#cleaning the toxin out of their blood

[tsubaki94]

Ectoberhaunt comic 2022

The hunt for the king.

Friday: Purify

Aftermath

[grugruel]

The Artist and the Flower

Pairings: Benedict bridgerton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Sexpollen

Masterlist

Summary: A mysterious flower brought back from Colin's travels put you and Benedict in a curious predicament. Resulting in sex and other things.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: sexpollen, friends to lovers, passionate sex, pinv sex, oral sex (female recieving), rough sex (blink and you'll miss it), choking, praise, pet names (princess, girl, woman, lady.), "I love you", mating-press, missionary, creampie. (Think that's all)

AN: not yet proofread! Hope you guys enjoy!

Approaching footsteps roused my mind. They thudded dully against wooden floorboards–pausing only to whisper mutely, 'This is not funny. Where are you?'

I tried to focus on my breathing, fingers working sluggishly as they wiped themselves clean against the bottom hem of my dress.

'Woman!' The voice was shrill and urgent this time, ringing terribly in my ear. The sounds of it's accompanying steps diminished as they hurried past my position on the floor, all dizzy on my knees.

'Benedict!' I hissed. The bright interior blurring as I made to stand up, legs wobbly beneath the unsteady weight of my torso.

There was a muffled squeak through the wall, shoes whirling against polished wood. Indicating him turning on his heel. 'Most, esteemed woman?' He tried again, punctuating the words as he half joked, half not. Simply hopeful hollow flattery would spur me into giving further clues to my whereabouts.

'Get in here at once!' I threw my finger toward the floor, as if he could see me do it and I'd sucesfully conveyed the sense of urgency. But the world spun suddenly, and I staggered a few steps until I caught myself on the nearest wall. The window I'd opened wasn't doing much except chilling my damp skin with the occasional draft.

With a last few steps, he darted to the door that separating us and four quaint knocks rapped aginst it. I gritted my teeth, annoyance taking over the hand. 'Yes, come on in.' Still, I willed my voice into the least irritable tone I could muster. This was not his fault, after all.

'Ah–' he sighed and pushed the door open. '–godess. . .' There was a mocking tone to the word and a satisfied grin on his lips, but it quickly fell as his eyes scoured over my appearance and utter devastation replaced it.

I wiped my forehead free of the beading sweat, and it too, began to tingle just like my fingertips had–to my horror, I realised–I'd probably just added more of whatever that dust was into my system. Now seeping through my skin and diluting my blood, impairing my usually keen senses with whatever toxins it provided.

He hurried to my side in big, worried strides to lay and arm around my back, steadying me when I couldn't steady myself. 'Wha-' He couldn't even form a word of surprise, his jaw slack as he gestured with his free hand to my dishevelled appearance. 'Why are you in Colins room? In this, state?' He quickly added. If I wasn't mistaken, which I might very well have been considering I didn't have full use of my mind. But, I could almost detect jealousy in his tone.

He would get the wrong idea, about Colin. 'Well,' I tried being nonchalant, tried to act like the places he made contact with my skin did not burn for him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled all my focus into an answer. 'The wine got to my head, and I realised,' My words came out sluthered and slow. 'I hadn't been in here before, and. . .' My head began nodding of its own accord, already finding my unsaid words agreeable. '. . .it had to be remedied.'

'Of course, of course it did.' Benedict sighed, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation as he began looking around, presumably to find something for me to sit on, but his eyes fastened on something else instead. I cringed, for his eyes darted from the open rucksack, then back to me. The look he gave me was nothing but disapproving. But goodness, he was stading so close. His breaths warm against my cheek and mildly stained by alcoholic bevrages, much like mine must've been. But oh, the fire in his eyes gave me quite a start, not that I was fearful of it. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. It almost felt as if I had abaorbed it, and it traveled downward. . . 'You went through his belongings?'

My mind froze, the newfound aching in my body too distracting. 'I. . .' I felt my eyes narrow and forehead furrow, my dull reflexes attempting a poor pretence of thoughts. 'I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. But there was this box, with some strange flower inside. . .' I trailed off. An amused, tipsy smile making it's way onto my face as I noted his incredulous expression.

His hands slid down my arm, and the sensation traveled straight to my core. Causing the need to stifle a moan arise.

'And you thought it a good idea to touch a foreign plant of which you know nothing of?' He spoke fast, too fast for me to keep up. Especially when goosebumps ran rampid in the wake of his touch, when my core ached for him to continue, to push his body further into mine. My heart beat too fast, his hand too close to the pulse point on my wrist.

My hand found it's way beneath his jaw, a wide grin splaying across my face. 'Wine will do that to a gentlewoman.' I explained, sluthering slightly. But feeling no more explanation to be necessary.

He screwed his eyes shut and stood completley still for a moment, I could almost see the thoughts swirling in the crammed space of his mind. 'Well,' he looked at me once again, searching my eyes. 'What gentleman would I be to leave a woman in need to her own devices?' He opened the box and grabbed the flower without hesitation, feeling its vevelty petals, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then- tasted it.

Currents of static electricity zapped beneath my chest, spreading throughout me body. Everything happened so fast. And all I could do was watch, very intently, as the pads of his middle- and index finger made contact with his tongue, swiping clean against it. Lips then closing around them to suck whatever remained off. The heat building in my body was nothing short of sinful, and the thoughts–my thoughts–were even worse.

'Let's go.'

'Pardon?' Precious air left my lungs, leaving me breathless.

'Dinner with the Bridgertons.'

'I figured it to be out of the question.' My expression confounded.

'Colin is already downstairs, and we must find out what exactly that plant is-' He stopped. Eyes all of a sudden distant as they grazed over my features, landing on my lips. He still held my wrist, stroking the inside with gentle circles.

'Ben?' It was summer in the country, this much I knew. But surely, the temperature could not rise as fast as it just did. Sweat was pooling at my back, beneath my bust. And I began to wish, that he would simply. . . Lick-

'We must go.' I declared, clearing my throat. Hoping the words would snap us out of our trance.

'Right, of course.' He nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. His eyes suddenly keen to examine the floor. But he kept his han his hand on the small of my back, urging me down the halls of the big house. Ocassionally, he'd scrunch the fabric of my dress, feeling the flexing of my back beneath the tips of his fingers. It pulled my attention to the sensitivity of my skin, and the pleasure his small, simple action gave me.

The next thing I knew, I was being helped into a chair at the center of the dining table. Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder that was meant to be reassuring, but it had an impact much more wicked on me. He took the seat across from me, and oh so conveniently placed himself next to Colin. Conversation grew heavy as Violet became quite inquisitive with her children. Eloise's debut, Anthony's proposal plans, and who he was planning on the recieving end. I would usually have been elbow deep in the gossip and drama, but my mind was elsewhere, muddled or perhaps tainted, as I couldn't focus on much of anything. Their voices grew sharp in my ears, the candlelight too bright for my eyes.

Ben leaned in to whisper in Colin's ear, who's eyes grew wide. Looking at me with growing worry, in fact, he almost looked like he would be sick.

I could understand why. Slouched in my seat, looking generally ill and doing more drinking than eating. Which was most likely only adding to the growing problem rather than subduing it. But oh, was he handsome. Flushed, he combed a hand through his hair. Slicking it with the dampness from his forehead, his eyes darting over my figure every now and then. Whatever that flower was, it seemed to be getting to him too. Colin opened his mouth to answer Ben.

'How are you dear, you look a little I'll.' Violet asked with genuine worry, interrupting the boys hushed conversation and turned them onto me with anxious eyes.

'I'm well.' I smiled, feeling as though my own voice was not mine.

Ben's eyes creased, a grin spreading over his lips, and then began giggling.

The conversations cut, and everyone stared at him. 'Are you quite alright, dear?' Violets eyes were full of concern, now placed upon him instead. I didn't yet know if it was warranted or not. But I was glad he pulled any lingering eyes from my current state.

