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[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.3

Synopsis: “And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.”

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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f! reader, nsfw, mild language, voyeurism, sukuna has two cocks, pure smut, gentle sukuna

⚝wc: 2.2k

⚝a/n: please the messages I’ve been getting from this series have been so unhinged?? I love it

“I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

And you swear your brain ceases to function. When you regain awareness, you find yourself against the black silken sheets of Ryomen Sukuna’s enormous bed. The air is thick with the scent of incense, and the dim light from flickering candles casts long shadows across the room. And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.

He looks down at you, two of his strong arms gripping your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging painfully into your flesh. Your gaze flickers down to his body, taking in the sight of his rippling muscles, flexing with each subtle movement. His broad chest rises and falls at a steady pace, a stark contrast to the thunderous beating of your own heart. His crimson eyes hold a possessiveness, the gaze of a predator stalking its prey, intense and unyielding.

Ryomen Sukuna was alreadyterrifying fully clothed, but his naked form elicited a different fear in you altogether. Two thick cocks stood proud and eager. You try to take in every detail, thick veins running up the sides, flushed angry red tips dripping pre-cum down his monstrous shaft. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your saliva drying up as you force a swallow. His lips curl into a smile that sends shivers down your spine. He lowers his head to your ear, his breath searingly hot against your skin.

“You are aware I do not like waiting.” He growls.

“W… what would you like me to do My Lord?” The uncertainty in your tone is evident. He pulls back slightly, his gaze piercing through you with a mixture of disbelief and dark amusement.

Yes, you were younger than the other women in the castle, most of whom had come to serve after being widowed or hardened by life. But he assumed you’d had some knowledge. He had no need for concubines with no experience, anyone else who would dare enter his chambers without it would be swiftly dealt with. ‘Training pets’ was of no interest to him. But he couldn’t seem to ignore the way his cocks twitched at the thought of being the one who would ruin you. With a swift, almost effortless motion, his four powerful arms shift your position. Within the span of a heartbeat, he flips you over so that you find yourself straddling him, the change in position startlingly abrupt.

You’re momentarily paralyzed, a jolt of panic surging through you. What exactly were you supposed to do now? Theoretically, you knew what was expected, the steps that were supposed to follow, but… how?

༺═────────────═༻

On occasion, you found yourself wide awake during the night, the sound of the bed frame creaking and exaggerated moans muffled through the door connecting your room to Sukuna’s. Of course, Curiosity, that dangerous and ever-present impulse, got the better of you—and you innocently pressed your ear to the door. And of course, your eyes found their way to a convenient crack in the dark mahogany.

‘You should be ashamed, spying on your king’

You cursed yourself as you watched him. He laid on the bed, a woman—who you’d seen enter his chambers multiple times was bouncing up and down on his length. Crying out as her hands rested atop his broad chest. Two arms guided her hips and the other two rested behind his head. Her loud moans of pleasure, a stark contrast between his low grunts. Your hand clasps over your mouth, suppressing your gasps as your own hand reached under your nightgown.

The sounds of skin slapping, squelching, and the woman’s theatrical wails acted as cover to your own quiet moans. As it continues Ryomen's head suddenly turns to the side, eye locking directly onto the door. A menacing smile spreads across his lips. Your blood runs cold as you make direct eye contact with your lord.

You cease your movements, tiptoeing back to your bed. Squeezing your thighs together, to desperately cool the unbearable heat.

“My…. lord… what are you looking at?” She gasps in between thrusts. You only hear a slap before covering your ears and praying it was just coincidence his eyes fell on that part of the room.

And from his lack of mention, you thought you had gotten away with it.

༺═────────────═༻

And now you sit between his two muscular legs, the same way you saw that woman do. Staring down his two thick members. A shaky hand wraps around one, unable to grip him fully. A soft moan escapes his lips as you feel his cock twitch under your touch. You begin to pump slowly, your movements hesitant. 

“Don’t..act so coy, I know you’ve seen this before.” And your heart drops in your stomach. You search for an excuse, a denial, but they all die in your throat. He only grins in response, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. One arm reaches behind your head, gently pushing your face mere inches away from his throbbing length. Your eyes flicker up to him then back down to his angry red tip, after a deep shaky breath you gather some spit in your mouth allowing it to flow onto him. He groans at the sensation, hand gripping your hair tightly. 

You loll your tongue out, smearing the spit and pre-cum around his tip. Your other hand wraps around as well. Sukuna growls as your mouth engulfs him, tongue swirling around his head. He pushes your head down slowly, your mouth stretching at his size. Tears well up in your eyes as he hits the back of your esophagus, sinful gagging noises emanate from your throat. He hums amused.

“This view suits you…” He chuckles lowly as his hands guide your head up and down his shaft. He sets the pace, before letting go of your head. You look up at him through your fluttering eyelashes, the tears pooling in your eyes. Sukuna lies against the plush pillow, hands giving attention to his aching second cock. His breath hitches as his hips buck up, his length pushing even deeper into your throat. A sudden feeling of choking causes you to come up for air, coughing as oxygen finally enters your lungs again. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

How pathetic you must look to your king, not even able to provide him with pleasure.

Ryomen grabs your waist, pulling you back under him. His eyes, darken as he pushes his body closer to you. A low thunderous rumble reverberates from his throat as his spit-soaked length finds friction against your stomach. You feel your own arousal pool between your legs as you are overwhelmed with a dangerous mix of fear and desire.

His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, sharp teeth baring down on your bottom lip as his tongue explores your mouth. Your soft moans are swallowed by him as his strong hands roam your naked body. He parts from the kiss, a trail of spit still connecting you two. He looks upon your panting form, without a second thought diving into your neck nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Two hands grope your breasts, rolling the swollen buds between his fingers. He squeezes gently as you whimper under him, moving his mouth to encircle your nipple. The heat between your core nearing unbearable.

“My.. lord… p-please..” You cry out, his teeth graze your nipple, a warning. He huffs against your skin.

“Do not rush me, woman.” His mouth moves to your other breast. Staring up at the high, ornately decorated ceiling of Ryomen’s chambers, you find yourself drifting into a daze. Suddenly coming to when you feel a rough hand reach between your wet folds. Sukuna purrs lowly, gathering your slick between his fingers. Your gaze meets his once more, you desperately squirm against his hand.

“Already so eager… surely you realize you’ll break if I try to fuck you.” His voice laced with playful menace as his fingers tease your entrance. Your vision hazes as you look up at your king, your bruised lips part taking in shaky breaths in anticipation.

One thick finger enters, pumping into you slowly as you feel your whole body turn to jelly. Sukuna chuckles darkly as you writhe under him, he adds another thick digit giving you just a second to adjust to the slight stretch. You feel a pressure building in your abdomen, similar to the one you felt the night you spied on your king.

“You’re close, aren’t you… How disappointing it's just from my fingers.” He coos bringing his other hand to your throbbing clit. He speeds up his ministrations, slipping in a third finger to bring you closer to the edge. A slight curve upwards is all it takes for your sinful walls to clench around his fingers, your back arches as you are delivered to a place you’ve never been before. The unfamiliar feeling of orgasm, the pleasure of release washes over your body.

Ryomen removes his fingers from you, watching as your hole flutters around nothing, he brings the slick-coated fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste the fruits of his labor. You catch your breath as you feel his weight pushing you deeper into the sheets. His crimson eyes bore holes in your soul as he looks down at you with pure hunger in his gaze. One of his cocks rubs between your folds, gathering your arousal. A flash of hesitation crosses your face.

“I do not expect you to take both your first time.” He attempts reassurance. His cockhead rubs up and down, kissing your clit before pushing into your hole. 

He growls as he slowly enters you, feeling the warmth of your walls enveloping him. You wince at the stretch, tears pricking your eyes. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb wiping away the tears as they fall. He hushes your cries with a gentleness previously unknown to him.

“Relax little one… I hnng am going as slow as possible.” He moans as more of his length is surrounded by you. The way your warm walls clench around his thick cock makes his eyes roll, you were so tight, a temptress made to bring him to his knees. A vision of utter seduction. Buried deep in your pussy, you could ask anything and surely he’d grant every one of your desires. “You.. fucking minx.” He curses as his tip kisses your cervix.

Your hands claw at his chiseled chest as you feel him reach the depths of your cavern. 

“Lord Sukuna! T’much!” Your words come out jumbled and slurred as he begins to thrust into you. His pace slow, painfully so. His face etched with utter concentration as he tries to control his urge to split you open. With each long stroke, you feel every vein as he drags along your walls. Feeling deliciously full as King Sukuna pumps purposefully into your cunt.

“F…Faster please my lord..” You whisper shamelessly, his eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“You dare…order your king?” He sneers, picking up the pace anyway. His hips stutter as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. Sukuna pulls you up to him, now resting on his heels as his two strong arms hold your back and the others hold your hips in place. Your arms snake around his neck supporting yourself as he pistons into you.

His thrusts become less rhythmic as he nears his breaking point. He grunts louder, his breath quickening.

“You belong to me… fuck… you hear me woman?  All mine. Mineminemine...” He groans and babbles as he delivers one last thrust, his cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot sticky seed. Your back arches in his hold as you reach your climax. He watches as your body convulses, melting like putty into his hands. He lowers you back onto the mattress, watching as your chest heaves. He slides his cock out of you, still semi-hard now covered in a mixture of your slick and his cum.

You take in the sight above you: his slightly damp pink hair, tattooed arms now bearing tiny welts from your scratches. And the look on his face—his red eyes nearly black from arousal. Gods, you wished you could take a picture, a snapshot burned into your brain for eternity.

He sinks into the space next to you, catching his breath. You are quiet for a moment, mind still reeling from the events that just transpired. Should you stay? Were you meant to just up and leave after? Unease coils in your chest as you sit up, gathering yourself for the short walk to your room before you hear his voice again.

“ Where do you think you’re going?” His voice laced with a hint of annoyance. You glance over your shoulder to see him propped up on one of his hands, his gaze dark.

“I thought you’d want me to—”

“You will stay. You will… sleep here with me.” he commands softly, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you onto his broad chest. Your ear presses against his pectoral, the strong, steady beat of his heart thrumming through you like a soothing lullaby. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he rests his hand atop your head. 

“Sleep…” he murmurs, his voice a deep, husky whisper before his soft snores soon rumble in his chest. You close your eyes as well, drifting off as you lay on the man who’d watch the world burn… for you.

taglist (I added who I could, some blogs were unable to be tagged!! FULL NOW IM SORRY) @quinnyundertow @devastyle @bokuatsubro @alt-her @novembersavior @twinkyjohnson @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @bubb13gumb1tch @kalulakunundrum @flowerpot113 @caratinluv @koyukilove @memers666 @saikilover7878 @smolbeanzzz @byul9158 @shadava @bellinghambby22 @pastelbunnelby @jvg02 @ohmykwonsoonyoung @goldenglow149 @imnotabot28 @s1urpjuic3 @nctislifue @szired @mold-ed @fuyuji-ii @samisfunky @junni-berry @call-memissbrightside @wil10wthetree @iamthehybrid @poemzcheng @00frenchfries00 @greentea-ellie @worldean @klutzylaena @heyheyheyggg @hillmiaxoxo @lashaemorow @kuudere-raia @didielly @thejujvtsupost @malazloje @dumplings4life0520 @kum1ko-chan @paprikaquinn @damnshorty @dumbmi

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ body electric ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ suguru niragi x former!lover!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! please note that i do not agree with the choices of niragi and for any fanfictions i write about him, those controversial actions will be omitted!

˚ ༘♡ it was the strangest thing, stepping out of your bedroom and into a world that had ceased to exist. the familiar cadence of life, the hushed creaks of the old family estate, the distant sounds of the city beyond, had been swallowed whole by silence. you called out, expecting an answer, but none came. the lavish halls stretched empty, the doors left ajar as if abandoned in an instant. outside, the streets of tokyo stood frozen in time, emptied of their ceaseless crowds, their neon-lit chaos. no cars idling at intersections, no distant murmur of conversation, no footsteps beyond your own.

˚ ༘♡ for hours, you wandered, a lone figure adrift in a dead city. the absence of life gnawed at your mind, an eerie stillness pressing against your skin. you searched for movement, for any sign that you weren’t the last person left in the world. then, at long last, you found them, a handful of strangers clustered in the remains of a building complex, their faces etched with the same confusion and fear that pained your expression. pitiful consolation burned in your chest, only to be doused by frustration. they knew nothing. no one did.

˚ ༘♡ then came the notification, it read the following, “visa: 3 days remaining.”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you turned to one of the others, demanding to know what it meant. their answer was worse than anything your mind had conjured. you had three days to play. three days to win. fail, or refuse, and your visa would expire. and when that happened, you would die.

˚ ༘♡ it sounded absurd, a nightmare spun from exhaustion and fear. but then the first game began.

˚ ༘♡ a siren wailed through the building, red emergency lights casting the halls in an unnatural glow. a door slammed open. and then he appeared.

˚ ༘♡ a towering figure draped in dark clothing, a horse mask concealing his face, the gleam of a gun heavy in his hands. he did not hesitate. the first shot rang out, cutting through the confusion, splattering blood across the walls. screams shattered the air. chaos erupted, bodies scrambling for cover as the game of tag began, except this wasn’t a game. not really.

˚ ༘♡ you ran. every breath burned, every heartbeat a countdown to death. the masked man moved with terrifying precision, his steps unhurried, methodical. you turned a corner just as another shot rang out through the air, a body hitting the ground behind you. fear coursed through your veins like fire, but survival drove you forward.

˚ ༘♡ in the end, you lived, not by skill, not by strength, but by sheer luck. a young man and a woman, moving like they had done this before, found the safe zone in the final moments. you barely made it, collapsing against the wall, lungs heaving, the taste of fear still thick in your throat. the masked man vanished. the sirens cut off. eerie silence returned.

˚ ༘♡ your phone buzzed again. your visa had been extended.

˚ ༘♡ the next day, you could hardly move. fatigue and shock weighed you down, pinning you to the cold floor of the abandoned building you had taken refuge in. your mind refused to process what had happened, but deep down, you knew. if you didn’t move, if you didn’t act, you wouldn’t survive the next game.

˚ ༘♡ it was pure chance that you ran into them again, the two who had saved you. the young man introduced himself as ryohei arisu, the woman as yuzuha usagi. you thanked them, though words felt meaningless after what you had just endured. when they asked if you wanted to join them, you didn’t hesitate.

˚ ༘♡ arisu mentioned a location called the beach, a rumored sanctuary where players had gathered. a sliver of hope in a city that had become a graveyard.

˚ ༘♡ it took time, careful observation, and calculated risk, but after following a group of players you recognized from the game of tag, you knew you were close, but without warning a devastating blow was delivered to the back of your head and you were entrenched by darkness.

˚ ༘♡ when you woke, your wrists were bound, the scent of lavender incense thick in the air. a lavish room stretched before you, unfamiliar faces standing in the dim light. a man entered, draped in a loose robe, his presence far too casual for the circumstances. he grinned and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture, “i am sure you all have questions, and we have the answers you are searching for.”

˚ ༘♡ the robed man, who introduced himself as the hatter, was the self-proclaimed ruler of the beach. with a charismatic grin, he explained the laws that governed this facade of a sanctuary, his voice smooth, practically hypnotic, as if he had rehearsed it countless times before.

˚ ༘♡ one. all playing cards collected from the games belonged to the beach. they believed that obtaining a full deck would grant them passage back to the original world, though there was no proof, only blind faith and desperation. two. all members were to follow the will of the leader, the hatter himself, and his chosen executive members. their word was law. questioning it was not an option. three. the most sinister of all, betray the beach, and you will be executed without mercy.

˚ ༘♡ his delivery was casual and lighthearted, but the dread of those mandates settled akin to lead in your stomach. there was no room for dissent. you were not being invited, you were being conscripted.

˚ ༘♡ with no choice but to comply, you were ushered away, given a simple command: change into swimsuits. no exceptions. it was a method of control, a way to ensure no weapons could be concealed. but beyond that, it was humiliating. a stripping away of your identity, reducing you to just another body in the beach’s twisted paradise.

˚ ༘♡ you were led into a grand dressing room, its gilded mirrors and velvet benches a stark contrast to the world outside. racks of swimwear lined the walls, bright, revealing, designed for spectacle rather than function. hesitant, you sifted through the options before settling on a pearl-white one-piece with a sweetheart neckline, elegant yet understated. even so, the thought of baring yourself in such a vulnerable space made you uneasy. for a sliver of modesty, you grabbed a sheer cover-up, draping it over your shoulders before stepping out into the heart of the resort.

˚ ༘♡ and what you saw left you speechless.

˚ ༘♡ the beach was alive with indulgence. men and women in vibrant bikinis and neon swim trunks danced freely, their bodies moving under the golden glow of the sun. cocktails sloshed in their hands, music pulsed from unseen speakers, laughter rang out like the city had never vanished. it was surreal, a fever dream of excess set against the backdrop of an abandoned world.

˚ ༘♡ but beneath the revelry, there was something off. something calculated.

˚ ༘♡ as you moved through the crowd, you felt it, the leering gazes of men trailing after you, drinking you in like you were just another prize in this lawless haven. your grip tightened around your cover-up, pulling it closer, shielding yourself as best as you could without drawing attention. searching the crowd, you finally spotted familiar faces, usagi and arisu, standing off to the side, their expressions indistinct.

˚ ༘♡ relief rushed through you as you hurried over. “i thought i’d never be able to find you two.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi glanced up, her eyes taking you in. she wore a navy blue two-piece, a peach zip-up jacket pulled tightly around her frame despite the heat. her voice was low, almost conspiratorial as she muttered, “can you believe they’re making everyone dress like this? it’s humiliating.”

˚ ༘♡ arisu, arms crossed, let out a slow breath, gaze drifting toward the endless stretch of blue sky. “you think what the executives said is true?” his voice was laced with doubt. “that if we gather all the cards, we can go back?”

˚ ༘♡ neither you nor usagi answered. because what was there to say? it was a fool’s hope, a dangling promise intended to keep the beach running, to keep its members playing the games. no one knew if escape was even possible. and something told you that the people in charge of these depraved, debauched games didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ the vivacious laughter and excitement that had consumed the resort mere moments ago began to wane, like a tide pulling back, exposing something far more menacing beneath the surface. you felt it before you saw it, a change in the air, an unspoken tension that rippled through the crowd, silencing the drunken revelry. turning your head, your breath became erratic.

˚ ༘♡ a group of men strode through the party, their presence suffocating, the very energy of the beach seeming to warp around them. at the front of the pack, you recognized him immediately, the man who had taken down the tagger during your first game. his presence had unnerved you then, and it unnerved you now. he moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, his muscled frame tense beneath his tank top, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with indifference. he looked like a member of the yakuza with his shaved head and vicious attitude.

˚ ༘♡ yet, it was the figure behind him that truly sent a chill down your spine. a man dressed in black, his hood drawn up over his head, a long, gleaming blade clutched in his grip. his head was shaved clean, but tattoos inked his stark white skin, crawling down his neck like a web of curses. he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to. his very presence was suffocating, a walking omen of violence.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze steadily drifted to the figure on the left, and your entire body locked up.

˚ ༘♡ no.

˚ ༘♡ your heart lurched, your stomach twisting into knots so tight you felt nauseous. your breath caught in your throat, your knees going weak beneath you. your mind screamed at you that it couldn’t be, that it shouldn’t be. but it was.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, aguni, who is this jerk staring at you?”

˚ ༘♡ the masculine voice with a taunting edge, slashed through the unbearable silence, your gaze landed on him. niragi.

˚ ༘♡ he stood before you, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder, his smirk razor-sharp and laced with cruelty. but your eyes weren’t on the weapon. they weren’t even on the piercings that now lined his eyebrow and tongue, nor the unruly strands of black hair that had grown out since you last saw him.

˚ ༘♡ the same eyes that once held warmth, shyness, devotion. the same eyes that once looked at you like you were his entire world. but now? now they were malicious and dark, devoid of anything kind and compassionate. the cocky bravado was there, the smirk, the teasing edge to his voice. but for a fleeting second, just a fraction of a second, his mask slipped. his expression faltered. he recognized you. he wasn’t expecting this, he wasn’t expecting you.

˚ ༘♡ arisu, beside you, blinked in surprise. “you’re the guy from the game of tag.”

