hug where they have time to get comfy and close their eyes and start to feel self-conscious but hold on tighter until it passes and feel each other's warmth and safety and they're just Home

adksksknft! But ngl I expected more porn?

I do tend to say it with porn, no? ;) These two have a history of gorgeous, meaningful hugs when it matters though. That and the profound-bond eyesex they seem relentlessly unaware of doing from the moment they meet.

As a fanwriter, I'm at a loss with "Destiel", I have to admit - the sheer weight of their backstory is intimidating. I'd love to use my smut toolkit to wrestle my way to understanding Dean and Cas as characters, as a romantic/sexual pairing, hell, as a phenomenon of modern fandom culture, but I doubt there's much left to add to all the Cas/Dean smut that's been written over the past 15 years. I'm way late to the Supernatural party. I'm so late they're talking "revival"! The stats on AO3 are mind-boggling for this pairing alone.

The hug post got me thinking about their finale smut potential and motivations, though!

Would their post-finale reunion go the smut route right away? Depends how smutty/romantic one's interpretation of their backstory is, I think. If I load a headcanon where they've already been lovers in the past, or wished they were but put it on hold, then yep, they'd be straight in there with the cinematic kiss the second they get enough eye-contact to reassure them that everything's okay between them. Don't come knockin' when Heaven's a-rockin'.

I sort of love that if I take the show at face value they're messier than that, though - that the show didn't give them a real-life-isn't-like-that cosy wrapup, just this lifechanging bond played out over 12 long seasons that even they struggle to categorise and rationalise, and probably couldn't explain on paper if their lives depended on it. They've both worked so hard to find their common ground, to accommodate each other's unique ways of being difficult, broken, and beautiful - but they're both pretty obtuse about the implications. I reckon they at least need a good run-up, and some actual, on-topic conversations in a no-stress environment before tearing each other's heavenly garments asunder, post-finale.

Cas loves Dean, and said so with (what he genuinely thought were) his final words, passionate and uncompromising and pure of intent, but what does monogamous love of a human mean to a fallen angel who's shown little sign of carnality or domesticity in his quest to adapt to humanity's ways and get comfortable with human emotions? He wanted something more than the closeness they had already by season 14/15, so bad you could spot him yearning at 300ft, but what? What exactly would his wish-fulfilment look like? Does he even know himself? What's Cas' #destiel headcanon? I'm open to it being happy and fulfilling human life-parter type sex, naturally, but also to it being... something other? Something so alien to humanity that he's sure Dean can't follow him there?

Dean loves Cas, less and less obliquely as the series progresses, but it's not a love he knows how to deal with. He goes with "brother" because that's the tidiest mental compartment he can find for the intensity of this bond, I think, and because blood family is always his frame of reference for everything that matters most to him. He grows more comfortable with it as Cas becomes easier to talk with, more emotionally articulate and outwardly human, but he also seems increasingly mystified by how to respond to it - something too big to ever get dealt with while they're so busy putting out apocalyptic fires and, you know, dying all the time.

I reckon Dean took Cas' love confession at face value, that it devastated and humbled him, that he wasn't anywhere near ready to hear it said aloud; that hearing it as 'goodbye, I'm dying for you' was one of the cruelest personal blows he's ever taken; that he understood Cas didn't need him to do or say anything in return at that moment, but must regret that he didn't speak his mind sooner; that everything else Cas said to him in those few minutes caused such a profound shift in his understanding of himself that he's got a lot of quiet thinking to do before he's back on an even keel and ready to act decisively about his relationship with anyone else. Dean's typically slow at processing things he can't wrap his head around instantly, things that leave him feeling exposed, and... well... he didn't get much time after that.

I keep warily eyeing that weirdly amorphous and dreamlike Heaven they ended up in, too, with its optional passage of time and sense of... emptiness. Especially having seen how antsy Dean looked about the deal in The Winchesters. Can he even play by Jack's hands-off rules up there?

I'd hate for a belatedly vicious plot punchline to sneak up on the happy couple while they were blissed out and off guard from making the nekky love in a heavenly sunny meadow full of bees or whatever, screwing their way towards happily-ever-after, but that's the way my brain seems to be leaning on the finale's picture of Heaven. My guard is up, my suspicion's aroused, so anything I write to consummate their relationship, set post-finale, would get tangled up in that less attractive puzzle.

I felt the fandom's howling wilderness of pain in 2020 and I don't want to make it WORSE by pitching in now with unnecessarily angsty smutfeels, y'know? I'm all about the character-building angst and hope never to change, but even I think these two deserve an uncomplicated, happy sex life - if for no other reason than cosmic compensation for all they've sacrificed and all the times they got hit, stabbed, or dead - by this point in the story.

[jayflrt]

i don’t want to be an ignorant person, but i couldn’t bear myself to read what happened to Palestine :( the zionist is so cruel, the cruelest. i feel immense pain.. sadness towards Palestine.. i couldn’t bear what is it feels like to be in their places 🥲 especially what happened during metgala, how could they did that. they not even close to human, they are worst than the devils

i understand the feeling anon. it's jarring and sickening and downright evil what's happening to palestine but most of us are privileged enough to only see the atrocious calamity through the videos and posts online while they have to live through it every day. i feel sick to my stomach too watching and reading about what happens and my heart aches for them every day. ofc i don't want to see dying innocents but the least we can do is spread awareness when israel is deliberately trying to silence the media reporting on palestine

israel has attacked palestine during the super bowl, the oscars, the grammys, and now the met gala :( waiting for the world to turn their attention to something else so that they can continue their cruel and inhumane acts, it's just so so sick

it's so so important!!! the fundraisers, news articles, live updates—all of these are spreading awareness about the ethnic cleansing and the world needs to know!!! i don't know how many people are seeing whatever i retweet but even if one person sees a fundraiser link and clicks on it to share or donate, or if one person sees a post about the genocide and learns more about what's happening, then i think it's all the difference in the world