'I apologise.' The words were strained as he pushed them out between more fluttering giggles, leading him to cover his blushing face. 'Her lady just told me something stunningly funny, that is all.' Benedict gestured to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. That little-

'Truly?' Violet smiled expectantly, something like understanding in her eyes. That cunning look she always gave her children when she knew something they didn't. Perhaps she'd taken my demeanour as that of a girl with a hidden crush, only anxious under the gaze of her love. She wouldn't be entirely wrong. Long had I known the Bridgertons, and even longer had I liked Ben.

I cleared my throat, blinking away the haze in my eyes. 'I'm uncertain of its propriety. . .' I tried to redirect, a drop of sweat sliding down my temple as I nervously glanced around at the members of the family. And ufortunately, I felt a bubbling up inside my chest, a composition of my own laughter. 'It was, uhm. . .' I paused, working hard to keep a smile from creeping onto my lips. Trying desperate to think of something to say. Anything, really.

'Well, let's hear it.' Anthony said with a grin, and the rest of the table agreed. Eloise being little more than a heap of snickers, Colin seeming to be the only one who gained little to no amusement from the situation.

Watching my struggles and deeming them incredibly funny, Benedicts giggles evovled and he burst out laughing. I was second behind him, but the table quickly joined in with a chorus of incredulous chuckles and wild looks of incomprehension. 'What is the matter with you two?' Eloise asked, her eyes watery as she clutched stomache.

We locked eyes, Ben and I. Both now scorching, judging from the trickling sweat on his neck and the tickling down my back. Warmth spread throughout my chest, and something fluttered in my stumache. Something was terribly wrong with the flower for me to feel so deeply, so suddenly.

Colin took his chance when Benedict had calmed himself, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Ben's face offered an array of reactions ti every word spoken. Confusion, surprise, anger. It was enough for me to conclude that something was not right, and that was when his eyes went wide. 'Then why would you not keep a lock on it, brother?' He shouted, his voice much louder than anticipated. Worry grew in me as I carefully studied their expressions, replacing all my previous feelings of joy. Colin whispered again, his lips moving eratically as he shook his head, clearly distressed and displeased. Ben's eyes locked on mine a second time, again, they were full of fire. However, something told me it was not of the same sort I'd seen earlier today, this was not anger. No, it was something else entierly. 'Pardon us, drar family. But the lady and I must be excused.' He claimed suddenly, turning to his mother and Anthony. 'We have urgent business that need tending to.'

'–my parents estate. . .' I cut in, sensing the graveness behind his words. It cant be good if his mood had changed so quickly. The family gave me an odd look, and I scrambled further, not wishing for them to get the wrong impression. 'The art- the art in their estate. We had a Lively discussion before dinner. . . Hence the art. Because he's an artist.' I paused my rambling lips, they did me more bad than good. I stood hastily, the rich pulsing around me as I did so, almost knocking the chair to the floor. I smoothed my dress out and exited the diningroom with an "excuse me" and a unecessary curtsy.

Rushing down hallways, I brushed my hand along the wall for support. Benedict's footsteps only a pace behind my own. He placed a hand on my hip, to brace me or simply because he wanted to fell me, I did not know.

Stopping outside my rooms, I urged him to explain. 'Apparently,' he began, rubbing the nape of his neck. I knew that tell. 'It's not, good news. . .'

I leaned back against the doorframe, my body drenched in sweat. The wafting of my fan doing nothing to help. 'Benedict Bridgerton, tell me immediately.' I growled.

'Its an aphrodesiac. It means-'

I expelled a strained breath. 'I know what it means, Ben. Continue.' The air blew against the exposed skin of of my chest, cooking it effectively.

Benedict hesitated, none of this was proper. Yet, his eyes lingered on the growing goosebumps over my breasts. His gaze sliding to my throat, watching it bob as I swallowed a big breath of air. 'We are friends Ben, discussing such things educationally does not betray social rules.' I tried to convince us both.

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes snapping back to mine with a newfound reverence. He himself staggering as his balance perception had been knocked down a peg. It was really starting to get to him, so I grabbed his jacket to steady him. 'Its pollen is poisonous in large amounts, If consumed and left untreated, lethal.'

I swallowed again, the world spinning as my mind fumbled his words, turning them over and over in my head. 'Considering the side-effects,' I gestured with the fan between the two of us. 'I gather we have large amounts in our blood.'

To this he nodded, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 'Clever girl.'

His praise felt like a punch to the gut. Although not knocing the air out of me, it did leave me in pain. 'And how do we cure it?' I tried to distract myself, my breathing was growing uneven, my thoughts a haze. And Benedict Bridgerton, looking more and more like something I'd like to devour.

His hand braced against the doorframe above my head ti stabilise him, his tall frame nkw looming over me, our faces stopping only a few inches appart. 'By working it out of our systems, by executing certain activities,' he murmured, studying me under hodded eyes and parted lips. 'The burning needs to be sated. If not, it will develop into fever, the throat will close and-'

'Alright, that's quite enough.' I gestured for him to stop. My lip trembling, my body burning as I looked at him through my lashes. 'What exactly are these activities?' I had a feeling, a hunch, where this was going.

'You must forgive my crudeness.' He took my hands in his free one, managing to wrap his considerably larger one around both of mine. 'By love making.' He was even closer now, his nose touching my cheekbone as he whispered in my ear. 'Sex.' His breaths were ragged, on edge. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stopped himself, closing his eyes. His forehead lulling against mine. Most likely taming himself jusy like I had to, trying not to think of the multiple worst case scenarios.

'We cannot stay out here, somebody will see us.' I warned, my nose rubbing against his. My body so taunt, tense, it needed desperate release. My spine was still recovering from that word. It had shaped a ball of anticipation in the pit of my stumache. It could ruin me, my prospects. I only just debuted. But- sex. . . That was all I wanted in this moment, and I wanted it with this man.

I looked him in the eyes and opened the door to my bedchamber. 'I love a tragedy, an epic story of true love ending in death.' I whispered, moving my hands around his. 'But we are not lovers.' Taking a few steps back, I led him inside. 'So, lets make this count.' He followed me willingly, his eyes loyal and round like a puppy's as he gazed at me with adoration. And the door fell shut behind him.

'What if we were?' His voice was low and burdened with lust. One hand coming to stroke a few strands of hair from my cheek.

I blinked, barely comprehending his touch. 'We shall not perish, Benedict. I refuse.'

'No, but we could love.'

'What?' My brows furrowed.

'Perhaps, you could find it in your heart to love me, as I have always loved you.' He paused. The next words were heavy as they hung from the tip of his tounge. 'Let me make love to you.' His voice vibrating from the strain of on his chest. He took a step closer, his chest pressing flush against mine. 'Let me teach you.' His voice was pleading, and I had to crane my neck to keep his eye contact. 'Marry me. . .' His hands cupped my face. '. . .marry me.' he leaned in, whispering the words against my lips.

I nodded slowly. 'Teach me.' And our lips clashed together.

Years worth of structural limitations evaporated, society and politics a thing of the past as Benedict raised my skirt, found purchase under my thighs and pulled me into his embrace. His skilled tongue finding its way into my mouth with ease.

He walked us backward, gently laying me down on my bed despite the urgency of our lust. 'What do you need?' He asked through muffled moans, his lips busy with mine. I could not think, nothing about my being would work with me. 'Talk to me, what do you need?' He breathed, voice almost a whimper as his hands squeezed my hips, urging me to answer.

'You,' I managed. 'I need you.' I could feel him smile against my lips.

'Do you trust me, love?'

'Always.'

He pushed off me, hooked his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

Then kneeled.

Benedict, the man that he is, stood on his knees before me. Between my legs, he smiled a wicked smile. My body was limp in his touch, completely at his disposal. The aching cravings of my core did not care what he did, as long as it was he who did it.

His hands dove under the hem of my skirt, tracing my legs upward, hitching the fabric on his wrists. He stopped above my knees, kneeding them thoughtfully as his eyes searched mine. It took my mind a second to wrap around his request, it was already so painfully clear to me that I would agree at any given moment of our time together that I could not fathom him wanting further confirmation. 'Yes. . . Please.'