˚ ༘♡ aguni, the man leading the group, barely spared you a glance. instead, his gaze flickered over the three of you, his lips curling in something that wasn’t quite a sneer, wasn’t quite pity. “i see your friend died.” his tone was cold, impersonal. “what a shame. the weak ones survived.”

˚ ༘♡ niragi, however, was no longer looking at arisu or aguni. his full attention was on you. his fingers twitched at his side, his head tilting slightly, like he was trying to piece together if this was real or some bizarre hallucination. then, before you could even think of what to say, he took a step forward, closing the distance between you just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

˚ ༘♡ ”it’s been a while, honey.”

˚ ༘♡ his voice was laced with mockery, with that menacing brutality, but there was something else too, something genuine. a sliver of sincerity buried beneath it all, a trace of something that made your heart ache, remnants of the niragi you once cherished so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ “why are you hanging out with this loser?” niragi seethed, his voice ridden with contempt as his glare locked onto arisu. before arisu could even process the insult, let alone defend himself, niragi swung the end of his rifle into his face with a sickening crack. the impact sent arisu crashing onto the cold, tiled floor, his head snapping back against the hard surface.

˚ ༘♡ blood gushed from his nose and mouth almost instantly, painting the shining white tiles in deep crimson. he barely had a chance to react before niragi loomed over him, lifting his boot and slamming it into his ribs. arisu curled inward, gasping in pain, but niragi wasn’t done. he kicked him again, this time in the head.

˚ ༘♡ usagi let out a panicked cry and dropped to the ground beside arisu, her hands flying up to shield him. “stop! please!” she shouted, desperation cracking her voice. she tried to shove niragi away, but he barely stumbled. without hesitation, he turned and shoved her back with enough force to send her sprawling across the floor.

˚ ༘♡ “what the hell are you doing?” you snapped, horror and disbelief flooding your veins. your mind reeled, unable to make sense of what you were seeing, of the man standing before you. niragi had once been the one suffering under the weight of cruelty, bullied relentlessly until he had nearly been broken. you had been the one to step in, to defend him, to pull him from the insults and beatings of others. and now, here he was, standing in the shoes of the very monsters who had tormented him.

˚ ༘♡ what happened to him?

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, enough! no more!” you yelled out, but he ignored you, lifting his boot again as if he had already decided arisu’s fate.

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t think. you acted. you threw yourself in front of him, your body a barrier between niragi and the bloodied mess of arisu curled up on the floor. usagi was already huddled beside him, shielding him as best as she could. you could see niragi’s rise and fall as adrenaline coursed through his veins, feel his eyes boring into you, but you didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ “what have you become?” you shouted, your voice shaking, your emotions threatening to swallow you whole. “have you lost your mind because of these games? is this who you are now?”

˚ ༘♡ niragi stood motionless, his expression darkening. for a minute, something unreadable glistened in his gaze, something vanishing, something buried beneath layers of cruelty and indifference. then, his lips coiled into a sneer.

˚ ༘♡ “what have i become?” he mocked, his tone laced with amusement. “why are you being so melodramatic?”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you looked past him, at the men standing behind him, watching without saying a word. this was for them. niragi wasn’t just acting out of anger, he was performing, playing the role expected of him, preserving whatever foreboding image he had built here.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply and tilted his head, his smirk growing. “get out of my way, would you?” his voice was almost teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. he reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that once would have made you feel more beloved than any woman in the world. but now? now, it was no different than the most potent of venom.

˚ ༘♡ your grimaced with revulsion, and before he could even register it, you jerked away, stepping back like his touch had burned you. niragi chuckled, shaking his head. “come on, don’t be like that,” he mused. “i promise we’ll have all the time in the world to catch up, after i finish with these two.”

˚ ༘♡ he moved to step around you, his patience wearing thin, but you blocked him again. this time, your stance was firmer, your hands clenching into fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. you could feel your pulse pounding in your throat, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze, unflinching.

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, please.”

˚ ༘♡ his name left your lips softer this time, stripped of the anger, stripped of the disbelief. it was a plea, not simply for arisu’s sake but for his, for the young man you once knew, the one you once loved.

˚ ༘♡ niragi hesitated. for a short while, something in his expression changed. you held his gaze, hoping, praying, that somewhere beneath the layers of cruelty and violence, he still remembered, those late-night phone calls, the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t watching, the warmth of his fingers laced through yours on lazy afternoons at the café. if there was anything left of that niragi, maybe, just maybe, he would stop.

˚ ༘♡ his smirk twitched, his tongue flicking over the silver piercing on his lip. then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he scoffed. “eh, whatever,” he muttered, swinging his rifle back over his shoulder as if nothing had happened. “this is no fun with you whining in my ear.” he turned away without another glance, striding off like he had already forgotten all about you. the rest of the men followed, their presence dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. aguni lingered for a tad longer, his expression obscured and harsh, before he, too, disappeared into his horde of followers.

˚ ༘♡ you stood bewildered, the tension in your body unraveling all at once, leaving only nausea in its wake. the atmosphere still buzzed with energy from the resort party, but it all felt so far away, like a different world entirely. your mind returned to arisu and usagi, they required your help.

˚ ༘♡ you spun on your heel and dropped to your knees beside him. he was still on the floor, barely conscious, his face drained of color, his body limp. usagi knelt beside him, pressing her zip-up jacket against his forehead to slow the bleeding. the fabric was already stained deep red.

˚ ༘♡ panic surged through you. you reached out, brushing arisu’s shoulder tenderly, trying to ground yourself as much as him. “i’ll get help, okay? stay here.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi nodded, her jaw tight, her focus entirely on arisu. you pushed yourself to your feet, your heart hammering as you turned and ran. you didn’t know where you were going. you didn’t even know who you could turn to in a place like this. but you had to hurry. arisu was losing too much blood, his life was in danger, because of niragi.

˚ ༘♡ your mind still couldn’t fully grasp it, the sheer impossibility of what he had become. your sweet and loving boyfriend you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who could smile through savagery, who could beat someone half to death and consider it entertainment.

˚ ༘♡ niragi was gone. whatever had taken his place, you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

a/n: my first alice in borderland fanfiction! if you have any thoughts or requests, please let me know! 🤍

[panties-on-boys]

kensy’s (smutty) synonym bible

tw: nsfw

hi there <3

i often find myself googling synonym for despite uhhh knowing words (i promise) so i decided to make a cheat sheet masterlist for my little goldfish brain. might as well post it

most commonly i google dialogue tags so let’s start with that

smutty dialogue tags

says hisses keens croons seethes sighs

gasps bites out grits out keys out spits

growls snarls cries spits drawls slurs

moans groans grunts huffs babbles

praises purrs soothes coos giggles lulls

thanks wails whimpers whines breathes

stammers stutters squeaks lilts whispers

teases mocks begs challenges pleads

snaps orders commands demands tells

descriptors for:

general touch

ghost (across/over/against) caress skirt

drag grab pull push clutch grip

hold knead tease roll (over) rock (against)

skim press nudge bump (together)

play with smooth (over) ride (over, down)

trace track graze thumb tease toy with

handjobs

the giver

squeeze pulse drag stroke slick wet

messy sloppy tight hot circle of (their) hand

glide strip (over) twist palm

the recipient

buck lift (their) hips roll rock thrust cant

fuck twitch tick jump (hips) kick hump

blowjobs

spit drool choke gag suck pull swallow

slurp heat of (their) mouth back of (their) throat

track (a vein, the underside of the dick, whatever)

drip lave lick tongue flick slack (jaw)

fuck facefuck throatfuck

prep (i write anal lol but do whatever)

slip slide press push wiggle (in) open up

work open ease open ease inside

about the fingers

crook scissor apart/together search (iykyk ;))

hook pump (in and out) thrust finger

seek roll press against angle curl

adding more

slides in a second finger/digit/next to the first

pulls (their) finger out and reenters, twice as thick

works/eases/opens up to two/three/etc

note: the prostate is a hook down in doggy style and a hook up in missionary, similarly to the g-spot (i google this shit all the time LOOOOL)

kissing

lips lock lips meet lips join press together

slick slide of hot wet needy open-mouthed

lips part pant/moan/dialogue into (their) mouth

swallows a moan from (their) partner’s kiss

bite/suck the lower lip lick suck taste pull

french licks the back of (their) partner’s teeth

licks/laps/laves into (their) partner’s mouth

x into their kiss (ex. whine, sigh whatever)

x a kiss to…/x kisses to…

press drop touch stamp pepper litter

smack place push pin tack feather

lay scatter sprinkle spot leave

teeth

grit clench grind tight teeth/fangs/canines

set (their) jaw

sharp

fangs canines pierce sink (bite) red with…

anteriors (front six teeth canine to canine, top and bottom)

dogtooth incisors upper/lower bloodied

six neat holes in a half-moon

general

ivories teeth bite dentition white straight

crooked braced aligned misaligned

the act of biting

sink teeth into clamp down on pierce drag

tear into nibble nip clip with (their) teeth

clip teeth together

breathing

breath hitch sigh huff breathe hiss puff

seethe exhale inhale pant gasp purr

pulls/takes/sucks in a breath breath steals out

punched-out fucked-out clipped (sigh)

desperation

needy keening crying begging pleading

aching throbbing pulsing hammering

dizzy (with want/need/blood loss (hi poolverine))

eager shameless pitiful pathetic hungry

dying to yearning for so bad/much lawless

colors

red

rouge crimson flush blush cherry cerise

ruby scarlet flame redden/get redder

rose wine angry ruddy full-blooded bloody

pink

flush blush tulip bloom rosy french pink

baby pink pastel pink florid peachy

blue

gunmetal steel blue cerulean mirror blue

ice cold pale sky indigo ocean

brown

tawny taupe amber auburn chocolate

tan leather

green

olive jade emerald forest grass

lashes

flutter flit bat puppy eyes skip

lashes flutter through a roll of (their) eyes

figures

smooth expanse of (back, stomach)

silky line of (back, whatever) arch bow

tense pull tight relax slack go limp

cords of (their) thighs burn (good for missionary)

tan dark contrast sleek curve

i’ll add to this :) bye tumblr

[podiumackles]

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 3

A/N: English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of slight gore, mentions of blood, mentions of death, and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

Present

Getting out of your cell was easier than expected. The hard part was getting out of the facility alive; about twenty minutes into the escape, alarm bells rang out like a symphony of dread, filling the cold, sterile corridors. It wasn’t surprising, really—Vought’s security wasn’t going to let you walk out unharmed. Still, for the first time in decades, your wrists were free from the biting restraints, and adrenaline surged through your veins.

You ran alongside Butcher, who seemed to have an uncanny knack for navigating the labyrinthine facility. His movements were sharp and purposeful. It was clear he had done his homework on this place, even if Vought’s playbook was constantly evolving. Soldier Boy was ahead, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the narrow hallways like a battering ram.

“Thought you said you had this under control!” you shouted over the wail of the alarms, your voice rusty but gaining strength.

Butcher smirked, barely winded. “Oh, this? Bit of noise never hurt nobody.”

Ben shot a glance back at the two of you, his shield gripped tightly in one hand, his jaw clenched. He looked as though he was barely holding himself together—rage simmering just beneath the surface. You couldn’t blame him. Whatever memories Vought had buried inside him, they still left scars. And now, the sound of blaring alarms running through his ears, must trigger his fight or flight response. There was no doubt about it.

“We need to hit the control room,” Butcher said, his voice urgent now. “Shut down the security before they send the big guns.”

You and Soldier Boy exchanged a glance. His eyes still carried that haunting vacancy, but a flicker of something else—recognition, maybe—crossed his face. He jerked his head forward, signalling for you to keep moving. Old habits died hard. Even after everything, he still acted like a leader.

The trio turned a sharp corner just as a squad of Vought soldiers appeared at the other end of the corridor. You didn’t hesitate. Throwing yourself to the floor, you slid behind a row of metal crates, while Soldier Boy charged forward like a freight train. His shield crashed against the soldiers, sending them flying, their weapons useless against his brute force and super healing.

Butcher stayed low, pulling a gun from his coat and taking a few well-placed shots, neutralizing the ones that hadn’t already been knocked out cold by Ben. The man moved with ruthless precision, not a shred of hesitation in his actions. You wondered how many people like you and Ben he’d already dealt with, how much he’d seen. But that was a question for later. For now, survival was your only priority.

“Clear,” Butcher muttered, nodding for you to get up.

“We won’t have much time,” you said, still catching your breath. The alarms were one thing, but Vought had been keeping an eye on every single corner of the facility with the carefully hidden cameras around the building.

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Ben muttered, shaking off some dust mixed with blood from his shield as if this were a regular Tuesday for him. “Where’s this control room?”

You pointed ahead. “Up two floors. We take the stairs—elevator’s a death trap.”

Your mind was racing with thoughts of escape. But there was another gnawing question you couldn’t shake: Why were they here, really? Why you?

As the three of you burst through the stairwell door and ascended the steps, your legs burning with the effort, you felt the weight of the years clawing at you. Your muscles were stiff, your body weak from disuse, but the rage—the fury—inside you was enough to keep you moving. You were sick of being someone else’s pawn.

Suddenly, Ben stopped at a landing, holding out his arm. You froze, instinctively falling back into soldier mode. “What is it?” you whispered.

“Listen.”

You strained your ears, and sure enough, your superhearing enhanced the heavy clank of footsteps echoing from above. A lot of footsteps.

“They’re sending the backup troops,” You muttered. “They think we’re trapped.”

Butcher grinned, something dark and predatory in his eyes. “Let ‘em come. They don’t know what’s comin’ for ‘em.”

You tightened your fists, feeling the heat of your powers surging just beneath your skin. It hurt, just the slightest. It had been so long since you had the chance to use them—so long since you’d felt anything beyond the dull ache of confinement.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Butcher asked, glancing at you with an eyebrow raised.

You looked him dead in the eye, trying to hide your hesitation. “Always am.”

The first wave of guards came pouring down the stairs, fully armed, faces masked. Without hesitation, Ben launched himself into the fray, shield gleaming as it smashed into the front line. Butcher followed, a pistol in one hand and a combat knife in the other, carving through the chaos.

You stood back for a moment, feeling the pulsing heat build in your hands, until finally, with a sharp exhale, you unleashed it. Energy—wild, untamed wind—exploded from your palms, sending the next wave of soldiers crashing back into the walls. The surge felt powerful, like shaking off the chains that had weighed you down for years.

But most of all, it was stronger than it ever had been. The most powerful you had ever felt. And you barely dared to admit that it scared you.

Ben glanced back, eyes wide for the briefest of moments when he looked at you before he returned to dispatching the remaining guards.

“Not bad,” Butcher commented, smirking through the chaos. Though an unfamiliar look crossed his eyes.

Once the stairwell was clear, the three of you sprinted up the last flight of steps and into the corridor leading to the control room. You could hear more guards closing in behind you, but the door ahead was just within reach. With a mighty kick, Soldier Boy knocked it open, and the three of you burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Two of Vought’s employees shot around in their chairs, a look of horror flashed on their innocent faces right before Soldier Boy lifted his shield, moved it at the height of their necks and-

Two heads rolled over de floor.

The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the shrill wails of the alarms still echoing through the facility. The walls were lined with glowing monitors, displaying a maze of surveillance footage, flashing red warnings, and floor plans. This was the heart of Vought’s operations.

Butcher wasted no time, moving swiftly to one of the terminals. He began typing with a speed and confidence that suggested this wasn't his first time hacking into a heavily fortified system. Meanwhile, Ben paced near the door, shield in hand, his eyes darting between you and the hallway as if expecting another wave of soldiers any second.

You, however, stood frozen for a moment, taking in the room—the remembrance of decades of torment, experimentation, and manipulation. You thought you’d feel more relief standing here, so close to freedom, but instead, an overwhelming uncertainty bubbled just beneath your skin.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help?” Butcher barked, not even looking up from the terminal. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he tried to override the system’s security protocols.

You snapped out of your daze and approached another terminal, feeling the heat of your powers still crackling under your skin. And it still hurt.

Before you could respond, Soldier Boy's sharp voice cut through the air. "We've got company."

The door behind him shook under the pressure of a battering ram. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor as more of Vought’s enforcers gathered outside, their numbers growing by the second.

“Of course we bloody do,” Butcher muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re almost through—just a bit more time.”

You clenched your fists, the air around you shimmering with energy that was so unfamiliar, it sent a shiver down your spine. "We don't have time, Butcher. I can feel them—they’re coming fast."

Ben squared his shoulders, stepping forward to brace the door. The rage that always seemed to simmer beneath his surface was now boiling over. He was done waiting, done being manipulated. “Let them come,” he growled, his shield raised, ready to take on whatever came through that door.

Butcher glanced at you, something like hesitation flickering in his eyes. It was a look you didn’t yet know he could have. “You’ve got a plan, love? ��Cause if we don’t shut this down now, Vought’ll be all over us.”

The door rattled violently as Vought’s forces hammered against it, each thud reverberating through the control room.

"Me, a plan?" you spat ever so lightly, mild accusation in your tone. "You were the ones that needed me out!"

But Butcher didn't respond. Neither did Ben, for that matter.

Time was running out, and the tension was as thick as the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You focused, taking in the situation: Butcher was close to breaking the system, Ben was ready to stand his ground, and you—well, you weren’t the same person who had been shackled in that cell for decades. You had something new simmering inside, something dangerous. And you could feel it in every single piece of your body.

Your powers crackled just beneath the surface, stronger than you had ever remembered. The years of confinement, of being forced into silence, had built a storm within you, and you were ready to let it loose. But you knew this wasn’t you. This had never been you.

Ben stood firm by the door, his broad shoulders braced against the inevitable. His eyes flicked toward you, still cold, still distant. He was ready to fight, but this was a fight you had never been in before. A complete stranger, and a man who couldn’t even remember you, stood by you. And you had no idea if you could rely on them.

Butcher’s voice broke through your thoughts. “We’re in!” he called, finally cracking the security system. “But they’ve got some heavy-duty encryption on this place. It’ll take a few more minutes to wipe the files and shut down the alarms.”

You glanced at Ben. He was steady, but he couldn’t hold off a full squad alone. And your powers—they felt unpredictable. But you didn’t have a choice. Vought was coming, and this was your only chance.

The door shuddered again, and you could hear the muffled voices of the soldiers outside, preparing for a final push. You turned to Butcher. “You’d better hurry. We don’t have minutes.”

He looked at you, his jaw clenched, but nodded. “Just keep them off me, yeah? I don’t fancy getting me head blown off ‘cause you got distracted.”

Asshole.

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, joining Ben at the door. “You got an idea?” you asked, voice low.

Ben shot you a glance, his grip tightening on his shield. “You think I haven’t done this a thousand times? Just stay out of my fucking way.”

You didn’t respond. There was no point. Whatever bond the two of you once had was long gone, buried beneath the years of torture and manipulation. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting through this.

The door burst open, and Vought’s soldiers flooded in. Ben moved like a force of nature, his shield slamming into the first soldier with a sickening crunch. He was fast, brutal, and efficient—every movement a practised execution of raw power. But there were too many.

You felt the heat rise in your palms, the energy building, and it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. It used to be a sweet touch of weather, the comforting droplets of rain. But this was different.

It neared a breaking point. Both your power and your well-being. At its maximum power, you lost control. And with a sharp exhale, you unleashed it. The energy exploded from you in a blinding wave, tearing through the room like wildfire. The soldiers were thrown back, their bodies crashing into the walls with bone-shattering force. Bolts of lightning crackled between the men, ensuring death upon impact.

Even Ben was forced to brace himself against the onslaught, his shield raised in defence. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, barely having evaded your attack from reaching him. But he didn’t say anything.

You were out of control. And there was no way you could contain this power any longer. Fuck, you weren't even sure what was going on. You weren't even sure if you were conscious.

When the dust settled, the room was eerily quiet. The soldiers lay scattered, unconscious or worse, and the air was thick with the smell of burnt metal and ozone. You fell to the floor, breathing heavily, your hands still crackling with residual power. For a moment, you didn’t feel anything—just numbness.

Then Butcher’s voice cut through the silence. “Well, that was bloody brilliant,” he muttered, stepping back from the terminal. “Shut down the whole damn system. Alarms are off, security’s locked out. We’re good to go.”