He wasted no time. He was hungry. He flipped the skirt over my abdomen and got to work. Immidietly lowering himself onto my mound, lipping a stripe from my core to my clit and he moaned.

A shuddering whimper left me, if it was from his reaction or the sensation of his tongue I would never know. Proudly, he wrapped his lips around me clit and vegan sucking, licking and nipping. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, my fingers could never compete with his expertise. My body wriggled involuntairly, compelling him to hold my hips down with one hand, and taking it as a sign to slide the other along the inside of my thigh and burry a finger inside me, pumling it in an out.

I cried out, covering my mouth as my free hand dove into his hair. Pulling and scratching, I urged him to continue. But somewhere inside me, worry built. What about him? My eyes glanced over the still beading sweat on his forehead, afraid it might be the fever Ben had spoken of. 'What about you?' I whimpered, stroking his hair in a gentler fashion as he continued his contrasting assault on my mound.

'What about me?' He moaned, voice muffled by my skin and shrugged, sliding another finger inside me. His eyes studying my reaction, the way my body moved. I cried out again, biting my lip this time to stifle it as my other hand entwined with the one he held at my hip.

'Is it enough for you?' The words were expelled on an exhale, my voice pitched from continously pleasure, but beneath there was worry. And he noticed.

He chuckled breathely against my clit. 'I do not care about me.' His eyes met mine, and a strike of lighting shot through me, a whimper escaping me with furrowed brows. And he continued with a groan. 'Giving you pleasure is all I need.' And added a third finger, curling them inside me. Their size was admirable, especially as they hit some special spot inside me.

My back arched and a tidal wave of pleasure rolled over me, the pressure that'd been builing in my stumache finally released.

He watched me intently. 'Let me hear you.' He requested, continuing to move his fingers as he helped me through my orgasm, palming himself through his pants with his free hand. I obliged him. A string of curses unbefitting of a lady left my lips in whimpers.

'It takes talent to make such vulgar words sound pretty.' He licked another stripe along my folds, gathering my orgasm on his tongue and swallowed greedily. A strained grunt left him, and he collapsed into my lap, a shiver running through his body. My hand left his to brace myself on my forearm, gathering a better view of him as I combed my hand through his hair soothingly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his pants. I gasped. 'It was truly enough for you?' I ovserved him in awe, the aching beginning to roar inside me yet again.

'I told you,' He panted, sucking his fingers clean between his attempts to catch his breath and tilted his head to look up at me. Such a sinful act embedded so innocently. 'You are enough for me, pretty girl.' Now it was not only mor core which ached, but my heart also. Still on his knees, he let himself regenerate in my lap whilst his adoring eyes romaed my face. A show of devotion, of resignation, of love.

I moved to sit, his head still in my lap as he circled his arms around my waist, gaze still locked on mine. 'I love you.' I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

His eyes softened impossibly more. 'I've always, always been in love with you. Since the first week of our meeting.'

My chest ached. 'Why have you never told me so?'

'Throwing our friendship away based on chance was not odds I was willing to risk.' He hugged me tighter, then stood up. 'But im afraid, that were not out of the woods yet.' He said, un buttoning his shirt and pants. 'Im feeling quite feverish.' His eyes glistened with mischief, and let the coat fall from his shoulders.

'If you want me again, you need only say so.' I smiled, now it was my time to look up at him with loving eyes.

'I want you again.' He removed his shirt, and I hade to collect my breath for a second. 'Stand, my love. We will do this properly.' He took my hands and helped me to my feet, turned me around and undid my dress and corset. Again, It made me realise just how much experience he had.

When I stood in only my chemise, feeling naked and vunerable. He stood in only his breeches. Nothing my nervous state, he said. 'We can leave it on, love.' Searching my eyes.

But I shook my head, if I was to have all of him, he was to have all of me. 'Please.' I whispered, motioning for him to take it off me. And he did, it slid down my body easily. Gradually exposing every inch of skin only me and most likely my maids had seen.

He stood struck for a moment, unmoving, unspeaking. Until- 'I do not deserve you.' He awed, 'Beautiful, beautiful woman.' Reaching his hand out to stroke my biceps, my abdomen, eyes searching mine before they traveled further up.

'You do, if any man ever was to. It would be you.' I promised him, and at this he blushed. I grabbed his hand and laid it atop my breast. With a groan, he stepped closer. His free hand cupping my face as the other massaged my breast, and his lips met mine. Softly, his hand slid around my back, guiding me back knto the bed, laying me carefully down on the pillows. 'Princess.' He breathed, sat back and removed his breeches. I did not have time to fawn over his size until he was on me again. Hooking my leg on his knee, he spread it wide. Bracing on a forearm, his face was inches from mine as he lowers himself on top of me. His thick length grazing my clit. Sensitive and burning, still–I noticed. The polled had yet to leave our system, perhaps it deadliness had subdued, but it's symptoms were yet in full effect.

Benedict nuzzled my cheek. 'Tell me what you want.' He whispered in my ear.

'You, all of you.'

'Be more specific, dearest.'

I swallowed, my breathing growing heavier. 'Sex.' I murmured, and his lips formed a smiled against my jaw. 'I want sex.'

'I would want nothing more than to give it to you.' He breathed, and lined himself up with my entrance. Then pushed himself in, gently, but consistently. My whimpered only spurring him on, not stopping until he reached the hilt. He'd done his job well, since I easily adjusted around him. 'Good girl.' He whispered, tracing kisses from my lips to my neck. 'Taking me so well.'

I ached, arching my back, I needed more. My skin was growing more and more sensitive. 'Please, Ben. . .'

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled out and thrusted into me again, moving my entire body with each stroke and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. 'Holy-' I interrupted myself with a moan.

He chuckled, but truthfully it was more of a moan. 'Feel so good.' He murmured against my skin, kissing the tender spot between my shoulder and throat. 'Like I imagined.'

Pause. He's thought of me? In this way? With. . . women, by himself?

'When, tell me when.'

'Always. I thinn of you when I lay with other women, I think of you when I touch myself.' His hand ran down my body, squeezing my breast as he drove himself deeper. And I had to wonder–were those acts specific details of his dreams, desires? 'You occupy my mind, always.' He said quite breathlessly.

'Show me, show me how you want me.'

He pulled out if me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and thrusted back in. Every rut of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside me, wrecking me over and over again. Strained breaths against my throat became the outcome of his efforts, as the power behind each thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress. 'What else, show me what else. I'm yours.' I moaned.

His lips found mine, and his hand my throat. Gently, he enveloped it. Softly, he squeezed. 'Say it again.' His lips murmured against mine, kissing them between every breath he labored.

'I'm yours.' I whispered, and he groaned. A particularly forcefull thrust was made into me. He was never rough in anything he did, but he put his back into it. Always the gentleman, never the brute. I've never been happier for a man to be so contrasting.

The burning, the aching, the pressure. It was all towering, waiting to be pushed over at any second. 'Mine,' he moaned. 'My love.' His pace quickened and ruts hardened. He was as close as I was. 'I love you. . .' He whimpered and spilled himself inside of me. And I came a second later, irregular thrusts carrying me through my blinding orgasm. 'I love you.' He told me over and over again as he let my legs fall to his sides, and collapsed onto my smaller figure. With his head on my chest, I held him. 'I love you too.'

'Marry me, then.'

'Give me a ring, then.' I giggled. He made to stand up, to slither out of my embrace. 'Not now!'

'Tomorrow, then?' He laid back down, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close.

'Tomorrow, then.' I confirmed. Id never been so happy as in that moment.

[clockwayswrites]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Danny & Cass, Magenta, Howling wind @theclumsyswordsman

The noise from a heart monitor was the first warning.

The acidic smell of heavy duty cleaners the second.

The bite of an IV in his elbow a third.

Danny ran his mind back through his last foggy memories. His heart stuttered a beat.

His dad. Danny has seen his dad.

They had him.

It didn’t matter.

If they had him it didn’t matter.

Danny rolled off the bed, going intangible long enough to slip away from all the medical tubes and wires. The light was blinding and Danny ran for the first door that he saw; a patch of darkness in the too white white. The room on the other side was dark, cold, large. This wasn’t h— did they give him to the GIW?

Instinctively, Danny skidded to a halt. His toes dangled of the edge of some sort of ledge.

It was so dark.

The cold air whipped up from the pit. With the blood rushing in Danny’s ears it sounded like it was howling. Danny leaned forward.

“N-no!” Someone screamed. It was stuttered, rough and choked off like the voice hadn’t been used in years.

It hadn’t been, had it?

Danny had never heard that voice before but he knew it.

Did they get her too?

He spun around. “Birdie?”

It was her. She was standing next to someone, but they didn’t look like the GIW. They were younger than the agents were, broad shouldered and strong looking. They were both dressed down in sweats.

“Birdie? Where are we? Did they get you too? Are you… this is why you shouldn’t be visiting me! My dad…”

“Fear toxin,” the stranger cut in. They were harder to read than Birdie, but Danny could tell some. There was a worried sort of earnestness about them. More importantly, Birdie was comfortable with them. “Your dad was never there, you got dosed with fear toxin. It makes people hallucinate things that they’re afraid of and escalates the fear response. It’s why your memories are foggy. You probably feel uneasy still and really wrung out.”

Danny motioned to his arm where the IV had been. “I thought that was the drugs.”

“No drugs, just a hydration pack,” they said. “The adrenaline crash from the toxin can be really harsh and you were pretty dehydrated already. You’ll still be feeling the effects and so I’d really, really like you to step back from the edge, okay?”

Oh, they were scared.

Danny looked to Birdie, who gave a frantic nod and held out her hand. She was scared too. Danny hated that he had scared her.

“I’m sorry. I just… I thought they had me,” Danny whispered and took a step towards them. Then another.

Birdie met him half way and wrapped him up in a desperate hug.

---

AN: This is actually the last prompt bit! It could leave off here in a bit of an open ending but I think I'll clean it up, fix the middle pacing, and end a proper ending to put it on ao3!

Stay delightful, darlings!

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the third night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"i gave myself to satan, i should be a wrinkly old witch by now. my hair a tangle of venomous serpents, my skin green like a toad, black flames coursing through my veins." - belladonna of sadness.

cw: +18 so. blowjob (main event). long ass aftercare. hm. pet names. i suck at adding the tags. anyway. themes of misogyny and parental abuse. catholic guilt (expected). i always end up becoming desensitized from reading and checking it so many times, so it’s probably much filthier to the common of mortals than to me. and what else. no i think that's it. a/n: i am so sorry for shamelessly lying to you, i'm never promising a fixed update time every again. i can't help it, i do be a perfectionist. anyway. this part is long as fuck, sorry about that too. hope u like it. hehe. kisses. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

desire is sin, and sin is death. that was the grim truth that had sunk into your mind. a persistent, gnawing thought ever since beomgyu closed the door behind him. it was your only rule, how could you had forgotten? how could you have been so stupid?

shame and mud had taken root in your body, their claws perforating their way through your soul and clutching every rosy thought, choking them all into submission. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.

you were haunted by the memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the whisper of his words in your ear and the pain of knowing it was all wrong, sinful and forbidden. it was a sweet torture, a reminder of what you had lost and what you could never have again. not if you wanted this shame to go away.

if he had stayed, perhaps his warmth could have filled the void within you, congesting your body with butterflies and hydrangea blooms before the self-condemnation had a chance to seep in, oozing out your mouth, your ears, your cunt like a gooey toxin.

but he left, and you were alone. in that icy isolation, you came to realise that you would always be alone. letting him in had been as mindless as it had been short-lived.

he was your foolish indulgence, a desire fragile like a stained glass window that your daddy would shatter the moment he found out. just like he had with soobin.

so the morning after, you woke with tear-streaked cheeks, the dried remnants of your sorrow clinging to your skin.

your eyes opened faintly and with trouble with the first sun ray. they were swollen, your vision blurry from the hours of crying. your body ached from the tension, muscles stiff and sore from the night spent curled up in a pathetic ball.

you sighed deeply, the exhale carrying with it a fraction of your guilt and mortification, but not nearly enough to ease the tightness in your chest. you were physically clean, but you felt stained to your core.

like lady macbeth, desperate to wash the non-existent blood from her hands, you felt that anyone could detect the evidences of your crime. your missing rosary beads, the slightly reddened neck, the scent of him on you. if daddy barely even looked you in the eye, you were certain he would know.

the scant sleep you managed to get was haunted by nightmares—daddy's cheshire grin glowing phosphorescent in the darkness, while you cried out in beastly moans against beomgyu's neck.

it felt like an omen, a premonition that if this continued, you would inevitably be discovered. desire is sin, and sin is death.

the sensation of your bare cunt against the sheets did nothing to alleviate the flesh-eating sadism of your shame. you lay there, feeling exposed and vulnerable, the absence of your underwear only amplifying your discomfort.

a chill ran through you, mingling with the dampness that clung to your groin. the moisture on your body had felt nurturing the night before, a sign that your were alive, that you had the capability to love. but now it felt foreign and intrusive.

you reached down to touch your cunt, feeling the sticky residue from the previous night. disgust gnawed at you.

you had cried yourself to sleep without cleaning yourself up and now your soggy, sickening cum clung to you like a noxious reminder of your sin. like you were rotten inside, leaking with venom. you buried your face in the pillow and cried again, your sobs muffled.

without his voice, that sticky liquid was just snot; without him there, the memory of his touch disfigured into that of a nameless hand of the devil fucking into you, and yourself feasting on it like a wild beast.

you rushed to the bathroom, driven by urgency. you felt like you were going to throw up, but you only gagged, your stomach empty. "it's all in your head," your body seemed to say. "we're fine, you're fine." but you couldn't comprehend the language. for all your life, you had only ever listened to your mind.

your reflection distorted in the mirror, a stranger in your own eyes. you were always poised, you were always composed. but the blood injected in your eyes, strained from the crying made you look like a madwoman. breath came in gasps as you stared at yourself, eyes wide with desperation.

your hands trembled as you turned on the faucet, the cold metal biting into your skin. water rushed out violently, crashing over you. each drop felt sharp, like tiny knives against your flesh.

with a desperate breathing, heavy like the room was devoid of oxygen, you attacked your skin, nails digging deep as you scrubbed. the water turned red. desire is sin, and sin is death. desire is sin, and sin is death.

desire is sin and sin is death, but like baptism washed away the original sin, water could purify you again, sterilise your body. clean his being off of you. with each scrub, you fought to erase his touch, leaving raw skin in your wake.

when you were done washing up, you hid it all the best way you knew; under layers of clothes, thick and opaque, not a visible centimetre of skin outside your face.

you walked through your house, eyes glued to the floor, as if you had stumbled into a cathedral bare naked. the saints and apostles on their holy cards stared down at you, their gazes heavy with sorrow. they had watched you grow up from a good little girl into a tainted whore.

even saint sebastian, the christian apollo, offered no mercy. the blood-stained arrows pierced his flesh, and his blood-thirsty eyes pierced you whole. a faint smell of incense lingered in the air, the ghostly reminder of daddy's morning prayers.

but there was one last saint to face, the most hurting martyr of them all. as you reached the bottom of the staircase, soobin stood in the hall, leaning against the front door.

he wore that same charcoal grey sweater he always wore to college, forever unchanged, like a character from an animated sitcom. and, as always, he was there waiting to drive you to school. but that morning, you wondered if he could smell your fear.

“you slept in?” soobin asked, his tone flat.

“y-yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “but i can skip breakfast. let’s just go.”

“you should eat something,” he insisted with a slight shrug. “you must be tired.”

your breath hitched, and a cold sweat formed at the back of your neck. “why do you say that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“you never sleep in. you must’ve had a tough night,” he observed, his eyes searching yours for a moment before looking away.