You turned to face him, your body still trembling from the power you barely remembered releasing. “It’s done?”

Butcher nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Yeah, love. It’s done. Now we get the hell out of here.”

Ben lowered his shield, his face unreadable as he looked at you. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of something other than cold indifference in his eyes. Maybe he remembered something. Maybe it was fear.

You didn't care.

You spoke up once more, this time directing your gaze towards Ben, who held a seemingly shocked frown. “What on earth happened?”

Soldiers scattered in the hallway, remains of them smashed against the bloodied wall.

Soldier Boy didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Butcher, who knowingly glanced back at the supe.

All you could do was look around at the aftermath of whatever had happened to you.

And what feared you the most, was the fact you could only vaguely remember what the answer to it was.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never

[ultralightpoe]

Final Girl Part 3 -Eddie Munson

Authors Note: I wrote this awhile back, clearing out my drafts. Hope you enjoy !

Word Count:4822

Warnings: stabbing, hints of smut but not really.

Part One Here...... Part Two Here

(Thank you for the gif @feodor-dostoevsky)

Enjoy!

There was nothing ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’ about the movie Slashed anymore.

In fact as Eddie Munson sat between Dustin and Lucas while the film played on the tv before them he could barely stop the anger that coursed under his veins at every turn. That was you. This entire time his crush on the actress that played k/y/n had been a knockoff version of you.

He watches with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth begin to ache as the main character screams while the masked killer begins fighting to open the car door. The actress crawls along the console to get to the other window, and this part she rolls the window down but only half way so she could climb out. Her panties flash and the killer sinks his knife into the meat of her thighs. 

Eddie’s mind flares, the memory of the scar on your leg the day he brought you dinner, right fucking there. It had looked like a knife had slashed its way down your thigh and the scar itself was still brash against your skin. Bumpy and noticeable. And though he never thought anything bad of it before right now he hated the scar. He hated how you managed to get it and he hated that this movie would make a mockery out of you. Would make a mockery out of his girl. 

“What a bimbo!” Mike laughs out, shaking his head. “Open the door and run. Jesus this girl is stupid.” 

“Do you think the real girl was stupid enough to do-“ Will starts before Eddie snaps out “Shut. Up.” 

Steve, who was normally the first to tell one of them shut up in any given situation, looks over at Eddie with wide eyes and a shocked look. He mouths a “you okay?” and Eddie chooses to act like he hadn’t seen it because the truth was he wasn’t okay and everyone in this room knew something was off.

He had tried calling you numerous times, and had even stopped by your dorm more times than he could count. Desperate to see you, desperate to explain the shirt and explain that he had no idea what was going on. 

It didn’t take much to figure out what you had scrambled together that night. Everyone was talking about you, talking about the final girl on campus and dashing to get a picture and he had shown up wearing a shirt that had that stupid fucking mask on it and- Jesus just thinking about it had his heart lurching through his throat as he rubbed at his face aggressively. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since. 

Your roommate had explained that under the circumstances the school allowed you take finals early and head home for winter break, and Eddie was absolutely disgusted to realize that this was the first time he had ever seen a dash of excitement on your roommates face regarding you. Of course she would be the one to hate you until you because a popular name.  What a bit-

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The lead actor in the movie wails out in pain, now fully unmasked and holding his side from where the actress had managed to stab him. 

All he could see was you, you covered in blood with tears streaming down your face. You limping from the injury on your leg as you circled around getting ready for the killers next attack. 

All he could see was you. 

He wanted to make it all go away, to be there and protect you from everything. Kiss away all the pain and hold you close enough that your bodies might as well morph together. He wanted you, and after weeks of not being near you he found that he couldn’t breathe or think straight. 

It was like someone had cut off his oxygen the second you dashed away from him. 

The main actor playing Billy begins taunting the actress- you- and laughing. Laughing on her pain and how he has used her just mere hours before and Eddie thinks he’s going to throw up. Heat flashes through him as a tight pain sears through his chest while he fights back the urge to puke, his hands raveling into tight fists. 

He used you. He used his girl. 

He had taken something from you that you would never get back and made it into a weapon. Blind rage fills his body as he gets up, angrily slamming the dial and turning the tv off before moving to the kitchen and beginning to angrily clean up everything they had used tonight. 

His body sings as he slams the pots and pans from dinner into the sink, each bang giving him a little sense of pleasure. The spoons follow next and more and more until he can finally start scrubbing them clean. Scrubbing inch by inch, getting every spec of something off the dishes as someone makes an appearance in the kitchen. 

He expects it to be Steve or Dustin, coming in to make some annoying remark on his attitude, so he chooses to stare at the fake tile the apartment manager had put up for his uncle when he was moved in. He stares and stares and stares, seeing the light from the kitchen flash from it. 

“Munson.” Eddie is shocked to hear a female voice, strong and i breaking rather than the voice of his 2 dumbass friends, whipping around to face none other than Nancy Wheeler. 

Eddie had been a little shocked when he saw her the first time tonight, because Nancy Wheeler looked different. From what Eddie could understand from her letters she had dropped both Steve and Jonathan and chose to move to college and build a better future and it showed. Her hair was perfectly done, she dressed in flattering outfits that fit her well and she stood a little taller. No more will they won’t they bullshit and Nancy was growing into the smartest person Eddie knew. She always had been but he would never admit that to her. 

“Wheeler.” He sighs back, casting his eyes back to the dishes before him. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t even know how he could explain any of it to her. 

“You know I love your letters, I’m glad you still write with me.” She smiles, moving closer. “But something has been off about your past letters.” 

“Oh yeah? You finally realize I’m illiterate?” 

“Close, but I’ve always known that.” She teases which forces a small smile on Eddie’s face as well. “You just seemed…. Happier. I was always worried about you in the beginning because of what you went through and your letters, although you tried to make it sound like you were having fun, you just seemed miserable. But then it changed, and you started writing about the pretty girl from your English class and the next thing I knew it was like your letters lit up.” 

His mouth goes dry, and he can’t pull himself together long enough to look at her. “I didn’t know you could tell.” 

“I knew you didn’t want me to know.” 

“What about it?” He finally asks. 

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and he finally looks up at her to see that she’s pulling a newspaper from behind her back and setting it on the counter quickly. “I know the editor for your colleges newsletters.” 

There you were. After weeks of not seeing your face he feels the breath of fresh air, his lungs expanding as he snatches the paper to pull the photo of you smiling a little closer to him. Just like that he felt like he was in your dorm again, laying with you while you both laughed at something. Your roommate, or maybe your teachers accent, maybe the jock that works at your shared pizza spot and never seems to know what to say. 

It takes him a moment to drag his eyes away from the photo and read along the lines printed, seeing how they found out made his jaw clench one more time. An “anonymous source” recognized you from the newspaper and had to tell the world. Then the source explains that he also recognized that you were on a date with the ‘Metalhead that can never brush his hair’. Low blow. 

“You recognized me because the metal head comment?” 

“I recognized the girl you described. The metalhead comment just cemented my belief.”

“What about it?”

“Well I’m using my power of deduction to assume that something happened and you’re mad about the movie-“ A deep sigh falls from his lips before he nods and moves to face her fully. 

He explains what happened and Nancy is a great listener, and once he is done she merely nods before a smile breaks out across her face. “This is so perfect for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean with everything that we went through and everything that you specifically went through we never find people that can handle our trauma-“

“Therapist Nancy is in the building.” 

“And this is a beautiful person that, although she doesn’t understand our trauma, understands trauma on her own and-“ She takes a deep breath in before looking at him with such excitement it made his stomach ache. “You just seem so much better, you seem happier. I haven’t seen you rub your side once.” 

His heart stops, ringed hand rushing up to rub his side, rubbing slow soft circles as he did so. She was right, since Eddie had been thinking about you so much he hadn’t had time to think about his side. Now that she’s mentioned it he can feel the full ache there, pulsing under his skin like another heartbeat.

“I just don’t know how to explain it. You know? To make her believe me.” 

“You’ve been collecting outcasts and misfits for as long as I can remember. You have the weirdest way of making the most shut down people I know break out of their shell. You will be just fine.” She smiles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before heading back out to where the rest of the group had chosen to hide out and let him finish the dishes in silence. 

By the time he makes it back out to sit with them they are watching a comedy movie Steve had chosen, and Dustin is staring at Eddie with a highly confused look. But Eddie just attempts a smile at him, staring at the screen to ignore the rest of the world. 

- 

The rest of the break was spent catching up with Wayne and helping his uncle out with anything he needed, and when Eddie told him he would be going back a week early Wayne made sure he had everything he needed and the two parted ways with a tight hug before Eddie began his trip back. 

But there was one stop he had to make first, and his chest was tight just at the thought of it. 

He had one newspaper clipping, back from when he himself had been in the hospital, he had found it in a book Wayne had been reading then. It was folded up and used as a bookmark, half the words ineligible from the time used but he could still make out the town he needed from it. 

So he packed it all up, got directions and drove to find you. 

You had always told him stories about the town you grew up in, but he had never connected the dots, now as he drove past the welcoming signs it finally settled in. The diner your parents always took you to was right there. The school you went to was 3 blocks away. The cabin that changed your life, as he understood it, was an hour just into the woods. 

This was your town. 

His chest ached for Hawkins, a town he hadn’t seen in years since they moved him and his uncle away. Even spending winter break with his friends meant they had to go to a new town so no one would spot him. 

He had hated Hawkins, but that was his home. 

He stops at a red light, skin itching with excitement at the possibility of seeing you.  Even if you turned him away he would be able to spot you for just a second. That would make him feel better. 

A honk pulls his attention, making him defensive as he sits up, looking to see where it came from and finding quite the angry scene unfolding before him. A pedestrian had been walking and a car had honked, the two now sat cursing eachother out. Eddie watched, stuck due to the light, and turned his music down to concentrate more as he watched one of them slam his hand on the hood of the car in anger. There was something utterly familiar about him, one that he just couldn’t put his finger on. 

Before he think about it too much the light turned green and he drove off, casting one last look on their direction before he pulled over and asked for directions to your place. 

For a town known for a murder spree peopke seemed just fine handing out personal information and Eddie tried not to get too irritated or protective at that fact. Instead he drove slowly, trying to remember if the older gentleman had said red brick or 2 houses down from the red brick. 

He got his answer when he made it to the street, seeing a news van outside the red brick house as someone filmed in front of it. He parked, hopping out of his car and heading up, keeping his face turned away from the news caster as he knocked on the door softly. 

There was no answer and Eddie was beginning to believe his plan was useless and stupid. What are the chances that you are home right now? And what are the chances you would answer the door to him?

He knocks a second time anyways, heat traveling his skin in embarrassment at this whole idea when suddenly the door opens. It’s the smallest amount, but he recognizes your eyes immediately. They seem to narrow in on him and he finds himself holding his hands out in a surrender motion with a small smile. “I was hoping to explain myself.” 

“I don’t want to deal with some crazy stalker-“ you snap out, moving to close the door quickly before his hand is being shoved between so you can’t. It hits him and he gasps out in pain which makes you remove the pressure with a gasp of your own. “Are you crazy?! I could have broken your hand!” 

“I’m not a crazy stalker, I had no clue. Please just give me a moment to explain.” He sighs, “it’s not what it seems.” 

You both seem to have caught the news anchors attention, risking a side glance to where she is now standing and blinking slowly at you both. He stares back, giving her his best mean mug before he feels your hand snatch the front of his leather jacket and drag him in quickly. 

He trips over his own feet, reaching a hand up to grab your arm to stablize himself as you glare and shut the door. 

“I don’t recommend getting into with her, she will blast your ass across the news networks.” 

“The government would make her take it all down. I’m not really worried.” It’s meant to be a joke, something to ease the tension as you rubs soft circles on your arm, but you merely glare at him and he knows you didn’t get it. But his main concern is the bags under your tear stained eyes. “Have you been crying? When’s the last time you slept?” 

His hands fly to cradle your chin, rubbing soft circles on the skin, his rings glinting in the light of your living room. You seem to melt into his touch and he finds himself truly happy at the thought, moving closer to you. 

“I should be the one asking you that.” You snap, staring at his own bags. “You look like hell.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been caught up thinking about you and-“ 

“I know you didn’t know.” You blurt , cutting him off. “I know it, and part of me knew it then but I was panicked and embarrassed and I can’t believe I hit you. I….. oh my god I hit you in front of everyone and you-“

“I’m not mad. It’s not the first time I’ve been hit and I enjoyed the sting. Warmed my cheek up a little.” He teases and you shake your head. 

“Eddie. No. That wasn’t okay and I can’t believe I did that. You gotta know that I’m bad news, okay? You’re better off without me.” You rush out, head snapping a bit when you hear the news reporter speaking closer than she was before. He watches as you rush to lock the door before coming back to him and holding out a hand for him to grab, he takes it quickly and lets you lead him up the stairs. He can’t decide between staring at you and your beauty or admiring the house you grew up in. You decide for him when you lead him into a room and shut the door. 

“Sorry. They have the habit to peer through windows.” You explain, blushing bad as he scoffs. 

“They really do that? Fucking lunatics.” 

“Everyone wants to know the girl that-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “You probably have questions. Ask away, ask anything. I owe you that.” 

His chest tightens painfully and his jaw clenches at your words, choosing to look around your room because he was too afraid to look you in the eyes. This entire room felt wrong, it didn’t feel like you….. well maybe a past version of yourself. One he hadn’t met, still happy and innocent in the world. Like your past had been frozen in place. 

He had his own version of this, his own room would have been stuck in the past if the police hadn’t snatched everything of his since it was a crime scene. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” He bites out. “Ever. I want you to open up to me when you’re ready, not because you feel guilty for something. If you’re in danger, on the other hand, then yes you need to tell me.” 

Still refusing to look at you as he runs his fingers over all your garments in the closet before walking by your desk and doing the same there. Humming a little when he sees a picture of you cheek to cheek with a cheerleader, both of you smiling ear to ear. 

“Mila.”

“Maya, actually.” You sigh. “Her name was Maya.” 

Nodding slowly, his stomach clenching in pain at your time as he turns to sit on your bed, finally facing you. 

“I have many many questions. But you do not owe me answers.”

“I want to answer them.” You smile slightly, walking forward ever so slowly. “Not because I owe you, I want a clean slate with you. You know all my secrets and I get to be myself.”

His hands reach out to grab your hips, pulling you softly into his hold as he peers up at you with his heart hammering through his chest. You peer down at him, obviously a little worried and he wants nothing more than to wipe that look off your face. 

“How about I go first?” He whispers, relieved when he sees the worry replace itself with confusion. Smiling from ear to ear as he slowly slides the leather jacket off before reaching down to pull his hellfire shirt over his head. His scars pull a bit as he reaches to do so, and the second the fabric is off him he watches your face intently, looking for any shred of disgust. 

He finds none, only a look of devastation as you reach slowly to rub your thumb along one. “Fire?” 

“No. Bats.” He smiles. 

“Bats?!”

“Bats.” 

“Bats?” 

“Yup..” 

“Like the Halloween version of birds?” 

“Weird way to describe them but I’ll allow it.” He scoffs, watching as you let your thumb follow the ridge of it. He doesn’t want to think about how soft your skin feels, or how gentle your being. 

“How do you get attacked by bats, plural and not just one?” You whisper, allowing him to reach up and pull you in by your hips until both your thighs were on either side of his, allowing you to straddle him. 

“It’s a long story. One that I really don’t think you’ll believe but I brought proof.” He mumbles, nose nudging your jaw. “And I’m hoping you’ll believe me.” 

-

The proof, which had been the tooth of a demobat, you had gotten freaked out and demanded he put it away which had made him laugh and shove it back in the pocket of his jeans. You spent the next hour asking him question after question, taking 5 minute breaks to kiss along his face whenever you thought his answer was painful. 

Finally it went back to you, and as much as he loved sharing the secret with you, Eddie found himself grateful that the pressure was off of him. He hated talking about it all. 

But now you were explaining your side of things, and he found that he truly didn’t feel much better as you went through the events of the night. 

You explained that you hadn’t slept with him that night but you had in the past, explaining how you had separated from Maya and the rest of the party because Billy had pulled you away to argue about your relationship. 

While you had been arguing with Billy his friend Stu had been killing people downstairs, your friends Maya and Paul included. 

He listened closely as you described seeing the mask for the first time and the terrifying dash for your life you had made, jumping off the roof to avoid him. How you tried the van to see if you could drive away, but another figure had found you and you were doing your best to escape over the console when he slashed your thigh but you still managed to get out of the car through the door. The final fight with them where you received the scar along your arm and your abdomen. You described finding Randy in the bushes as you waited outside man’s held onto his stab wound until the police arrived. At that point in the night you had been fully covered in blood, yours and your friends and the killers. The police had mistaken you and put you in handcuffs first while the paramedics were trying to rush you to the hospital. They only released you once they got Kelvins and Randy’s story. 

“I thought there had been four survivors?” 

“There was five of you include Gale and Dewey. She was a news anchor and he was the deputy of the time.” 

“And Kelvin was the one that sold the story? Wasn’t he dating Maya?” 

“Yes to both.” 

“Does that make you mad?” He whispers, tensing a bit when you begin caressing his side once more, letting your finger feel his scar like you were amazed by it. He fights the urge to bring a hand up and cover it, embarrassment clinging to him like dust to wet paint. 

“I try to think about it from his point of view…..” you start, your voice nothing but a whisper as your nose nearly touches his. From right here he can smell the your perfume perfectly, his thighs tensing as he feels his jeans tighten. “And then I always relent to anger, because he’s never tried to see it from my point of view and I’m the one that saved him.” 

Your finger slides from his scar up to his chest, rubbing at the collarbone there. “Do you ever get mad about it all?” 

“All the time. I think anger is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes” he admits, loving the way excitement sparks in your eyes. 

“You don’t think I’m a bad person for wanting to crack Kelvins nose in?” 

“Baby, I want to and I’m not even involved,” he laughs and before he knows it you are dragging him in for a heavy kiss, your hands woven in his hair as he moans a little into your mouth. 

“I want you.” You breathe out when you break from the kiss, moving off him a little to give him room to crawl back as you push him back slightly. 

He does what you want, smiling up at you as you tear off your shirt. 

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure about anything.” 

-

“This is so stupid.” Savannah Stevens snaps, slamming her car door and moving to the trunk to snatch the overpacked suitcase she took home for winter break. 

Arriving back to school a week early was absolutely dreadful, and not something she ever planned on doing. None of the other girls would be coming back until Friday which meant it would just be her and the freaky girl Lindsay who barely ever spoke. To nervous to make eye contact but her mom was a pledge so she got an easy way in. 

Savannah would be enjoying a nice hot dinner with her family right about now if her teacher hadn’t emailed her about a missing project that was worth 70 percent of her grade that semester. So she was forced to drive back to school and get it in before the new semester started. How lame. 

There was a million other things she’d rather be doing right now, and as she struggled to find the key to the sorority house she chose to try and forget about them. 

Frustration knaws at her as she cannot find the key, twisting the handle in a lame attempt to open it but shocked to find that it slides open easily. “Wow Lindsay.”

Nevermind people breaking in, Lindsay would just let them walk in, but the anger disappears when the warmth of the building engulfs her and she sighs in relief, stripping the jacket off and throwing it on the chair beside the door telling herself she would pick it up soon. 

“LINDSAY?!” She calls, looking around at all the lights that had been turned on in the home. Brittany was going to lose her shit at the electric bill. “LINDSAY!”

When she gets no answer she rolls her eyes, turning to lock the door before walking through and turning the lights off as she made her way to the room. 

Just as her hand hits the handle there is a shrill ring that breaks through the house, making her jump and turn to where one of the many landlines sat. “Swear to god if that’s Amy’s weird boyfriend….”

She picks it up anyways, sighing out as she answers “Hello?” 

“Hello….”

“Yes. Hello. How can I help you?”

“I was looking for someone.” The voice drawls out, slow and saccharine. “Think you might be able to help me?” 

“Who are you looking for?”

“Well that depends… do you think-“ 

“If you’re calling for your girlfriend she’s not here.” Savannah snaps, shaking her head. “Leave a name and I’ll write your message down.” 

“It’s Paul….” 

“Okay Paul,” she sighs. “Wait…. Like? Paul from English class? This is Savannah!” 