“kind of, yeah.” you moved towards the kitchen, your steps hesitant. "i had nightmares. all night long."

he walked after you into the kitchen, silent and stealthy like a shadow. you grabbed a plain bagel from the counter, spreading a thin layer of cream cheese on it. your hands shook slightly, the knife slipping once, smearing the cream cheese unevenly.

he leaned against the opposite counter, watching you as you faced away from him, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. there was an unsettling calm about him, a relaxed stillness that would have been reassuring if it were anyone else, but not soobin. "beomgyu has trouble sleeping too," he said, his voice almost too soft, too casual.

you chewed your lip before turning to face him, trying to maintain a facade of calm. "and you do too. must be this house," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

you took a swift turn and walked out of the kitchen, your head held high. but your heart pounded against your chest like a drum. he knows. he knows. he knows. or maybe he doesn’t.

desire is sin, and sin is death. and now you had to wait, trapped in the uncertainty of not knowing whether your brother, cain, would betray you and get you killed. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

there was always a puddle of muddy dirt at the entrance of the school. even if it didn't rain, the ground was perpetually wet. a slick, treacherous mess that swallowed feet and soiled shoes.

you couldn't trust that ground. you couldn't trust the school. a slip-up and the back of your neck would lie cracked and open on the soil, thick blood mingling with dirt.

you stepped carefully, feeling the mud clinging to your soles. that was the revolting start to each day.

there was a sign on the entrance gate, rusty and weathered, that looked like it could give you tetanus just by looking at it. it had always made your skin crawl.

the words "sacred heart catholic university" were printed in bold letters and they seemed to be smirking. they knew they were lying. there was nothing sacred about that school, not one thing.

if you looked into the eyes of almost any professor, you would see something rotten staring back at you. it was not as wicked as it was pathetic. not grand enough for a flaming crown of hell, but rather petty and small like a worm or bloodsucking lice.

you walked through them every day; rheumy gazes and moist smirks. old men leering at bodies they couldn't touch. or they could. they had. no one was stopping them, anyway. not the dean, not the bishop, not god.

every morning began with a mandatory service, the only time when the girls' and boys' sections were allowed to gather together. you arrived in mass to the chapel, and once inside, the path divided: the male wing at the right hand of the father, the female wing to the less prestigious left. you and soobin always separated there, each heading to your respective sides.

but morning services had one small perk: mandatory as they were, there was no attendance list.

so when soobin disappeared from view, you'd slip out of the chapel. alone, you might have not dared, but you had partner in mischief, a friend. the person who had walked you hand in hand through an uncanny semblance of girlhood. yeh shuhua.

shuhua wasn’t exactly an intellectual, but she had a sharp street-smart intelligence. a keen sense of the world. she had thought a backup plan for getting caught skipping church.

"here's what we'll do," she'd say, dropping to her knees, hands clasped in prayer. "oh, dear professor," she mimicked in a whiny tone. "how can a shy girl like me pray with so many people around? my thoughts are only for god, and i must speak to him privately for comfort." she cried out, then flashed a bright grin. "the nuttier we sound, the more likely they'll believe it. remember when that girl said she could talk to the virgin mary and they brought in a vatican official to check? we just have to play innocent..."

like a faint summer breeze, shuhua was fresh and witty, and she never let that dammned school, nor its metaphysical threats, nor all the ordained priests walking around earth to turn her cold. 

she was pretty, too, a boy-candy type of beauty. with long black hair tinged with red highlights, cherry gloss-coated lips and porcelain-white skin. not a trace of catholicism tainting her youthful features.

shuhua made the world feel a little bit bigger. she always had news about celebrities you didn't know, their affairs and gossip, the pomp and glamour god rejected.

it was fun talking to her. she wasn't a remarkable friend, or what they call a soulmate. but she was there. 

until she met a boy.

lee heeseung, from the male section. only one year older than shuhua and you, but with the distorted notion of being older than the world itself and knowing more than anyone. 

it started with a few stolen glances during chapel services, innocent and demure, and escalated to shuhua going down on him in the non-functioning professor bathrooms during the easter vigil mass.

all proud and excited, shuhua had recounted every detail to you like she had just blowed jesus himself.

“you feel like choking… more so if he likes it rough. and they all do.” she said. you had never seen her act that sheepish, but there was a slutty glint of enjoyment in her eye that made it feel less out of character. “he pushed down on my head a lot, so i kept gagging,” she said. “it’s not like i loved it, but he liked it so much, my darling boy.”

you remained quiet, like you often did. it wasn’t the violence of the act what disturbed you, but the devotion in her eyes as she recounted her pain. maybe boys really were dangerous after all, slithery and deceiving.

they could get you to enjoy pleasing them even if it hurt in the flesh. they were gods, demanding piety, and fathers, exacting control.

heeseung and shuhua started using their time skipping service to be together. it wasn´t shuhua and you anymore. it was heeseung and shuhua, and the malleable puppet of your physical body. 

they had asked you to stay with them as a sort of chaperone to mitigate the risk of getting caught. but at some point, heeseung began to pity you—or perhaps he found it too awkward to grope shuhua with you just standing there. so, he started bringing a friend to keep you entertained. you would have preferred he hadn’t.

choi yeonjun had beautiful flowy hair, and a charming smile, and he lived in a big vast playground he owned, called the world. his confidence bordered on tyranny, and that made him untouchable.

a disgustingly rich boy he was; the kind of rich that gets you into heaven. his father was a man who owned lands and homes, therefore owning other men. another dictator, just another man playing god.

"he's into you, you know?" shuhua's voice rang out as you both strolled through the tall grass toward your usual meeting spot. "you should cut the prude act and give him a chance." she said.

the blades brushed against your ankles, tickling your skin as they swayed gently in the breeze. the further away from school, the freer. even the landscape knew that.

"he's not worth a chance," you replied, stone-cold.

shuhua shot you a disapproving look and said, "you're beyond help, honestly." pausing to apply a fresh layer of gloss to her lips, the shimmer catching the light. "it's choi yeonjun. they don't make 'em better than that."

"he's cruel. and he acts like god’s favourite," you retorted, your voice definitive. "i don't like that."

the grass crunched underfoot, the rhythm of your steps a steady thrum against the silence. ahead, two human shapes, tall and slender took form—the two boys, blurred smudges sharpening into clarity as you drew closer. 

the moment shuhua’s eyes landed on heeseung, she couldn't contain herself and broke into a sprint, her skirt flying up recklessly as her legs blurred in a skipping motion towards her darling boy. her arms clutched at his neck, desperate and clinging, while heeseung’s bold hand slipped beneath the fabric of her skirt to grasp flesh, squishing her ass like an anxiety toy.

even before dating heeseung, shuhua had always favored a smuttiness to her clothes. however, the style had transformed into a sort of charicature of a schoolgirl since they started seeing each other. there was some freudian notion to the flimsy short skirts paired with the nunnish argyle cardigans that drove heeseung insane. 

the black cotton of your tapered slacks felt suddenly itchy against your legs. hot, suffocating.

"ice princess," yeonjun's voice broke through your thoughts, sharp, clear, uninvited. he stood slightly apart from the others, his eyes fixed on you with the usual blend of mocking and blatantly checking you out. "let me carry your bag." 

"it's not heavy," you answered curtly. heeseung and shuhua remained oblivious to the exchange, lost in their own world where the lines between love and possession blurred.

“oh, come on,” yeonjun's grin widened with a mischievous glint like sunlight flickering across the shards of broken glass, alluring yet sharp enough to cut. "let me take care of my pretty girl." 

“i’m not your girl.” you clutched the strap of your bag tighter to your side. "and we’re not in high-school. i can carry my own stuff." you said before continuing to walk.

he snorted out a laugh, then followed after.

the usual hangout spot was just a collection of rocks aligned almost like a table, their jagged edges softened by the creeping moss that clung to them like a blanket. the air was cleaner there, untainted by the scent of trampled grass and stale corridors.

shuhua perched on those stony pews, her legs folding beneath her with ease. in her lap, heeseung found a cradle for his head, his hair spilling over her thighs like dark silk being tenderly spun by her fingertips.

you sat nearby, your knees drawn up tight to your chest, arms wrapped around them as if they could shield you from the cursed memory of the night you had spent with beomgyu from slipping out of you.

yeonjun hovered close, too close, as he usually did, his body heat radiating onto your skin in waves. at times, he'd lean back, propping himself on an arm just inches from you, his weight shifting the balance of your shared rock. 

his hand would reach —a bird of prey circling before the dive—to toy with a lock of your hair. you felt the sweep of his fingertips, not quite touching the scalp, a ghostly sensation that prickled your neck.

and most times, you just let him do it. it was a twisted ritual of near-touches, the most explicit thing you would ever allow him to do to you.

sometimes he would lean into your ear and whisper “you're a cockteasing slut, you know?”, with words meant to burn. they tingled in your ears down to your pussy. then came in a nervous gaze you tried to hide, the redenning cheeks, and yeonjun’s stupid smirk when he noticed it all.

the attention you got from yeonjun was addictive and tingly like crystal meth. his warmth was a tepid thing, a sun struggling through winter clouds. it wasn't real, it wasn't love. barely even affection. just an obsession-driven lust. but it was enough for you not to die of hypothermia, frozen by your own frigidity.

or at least it had been enough, before beomgyu.

there was no room for yeonjun in yourself, not anymore. he didn't feel warm. he didn't feel like anything. not when every cell in your body thrummed with the echo of beomgyu's name.

that day, you kept batting yeonjun’s hand away from your hair, denying the only bit of you that had belonged to him. but he always reached out again, insistent, stubborn as weeds in cracked pavement. 

"stop it," you told him under your breath, the whisper harsh against the backdrop of wet kissing sounds from the happy couple.

"what?" he asked with a shrug and a cocky pout. his feigned innocence was as thin as paper. "you have open ends…" he trailed off, fingers splitting an open-ended hair into two.

"i like them like that," you snapped, the words sharp. "just get away."

"playing hard to get?" he prodded, his grin all teeth and no humor.

"playing 'leave me alone,'" you shot back, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself.

a laugh bubbled up from shuhua's throat, rich and unbothered. she lounged like a cat in sunlight, her eyes half-lidded. "woah, feeling extra-prudish today, no?"

heeseung's gaze flickered with something akin to mischief. "she's probably scared because of the kim minjeong thing," he smirked.

"the kim minjeong thing?" you echoed. "what happened?"

heeseung stirred like a cat on shuhua’s lap with a shit-eating grin. 

"her daddy found out she had a boyfriend. got real mad." he explained. "the man dragged her to the dean's office gripped by her hair. she kept ugly crying, it was freaky." his eyes didn't waver; they held the morbid fascination of one watching a car crash. "the dad kept going on and on about the school not being able to keep girls in line, shouting like a madman. they ran a virginity test on her to settle it.”

a gasp caught in your throat, strangled, "w-what's a virginity test?"

heeseung's grin sliced through, cruel and sharp as a kitchen knife. "they stick cloth up your pussy, and if it comes out with blood, you're safe. if not, well, the executioner will choose the punishment, i guess.”

you felt your face flush, heat creeping into your cheeks. this type of intrusion, a cruel infringement disguised as safeguarding, was the kind of love that fathers, kings, and gods like to exert.

"it's a twisted thing," came in shuhua, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a delicate flick of her wrist. "don't you get even more puritanical because of it, sweetie. it has no scientific avail. if we were underage or something like that… that would be one thing, but– i don’t know. it's just barbaric..."

heeseung replied in a mock stern tone, making the lazy impression of a war general, "age doesn't change anything.” he said. “no sex before marriage."

your hands were sweating against the fabric of your pants as you stammered out, "c-couldn't they tell if you...like, touch yourself?"

yeonjun's predatory smirk widened as he leaned in closer. his response was a simple question; "why, babygirl, would that worry you?" he kept his eyes locked on yours, waiting for your armour to break.

"of course not," you muttered, forcing out the lie through your dry throat. "just curious." you continued, trying to sound nonchalant, "i mean, it could get someone in trouble for virtually nothing."

"virtually indeed.” heeseung snorted with a laugh. he picked at the grass beneath him. “it all depends on how you define virginity," he said with a casual shrug. "for the salivating creeps who take those tests seriously, fucking only means sticking something inside of something else. so i guess that if you've only fucked yourself by… you know…” he made a crude gesture with a shit-eating grin. “then you’re still pure as virgin mary.” 

“that doesn’t feel pure, either.” you said. you thought back to the previous night when beomgyu's fingers had teased your clit, and you couldn't help but feel a familiar twitch. you pushed the memory out of your mind, shaking your head as if trying to scare away a pesky bug.

“non-penetration sex is not pure, but it’s not patriarchal, either. so it doesn’t count.” shuhua said. 

yeonjun’s next comment different in political aspiration. he leaned into your ear, "don't you ever go needy like that, baby" he said, his eyes fixed on you with a confidence you wished you could scrape off with your fingernails. “if it aches down there i can kiss it better.” he said. heeseung chuckled complicitly with a hollowed laugh.

"zip it, the both of you." shuhua's voice sliced through their banter, sharp and clear. such fierceness for a girl drowning in a pastel pink sweater. "honey, that test is total bullshit. it just checks if your hymen is torn or not. it’s this little membrane up your pussy which men have historically used to shame girls. it can tear riding a bike or with a tampon or whatever. it's stupid."

you nodded, but you weren’t convinced. you didn't think daddy would believe it. if they ran that test on you and you didn't bleed, what would you tell him? that you rode a bike too hard? he would never buy that.

heeseung snorted out a grating laugh. "she says it’s stupid now, but i survived the first month we were together off of blowjobs. she was scared stiff of anything going up there because of that damn test."

shuhua leaned in close, hed breath a warm whisper against heeseung’s ear, "like you can complain, you love it when i go down on you." her hand trailed along the sharp line of his jaw, fingertips barely grazing his skin before coming to rest at the dip of his throat. 

heeseung's cocky smirk grew wider as he leaned back on his hands, the rocky ground beneath him serving as his makeshift throne. "you know," he drawled out, "there's something so fucking heavenly about having a girl on her knees for you. i dunno... you feel like a king."

a flicker of your lip gave away your true thoughts, an unintentional twitch. heeseung's language was coarse, but there was an odd poetry in the way he spoke this time.

you thought of beomgyu. beomgyu your king, beomgyu the only one you would ever want to crown like that. your lips around his dick, his low voice praising you. calling you his baby, his little angel.

slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore. said shame.

a flush of heat crept up your cheeks, betraying the sudden surge of nerves that coursed through your body. "i...should get going," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "service will be over soon," you added quickly, hoping to cut off any potential objections and make your escape before things became too awkward. 

grabbing your bag, you hurried away from the group, taking quick and hurried steps. but it wasn't long before yeonjun caught up with you.

"wait!" his voice shattered the tense silence, causing you to stop mid-stride and turn to face him. 

"what do you want?" you asked, tone curt.

"what do i have to do for you to stop giving me the cold shoulder?" he asked, his grin widening as he continued to close the distance between you.

your voice sliced through his hopes with practiced precision, a sharp edge honed by too many similar conversations. "nothing, really," you replied firmly. "but what you can do is stop deluding yourself into thinking that anything will ever happen between us.”

yeonjun's grin didn't falter, but something flickered in his gaze—a brief shadow of disappointment he quickly masked. he trailed behind you like a persistent breeze, impossible to shake off.

"don’t you think you overdid it today? the whole nun act?” he asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly. there was always malice behind his playfulness. "you can’t fool me, you know? girls who act all cold like you are always the filthiest.”

your muscles tensed. “is calling me a slut the best you've got?”

“come on, i know you're needy," yeonjun said confidently, taking a step closer to you. he reached for your hand, but you flinched it away before he could touch you. "you have to be… pretty girl like you, restraining yourself... i could make you feel so good. put that mouth of yours to good use.”