“You mean the cheerleader that sits in the front row?” 

“Yes, oh my god hi. I was actually scared for a second?” she laughs, hand falling on her chest as she breathed out. “Who are you calling for?” 

“You,” 

“Oh haha.” She giggles. “You calling for Lindsay?” 

“I’m calling for you.” The voice says, more serious. “Think you have a moment to talk? Or should you go and close the front door?” 

“What do you me-“ she begins to ask, walking to the staircase and stopping short when she sees the door that she locked wide open.

“What the fuck- how did- where the fuck are you Paul?” She snaps, instantly on edge as she whirls around to check around her. “This isn’t fucking funny.”

“What’s not funny about it?” 

“You think this is a fucking joke?! Huh?! I’ll tell Munson, and L/N. Yeah I’m their friend so why don’t you back the fuck off you freak!” 

“Munson huh? And just who is this Munson?”

“You need to BACK OFF!” She screams, dashing back down the hallway and looking for a spot to hide. “I’ll call the police and-“ 

Then he was there, in front of her, peering down at her through the mask. A loud scream tears it’s way out of her mouth as the assailant grabs her, plunging his knife deep into her abdomen. 

“I asked what was so funny?”

(Yeahhhhhh. Who do you think is the new ghostface? Scream 2 babiessssss. Once again I wrote this series awhile ago and just never published it.)

(Scream will not be the same without Melissa and Jenna, I will no longer be watching and as much as I love the series I urge anyone to stop streaming it for the time being.)

TAGLIST:: (Tell me if you want removed <3)

@cryingglightningg @maxstecc @hookergutss @sunshinepeachx @random000000sblog @fried-peaches00

[thoughtfulangeltidalwave]

You and Me (Part 3)

The dream always started the same way—soft and sweet, like the echo of a distant memory. Y/N was in the kitchen of their little house, sunlight spilling through the window, casting a warm glow on everything. Her children’s laughter rang in her ears—Henry giggling as he played with his toy soldiers, Mary shrieking in delight when she knocked them over, and James’s quiet chuckle as he sat at the table, coloring.  

Y/N could feel the joy of the moment, the kind of warmth that filled every corner of her heart. Her chest swelled with love so fierce it hurt. But then it turned cold, like ice sinking through her veins.  

The laughter twisted into sobs. The sunlight flickered, replaced by the cold, sterile buzz of fluorescent lights. She was running—no, stumbling—toward the freezer. Her heart pounded in her chest, her legs heavy, as if something was dragging her down.  

Her voice cracked as she screamed their names, her body moving on instinct, as she neared the freezer. Her hands trembling, she pulled open the steel door with a desperate force.  

And there they were—her babies, lifeless, huddled together in the icebox, their small bodies frozen in a twisted embrace.  

She collapsed to her knees, a wail rising in her throat. The cold of the freezer washed over her like a wave, a suffocating reminder of the moment she’d never escape. The dream blurred around her as she reached for the knife—her husband’s blood on her hands, his voice still echoing in her ears.  

A scream tore from her chest, and just as quickly, she was awake. The cold air of her cell hit her like a slap, her skin damp with sweat, her heart still racing.  

Y/N gasped for breath, clutching the thin blanket to her chest. The nightmare still gripped her, leaving her shaken, her mind swimming with the images of her children’s final moments.  

It was just a dream. But it wasn’t.  

---

The sound of boots tapping on the Mile snapped her from her thoughts. The heavy tread echoed down the long hallway, steady and insistent. Y/N was sitting in the corner by the bars of her cell facing the end of the Mile so she couldn’t see who was approaching her.

Dean appeared outside her cell, his figure framed by the harsh light of the corridor. His voice was low, a touch softer than usual. “Mornin’, ma’am, sleep ok?” he said, sliding a tray of food through the slot.  

Y/N rubbed her face, still feeling the weight of the dream pressing down on her. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples. “Fine,” she whispered, barely meeting his gaze.  

Dean didn’t buy it. He crouched down, his eyes gentle as they met hers through the bars. “You doin’ all right?”  

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.” The words felt like a lie.  

Dean didn’t seem convinced, but he gave her a reassuring nod. “If you need anything, just let me know.”   His voice was kind, no strings attached, and as Dean walked away, Y/N felt the warmth of his words linger in the cold confines of her cell. 

The weight of years spent in silence and fear had made her forget what it felt like to receive kindness with no strings attached. No hidden agenda, no expectation—just a simple act of human decency. It was almost too much for her to process.

She turned to face the wall, her hand unconsciously resting over her heart, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. The heavy silence of the cell had never felt so welcoming before. Dean’s voice echoed softly in her mind, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/N didn’t feel alone.

After a long moment, she heard his footsteps fade away down the hallway. Before she could fully settle into the strange calmness, she whispered, “It’s Y/N.” Her voice, quiet yet filled with meaning, carried through the empty room.

Dean, who had only just taken a few steps back toward the corridor, paused. His head turned sharply toward her, and he stepped back into the cellblock, brow furrowed. “Beg your pardon?” he asked, a look of confusion mixed with curiosity.

“My name, it’s Y/N,” she repeated, this time a little louder, her words feeling as foreign as the air around her. “I just don’t like being called ma’am all that much.”

Dean stepped closer, crouching down to her level again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ma’am just makes me feel so old, like I’m some cooped up housewife who can’t stop goin’ on about how back in her day things were this and things were that, and what people nowadays need is to return to the God-fearin’ ways of ye olden times.” She chuckled softly, surprised by her own words.

Dean was taken aback. That was the most he’d heard her speak, the first time she’d truly laughed. It caught him off guard in the best way, and he couldn’t help but laugh along with her, the sound of their shared moment filling the space between them. His hand instinctively reached for the bars, offering it to her as if this moment, so rare and genuine, deserved to be acknowledged in a way they hadn’t yet.

“Well alright then,” he said after a pause, still chuckling, “Y/N it is. And I guess if we’re dropping those formalities, you can just call me Dean. Mr. Stanton or Officer Stanton makes me feel like old Harry or Brutus. Been on the Mile so long, they can’t remember life before it!” He grinned, clearly amused by his own words.

Y/N looked from his hand to his face. There was something so disarming about his kindness—like he wasn’t just doing his job, but connecting with her in a way that felt personal, real. She took his hand without hesitation, the warmth of his touch sending a strange but comforting shiver down her spine.

“Dean,” she said softly as she let his hand go. 

“Y/N,” he replied, tipping his hat slightly in respect before standing upright again. “I hope you enjoy the breakfast. Lord knows it’s not the finest, but it’s not half as bad as what the rest of the Block gets. And just holler if you want any more.”

Y/N nodded as he turned and made his way back toward the front of the cellblock, leaving her alone with the food tray in hand. She sat down slowly, feeling like she was in a world of her own for a moment, untouched by the heaviness of the prison walls. For the first time in a long while, she felt... almost human.

As she picked up the tray, a faint smile crossed her lips. She found herself thinking about Dean and, without realizing it, catching herself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. It was a strange sensation—like the world had paused just for her. For a fleeting moment, she forgot her pain, her grief, her fears. She was just... happy.

The weight of the day ahead seemed lighter now. And for the first time in so long, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could find some peace here, even if only for a little while.

---

The next time Y/N saw Paul Edgecomb, she hesitated. The Mile was quiet, the usual clatter of guards and prisoners muffled by the thick walls. Her voice was barely a whisper as she called to him.  

“Mr. Edgecomb?”  

Paul stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. His eyes were still kind, but his professional demeanor didn’t slip. “Yes, ma’am?”  

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bench in her cell, feeling the weight of the question pressing on her. “Has there ever been another woman here? On the Mile?”  

Paul’s face softened a little, and for a moment, he almost seemed to remember something long forgotten. “Once,” he said, his tone distant. “Beverly McCall. She was here before I started working the Mile. A harmless lady, if you ask me. Much older than you are now, though I reckon you’d’ve gotten along just fine.”  

“Really?” Y/N’s voice broke slightly as she leaned closer to the bars, eager for any connection to the past. “What happened to her?”  

Paul’s lips twitched with a half-smile, though it quickly faded. “She wasn’t executed. No, ma’am. She wasn’t even supposed to be here, if we’re bein’ honest. A little off, but harmless. We let her out of her cell sometimes, let her sit in the sun or knit. Gave her some space to feel human, you know?”  

Y/N nodded, a strange sense of relief washing over her. She wasn’t the first woman to walk this path, but the knowledge didn’t seem to ease the weight of it all.  

---

As the day wore on, Y/N found herself looking into Delacroix’s cell again. She hadn’t spoken to him much, but the faint sound of his voice caught her attention.  

“Hey, miss!” Delacroix called cheerfully from his cell, leaning out to wave a hand in her direction.  

Y/N paused. “Yes?”  

Del grinned widely, clearly unbothered by the constraints of his cell. “You wanna meet Mr. Jingles? He’s the smartest mouse in the world.”  

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. She glanced toward the little matchbox at Del’s feet. A mouse peered out, its tiny face twitching in curiosity.  

“Mr. Jingles?” she asked, her lips twitching into a hesitant smile.  

“That’s right,” Del said, puffing up with pride. He spoke to the mouse in a gentle voice, and the creature immediately scurried up to Del’s shoulder before jumping down and weaving through a maze of blocks arranged carefully on the floor.  

Y/N laughed softly. “Well, I’ll be. He’s got some moves.”  

Del’s smile grew wider, as though her approval meant the world. “He likes you,” he said. “Don’t he, Mr. Jingles?”  

The mouse gave a small squeak, and Y/N found herself laughing again, the sound almost foreign in the silence of the Mile.  

“Ma’am” came a hesitant voice from the cell furthest down the corridor, a voice she remembered as John Coffey. She had seen him earlier, of course, but today something about him felt different.

“Yes, John?” She asked moving to the bars of her cell. She couldn’t see him but she felt some sort of calmness that radiated from him, a stillness that was almost soothing.  

“They’re safe,” John said softly, his voice carrying a strange, comforting weight.  

Y/N stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”  

“Your babies,” John said. “They’re laughin’ and playin’. They’re safe.”  

A chill ran down her spine. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about her children. How could he know?  

But the words hung in the air, and for a fleeting moment, Y/N almost believed him.

Before she could collect her thoughts, Percy’s shrill voice cut through the moment as he waltzed onto the Mile.  

Delacroix immediately recoiled back onto his cot, picking up the matchbox with Mr Jingles inside and clutching it to his chest. Y/N was water of Percy, she had been since she first laid eyes on him — while it was only a short time ago she knew she’d never forget the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach from their first interaction.

“What a fine mornin’ it’s turnin’ out to be! Isn’t it Del” he asked smugly coming to a stop outside Del’s cell looking down on him. Del wouldn’t meet his eyes and kept shrinking back on his cot, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Percy scoffed, straightening his hat and turned to face Y/N, it was silly of her to think that he’d only be satisfied belittling Del and leave, of course it was her turn next.

“And what about you missy? Have a good night?” He inquired slowly walking towards her cell. 

Y/N wouldn’t look at him in the eyes, she murmured a quick “yes, thank you” to the floor and turning to sit at her desk, focusing on anything, the cracked brown wood, the dusty floor, the paint chipping off the wall, anything except the looming figure at the bars of her cell.

“What’s the matter, miss? Can’t handle a little friendly chat?” 

Y/N stiffened, but she said nothing, turning her back to him as he stepped closer.  

Percy’s sneer grew wider, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Bet you’re missin’ your little ones, huh? Or maybe you’re glad they’re gone. Makes your life easier, don’t it? Bet maybe you even liked it a little” he said leaning nearer his eyes boating into her.

The words were like daggers, each one sharper than the last. Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she swallowed them down, determined not to show him weakness. 

“Yeah, maybe you did, you’re not all that innocent, you gotta dark side to you. I see it”

“Enough.”  Dean’s voice was firm, his body a solid wall between them in an instant, taking Percy by the shoulder and lightly but forcefully pushing him away. He glared at Percy, his jaw clenched tight. “Go find somethin’ else to do, Percy.”  

Percy scowled, his eyes narrowed with resentment, but he turned and stormed off.  

Dean’s expression softened as he turned to Y/N. “You all right?”  

Y/N nodded, her throat tight. 

---

The day was drawing to a close when Paul came by again, his expression a mixture of professionalism and kindness. “Y/N,” he said, “your sister’s here to see you.”  

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been long since she’d last seen her sister, maybe a few days but it felt like an eternity. Through this whole ordeal it had been her sister, Sophie, who had kept her going, kept her sane; the only one who believed her side of the story, that Y/N’s husband had been a wicked cruel man, that Y/N loved her children more than anything, that she was innocent. A flood of emotions crashed through her—guilt, fear, longing—and she suddenly felt small again, like the young woman she used to be.  

Dean, Paul, and Brutus escorted her to the visiting room, her pulse racing with every step. When they reached the door, Paul stepped aside, and Y/N was met with the sight of her sister standing on the other side.  

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her knees nearly buckled as she looked at the face she thought she may never see again.  

“Oh Y/N” Sophie’s voice trembled, a small sob breaking through the silence, her arms outstretched towards her little sister.  

Y/N took a tentative step forward, tears blurring her vision. The door closed behind her, and the past and present collided in a quiet storm.  

[eli-kittim]

When is the end of the age?

Eli Kittim

When is the end of the age? Not where, not how, but when? The New King James Version calls this specific time period “the end of the age,” while the King James Version refers to it as “the end of the world.” Biblical scholars often ask whether the end of the age is a reference to the end of the Jewish age, which came to an end with the destruction of the temple in 70 A.D., or whether it’s an allusion to the end of human history. Given that the signs of the times coincide with this particular age, we must examine whether this is literal language, referring to first century Palestine, or figurative, pertaining to the end-times.

Since “the end of the age” is a characteristic theme of the New Testament (NT), let’s look at how Jesus explains it in the parable of the tares in Matthew 13:37-43 (NKJV emphasis added):

“He answered and said to them: ‘He who sows the good seed is the Son of Man. The field is the world, the good seeds are the sons of the kingdom, but the tares are the sons of the wicked one. The enemy who sowed them is the devil, the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are the angels. Therefore as the tares are gathered and burned in the fire, so it will be at the end of this age. The Son of Man will send out His angels, and they will gather out of His kingdom all things that offend, and those who practice lawlessness, and will cast them into the furnace of fire. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. He who has ears to hear, let him hear!’ “

In this parable, the constituent elements of the end of the age are highlighted, namely, the end-times, judgment day, the wicked cast into the lake of fire, and the end of human history. The key phrase that is translated as “the end of the age” comes from the Greek expression συντελείᾳ τοῦ ⸀αἰῶνος. In a similar vein, let’s see how Jesus explains the eschatological dimension of the parable of the dragnet in Matthew 13:47-50 (italics mine):

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a dragnet that was cast into the sea and gathered some of every kind, which, when it was full, they drew to shore; and they sat down and gathered the good into vessels, but threw the bad away. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come forth, separate the wicked from among the just, and cast them into the furnace of fire. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.”

Once again, in this parable, the end of the age (συντελείᾳ τοῦ ⸀αἰῶνος) is described as taking place at the last judgment, when the righteous will be separated from the wicked, while simultaneously placing emphasis on the end of the world, when “there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.”

Similarly, in Matthew 24:3, the disciples ask Jesus to tell them two things, namely, when will the coming of Christ and the end of the age take place. In comparison to Matthew 24:3, the book of Acts tells us that the apostles asked Jesus if he will restore the kingdom of Israel at the end of the age (Acts 1:6). This question was asked just prior to his ascension and departure. Historically speaking, Israel was restored in the 20th century, which is one of the signs that ties in closely with Jesus’ coming and the end of the age. Jesus responds in v. 7 by saying, “it is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority.” And v. 9 informs us that Jesus’ response is part of his farewell speech. In like manner, the last recorded words of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel (28:18-20 emphasis added) are as follows:

“All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age [συντελείας τοῦ ⸀αἰῶνος].”

If Jesus promised to be with the disciples until “the end of the age,” and if that age is a reference to first century Palestine, does this mean that Jesus is no longer with those who have long since outlived their first century counterparts? Taken as a whole, this would also essentially imply that the resurrection of the dead, the rapture, the great tribulation, the lake of fire, judgment day, and the coming of Jesus were events that all took place in Antiquity. Is that a legitimate theologoumenon that captures the eschatology of the NT?

We find an analogous concept in the Septuagint of Daniel 12:1-4 (L.C.L. Brenton translation). Daniel mentions the resurrection of the dead and the great tribulation, but in v. 4 he is commanded to “close the words, and seal the book to the time of the end; until many are taught, and knowledge is increased.” Curiously enough, “the time of the end” in Daniel is the exact same phrase that Jesus uses for “the end of the age” in the NT, namely, καιροῦ συντελείας.

As for the biblical contents, given that the exact same language is employed in all of the parallel passages, it is clear that the end of the age is a future time period that explicitly refers to judgment day, the lake of fire, the harvest, and the consummation of the ages. Obviously, it has nothing to do with the time of Antiquity. Not to mention that the parousia is said to coincide with the end of the current world, when everything will dissolve in a great conflagration (2 Pet. 3:10)!

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

۞ (BIG 👀👀👀👀)

✧ ── 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ۞ 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ɪᴛʜᴜʀɪᴇʟ ʟɪꜰ - ʙᴀʟᴅᴜʀ'ꜱ ɢᴀᴛᴇ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴜʀɢᴇ - @sinistercall

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 - 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄.

With every spray of crimson she feels more and more alive, Ithuriel cannot remember the last time her body and mind felt so connected; how many moons had passed since she was one with herself? The Urge within her seems satiated for the time being, the pulp of her brain stewing and bubbling over with effervescent clarity ... She stands over the body of a man, ready to strike him down before the root of her horn is snatched within another's grasp, pulling her up and tossing her to the side. The ground hits hard under her, but she's quick to scramble back onto her feet to come face to face with a new adversary; one whose eyes whisper a familiar feeling. The stranger is hunched in front of their comrade, steeling into a near impenetrable wall and she lets the flittering images of Astarion and Shadowheart flicker through her vision. She would grant them a hero's death, 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄 causes deserved 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄 ends - if she had the ability to deliver such a thing, she would. 

"Through your sword, you show the spirit that wants to protect someone - praiseworthy. Wonderful!" These are the only words she's able to speak before she's rushed, the edge of her shield catching the blade thrusted towards her. The tiefling is quick to readjust and shifts her spear accordingly, aiming with a stab through the man's shoulder, tearing through flesh, tendon and muscle. Her spear is tugged free when the second man finally wills himself to stand, her 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 legacy boiling her veins and willing her to act. Like this man before her, she has those she wishes to protect, those she wished to always watch the sunrise with… She would not let anyone come between her and that desire. Not now, not ever. The call for 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 ripples through her once more, spurred by the roaring inferno inside of her chest, naturally it isn't long before the two men are but sticky blood sacs popped along the grass. The flies have already taken a home upon the carved up carrion and Ithriel cannot help but marvel at them for a moment, almost proud of her nasterpiece until she hears a chiming call from one of her companions.

The corpses devolve swiftly to fill her skull with pain and the faces mirroring that of a thousand dead; how their bodies had given up only when they were buried within each other’s arms, bleating and wailing for the other to keep their eyes open. Love ... Extinguished. She gazes at her hands as the cold prickling of shame curls her fingers into her palms. No ... No. They had to die, they were going to die no matter what ... 𝐇𝐎𝐖 it happened did not matter. 

Not so long as the Urge's whispers were quiet, now replaced with the Tadpoles' chittering, and the vision of her companions due East. 

[rkpierre]

When I was around 11, we lived on a quaint little farm about 30 minutes out of town. We had horses, goats, chickens, cats, and dogs. Three old barns stood on the property and were filled with tools and such. We also have 10 acres of field that my sister and I rode dirt bikes on. The small community we lived in had a population of around 150 people, a church, a fire hall, and a convenience store that acted as a gas station and liquor store. The community was somewhat tight-knit, and everyone seemed to take care of each other. The elementary school I went to had about 80 students with 3 or 4 classrooms, a gymnasium, bathrooms, and a library. Recess consisted of kids running around outside playing "Kick the Can" or "Mission Impossible."