"seriously, will you ever cut it?" you spat out. "i don't want you. i don't care about you. just forget about me."

you saw his lips press, his nostrils flare. sick of him, you turned to walk away, but his voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.

"is there someone else?" he suddenly asked, and you could hear the hint of desperation in his voice.

you froze in your place. "w-what?"

"you always get all flushed and bothered when i say nasty shit to you." he said. "but you keep acting up today, like you don't need me anymore. are you seeing someone?"

"leave me alone, i never needed you." you said, shoving him hard in the chest. he stumbled back, surprise flickering in his eyes before it hardened into something darker.

"touchy, aren't we?" he regained his balance, his grin resembling shards of broken glass. "i liked you with the good little girl image, but it gets me so fucking hard when you say no to me like this, too."

you hissed, taking a step back. all you wanted was space, air, anything to cleanse yourself from the filth of his words. you turned around and left with quick, heavy steps.

yeonjun watched you go, satisfaction gleaming in his predatory gaze. "even if you don't tell me, i’ll find out!" he called after you, his voice carrying on the breeze, "and you're smart enough to know that secrets are only safe if everyone keeps their mouths shut."

you didn't look back.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

helios ploughed the sky with his chariot and night fell everywhere in the house of god except in your room.

it was a deliberate postponement the night-time. a way of protecting the sanctity of your holy prison cell. your safe, warm, constraining prison cell.

you had stood under the shower for a second time that day before climbing into bed, letting the scalding water clatter softly against your face for what felt like hours. you lingered there, breathing in the steam, until your were sure you had washed away any residual trace of lust

you dried your hair with rough, almost angry strokes until it was dehydrated and feathery, and brushed it until the strands, dampened into thick locks, turned soft enough that you wouldn't dare allow anyone to tangle it again.

anyone. the devil. him.

the nightdress you had worn the night before, the one he had touched, lay discarded on the floor. a fleeting thought of burning it crossed your mind. maybe you would do it the next day. integral purification. eradicate the slightest trace of him.

you changed into a cotton short set, one childish enough to be laughable. cute little lilies over a pinkish backcloth. and to further on that naive illusion of shelter, you wrapped yourself into a black hoodie that had once belonged to soobin, its oversized warmth swallowing you whole as you sought to disappear within it.

the scent of almond soap and sanctifying shampoo lingered in the air as you sat on the bed with the lights still on. daddy went to sleep, soobin inserted himself inside his bed for yet another night of staring at the ceiling. the house of god fell silent. 

you hugged your legs, repeating to yourself that desire is sin, and sin is death as a nightly prayer. but when you finally turned off the light, the darkness only amplified the pounding of your heart. he would come. and you would have to ignore him.

maybe he had forgotten, even. maybe he had gotten bored of the toy and would just stand you up. that's what yeonjun would do if you ever gave him a chance. if the thread of unfulfilled yearning didn't tie him to you. or maybe it was that beomgyu hadn't really tried out the toy yet. barely even unwrapped it.

no. you had the gut-wrenching feeling that, for some god-awful reason, beomgyu cared about you. he had said he did, treated you like he did. if only he were more like yeonjun—more of a jerk, less needful and unhappy—maybe he would spare you the pain of sending him away. you weren't even sure you could.

in a desperate attempt to assert control over yourself, you had wedged a chair under the doorknob—a feeble barricade to separate you from your sin.

your door didn't lock from the inside, only from the outside. daddy had designed it that way, like a guardroom only he held the key to. the birdcage. the cushiony, secured birdcage you never should have corrupted.

that's how beomgyu had entered the previous night. the door had been open, a poetic invitation from fate. tonight, however, you closed it sealed and tight—poetically, physically, painfully.

but then he arrived. and he owned the magical key that was himself.

the first knock was faint as if the door could hurt. you remained still, every muscle tensed. a second knock followed, carrying a little more intent, a little more anxiety. panic coursed through your frozen veins. you wanted to hide in soobin's hoodie like a scared tortoise and never come out.

you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that if you pressed your eyelids hard enough, you wouldn't want beomgyu so desperately. a hopeless wish to never had felt how your lips blazed against his, to erase him from your life entirely.

the doorknob rattled, the bolt clanking with an excruciating metallic sound and the safeguarding chair being the only thing keeping the door shut.

"please, leave," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. and maybe he heard. maybe a divine intervention carried your plea. he stopped.

silence stretched for agonizing minutes. your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out all other sounds. done. it wasn't that difficult. five minutes of agonising anxiety in exchange for a life of virtue. or so you thought.

you didn't even have time to cry his absence when his voice, haunting and mournful, pierced the quiet.

"remember, most gracious virgin mary," he began. he was praying. "that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided."

you perched on the bed's edge, hypnotized. he was asking for asylum in your prison cell. for you to let him lock himself with you in your birdcage. like the previous night, and for all nights to come.

he went on. "inspired by this confidence, i fly unto you, virgin of virgins, my mother. to you do i come, before you i stand, sinful and sorrowful." he said.

with each word, you took a frightful step toward the door. he was loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear him. but what was the harm, right? just the prodigal son praying to the virgin.

"mother of the word incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me." he said. "amen."

your body trembled. every fiber of your being wanted to resist, but you had to let him in; you were to be full of grace—the mother of mothers, praying for the sinners at the hour of death. your hand moved to the chair, quietly setting it aside. you opened the door, opened the gates of the promised land.

beomgyu sunk there, small, slumped against the door. he startled by its sudden opening. his eyes, rich brown like fertile earth, looked up at you—pleading and desperate. his youthful cheeks, soft like a girl's, and his blessed lips had shown you more love in one night than anyone ever had. you never saw the trident, the wicked grin, the feathered black wings of satan.

he turned and knelt, clumsily, like a mistreated convict begging for food, clutching the rosary beads you had given him in one shivering hand. "i thought—" he stammered out. "i thought you didn't want me anymore."

with a pained expression etched on your face, you motioned for him to be silent. beomgyu could see the lamentable dye that stained your features, but he couldn't decipher if you were inviting him in or pushing him away. a part of him didn't want to find out.

when he began to crawl towards you, you recoiled as if he was a disease. and that's how he felt at his core –like a pest that you couldn't get rid of. your heart ached at the thought. just last night, he held you close and whispered honey into your ears. but now you blamed him for your own sins and treated him like the devil.

you extended your hand and helped him up. in a subtle motion you closed the door behind him, trying not to make any noise. relief flooded his features as he leaned closer to your ear. "do you want me to leave?"

you kissed his cheek softly, like only you knew how, the touch of a feather. he shivered. "stay," you breathed against his skin.

you had fallen again. he had prayed himself into heaven.

the first step he took inside was bashful, but you should have guessed from the red-hot gleam in his pupils that a hurricane-stricken soul kiss was coming. no build-up, no easing you into it. just crimson cannibalism.

he took two heavy breaths. one. i missed her. two. i want her. and the third one he took against your skin after lunging at your mouth, breathing in the soaps and the shampoos and all your foolish efforts to plasticize yourself against him.

he pushed you against the wall with a force that made a loud thud, but he didn't care about the noise. he needed to close every gap, to melt your body into his. "i missed you so much," he gasped between kisses, his voice laced with desperation. "i've been thinking about you all day, about what i wanted to do to you... i couldn't take it anymore."

he devoured your lips, his hands roaming over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. "you're so good for me," he murmured against your skin, his words muffled by the heat of his breath. "so fucking good around me."

beomgyu's hands were like molten lava, burning trails on your skin as he pulled you closer, and you wanted nothing more than to let him do. to have him burn you down to cinders, to give your neck to him as an offering and let him blood-suck you dry.

but you remembered. desire is sin, and sin is death. it echoed annoyingly this time. like a nagging school teacher, an irksome jiminy cricket that spoke in your own voice.

you tried to push him away, gasping for air like a diver drowning under the weight of the ocean. "wait," you panted desperately, trying to catch your breath. "beomgyu, please– wait." you said. you poured a bucket of iced water over the volcano.

the lava solidified under the ice. "why? what is it?" his eyes grew wide, concerned.