One night at home, I was eating dinner, and I started having chest pain. I did not think anything of it, and I continued to eat my food. After I finished, I went to my room to play some Nintendo or watch TV. While sitting and playing, I had a little thought pop into my head. "What if the chest pain I'm having is a heart attack?" From that thought came panic that I've never experienced before in my life. The type of panic that you never forget is terror. I ran out of my room straight to my parents, asking them about my chest. I continued to complain over and over again, seeking reassurance from them that I was okay. My dad lifted me up, put me on his chest, and hugged me, trying to comfort me, but nothing worked as I was convinced my life was coming to an end.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

I found myself standing alone on a dimly lit train platform, the cold wind sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly, a monstrous, metallic train emerged from the darkness, its wheels screeching against the tracks like a banshee's wail.

The train bore a malevolent presence, adorned with sinister, blood-red eyes that pierced through the night. It sped toward me with relentless force, its deafening horn drowning out my screams. I tried to escape, but my legs felt like lead, rooted to the platform as if bound by an invisible force.

As the train closed in, I saw its windows filled with nightmarish faces, contorted in anguish and despair. I knew that anyone who boarded this train would meet a gruesome fate. Panic coursed through my veins as I desperately sought an escape, but it was futile. The killer train engulfed me in darkness, and with a bone-chilling scream, I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, thankful it was only a nightmare.

     __________________

Grades four, five, and six were filled with beatings, bullying, and tormenting. Every recess, I always felt like I had to watch my back due to being previously attacked by older students. I was suspended over twenty times due to retaliation and self-defense. The faculty refused and were unwilling to accept the fact that I was under a barrage of attacks daily. It hit another level when other kids would follow me, and I'd come home with fresh bruises and black eyes.

I remember one instance in particular. We were in gym class, playing basketball. The boys took turns playing the court while the girls hung out on the side talking to each other. I was playing against one kid that I had "beef" with for a few years. He had elbowed me in the nose during the game and shoved me a few times, but I just considered it competitive. Again, he elbowed me in the nose, and I slapped the basketball out of his hands and punched him in the face. He fell to the floor, and I picked him up by his collar, hitting him again. The teacher started shouting at us to get to the office. He got up, holding his nose, which was spewing blood, and jogged to the office with me, shouting obscenities towards him. When we arrived, we sat away from each other until the principal took us into his office and called out our parents.

At this point, my mom had gotten this call dozens of times and was tired of hearing about how "aggressive" I was. She drove to the school, and I could have sworn she kicked the door in. She was so mad. I exclaimed to her that I was exhausted and was done defending myself in a school where the faculty didn't give a shit about my health and safety. My mom told me to wait outside in the hall, and I marched into the principal's office. All I heard was shouting and swearing before she opened the door, grabbed me by the hand, and said, "Are you ready to leave?" saving me from that horrid place.

Four years of hell Four years of cuts, bumps, bruises, punches, and emotional abuse changed me forever.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

I found myself on a dark and desolate train platform. The air is thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant, haunting whistle of an approaching locomotive. As the train screeches to a halt before me, its windows reveal a blood-red glow, and I realize it's the killer train, hungry for passengers.

Panic sets in as I scramble to escape, but the platform seems to stretch endlessly in both directions. Just when all hope seems lost, a hero emerges from the shadows. Clad in a cape and armed with determination, they leap onto the tracks, ready to confront the malevolent machine.

The ensuing battle between hero and killer train is a frenzy of sparks, steel, and heart-pounding tension. My saviour displayed remarkable courage and resilience. As the hero finally gains the upper hand, they manage to halt the train and save me from certain doom.

Relief washes over me as the hero stands victorious, ensuring my safety. The nightmare begins to fade, leaving me with a sense of awe at the courage displayed by my heroic savior.

__________________

The first person I ever fell in love with was a girl named Tori. We were in the same grade, shared similar music tastes, and hung out with the same group of people. She was the one I lost my virginity to and the first person I shared that level of vulnerability with.

During the first few months of dating, my mother expressed her distaste for my new partner. My mother was not ok with me having sex in the first place, and she often reminded me that "nobody gets anyone pregnant in my house." So cuddling and physical shows of affection were not appreciated.

One day, I met Tori at the local mall bus stop. She had a large red rash-like mark on the side of her face. I asked her what happened, and she said that she fell down the stairs and told me not to worry about it. When my mom found out, she immediately called the police and reported her parents for abuse.

We dated throughout high school and went to prom together. After school, we moved into a small basement suite together. Things felt magical; we were out on our own and living every day like it was our last. However, I started to notice that she became more and more agitated the longer we lived together. During arguments, she would physically attack me, scratch me, cut me, and burn me, and I would let it happen without retaliation. I didn't tell a soul—I was ashamed.

We ended up moving out of that place and into an apartment building that was very small. I had a job running machinery for a forest company at the time and would be gone for a week at a time. And one day, when I came home, I noticed that my safe had been emptied and she was nowhere to be found. I messaged her and called her dozens of times until she answered. She came home and physically attacked me for raising an issue with her stealing money from me. In an attempt to flee from her, I locked myself in the bathroom. She kicked the door in and attacked me one last time before I picked her up and threw her across the room. I called the police and left the building.

I went and visited my mom and asked her if I could stay with her for a while. My mom and sister told me that I had to leave her as they could see the damage that was being done to my mind and body. My sister also said she was willing to "Go to jail" which I kind of believe due to the circumstances.

I met up with Tori and told her I was done; however, she wasn't done tormenting me. She told me she took the money and spent it on cocaine with this guy she was fucking and partying with when I was gone at work. She also told me she was pregnant. She then went on a bender and tried killing herself, telling me it was her fault for her suicide attempts.

After another three years of being bullied, tormented, diminished, and abused, I persevered.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

In the dream, I find myself in a dimly lit forest, shrouded in an eerie silence. The full moon hangs low in the sky, casting an unsettling glow on the surroundings. As I cautiously move through the trees, you stumble upon a scene that chills me to the bone.

My mother, transformed into a menacing, snarling werewolf, stood amidst a litter of adorable, helpless puppies. Her once-loving eyes are now filled with bloodlust as she hungrily eyes the defenseless pups. With a haunting howl, she lunges towards them, tearing into their fragile bodies.

The terrified yelps of the puppies echo through the night as my mother devours them mercilessly, her fur matted with blood. I stand frozen in horror, unable to intervene or escape the gruesome spectacle. The nightmare leaves you with a profound sense of dread and helplessness as you witness this nightmarish transformation of someone you love.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Can you continue the vampire caretaker series?/nf

Hi there anons! I would love to continue Vampire Caretaker! Thank you all for your patience while I worked on it! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

This final part is a bit long, so I put it under the cut!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Caretaker pulled their hood a little farther over their head. They hadn’t expected it to be such a sunny day. No matter, they would be home soon, and then they’d make some breakfast for their guest. They only wished Whumpee would be willing to stay permanently; it had been so long since they’d had someone who didn’t want to kill them after finding out what they were, much less a companion.

Caretaker opened the front gate, and the sound of distant screams assaulted their ears, thanks to their enhanced hearing. Caretaker ran with incredible speed into the mansion, hearing the screams get louder. They sounded like they were coming from the basement. Caretaker threw the basement door open and sped down the stairs. What they saw made their red eyes widen in horror.

“Ah, so nice of you to finally join us, creature,” a stranger said, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

As they spoke, Whumpee writhed in their chains, wailing in pain.

“What have you done to them?” Caretaker growled, flashing their fangs.

“I’ve given them a little something to get your attention, that’s all,” the stranger said, “but let’s just say your attention comes at a price. Coursing through their veins right now is a rather slow-acting poison, a bit different than the last kind I gave them.”

“You were the one who poisoned Whumpee,” Caretaker realized, “in the alleyway.”

“Brilliant deduction, you should join the secret service,” the stranger said, “as I was saying, the poison is slow-acting but by no means is it not deadly. Your friend has about a few hours of agony to go through before they die. Of course, I could be persuaded to give them the antidote…”

The stranger held up a small bottle of a strangely-colored liquid.

“What do you want?” Caretaker asked.

“I want to rid the earth of filth like you,” the stranger sneered, “it’s my mission to purify this world of aberrations such as yourself. Surrender yourself to me, and I’ll make sure your little blood bag here lives.”

“D-don’t,” Whumpee sobbed hoarsely, “please don’t.”

As Whumpee continued to scream, something snapped inside Caretaker. An instinct that they had worked long and hard to bury resurfaced. Before they knew what was happening, they lunged. One moment, they were at the entrance to the basement, and the next, they were on top of the stranger. Their clawed hands tore at the stranger’s flesh, eliciting a harsh cry from them. The stranger went to reach for a wooden stake at their belt, but Caretaker pinned their arms down. Their fangs were bared menacingly as they bit into the stranger’s neck. They were tempted to suck them dry, but the last thing this world needed was someone like them living forever. They drank and drank, relishing in the taste of their blood.

“Caretaker!”

Caretaker’s head jolted up and turned to look at Whumpee.

“S-stop,” they said, “you’re not a monster…”

Caretaker looked down at the stranger. Their breathing was short and labored, and their eyes were half-lidded. Caretaker wiped the blood from their mouth and stood. They looked around for the bottle containing the antidote and discovered it shattered on the stone floor, its contents spreading out slowly. Caretaker ran to Whumpee.

“I’m sorry,” they said, unwrapping the chains, “I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t let me die,” Whumpee pleaded, “please.”

Caretaker nodded, cradling Whumpee in their arms and turning their head, exposing their neck. They tore the bandages off and bared their fangs. They sank their teeth into Whumpee’s neck, sucking out the poison in their system. Compared to the untainted blood of the stranger’s, Whumpee’s poison-riddled blood tasted terrible. That didn’t stop Caretaker from sucking it out. When Whumpee’s blood started to taste normal, Caretaker pulled away and spat out the contents onto the floor.

“There,” Caretaker said, “you’re going to be alright- Whumpee?”

Whumpee’s eyes were closed, and their breathing shallow.

“Whumpee!”

…

Whumpee stirred on a soft surface. The memories came back in fragments as they lay with their eyes closed. Whumper had poisoned them… Caretaker had tried to save them. Had it not worked? Were they dead? Something cold clasped Whumpee’s hand. They had never heard of angels’ hands being cold, but then again, they didn’t know much about angels. Whumpee opened their eyes, expecting to see their guide to the afterlife.

Funny, Whumpee thought, their vision blurry, this angel looks a lot like Caretaker.

“Whumpee?” the angel asked.

“mx. angel?” Whumpee responded.

“No, not an angel. It’s me, Caretaker.”

“…Caretaker?”

Whumpee squinted, waiting for their vision to clear. When it did, they saw Caretaker’s face staring at them.

“Caretaker!” Whumpee cried weakly.

Whumpee sat up and hugged Caretaker, though they were so weak that it wasn’t much of a hug. In fact, they immediately regretted their decision as a dizzy spell washed over them.

“Easy, easy,” Caretaker said, laying them back down, “don’t sit up yet.”

“You saved me,” Whumpee said, “again. Thank you.”

“I would do it a hundred times over for you, Whumpee,” Caretaker said, smiling softly.

Whumpee smiled back. Then they felt a twinge of fear twist in the pit of their stomach.

“Whumper,” Whumpee breathed, “the stranger- did they-?”

“They can’t hurt anyone anymore, I’ve made sure of it.” Caretaker said.

Whumpee’s eyes widened. Caretaker, they didn’t…?

“No, I didn’t kill them,” Caretaker added, anticipating Whumpee’s question, “I’ve just made arrangements for them to live out their days more peacefully from now on.”

Whumpee visibly relaxed at that. They were curious what Caretaker meant by that, but they didn’t press it.

“So, um, I was thinking,” Caretaker began, “once you’ve recovered, maybe I can help you find a safer, more permanent living space from now on. If you’d like that.”

Whumpee’s face fell. Of course, how could they have been so stupid? It was their fault Caretaker was put in danger, and they had probably overstayed their welcome anyway. While it was true that Whumpee had fantasized about making this place their home, they could see now that that was a selfish desire.

“Of course,” Whumpee said quietly.

Caretaker tilted their head. Why did Whumpee seem upset? Surely Whumpee wanted to get as far away from vampires as possible after all that had happened. While Caretaker would love nothing more than to have a companion in Whumpee, they couldn’t be so self-centered.

…

Caretaker escorted Whumpee to the front gate.

“We’ll get your bags from the inn, then we’ll head into the village to see what housing is available,” Caretaker said, “sound like a plan?”

Whumpee nodded quietly, their head down. A couple of tears fell, staining the ground below.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker asked, “what’s wrong? Oh-!”

Whumpee hugged Caretaker tightly, their tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry!” Whumpee cried, “I know it’s selfish, but, you’re the first person that’s been kind to me in a long time, and I don’t want to leave you!”

Caretaker was stunned. They ran their hand up and down the back of Whumpee’s head.

“Oh my,” they said, “I’ve misread the situation entirely. I thought you wouldn’t want to stay here anymore after all you’ve been through. I thought you’d want to live somewhere safer-”

“There’s nowhere I feel safer than when I’m with you!” Whumpee sobbed.

Whumpee cried for a few more minutes. When their tears had reduced to sniffles, the pair pulled apart.

“Whumpee, I had no idea that you felt this way- that you felt the same way I did,” Caretaker said, “you’ve only been here a few days, and you’ve been the best companion someone like me could hope for.”

“Really?” Whumpee asked.

“Yes.” Caretaker nodded, “if you’re serious about living here permanently-”

Whumpee nodded vigorously.

“-Then we’ll go to the inn, grab your things, and bring them back here. How does that sound?”

Whumpee nodded, wiping their tears, and hugged Caretaker again.

“Thank you, Caretaker,” they said.

“Of course, Whumpee,” Caretaker said, “now let’s go before the sun gets too high, this hood only does so much.”

Caretaker and Whumpee headed to the inn to grab Whumpee’s things. They would bring them back to the castle, where they would start their new lives together.

… Whumper rose from their bed and strode over to their window, pulling the curtains back and gazing out at their yard. It was a perfect day for gardening. In the recesses of their mind, there was imprisoned their memories of their time as a hunter, locked away by the power of a vampire’s hypnosis. Whumper got dressed, grabbed their gardening tools and headed outside; the roses were looking quite beautiful this time of year.

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

Tags: @rainy-knights-of-villany ,@wolfeyedwitch, @lokigodofaces, @burningkittypoet, @a-crumb-of-whump, @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld

------

ko-fi

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Its my 3rd request already? Well shit. Could you do a dom Sirius and James and sub Remus and fem reader.. Punishment. In a classroom.. For not doing their homework- And just like... Put EVERY SINGLE ONE of the kinks that you have- When did I turn into a kinky bitch😫

Why are you being bad?

Ft. James‘ and Sirius‘ big dick™️

Read the username and knew the request was gonna be good, Enjoy!! <3

Warning: 18+

---

You had been busy all afternoon yesterday, planning some prefect stuff with Remus. Both of you had been so engrossed in the planning, that the potions essay had completely slipped your mind.

„Fuck they’re gonna be mad. This is the third time we forgot!“ Remus panicked.

„Shit!“ you swore „I knew that we had forgotten something!“

„I don’t want to be punished“ Remus whined „I barely healed from last time. My ass fucking hurts!“

You sat down on the bed and buried your face in your palms, silently thinking of an excuse.

„What if“ you hesitated „What if we just lie and say we did do it. And – and we say that some Slytherins attacked us from behind, vanishing the essays?“

Remus gave you a hopeful look. „You think that’ll work?“

You bit your lip. „It has to otherwise we’re fucked mate.“

Remus snorted. „Don’t call me mate, I’ve fucked you before.“

You laughed at that and took his hand in your own. „Right, lets go.“

---

Remus and you were in your seats, behind Sirius and James. The two doms had been in a sour mood all morning, something about Quidditch being cancelled. Remus‘ hand was squeezing your thigh hard and your leg was bouncing a fucking mile a minute.

„What if they know?“ Remus said.

„If you keep acting like a scared bitch of course they’ll know Rem!“ You whisper-yelled.

„Shut the fuck up, your leg is about to go into cardiac arrest!“ he hissed back.

You instantly stopped bouncing your leg and instead took his hand to calm yourself down. Remus gave you a shaky smile, gripping tight.

„We’ll be fine“ you said, not believing anything you said. Remus just nodded.

„Where are your essays?“ The Professor asked and it took you both a second to realize that he was talking to you.

You chose to answer. „Um- we don’t have it Sir. There have been some difficulties.“

The moment you said that the essay wasn’t done, James turned around to give you a hard stare, jaw already clenching. Sirius let out a small chuckle and nodded to himself, before he turned slowly in his seat to glare at Remus. Your fellow sub nearly crushed your hand.

„We can explain!“ Remus blurted out towards the teacher, but his eyes were trained on Sirius as he spoke. „Could we talk after class, Sir?“ The question was actually directed to Sirius and James.

Sirius just gave him a tight smile and turned around. James didn’t though, he kept staring at you until the Professor told him to turn back to his book.

„Alright, stay after class then.“

---

You told your teacher the same lie you wanted to tell your angry doms and nearly cried with relief when he said that you could hand it in the next day. The moment you two were alone in the classroom, James and Sirius came bursting through the door and threw their bags in the corner. James locked and soundproofed the room, before he stood next to Sirius, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Sirius took a breath to calm himself and cracked his neck. It was dead silent.

“We know you lied.”

Remus nearly fainted next to you and you chewed your lip anxiously.

“We didn’t lie, Sir.” Your voice was somehow steady and you kept eye contact, shivering a little.

James lost his cool and Sirius had to hold him back from slamming you against the nearest surface. Believe it or not, Sirius was the cold and detached type during punishments, while James lost control of his rage.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth.” Sirius said, voice still calm.

This time Remus steeled himself and responded. “We didn’t lie, Sir.”

“Alright” Sirius said, a little anger laced his voice now and he turned to the other dom “James, they’re yours.”

Not needing to be told twice, James ripped his belt and tie off and barked out a “On your knees, head down.”

You two dropped to your knees and bowed your heads. James took the belt and tied it around Remus‘ hands, pulling so taunt that the boy winced. Moving towards you he bound yours with the tie and stood up.

“This isn’t gonna be a fun punishment like you’re used to.” Sirius said as he made himself comfortable on the chair, crossing his arms, legs spread wide. He had the regal confidence of a king, looking down at you nonchalantly. “We will stay here as long as it takes for you to confess.”

James took over. “Forgetting your essays after you told us that it’s already done is one thing, but to look at us and lie twice?!” James voice was getting louder with every word and you both trembled “That’s blatant disrespect. We’ve been to lentient lately.”

He took off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. He crouched infront of Remus and grabbed his chin. Remus raised his head but kept his eyes casted on James’ chest out of respect.

“I know that she can be a brat” James mused and gripped harder, bruises already forming on Remus’ chin “but you should have known better baby.”

Remus sniffled and you saw his eyes gloss over, not because James was hurting him, but because of the scolding. Remus hated being bad.

“And you” James yelled, voice hardening when it came to you, knowing he could treat you a little rougher that the werewolf “just can‘t stay out of trouble huh? Do you like making us angry?”

Heaven knows why but James’ tone irked you, sometimes punishments made you feisty. It’s not like everything was your fault. Yes it had been your idea, but you never forced Remus to play along.

For now you decided to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to make it worse for Remus, you loved him too much for that. So you took the blame. Sighing, you nodded, albeit with attitude. James noticed and took off his ring.

Slap.

Your head whipped to the side and you bit your lip from making any noise, but you couldn’t help the little hiss that escaped you.

“Lets try that again” Sirius said this time, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You glared at him from under your lashes, forcing out a “Yes. I understand.”

Slap.

You bit your lip harder and James noticed and slapped you for the third time. You heard Remus‘ distressed sounds and reigned yourself in. Bowing your head you let out a meek, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy, what?” James sneered.

“Yes Daddy, I understand that it is my fault and I will take my punishment like a good girl.”

“Atta girl” Sirius laughed “Stop trying to play tough.”

The biting undertone made you want to get up and slap them back, but you just clenched your jaw and swallowed your anger.

James stood before you two with his legs spread and hands behind his back. He was oozing dominance and the powerful stance turned you on and scared you at the same time. Remus was affected as well, not daring to move a single inch.

„We have decided to let you do the work“ James grinned menacingly „Skirt off and bend over the desk.“

You stood and flipped your skirt up, struggling a little with your bound wrists.

„God, can you do anything right?“ James groaned and flipped the skirt up, pinching your skin. He couldn’t help it, you just made him lose his mind.

As James was taking off your restrains Sirius took something out of his pocket. You felt him press the toy on your clit and whined a little, pushing back against him.

„Stay still greedy girl“ Sirius muttered and pressed the toy inside of your wet cunt, pushing it in so deep that it pressed against your sweet spot.

Your hands were free and you stood up straight again, gasping when the vibrator turned on. You knees buckled and you had to steady yourself on the desk behind you.

The two doms watched you, biting their lips, veins in their arms flexing as the balled their fists. Sirius and James just wanted to fuck you so bad, but they had a point to make.

„Look at her“ Sirius teased „can‘t even hold herself up.“

James chuckled, licking his lips as he watched you throw your head back and moan loudly.

„Well she is a slut Pads, m‘not surprised.“

You looked at them again, wincing when the vibrations got worse and your legs trembled.

„Don‘t you dare come little girl“ James warned „you‘re already in enough trouble. C‘mon get up, time to pay attention to Remus.“

„Yes, Daddy“ you whimpered, voice breaking.

„Up, boy“ Sirius commanded and Remus scrambled up, head still bowed. He quickly unbuttoned Remus‘ pants and pulled them down, forcing him to bend over the teachers desk by his neck and held him there.

„We have a little game for you.“ Sirius drawled. „Our darling girl is going to punish you with the belt Remmy.“

Remus whimpered softly as Sirius dragged his palms across his sore ass, the skin still red from another punishment. „Hush, I‘m not done. Your Daddy is going to put your favorite vibrator in your tight litte hole.“

Remus was panting now, the way Sirius was whispering in his ear made him leak precum on the table. „If your cum, she doesn‘t get to.“ James finished, giving you a mocking smile when you gaped at them.

„But Remus can‘t hold back for shit-“

James had your head bend backwards in a flash, your neck cracking with the sudden movement as you were forced to look up at the ceiling.

„I‘m done with your fucking games“ James roared at you and your eyes glossed over because of the painful tilt of your head.

„Daddy-“ Remus tried but Sirius spanked him hard.

„I‘m sorry! I‘m sorry! Please, I‘ll be good“ you wailed as James bit down hard on your shoulder, sharp canines drawing little pearls of blood.

„If I hear one more complaint out of your whore mouth we won‘t touch you for an entire month. You won‘t get our attention at all. Do. You. Understand?“

„Yes!“ you sobbed „Yes! Please don‘t!“

He let you go and you knelt down in front of the dom, leaning your head against his thigh as you cried for forgiveness.

„I didn‘t m-mean to“ you hiccuped and James stroked you head lightly. „Prove that you‘re a good girl and your daddies will forgive you.“

Yes, you would prove it. You would make them proud. That was all the motivation you needed and you got up, wiping you tears as you made your way over to Remus. Taking his face in your hands you gave him a slow kiss, whispering a secret „I‘m sorry“ and bend him over the table again.

Remus grit his teeth when he felt the first punishing slap of Sirius‘ belt on his already sore ass. He wasn‘t weak by all means, he is a goddamn werewolf, it was the pleasure he was worried about. See, Remus had a thing for pain.

Both of your vibrators came to life at the same time and you let out simultaneous moans. You nearly dropped the belt and your knees buckled, Remus forhead banged against the table as he groaned from the back of his throat.

„Keep going“ Sirius commanded, the doms watching you closely.

You started to spank Remus again, the other boy was a whimpering mess, sweat dripping down his back.

„Ah please“ he begged, legs clenching to hold his release „please, enough!“

„Five more Rem“ you pleaded „please hold it, five more then you‘re done!“ Youe own voice cracked with the threat of an upcoming orgasm, the vibrations so strong you felt them on your clit.

„I can‘t!“ Remus cried, words garbled. „Ah- no!“

The belt had directly hit his swollen balls from behind and Remus came hard, his cum coating the teachers desk.

„Fuck“ you whined when James arm wrapped around you waist and pulled you back to his chest. His other hand slid inside of your clenching hole and pulled out the toy, taking away your privilege to cum.

„Please“ You were a mess, dripping tears and shaky legs.

James directed you to sit on Sirius lap, the latter cooed and kissed your tears away.

„Hush baby, you know Daddy hates crying. I‘m gonna give you a choice now“ Sirius said, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes.

„Either we punish Remmy again and you get to cum“ you heard the boy plead in the background, not able to handle another punishment „or we don‘t and you won‘t get cummies. What will it be baby?“

The doms knew that they weren‘t being fair. They were far to agitated to play nice, angry because of the cancelled game and your disobedience. They wanted to be merciless.

Through the fog of your despair you glanced back to make sure Remus was alright. Seeing him all bruised and teary made your heart ache. Fuck, you thought, fuck you Remus Lupin. Fuck you and your cute face.

You decide to not cum and spare him.

„Don‘t punish him“ you said with a heavy heart „I won‘t cum.“

Sirius gave you a pleased smile and kissed you hard. James dragged Remus with him, sitting down and made Remus kneel on the ground at his feet.

„Good choice puppy“ Sirius said, stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs „only good girls put others needs before their own.“

Youwere confused as you stared at your dom. „Daddy?“

„Cum whenever you like“ Sirius said and you felt him push inside of you with a hard thrust.

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he pushed up inside of your hot pussy, groaning at the feeling of being so deep inside of you.

„You gonna tell Daddy the truth now?“ Sirius pressed, wanting to hear you confess.

„I‘m sorry Daddy!“ Your voice was high pitched and it was difficult to breathe with the force behind his thrusts.

„Try again“ Sirius moaned, pushing you down to meet his thrusts and you shrieked when his cock hit your sweet spot brutally.

„We lied!“ you wailed „We‘re sorry please!“

They had been torturing your body and mind the entire afternoon and you just wanted to cum. You just wanted to sink into the haze of your release.

„Good girl“, Sirius growled before his hand came down to stroke your clit swiftly. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you screwed your eyes shut, cumming hard around him. Sirius‘ balls tightened at the sight and he came inside of you, teeth biting over the same spot as James did.

„God puppy“ Sirius praised, his voice trembling „take my cum fuck yes-“

You heard James let out a shout and saw him cum in Remus‘ mouth, forcing him down so deep that you couldn‘t make out his face from the side.

„Swallow or m‘not lettin‘ you up boy.“

Remus‘ choked as he swallowed eagerly, pulling away to show James his empty mouth. James gave his cheek light taps as he murmured a „Good bitch“

Grabbing him under his arms James pulled Remus up, cuddling him against his chest. You sat there for a while, enjoying the manly smell of your doms and their hands tracing your bodies.

„What have you learned?“ James voice still had an edge to it, but it wasn‘t as aggressive anymore.

„We won‘t lie again.“ Remus and you said in unison.

„And?“ Sirius pressed.

„We will tell you when we can‘t finish our essays on time.“ You said, hiding your face in his soft neck.

„We forgive you.“ James said now, reaching over to coax your face out of its hiding. „You did good.“

James‘ praises were always comforting because the dom was a lot harder to impress that Sirius. His voice was completely relaxed now and you saw Remus already fast asleep on his chest.

Maybe lying wasn‘t the best idea after all.

[another-fantasy-world]

Pulled

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Title: Pulled

Pairings: (Romantic) Wanda Maximoff x Reader, (Platonic) Avengers x Reader, (Familial) Natasha Romanoff x Reader, (Familial) Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The Avengers, Earth's chosen heroes. You thought the name was absurd, and you knew that being around them is trouble, especially since the son of Odin himself is working with them. But of course, no matter how much you tried to pull away, no matter the consequences of you being a demon, they still insist on pulling you back, among all of them, she insists the most.

Warnings: Canon Violence. Demons. Mentions of Hell

Additional Tags: Wanda being the best girlfriend for a demon. Natasha being a soft mom. Tony being the annoying brother. Avengers being the lovable idiots that they are. Pietro being alive is my shit.

Reader Pronouns: She/They

Word Count: 3276 words

GIF isn’t mine but boy do I adore it. Feedback is much appreciated. Thank you and Enjoy Reading! Requests are open, see pinned post for more info

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Grief. Pain. Sadness. Anger. Guilt. Fear.  Six of the most common negative emotions one human can have, and somehow, this two human children had them all. You silently watched as this human girl and her twin brother hide under the bed to protect themselves from the bomb just 3 feet from them. You can sense both their fears, it's what led you to them in the first place. The intense fear and emotional pain in their souls was intoxicating, it makes you want to devour it and take their souls straight to hell. But for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to enhance it, to give them more pain, just for your own sake.

So even as your hunger clawed and begged to be satisfied, you ignored it, looking for something to comfort the trembling twins. Out the corner of your eye, you saw the damaged TV, making quick work of fixing it with your magic, turning it on, only to find the girl's glowing red eyes trained at your naturally red eyes. Your eyes widened as you realized she could see you. You then turned your attention to the other twin, his child-like eyes staring right at your non-existent soul.

“And you can see me. Great.” You voiced out, sighing. You didn't even know why your glamour didn't work on these two brats.

“Yes.” They answered timidly, Heavy Sokovian accents ringing throughout the air.

“Are you scared?” You ask them, tucking your wings in as to not scare them further more, much to your displeasure. You didn't really know why you're acting like this.

“No.” You smiled at their response, they were lying of course, but it was adorable nonetheless.

You debated on what to do next, you could erase their memories of you but quickly realized that you couldn't considering this human child is a witch. You sighed, you rarely interfere with human foolishness, the outcomes of said foolishness make up for your daily meal, so you leave them be, but for some reason you were being pulled to do the opposite.

“This is going to be the last time you see me.” You state coldly, refusing to get attached.

You maneuver your magic to levitate the bed they were currently hiding under, gray wisps of magic enveloping the bomb to keep them from detonating, you watch as the human girl seems fascinated with what she sees despite the life-threatening situation they are in right now. The human boy dragging his sister towards you as you envelop them in your magic as well, protecting them for what's about to come.

“Hold on.” You say, their arms wrapping around yours as you extend your wings and fly upwards, the air harmless to the children in your arms when it should have killed them based on your speed alone. You looked down at them, the human girl buried her face into you as fear mixed with relief pulsed out of her. The human boy on the other hand, looked ecstatic with the speed you are going at.

'Children' You thought, chuckling lightly.

You both dropped them off at the local Sokovian orphanage, prompting to leave when the human girl tugged on your black wings making you look back.

“Yes?” You asked

“Stay” She says, smiling. You smiled back, despite seeing how the events of today slowly dawned on both of them, pain filling both of their eyes.

You just shook your head sadly, a frown quickly settling at your face, realizing you let your guard down, before flying away, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

You never thought you would see them again years later, all grown up.  You were on an errand appointed to you by your brother when you stumbled upon Sokovia. The place swarmed with ridiculous looking military. Your eyes widening as you see them displaying their powers fighting against the Avengers. You smiled softly and rolled your eyes when you saw that the human boy now had super speed and the human girl had her witchy tendencies, beautiful red wisps of magic floating through the air, as a human man, named Captain America, tumbled down the stairs.

“We have another enhanced. Female. Do not engage.” You frowned at that, they're treating her like a threat, and that didn't place right with you. Prompting to leave this problem to future you, you left

“Enhanced?” You ask yourself as you flew away, not having the courage to face the twins right now.

Days pass and you still barely have the courage to give in to the pull that they both had, you spent the days you had trying to find whatever it is that you have with the two of them, it was something you cannot explain with words. The pull was extremely hard to ignore, it was a bond of some sort. But you never made a contract with them, did you accidentally make one? But this feels like something more, it wasn't just a normal contract, it feels much more intimate, familial in a sense.

You were reading ancient books, feeling particularly annoyed at the pathetic wails of souls being tortured, annoyed that your brother decided placing his torture chamber near your library where it should be quiet, quiet enough to read without some human soul screaming their hearts out as they are force to relive their most painful memories over and over again.

Your head snapped up when you felt intense amount of anger and pain course through your veins, you dropped the book you were reading and immediately materialized on Earth, finding the human girl in a headlock.

Your vision blurred, only seeing red, you charged towards the man, slamming him to the glass, breaking it, walking forward more, you slammed him to the wall, gripping his neck, you could see green slowly seeping from it. You clenched your teeth, feeling hot flames bursting from around you, cracks emerging from the concrete as molten lava seeps through. Your magic prevented him from transforming. Your eyes a vicious black as anger pumped throughout your whole being. You could feel the monster in you, clawing it's way out, telling you to rip this man's head off and feed it to Cerberus, taking his soul to the deepest, darkest depths of hell.

“Go on. Piss me off.” You growled out, mocking his words, your black wings extending, hiding the both of you from the other's view, who stopped fighting as soon as you materialized from the ground.

Gripping harder now, you ought to kill him, enduring the pain of random blasts and the feeling of a vibranium shield repeatedly being slammed into your wings.

Soft red wisps wrapped around your wrist, comforting you, lowering your guard for a little, allowing the human girl to touch you. Her hands running through the feathers that your wings had.

“It's okay. I'm okay. You don't have to.” Her soft voice rang through your ears, making you drop the coughing man and hold her hand.

“Are you sure?” Your voice raspy from growling.

She just nodded, gripping your hand as well. You didn't even notice the commotion happening. You didn't notice Thor slamming in, zapping the capsule like thing. You didn't notice the android emerging, You didn't notice a single thing. Not until she let go of your hands did you regain senses.

“I thought you said we weren't going to see you again.” She says, making you face her

“Uhm.” You gulped, now that you took at good look at the human girl, she certainly...enhanced herself since you last saw her.

She raised her brows as her head tilted, staring up at you. You felt as thou you were the one being hunted, rather than being the hunter that you are.

“Things change, Little Witch.” You tried to steady yourself, nearly losing your footing at the blue blur that ran past you.

“Wingie! You came back!” The human boy exclaimed.

“...Wingie? What the fuck?” You thought as you narrowed your eyes at them. Watching as the woman chuckled, you looked at her pointedly, knowing that she read your mind, to which she just shrugged.

“You refer to us as human boy and human girl. We refer to you as wingie, it's a fair deal isn't it?” She smirked, her Sokovian accent sending shivers down your spine.

“It is not.” You stood straigher. A frown placed on your face as you knew you needed to leave and cut ties with them. Even if you did not want to, Demon-Human relationships are strictly forbidden, unless they willingly sign their soul to you.

As if sensing this, The human girl took a hold of your wings and tugged on it, giving you a sense of nostalgia

“Stay.” She says with finality.

“I guess it would be nice for you both to tell me your name.” You say after a moment of silence, hissing slightly when you see a mark forming on your palm.

You had given in to their bond, they have successfully pulled you in. It left you wondering how this happened and why has your father, the almighty God, allowed this. Better question, why did Luci never interrupt this bond, he just let it be, even when you asked him about it, he nonchalantly says that you should give in. What better purpose does this have?

“...Now I really need your name.” You mumble out, spotting the glowing marks they both had shining through their clothes.

“Ooooohkay. What is happening around here?” You tore your gaze from the twins to look at the tin man.

“Please do not talk tin man. This does not concern you. However, I believe that The First Son of Odin can help you satisfy your curiosity about me.” You say, gaze returning to the twins.

“Wanda.”

“Pietro.”

“Y/N.” You smiled.

“You now have a personal demon at your command.” You grin, showing your true fiery self to them, bowing like a servant, surprising them a little, Then laughed, comfortable with teasing you at how ugly you looked in your true form, which also made you laugh. A memory you will never forget.

-

“What's in your mind darling?” Wanda brings you back to reality, her hands softly holding your face.

Tony was kind enough to give you a whole floor to yourselves in the tower, it now looked like a big apartment with a 70's theme due to you and Wanda's modifications just last night. Your wife did have a knack for changing your apartment's theme to different eras, you suspect it's from her love of sitcoms so you just let her be. Besides, her sitcoms are growing on you.

“How we met.” You state, a content smile on your face while tracing the mark she had.

The room you both shared is enveloped in your magic, the illusion showing the night sky, shooting stars passing through despite being in broad daylight.

“Hmmn. You traveled far.”  She chuckled, nuzzling further into your wings. You chuckled.

“You love my wings more than me, my love, why must you be like this?” You teased her

“They're softer than you.” She teased back

“You wound me little witch.” You lean in to kiss her, only to be interrupted, your illusion breaking as the door slammed open

“EW EW EW EW EW!” A blue blur barged in, only to run out again.

You huffed out in annoyance, It's 7am and Pietro is already annoying you.

“Why must I also have a bond with that prick.” You grumbled under your breath, burying your face into Wanda's neck.

“Because he's my brother, and you, my love, are my wife. That makes you his sister as well.” She says, pecking your lips multiple times, her Sokovian accent slipping out.

“Mrs. Maximoff, and Other Mrs. Maximoff. Ms. Romanoff wanted me to remind you of your training at 8:30 am after breakfast. And Mr. Stark is demanding you both to have breakfast with the team” FRIDAY, the AI's voice rang out.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” You muttered out, begrudgingly getting up from your shared bed, your wings limp as if sharing your sadness, much to your wife's amusement.

“I don't get it. At all. We've been doing this for 8 years now. Why do I still have to train?” You whined, walking into the dining room where the rest of the Avengers are.

“Because, you little devil, you rely on your powers too much. Hand-to-hand combat is necessary.” Natasha pats your back, grabbing her newly made peanut butter sandwich.

Natasha met you after Bruce saved her from Ultron, your powers saved her by smashing in two robots to the ground, which seemed to amuse her, plus seeing you with horns made her laugh. The next day, she approached you asking if you wanted to spar with her, and you cockily said yes, boasting that you'll beat her in a minute. You were proven wrong, your ass got handed to you every single time, proving that you can't make it through life without your powers.

“And yet, you don't tell Tony to train.” You deadpanned at Natasha, and she looked at you like how an angry mother looks at a child throwing a tantrum.

You accidentally read Natasha's mind one day when you were starving, refusing to feed off your family's emotions, despite them being filled with negative emotions because, the receiver of a demon feeding feels intense pain as said demon sucks their emotions out, leaving them exhausted, sometimes in a coma, and sometimes just dead, it's soul going straight down to hell. She was thinking about how she thinks of you as her daughter, albeit being thousands of years older than her. You just shrugged and went along with it,  finding it funny, until you accidentally called her 'Mom' when she got shot, sending the one who shot her down to the pits of hell. And since then it just stuck.

“Because I'm a genius, devilious.” You rolled your eyes at his ego and his horrible nickname.

“Dumbass.” You murmured

“Bitch.” He shot back

“Jerk.” You retaliated. Puffing your wings up to hopefully intimidate him but he just powered up his reactor and threatened to blast you.

“Okay, enough from the both of you.” Wanda gave you a pointed look which had you pouting

“No powers on the dining table!” Pepper scolded.

“Sorry.” you mumbled, directing your attention to the elevator doors as they open to reveal Clint on the phone.

Your eyes drifted to Pietro as you both shared a smirk, if there's one thing that you both could agree on, is that you both love to piss off Clint, who despite being retired, visits the tower often.

You subtly use your powers to tie Clint's shoelaces together as Pietro sped to him, taking his phone.

“Hey!” He complained, taking a step to run after Pietro only to slam, face first into a pillow?

Your eyes then lifted up to see Wanda's glowing eyes, her hands wrapped with a red mist as you see Pietro being dragged into the room by said mist.

“Oh shit.” You murmured, seeing her head tilt, it's common knowledge to run when Wanda tilts her head, it's terrifying as fuck.

“...We can talk about this...” You say, slowly backing up. She just raised her brows

“Whipped.” Clint whispered tauntingly as he passed you

“Take it to the training room kids.” Natasha says, her steaming black coffee nestled in her palms

“I didn't even eat yet.” You whined, plopping yourself away from your wife, beside the metal armed man who pushed the plate of toast towards you.

“Are we still going to ignore how devilious is a literal demon and she's scared of Wondie?” Tony teased, bouncing Morgan on his lap while she drinks her milk.

“Okay. Tony, Tony, Tony. Stare me straight in the eyes, look at me, look, look. Come on, look into my eyes-”

“Yes, I'm looking into your “natural” red eyes, they still look like contacts” He says, air quoting the word natural

“First of all, they are natural. Second, stare right into my eyes and tell me that my wife isn't the MOST TERRIFYING PERSON YOU EVER MET!?”

“Meh.” He says, smirking

“Oh-hoho! Ouch.” You say playfully with a grimace, jaw dropping with a look of offense on your face.

“Let's just agree that wives are terrifying, yes?” You say quickly, motioning to Pepper who was chopping up some food for her daughter, who held up the knife as a response to your statement.

“And this is why I will never get married.” Natasha says, disposing of her plates to the sink before motioning to you.

“I can change that. Do you want a dog too?” Sam asks, grinning

“Get ready to get your ass kicked, Wilson.” You grinned seeing Nat's glare

“Language.” Tony says, motioning to his kid while winking at Steve who rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. The fitted shirt threatening to rip. You always wondered why Steve liked to wear clothes that's one size smaller that what he should be wearing. Maybe it was because of Bucky, or Nat, or both. You never knew with that man.

“It's been 8 years. Why is that still a thing?” Steve groan, making you all laugh.

Your laugh slowly faded, staring at your family, your weird but still very much your family, laughing and having fun without a care in the world, it's memories like these that you want to remember.

You don't want to remember the sacrifices you had to make to get this very moment, the actions you made were selfish yet necessary, for your universe at least. You had the power and the chance to change everything 5 years ago, and you took that chance without hesitation, even if it meant breaking the fabric of the universe itself.

You just hoped that the Avengers from the other universes wouldn't hate you so much for adding to their pain. After all, you did avert what should have happened in your universe, into another universe where the people of earth and it's mightiest heroes, suffered twice. Their pain increasing tenth fold as you merged two problems into one.

The consequence that you have to endure for that however, was white-hot pain. You will have to endure all the universe's pain, nightmares and visions of the battle that should have happened will continue to plague you, visions of Wanda in pain, visions of Tony Stark dying, visions of his funeral, visions of Natasha's death will play in your head over and over again. Your own personal hell.

But it's worth it right? …right? You'd do anything to make your family happy... right? You'd do anything to make her happy. It's worth it. It was definitely worth it... right?

[caramel-velvet]

Ruined

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7

Saturday, October 30: Devotion

Wedding Night/Honeymoon 

Smut | Oral: both F/M | Use of the word “sir” once

He’d ruined her in all aspects of the word. Raven blushed as Damian flipped her to her back, her clammy arms covering her face to avoid eye contact with her husband. Husband; she couldn’t believe it had finally happened, during the 9  months of planning, it felt as if the day would never come. The wedding itself had been a blur, her body in an unexplained state of lull as she locked eyes with Damian during the ceremony.  

“No,” his hands pinned her arms above her head “why are you acting shy, beloved?” He looked down at her plump lip, swollen from gnawing at it mere seconds ago. He straddled her waist, his hold loosening on her arms. “The things I want to do to you.” He spoke aloud, his eyes running up and down her body. “But,” he pecked the side of her lip “we’ve done so much already, haven't we?” He kissed down to her jaw, nibbling on the skin gently. “I could fuck your face.” He considered as he ran his tongue down her sternum. Raven gasped, her eyes finding his own. “Would you like that?” He brought her pebbled nipple to his mouth, “hm?” sucking it in between his lips. “My dick fucking into that beautiful mouth of yours for the first time?” He teased.

“I’ve sucked you off countless times Damian.” Raven panted, her eyes rolling back as Damian switched breasts, his teeth running over it.

“No darling,” He kissed down her abdomen, his tongue dipping into her navel before sucking a bruise onto her hip. “I haven’t had the opportunity of fucking my wife’s mouth yet.” He moved to kiss her clit, his tongue running up and down her wet lips, tasting remnants of both of them from their last round. Raven gripped at his hair, her body on fire at the thought of hearing him again.

“Then get up here.” She ordered. “Come fuck my face Damian.” Raven’s eyes alight with something that caused Damian’s cock to twitch. He wanted her to finish on his tongue first, ignoring her command Damian devoured her like a man starved, Raven’s hand pulling at his hair as she threw her head back against the dishevelled mattress. “I- I want you to cum in my mouth” She whispered looking at his deep green eyes in between her thighs. 

“You cum in mine first.” He plunged two fingers deep within her, his hands traveling to her ass squeezing the plush flesh as he ate her out for all she was worth. Pulling her to his mouth, Damian sat up pressing Raven against his tongue lifting her lower body up from the bed. Pulling his fingers from her he placed her legs over his shoulders, Raven’s own shoulders pressed against the bed, blood traveling to her head and a tight knot below her belly button, Damian not taking his eyes off of her as she called out his name. Raven could feel herself teetering over the edge, her ears ringing as both her hands shot to Damian’s head to keep him tightly pressed to her. Her toes numb and cold from all of her blood rushing to her oversensitized clit. Raven catapulted down what felt like a never ending ledge, her wails bouncing off of the walls as Damian slurped at her release. Her mouth quivered as tears ran down her cheeks from the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through her veins. Damian lowered her softly to the mattress, embracing her body tightly as his lips enveloped her own allowing her to taste herself. Moaning against her open mouth as her tongue sucked on his greedily.

After a few moment’s Raven caught her breath, “I believe you were supposed to be down my throat by now.” Her voice raspy and broken from overuse. Damian couldn’t help but smirk.

“You sure you have the strength for that?”

Raven tilted her head at his challenge, raising her eyebrows she took his hand that was lightly running up and down her cheek, licking at his ring and middle  finger, slowly sucking both in her mouth, her tongue dragging against his wedding band as her hips thrust up against his erection. Seperating from him, Raven kissed his palm “Climb up and fuck my face.” She moved her hand to his neck, choking Damian slightly. “Show me how rough you can be.” 

Damian, slightly amazed by the rare show of dominance obeyed, he crawled up her body, his knees on either side of her head, Raven’s hands coming up to play with his balls as he looked down to her. “You remember the rules?” 

“Yes, sir.” She tried to take in the head of his erection.

“Show me.” His voice low and strained from having her breath so close to his starved member. Raven’s hand moved to his outer thigh, tapping thrice. With a mutual nod of their heads, Damian lowered his pelvis, his hands pressed into the mattress to support his weight. Raven’s nails ran up his thighs to his firm ass, pulling him forward as she lifted her head to kitten lick his tip. Bringing her dominant hand to run up and down his shaft, Raven sucked at his sensitive head as her other hand gently rolled Damian’s balls. “That’s it” Damian moaned above her as Raven took him in deeper, Damian forced himself not the thrust as her tongue pressed against a prominent vein on the underside of his cock. Relaxing her throat and jaw, Raven took him in deeper causing her to gag slightly as Damian’s head poked the back of her throat. 

Bringing her head back to the bed Raven’s hands pumped at Damian’s dick, glancing up at him as she caught her breath “Don’t hold back.” She pulled him back into her awaiting lips, Damian thrust as they locked eyes, he could feel her throat spasm against him every time he went too far back. The stray tear running down Raven’s face spurred him on as she moaned around him, her eyes closing down as she salivated around him. Her nails dug into his ass cheeks as she maneuvered him faster. She could feel him twitch on her tongue, she wanted to choke on his cum, to be reminded of who ruined her mind, body and soul when they woke up tomorrow. She looked up at him, his hair falling over his face, his eyes clenched shut as his mouth hung open panting as the veins in his neck protruded against his skin.

Damian couldn’t hold back, his back ached from the position but that only spurred him on “Fuck,” his thrusts getting unintentionally deeper each time “so good to me.” His eyes shooting open to take her in, wanting to see her as he lost all control from her mouth only. Raven eyes watered as she attempted to breath out her nose, her eyes on Damian as he cursed, his hands clawing at the sheets behind him. Raven moved her hands from his rear and brought them to her head, Damian taking the silent invitation to grip onto her hair as he felt her swallow around him. The slight graze of her teeth Damian felt as he momentarily changed the angle of his thrust caused him to hiss. Sweat ran down his back as he felt nothing but a bright white heat causing him to plunge down Raven’s throat, not being to hold back anymore Damian felt himself let go, shooting down her throat cursing at every god he could name as pulled at Raven’s strands until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Pulling out slightly he felt her lips latch onto his tip, sucking him dry causing his legs to tremble when she didn’t stop even as he stopped cumming. 

Damian wasn’t sure, but when he came to, Raven was cradling him to her chest, her hands playing in his hair. He couldn’t help but sigh against her bare skin. “Welcome back,” Raven mused. 

“You’re going to be a spectacular wife for me.” He kissed her bruised flesh, rolling her onto her back.

“Hm,” Raven looked down catching his eyes “because I can make you black out from my mouth alone?”

“Not simply because of that, beloved.” His hand encircled her waist. “because I’m sure you can take what you give.” He bit back fully intending to end her with his dick alone.

Tagged: @damirae-smut-week

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

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

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

[stockholmdolly]

EASY PREY (BEWARE OF THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD) 10

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: swearing. mentions of vomit and a picture of it, too hahaha 

Word count: 2,367

Author’s note: Hello fanfiction world, it is me! Stockholm Dolly. Chapter 10, She’s ready and playing her part. This is a filler chapter. Happy reading...😈

CHAPTER 10/26 DAY 32 IN CAPTIVITY

These blank days, of nothing and empty skies Behold, closer, beyond the void A comfort comes When everything goes mercifully white –S. Kirk

Two days post Kitchen People. Two days post ditch. And all I wanted was a bath. A nice lavender-salt bath, the kind where the water encases me in a hot quicksand. The kind I’d take in Mother’s custom jet, extra-deep tub, with a view of the television she had mounted in her female-only, white marble bathroom. The kind where when my skin got too wrinkly and my core too heated, I’d slosh onto her fluffy, white bathmat, cocoon into her thick white robe from the Ritz, and enter her adjoining walk-in closet to parade naked on a fictitious runway in her Jimmy Choos, her Manolos, and her strappy Valentinos, the pair with the crystals. Wishing for this white comfort, I looked around my dusty, brown jail cell and at my grimy skin and wished for the end. Plus, I was pretty exhausted from the double acting load I’d taken on since Day 30. I had started to perform amazing monologues of wailing fits, adding a chorus of incoherent pleas for the weak-ego’d Steve to free me—and my baby.

He needed to feel powerful.

I gave him what he needed so he’d stick safely to our practiced routine.

And although I craved a bath like a lawyer craves coffee, I wasn’t about to deviate from practice and interrupt our choreographed days with any new requests. I could have used the comforter as a cloth, dipping a corner into my cups of water so as to sponge bathe some critical body parts, but I’d wrestle a viper before I’d waste a single drop of liquid. I’d never squander an asset.

After a lunch of shepherd’s pie on Day 32, I waited for him to collect my tray. I stood and shook, repulsed with my own body, the film on my legs, the grease in my hair. My efforts to cloth wash myself with a dirty, dirty washcloth in the bathroom each day, really were not good enough—frankly, given how used that cloth was, I think I made matters worse.

Day 32 blossomed warm under the brightness of the sun against the cloudless sky. My room, with the pine-lined walls, became a sauna, even hotter than the days when the Kitchen People came and their scents and oven steam rose like fire smoke into my cell.

Here came the rattle of the floor, announcing psycho on his way to snatch my empty tray. I sat on the bed, counting the number of pine boards from my feet to the door and from there, crawled my eyes up the white plaster wall and counted the cracks that veined out from the doorway. I already knew the answers, but I counted anyway, as I always did, as a way to memorize every pattern everywhere in every one of those days: 12 boards of varying width; 14 cracks, including the small tributaries.

Keys clanged against the metal outside my door, and I toggled my head in boredom at this whole routine. Sniffing the thick vapor of unmasked sweat from my armpits, I fought back exhaling in disgust. I sat up straighter when at last he opened the door and stepped to his regular spot on Floorboard #3.

-  Give me your tray. Bathroom?

-  Yes, please.

-  Hurry up then. I haven’t got all day.

You haven’t got all day? What the hell do you do all day? Oh yeah, playing hero and dad of the year, with kidnapped babies.

But I didn’t shoot any smart looks, no evil eye, like I might have before. I lowered my gaze, handed forth the tray gingerly, and squirmed, nervously, to the bathroom, as he moved to block the stairwell down, as he always did.

Inside the bathroom, leaning against the door, I stopped to marvel at how big I’d become. Babies moved within, but slow, like an unhurried whale breaching the ocean with his hump. At full size then, my children folded onto themselves in his cramped quarters. Although, I don’t know how they could have been cramped: my torso was as large as a Weber barbecue.

I pat the babies and scanned the room. I haven’t described the bathroom yet, have I? It must have been a former closet, since the square footage matched, well, a large closet: a wedge of space, crammed within an eave. The ceiling slanted over a claw-foot tub that took up nearly the entire floor space. You had to shimmy sideways past the tub and sit perfectly straight to use the white toilet. Sitting so, you might pontificate life by resting your bent elbow on the white pedestal sink beside the toilet. A cheap square of mirror hung slightly crooked, literally glued to the wall above. Crammed between toilet and sink was a one-foot-high, white trashcan, in which were two white plastic bags: the active one for trash, and one under the one in use. I had left both bags in place, for I hadn’t come up with a use for them. They were those flimsy, annoying things they give you at the grocery store. The variety in which the bagboy inexplicably places one item per bag: ketchup bottle in one, milk in another, bread in another, and so on. You end up with fifty million bags. I hate these bags. I really, really hate these bags.

But, I digress.

The bathroom floor was made out of the same pine boards as in my bedroom. I’d scanned this white room so many times for assets, but everything visible was either bolted or glued in place or not terribly useful. I might carry the trashcan, but what was I going to do with a tiny wastebasket? The dirty washcloth on the sink was just a 6” × 6” piece of filth. Beyond these items, the bathroom had been cleared of any regular items that might have been assets. No evident cleaning chemicals, no nail clippers, no tweezers, hell, even floss would have been a great weapon.

Despite my acceptance that the bathroom was void of any useful items, after clicking the door shut, I scoured the small space once again and again found nothing. I shimmied sideways to the toilet—and, if you really must know, emptied my bladder. My babies belly touched the rounded rim of the bathtub, and my left elbow rested upon the sink. When complete with my afternoon relief, I stood and bent to place my face under the sink faucet to swallow as much water as my dry mouth could take. With the skanked washcloth I’d used for weeks, I quickly wiped my pits and elsewhere.

I twirled on my feet as I worked, ogling the tub with an animalistic desire. Oh, but to twist the “hot” knob and slip in, soak in heated liquid, and burn the stench from my body. I placed my left foot on the toilet seat, balancing on my right, and stretched to scratch my hairy leg, struggling with my girth in the packed quarters to reach the area above my ankle.

In this struggle, when my head was cocked downwards and sideways just so, I noticed something that had been waiting for me all along. So hidden, so coy. But very much, very literally, under my nose the whole time.

A bottle of bleach.

Right there. A one-gallon bottle. The label was missing, and because it was tucked so tight in the inward groove of the back of the toilet, the bottle was quite camouflaged. And don’t you know, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, when I squatted to extract my new find, sure enough, I found that glorious albino chameleon ¾ full. Sodium Hypochlorite, welcome to the party. Asset #36.

My plan did not require this bonus Asset. Yet, even in these final hours, I thought of a perfect use for Clorox: an extra flourish of pain, something I hadn’t realized I needed until I set eyes on that magnificent white vessel. I allowed a frivolous and unhinged moment of psychosis in thinking I might fall in love with bleach. Perhaps I did dabble in a couple of seconds of insanity when I hugged the plastic body to my engorged breasts and kissed the blue lid.

At the bottom of the trashcan was the extra plastic bag. I grabbed it and placed it in my pants: Plastic Bag, Asset #37.

I replaced the bottle. I wouldn’t be able to extricate the bleach on this trip, but with the whole hot afternoon ahead, I thought I’d map out a plan.

-  Get the fuck out, he yelled, while predictably banging his fat fist on the door. The wood bounced. Every time he did this, I feared the antique paneling would crack and cave.

-  Yes, Captain. Here I come. Sorry, not feeling well. Which wasn’t true, but, in the quick interim of returning the bottle and watching the door bend to his pounding, I figured out how to safely extract the bottle. I didn’t really need the afternoon to think on a plan.

-  So sorry, I’m hurrying, just feeling queasy.

-  I don’t give a shit. Get the fuck out.

I opened the door, rounded my shoulders in the posture of the inferior and submissive, and scampered quick to my cell.

He locked me in with his stupid ring of keys.

What are the other keys for? Who cares.

For the next hour, I conjured sick and disgusting visions. I spun myself dizzy, and then quickly stopped to drop on all fours, dipping my head to balance a quick second on the crown of my skull, repeating and repeating. The sickest and most grotesque thought was, of course, the real memory of the girl’s torso in the ditch. So I thought of that. Over and over. Then, I invented a mini-movie of myself licking Steve’s twin’s feet. Sure, Ransom, his feet had to be hairy, so I imagined dragging my tongue through his dirty feet, all while he’d be licking a plate of blood-oozing veal. With this awful imagery firmly in my mind, I spun again, kept licking, kept popping, the veal bloodier each time, feet covered in pus, thicker, embedding in the hair I licked, and twirling, and twirling, and when so dizzy and so disturbed, I jammed my finger down my throat and finally, finally, vomited. It’s harder than you think to make yourself throw up. And it’s not something I’ve done since, nor do I recommend self-purging as an appropriate act for practice. Sometimes, however, these vile acts must be done on a one-time basis for the greater good.

The blob splashed well away from the doorway, exactly where I aimed, and nowhere near where he’d step. I didn’t want him to ever have any hesitations in entering my room and stepping in the exact same footpath he always followed.

Should I sit until dinner with this acidic odor, steaming in this heat? Or, should I call out to him, like I sometimes did when a bathroom emergency seized my physical self. I was sure he went to spend time with his army of kidnapped babies when he wasn’t with me. Perhaps he sat in some room below, I could picture them, playing house with the babies, teaching them all about their parents and “uncles”. Eight out of the twelve times I had banged on the door and requested a special bathroom trip, in-between the regular mealtime bathroom visits, he had barged up the stairs, playing the annoyed prison guard. Thus, his stats on responding were high, eight out of twelve times. And I figured that was because he didn’t want a mess to clean up. So, with the likelihood he’d respond again, and because eight out of twelve times made it safely part of the routine, I chose to call him to my room.

Plus, the awful odor of decay, which seemed accelerated in my fire-pit room, invaded my nose and pierced my brain, and reinforced my decision.

Oh hell no, I’m not smelling this all afternoon.

Rubbing my hands together, I waltzed to the door. I pictured myself a master healer, heating holistic hands to massage broken muscles for an absolute cure. With hot palms, I banged upon the door.

-  Excuse me, Captain. Excuse me. I got sick, I yelled.

Sure enough, movement began in some pocket of the building below me. Then a pause, which I presume came because he questioned whether he heard anything.

-  Excuse me, I continued to bang and yell. “Sir, I’m sick. I’m so sorry,” I said.

-  Mother of all fuck, son of a damn bitch, he shouted, as he stomped up the stairs.

I backed away from the door, and in he came.

-  Holy What, he said, pinching his nose, while finding the source on the floor.

-  I’ll clean it, sir. I’m so sorry. Please, please. I saw some bleach in the bathroom. Can I use it? Should I use it? I fell to his feet, begging him, “I’m so sorry.”

Still squirming in the smell, he backed up, took his position at the top of the stairs to indicate I should enter the bathroom, and said, “Well, go on. Clean this shit up. And hurry the fuck up.”

Still on hands and knees, I crawled to the bathroom, grabbed the trashcan, the washcloth, the bleach, and crawled back. Quickly, I scooped the mess into the trash and poured two caps of cleaning chemical on the washcloth to rub the boards. Setting the bottle aside after scrubbing the spot, I took up the trash and cloth, returned to the bathroom, dumped everything in the toilet, rinsed the trashcan in the tub, wrung the cloth under running water, and returned to my room.

-  Thank you, Captain. I’m so sorry.

-  Don’t fucking puke again. I’m spending time with my kids, he said, while once again locking my door.

So that’s what you do all day. How predictable.

I guess we’re back to a safe routine. All snug and comfy, aren’t we now?

Bleach, Asset #36. Right on time. Tomorrow we go.

Taglist: @cjand10​ 

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Love Bites’ Vampire!Saeran Choi Drabbles

Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!  Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing Will be under the cut after Ray!

Vampire! Ray Drabble

Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.

The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.

You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?  

And those fangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.

Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.

You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.

‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.

‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.

‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’

‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.

As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.

You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’

‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.

‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’

‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.

‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’

After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.

Vampire! Suit Saeran Drabble 

Meeting Saeran was an experience unto itself, let alone processing the surprise you received in how differently he treated you and himself. Saeran doesn’t hide what he is in the same way that Ray did, he acts proud of it. A shining example of what Mint Eye could offer to people with the Elixir, but only if they were strong enough to deserve it. He’s the strongest Believer and the strongest Vampire produced from the Elixir, The Savior said it herself. She called him her ‘One True Offspring’. When you had asked what that meant, since Ray had never mentioned anything like that to you, Saeran had angrily snapped that firstly, he shouldn’t have to answer your questions and secondly, it meant that he had been turned using The Savior’s own blood in the Elixir given to him. That meant that he was special, and better than anyone else there. He repeated that a lot, but you were never quite who if he was saying that to you or to himself but he clearly made an attempt to believe it, at least for his own sake.

Saeran carried himself around Magenta so differently to Ray, you heard his footsteps from down the corridor when he wanted you to know to anticipate him and yet you never heard him when he suddenly appeared behind you. He was most definitely choosing when to make his presence known and when he wanted to startle you from standing silently around a corner. Saeran certainly disproved to you the lore that Vampires needed to be invited into rooms in order to gain entrance, as he came in whenever he pleased. He never hid his fangs either or tried to cover his ears either with his unkempt hair, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention that could be brought to them by smirking at you or asking if ‘you like what you see, Princess?’ You could feel the anger in his voice, he was practically dripping with a rage that he did not know how to release properly. It weighed on his shoulders, and somehow seemed to push him in on himself to the point where he was constantly forcing himself to stand taller, to be louder so that he would not be entirely consumed by it. The atmosphere he carried was tense, to say the least. It seemed to make him paler. Saeran’s dark undereyes were no longer something a simple goodnight sleep could fix; they were almost bruises of their own. Purple, sunken.

While he was not lacking for blood in the same way that Ray had suffered without, it appeared that Saeran was overworking himself to the point that the added sustenance did little to actually aid him, so he kept on coming back for more and more each time. He appeared at any hour of the day or night, which suggested that he was no longer really sleeping, or if he was he was only sleeping for very short amounts of time, and it was really showing him his face. You were sure his appearance must have sat somewhere between Dorian Gray and his portrait, beautiful yet rotting. The way he felt on the inside was slowly, yet surely, manifesting itself. He was so capable of kindness, and yet he never allowed himself to admit to it. If Saeran didn’t have his cruelty, he didn’t have anything. He needed to hold onto it to hold himself together as the Persecutor.

His kisses were rougher too, leaving your lips feeling puffy, tender, and always breathless. He seemed to thrive on the fact he could make you feel so weak, as though it was precisely your weakness that gave him the strength he needed to carry on this strained life he led. He’d sneak up behind you frequently, with the confidence that Ray never quite found, and bury his face into the side of your neck, running rough kisses along it until you sigh against him from the touch, not even bothering to move your hair out of the way as he did so. Even as he kissed you like this, he’d taunt you for enjoying his touch so much in comparison to Ray, who barely ‘had the guts’ to touch you freely. Saeran would lift up your finger to show him the tiny bite impressions that Ray had originally left, only to have Saeran go over them more harshly with his own bite, before moving back up to your throat.

He dragged his fangs along the thin skin of your neck, so you knew it was coming, before promptly biting you. He doesn’t try to be delicate like Ray, and he’s more likely to take too much blood and leave you feeling woozy. He’ll take as much blood as he wants, really. Once you inevitably faint in his arms, he’d usually carry you back and placed you on the bed, but only so he can reprimand you for being such a burden to him. He’d never admit to anything else, especially not to feeling bad about pushing you to your limit.

‘Heh… Don’t look so happy with yourself, your blood tastes like shit anyway. I should go and find someone better, someone sweeter.’ He smirked before laughing, his eyes alive with a frantic excitement. He still had a small steak of blood running down his lips and onto his chin, which he promptly wiped away onto his black suit sleeve without releasing you from his unwavering gaze.

There were times when he’d suddenly stop laughing and looked at his blood-covered hand in disgust, before dragging that same gaze over towards you. He’d look at the redness on his hands and try to wipe it away, even after it dried and would not budge without soap and water. Saeran would still furiously rub his skin against the fabric of his clothes in a vain attempt to wipe his slate clean. You were never able to decipher what Saeran felt in the moment that he decided that ‘play time’ was over, but he never seemed happy about the outcome of the collision the two of you had found yourselves in, even when he was the one that instigated it. He’d half-assedly throw a bag of food from the kitchen at you, telling you that you ought to be grateful for having such a kind master for feeding you, before promptly turning on his heels to leave and slamming the door shut.

He was complicated, that was for sure.

 Vampire! GE Saeran Drabble 

Saeran had been through so much, and yet he was coming out stronger and stronger from it each day. He had a lot to process, about himself, the things that had happened to him and the things that he has done to other people, especially to you. Saeran had a difficult time accepting the he hurt you. He understands that he did it and he has accepted the fact that he did it, but somehow his heart never wanted to believe it. No matter how many times you told him he needed to forgive himself for it, Saeran knew that he never could.

He tried to make it up to you in every way that he could think of. He was so loving, so caring. He always served your food first, gave you extra helpings and always made dessert for afterwards. His food was always so well made, filled with all the vitamins and minerals that your body could have possibly needed and always tasted like he had been cooking his whole life. He’d even try to feed you the last few bites if you’d let him, just to make sure that you’d gotten enough food. It’s sweet, and he does it out of care, but there’s a part of Saeran that does it because he feels as though he needs to make amends to your body for the way he treated it.

He’s not keen on drinking your blood, he feels as though he’s taking advantage of you and doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to hurt you to be able to do it. He’d looked into alternatives that he could try, such as blood banks or from animals, just any means of supply that didn’t involve hurting you. It didn’t work out very well and in the end it started to do him more harm than good, so he usually just tried to wait for as long as he can in between biting you. And even then, he waits for you to offer because he doesn’t want to pressure you into giving up so sacred for him, Saeran would much rather have himself suffer than to make you feel any sort of uneasy around him.

He was a lot more considerate and knowledgeable about the outside world nowadays, and would look into various ways of making it less painful for you: the most effective one to date being numbing creams. He’s not a fan of the chemical taste of the cream in his mouth, but he would happily deal with it if it was for your sake. While he did still have a preference for your neck, because it felt a little bit more romantic to him, Saeran would always give you the choice on where you wanted him to bite. He knows it’s not his body to dictate, and if anything, he actually wants you to put some more of your own rules in place about it. He’d be more than happy if you wanted him to do it somewhere less visible so that you could hide it from people. As long as you weren’t hiding your actual relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind. He’s very understanding of the fact that sometimes it is a little awkward to have marks like that in public and that you didn’t want to answer questions from strangers all of the time.

He was very gentle with it, making sure to apply the numbing cream beforehand and to avoid any particularly sensitive spots while never biting too deep. Saeran never took more than what was absolutely necessary either, even if you told him that it was okay to do it. You figured that he always remembered the time that Saeran would make you faint after taking too much blood, and that it must weigh on his consciousness heavily. Telling him to take more than the bottom-line wasn’t something you frequently told him to do though, since you already knew he was restraining himself and trying to put some boundaries in place for your own protection, so you didn’t want to push him. He cleaned the area after drinking from it and pressed a little patterned band-aid onto it and sealed it with a kiss, just for good measure. It really didn’t sit right with him that he had to hurt you like this so he tried to make amends for it wherever he could.

He always wiped his mouth before he kissed you, since he thought it would be rather cruel to make you taste the blood that you had just willingly offered up to him. You’d find the taste unpleasant anyway, even if Saeran enjoyed it. Saeran was rather poetic at the best of times, but it was especially true when he was feeling a little bit drunk off of your love (and blood). If you ever asked him what your blood tasted like, he’d write you a verbal essay on how sweet it is. It’s intoxicating to him and it always had been, even when he was both Ray and Saeran. The two of them were so confused by their sudden feelings and this undeniable pull towards you that neither could escape from. If you let him, he’ll probably even get a little bit cliché with how he feels like he’s reached some form of enlightenment by your blood being the thing that can kept him alive, along with how he can feel your love beating through his veins and giving him strength. Sometimes you can’t help but cringe at some of the things that Saeran says, but he means it in such a sweet way that you find it even more affectionate.

In times like this, Saeran was so adorable and kind-hearted. He generally felt a bit bad about himself, since he knows that he can’t ever become a human again as a result of his time in Mint Eye, so you have to make the extra effort to love him in this moment. You cupped his face with both of your hands and told him how precious he was to you and that he is, and always will be, the most important thing in your life.

Vampire! Unknown Drabble

There were no words that allowed you to accurately describe Unknown. He was exactly that. You never quite knew what he was thinking and for the most part he definitely relished in that fact. His actions were unpredictable, and he barely seemed to keep a routine for too long, lest someone figured it out and learned to predict his moves. Everyone walked on eggshells around him out of fear and uncertainty, and he seemed to enjoy it. He found it humorous, even. He enjoyed taking you by surprise in particular, it was his main form of entertainment. You were a toy for him to play with when he got bored.

He was sort of what you expected a modern-day vampire to be, look-wise and attitude-wise. His attire was certainly a change. It felt as though he was trying to actively reflect the anguish he felt within, but at the same time, it was an external threat. A threat that if you got too close to him, you’d be in danger of getting hurt yourself. The spikes were enough to ensure that, even if Unknown wasn’t. He reminded you of Saeran, but you could tell that there was a stark difference between the two of them. Unknown rarely displayed anger in the same way that Saeran did, it was certainly there, but it wasn’t as explosive. Sometimes it was cold, warped, and vindictive underneath layers of you weren’t sure what. Like Saeran, he made little attempt to hide his fangs or ears, but he didn’t necessarily show them off unless he was actively trying to taunt someone. It was more as though he didn’t care about them until they were of use to him. At which point, he’d smirk and release the sharpened canines: a spark of excitement in his eyes inviting you closer, to dare test him.

When he wanted to feed from you, he’d summon you to wherever he is rather than coming to see you himself. After all, you were a failed experiment who couldn’t even do your job of talking to the RFA correctly; being an assistant was the best job you’d be able to manage, so he told you that you ought to be grateful for it especially since Magenta wasn’t in the habit of keeping ‘useless’ things around for very long.

He was usually desperate when he called for you because of the long hours he forced his body to endure, even throughout the daytime when he’d naturally be sleeping. He entirely believed that because he’s strong, he wasn’t allowed to feel anything except for that strength, so he had to keep himself at the same standard of work every single day in order to maintain it. He’d burn the candle at both ends and then continue trying to light the wick. When you thought of him, there was always one particular instance that came to mind when he had no choice but to display an element of weakness to you, and it enraged him. He had been out on a recon mission for The Savior and had over-exerted himself in the process, sustaining an injury. He had crashed into your room afterwards, panting and holding onto his bleeding wound, drinking enough blood in one go that he’d made you  back onto your bed with light-headedness. He hadn’t done that since, and rarely pushed you past that point, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to dance with the limit of it. He’d say it was because he preferred to tease you with it, to savour what belonged to him, even though you knew it wasn’t his only reason for taking it slow.

How he bit you depended on what mood he was in, but his typical go-to is to have you sitting on his lap while he’s at his desk and facing him so that he can pull you towards him by your hips, making sure that your collarbones are already level with his mouth. He shouldn’t have to do any of the work, he wanted you already in position for him.

Unknown’s hands were roughly on your shoulders, both pulling you towards him and holding you steady. He bites first, kissed later. There’s little warning to feeling his teeth, except for the second or so beforehand where you feel his hot breath fan over you, just before you feel the sharp break of that skin underneath. Sometimes he’d hover for a few seconds longer than usual because he sought the thrill of you not knowing when the pain was coming. He has a preference for the neck and collarbones, not that he’d never explain why to you but, simply, he doesn’t think he should have to anyway. You’d have laughed at the cliché nature of it, but you’d rather he kept it to the same area instead of spreading it all over your body. That being said, he had bitten your thighs a couple of times when your neck had been a little too sore for him to drink from there, when the skin needed time to heal.

Unknown swapped between biting and kissing at your neck, making his way up towards your mouth to continue the blood-tinted kiss there. Each time you tasted the metallic tinge on your tongue, it left your breathless, but not as much as the bite he’d leave on your lower lip did. You wouldn’t admit it to Unknown, but those kisses were some of your favourites that you had shared with him.

Not only did he leave your skin with actual bites, but he made point of littering your throat with lovebites each time too. As though the real bites weren’t enough for him, Unknown always had to go one step further with his act of possession over you. It was a cocky game, in his own mind, he needed to show that you were his and that no other Believer was permitted to look at you in the same that that he did.

When he was done and needed the wipe the blood away from his face, he’d wipe it straight onto the back of his hand. He’d make no effort to properly clean it until he went to wash his hands, it didn’t seem to bother him.

 Vampire! Savior Saeran Drabble 

It’s ironic, to Saeran, that crosses and biblical imagery did nothing to inhibit a Vampire, especially considering how linked the two aesthetics were. They truly went hand in damned hand. Mint Eye had always been steeped in Catholicism, as it was the core religion of the previous Savior, but as Saeran was forced to take the throne, he had not made any changes to those principles. He had been taught to instil and swallow those same beliefs in himself as they had been handed to him, even if they were not truly his own. He had been prepared in such a way that he would be able to take over Mint Eye when he had truly reached the peak of his strength and was intended to forge a new way for the organisation.

You had been bathed, dressed, and summoned to the throne room, where many Believers and the Savior in question were already gathered. You’d heard whispers that you were going to be cleansed, but the atmosphere you found yourself in did not seem to fit the one you associated with a cleansing. However, The Savior had yet to conduct a ceremony of his own since taking the throne and you started to fear that, perhaps, you were to be the leading spectacle. You walked between the Believers, as you were told to kneel before Saeran.

He was so lifeless in comparison to the Saerans you had once encountered before him. He was so sad, empty. At the very least, Ray’s melancholy had an element of hope to it, but as The New Savior stood before you, there was little more than a shell of the man that you had come to know. Your interaction with him was limited, but it was so plainly obvious to you that he was just being used as a pawn, a pawn in disguise of the King. It seemed distinctly sacrilegious to have a vampire dressed in religious garments, but you supposed that Saeran had probably not received a choice in either of those matters.

Another Believer came up from behind you and asked for your wrist, which he then wiped over with disinfectant fluid before presenting it to The Savior. Saeran reached out his hand to grab your arm, pulling it towards him. He was silent as his teeth suddenly found their way into your wrist, but he barely took more than a small mouthful of blood. Even with your arm in his grasp, Saeran said nothing and continued to just plainly stare ahead into the masses, occasionally throwing glances in your direction.

‘Are you ready for the next initiation step?’ He asked. You could still see your blood in his mouth, the thin line of red providing a stark colour contrast to the rest of his chilly pallor.

‘Yes.’ You replied.

Once done, he turned and pushed the red Elixir bottle towards you, tilting it into your open mouth. It was lukewarm and overwhelmed all of your senses with the metallic taste of blood and chemicals. It burned. Tasting blood like this felt so wrong. You felt it fill your mouth and you forced it down your throat swallow, gasping for air as soon as it passed. Was that… his blood? In the same way that he had been given his Savior’s blood?

You were asked to stand as Saeran took another step towards you. You tried to watch his eyes, looking for any hint of the life that Ray and Saeran had once brought to them, but The Savior in front of you had clearly managed to subdue that hope. Or rather, he had been forced and conditioned to abandon it.

Almost sombrely, he pressed a small kiss against your lips; causing you to once again receive a fresh taste of blood. Except this time, it was the remnants of your own that had been left on his own tongue. There was little free affection in his kiss, and it appeared to be more about the process of the initiation rather than anything to do with kindness or tenderness. It only lasted for a second or so and was nothing intimate, ending almost as soon as it had begun. He pulled away first, placing the bottle that he had been previously holding back onto the throne room altar.

You were hugely aware of the fact that you were still being watched by an entire room of people and felt so exposed, so seen. It was uncomfortable to have to wait there for it to be over when you would have much rather have had this be a private affair: not that you had been warned in advance anyway.

He pressed his bloody lips against your forehead, leaving a red stain against your skin. Saeran then reached a cold hand towards your face, dragging his thumb across the bloody kissmark and smearing it into the shape of an eye. A baptism.

Vampire! SE Saeran Drabble

He was trying. Saeran was really trying. Being around people was difficult, well, everything was a little difficult for him. It was taking all of his energy to adjust and process things, so you rarely saw him during the day. He was always pretty low energy and spent the majority of his time asleep or alone, with you only ever really catching glimpses of him at night. You guessed that it was at least a good thing that he was catching up on the sleep that he had deprived himself of for so many years, even if it meant you rarely got to see him.

Saeran didn’t really talk to anyone anyway, only you and his brother. That is, whenever he can be bothered to talk to Saeyoung as he often complained that he’s too tired for conversation. He usually didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother that much because of how hyperactive the other was. Saeyoung understands that Saeran needs time, even if it hurt him to not be able to pull his brother close after all of those years apart. Irreparable damage had been done where they would need years to repair it. There were even a few tense moments where Saeran had thought that Saeyoung was taunting him, or not trusting him, by wearing his crucifix necklace. Of course, his brother tried to explain that that was not the case and that Saeran wasn’t affected by religious symbols anyway, but it still seemed to annoy him. Eventually, Saeyoung stopped wearing his necklace and kept it in a drawer next to his bed, feeling as though the faith he believed in was probably redundant now that he knew how it had been tainted by the people he trusted.

Saeyoung had offered to let Saeran drink his blood before, as a way of making reparations to his twin, but Saeran flat out denied it: saying it would be disgusting to drink from him. He also threw in the comment that Saeyoung’s blood would taste ‘like shit’ because of his diet anyway, which was entirely understandable. Neither of you could fault Saeran for that.

Saeran felt rather conflicted and tentative about drinking your blood, often feeling pangs of guilt for how he previously treated you as Unknown. He often waited right up until he was pretty desperate before letting on that he was in need, and you’d have to realise on your own that his tiredness was not just coming from social exhaustion. He probably wouldn’t ask, so you’d have to offer.

When it happened, it usually happened in the same way with Saeran turning you around so that your back was facing him and you couldn’t look at him. He already felt some sort of way about biting you in the first place so the last thing he wanted was to have to look into your eyes as he did it. He felt more comfortable like this, and he felt as though he could take his time rationalising it a bit more when he wasn’t being watched. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He said tiredly. He sighed, clearly feeling a little awkward but not wanting to rush into it. It would be in this moment where he thought about how roughly he used to do it to you and wonder where he had gotten that confidence from. Truly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Saeran placed his hands onto your shoulders, pausing right above where he was going to bite for a few seconds, letting his hot breath fan over you until he finally broke the skin. He wasn’t as rough as he used to be, and it was quite obvious how much he had been restraining himself by how quickly he drank. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered under the wight of the guilt. He always sounded like he was crying when he did this, even if you didn’t see any tears fall. You placed your hand on top of his own just to let him know that it was okay. Saeran wasn’t one for words, so he appreciated the support even if he didn’t tell you that directly.

He sat behind you for a few moments while he calmed down, his thumbs ever so slightly rubbing circles into your shoulders; a rare sign of intimacy from him. He doesn’t kiss you in that moment for a number of reasons. He felt parasitic, and he didn’t want to tie that emotion to affection. And yet, undeniably because he doesn’t want you to see him for what he is. Saeran carries a lot of shame, especially when he’s feeling so vulnerable as he does when he’s in that state. He wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his sleeve, but would change his jumper shortly afterwards because it made him feel dirty to even look at. Saeran didn’t want to sit with your blood on him, that was cruel to the both of you.

You’d often find that he’d leave you a little gift the next day but would claim to not have any knowledge of it. It was always a little thing that only he would think to bring you, such a small flower from the garden or one of his snacks out of the kitchen.