"i don't want to feel like a whore again." your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. "like i'm– cattle.”

lava rock turned pathetically mushy. "did i... make you feel that way?"

you shook your head quickly, feeling guilty for even thinking it. "no, no. you were so good to me." you reassured, hands gripping onto his shirt. "but we– we barely know each other. why would you want me other than..."

"just for sex?” he finished your sentence with a battered expression. “is that what you think?” 

"what else, then?"

"no." he shook his head anxiously. "no, no. absolutely not. you're... you're like me. you understand. you get it. you feel good– in my soul. this is corny, i'm not good at– i... i just... this is the only way i know how to show it."

cute. you gently ran your fingers through his dark, tousled hair. he was fawn like everything nurturing, he was hazel all over. lush like freshly brewed coffee, mellow like a shot of baleys.

you let your hand trace from his hair to his chin, holding him closer. your noses met first, plumy. then the lips, just barely. they made a slight, dainty wet sound when they parted. "all the decisions i keep making because of you are so stupid. it’s embarrassing." you said. "i'm never like this."

"i'm..." the lava rock was now cotton, it was watercolour, it was baby powder. "sorry."

"where did you learn that prayer?" you asked, playing with his hair. he held you by your arms, trying his best to pretend that your lips didn't exist.

"i've been hanging around church," he confessed in a raspy whisper. "i never go inside, thoug. that would feel intrusive, i guess. i just hang around and listen to the services from the outside. i try to memorise the useful prayers," he said, "only that one stuck."

you raised an eyebrow, "the useful ones?"

"the ones that will get me what i want. isn’t that how praying works? and besides," he said with a sugary grin, holding the rosary beads up. he was sweet, so endearingly earnest. "you gave me this. i thought i should learn how to pray it properly."

"you weren't saying it correctly, though." you corrected him gently. "the first bead is supposed to be 'our father,' you were saying a memorare."

"who cares?" he shrugged, a teasing glint shining through. "it worked for me. it got me in here."

with a trembling hand, you reached out and grabbed the rosary hanging around his neck. your fingers closed around the cold metal, pulling it towards you. "take it off."

he clutched it tighter, his hand over yours, as if afraid to let go of it. "why?" 

"i don't like you with it," you said. "i like you out of god. you're the only thing i have that's not corrupted by it."

"but i'm trying to be a little better for you. purer, or whatever the hell you call it. so that you'll feel less guilty when we're together." he said. then his brows furrowed with ache. "you regret me, don't you? that's why you weren't letting me in." 

"it really hurt when you left," you admitted quietly. "all night long, i felt filthy and repulsive. like some..." you hesitated, embarrassed at your own words. "some wild animal in heat. but it goes away when you're here. it... it’s still there. but i forget about it. just a little."

a defiant look crossed his face. "then i'll never leave again."

"but you have to," you countered, letting go of his arms and turning way from him to walk toward the window. "or daddy will find out."

you heard beomgyu's footsteps approaching after you slowly, and you knew he was standing behind you now.

in haze and silk his hand found yours, which had been limp at your side. "but you like being close to me," he said softly, his arm wrapping around your waist, pressing your body against his. "and i like being close to you," he added, his nose tracing patterns along your neck. "you're warm."

"aren't you concerned at all? how can you not care about anything else?" you asked.

"because i'm crazy about you, you're my angel." he muttered as if it was obvious, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke. he buried his face deeper into your neck, breathing in your scent. "you smell so good."

"i just showered," you whispered, feeling yourself shivering under his touch. "it’s all i’ve done today, try to wash up."

"see?" he purred against your neck, with an amused smile that bordered on wicked. "you're a clean little angel. you have nothing to be ashamed of." he held you tight, arms forming a velvety belt around your waist. "i'm gonna be good for you tonight, take things slow. does that sound good?"

your nodded slightly, turning around to give him a soft kiss. though eager, there was uneasiness in your gaze, a loving intensity so hopeless it hurt.

he could take the hurt away, he was convinced. leave only the longing, the summery warmth and the tingling of the flesh. cupping your face with both hands he took your soft kiss and inflamed it into a fleshy bite, a mouthful of you. mine, mine, mine.

the room sweltered, wrapping you in a cloying embrace that thickened with the friction of the lips. with a deft movement he pulled away for a fleeting second, shrugging off his overshirt, the fabric fluttering to the ground like a lifeless body.

he saw your eyes widen, your muscles tense. the breath catching in your chest at the lost promise to take things slow. he lifted his palms like having been caught in the middle of a crime. "it’s– it’s hot in here," he murmured, trying to hush you. "just that."

you nodded. "yeah, yeah." you breathed out. stupid, wimpy, childish, prude, you thought to yourself. "i…" you started to unzip the hoodie, stripping away from your protective armor. "i probably don't look as good as yesterday," you said. "i'm sorry."

beomgyu exhaled a breathy chuckle, a laden smile tinged with affection. "what are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head. "i look fucking gross in soobin’s old, borrowed clothes. these fit me like an elephant's skin, and you – you're… shit, you're so pretty – and you still apologize?"

he grasped your hand, tugged you towards him. he cherished and adored, and coated with his kisses and artisan lips the face of his angel. his little good girl who would sigh hummingbird whimpers against his lips as a warming, wordless praise.

he liked how you explored on him, too. how you seemed to prefer his upper lip and worked on it daintily, how you would pout when he pulled away, something he did just to indulge himself in the pleasure of staring at your lips get swollen and intumesced. how your eyes saddened, too, puppy-round and disquieted, silently asking if you had done something wrong.

gentle lips turned voracious, he couldn't help it. you were so tasty, so foamed textured, a favourite food.

letting his arm cradle you under your ass, he picked you up, weightless plush bear, your legs falling at both sides of his torso. you escaped a half-chuckled hum against his lips, a teenaged sound of cheeriness.

securely held like that, he walked you to the bed, where he let you fall softly, himself dropping after you. the weight of his body pressed you down against the plush duvet, but the suffocation felt good, the drowning in his oaky scent with no escape.

he focused on the fragility of your neck, silken, lovely swan’s arch. he pressed his unworthy mouth against it, nibbled at it, let his teeth sink in the skin, pushing the feeble line of pain and pleasure.

you shifted, rolling over together in a smooth, almost effortless motion. now, your were resting against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. you could hear his heartbeat, steady and deep.

he watched you hovering above him. your hair fell around your face, a dark frame for your flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. fucking beautiful. he lifted his head slightly and gave your a quick, animalistic kiss, almost like a snake bite.

his teeth caught your lower lip, holding it for a heartbeat longer, before letting it slip free. your back spasmed, punctuated by an acute shiver.

you let out a low, throaty whimper that resonated against his mouth. your lips pressed back against his with increased urgency, your fingers digging into his hair as you deepened the kiss.

"needy baby," he murmured softly, his voice a husky breath against your lips. "you still want me to take things slow?"

your hips began to move on their own, rubbing against him, driven by an instinctive rhythm. his nails bit into the tender flesh of your thighs as though trying to rip off the peel of a tangerine, to skin you out and envelop you himself instead.

but you both moved together, and his shirt lifted slightly, revealing a dark bruise on his stomach. at first, it was just a shadow, barely noticeable in the dim light. but as your movements shifted and the fabric of his shirt rose higher, the bruise came into full view.

your breath caught in your throat—a deep, ugly purplish hue marring his skin. the color at the center of the bruise was nearly black, a grisly shade that made the surrounding skin look almost rotten. the edges of the bruise were tinged with a sickly yellow-green, the mark of an injury struggling to heal.

"beomgyu..." you paused, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bruise, feeling the heat radiating from the inflamed skin. it was tender to the touch, and you could almost feel the pain he must have endured when he received it. "how did this happen?" you whispered, your voice a mix of worry and disbelief.

his eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. he seemed reluctant to answer, but the concern in your gaze softened his resolve.

"it’s nothing," he murmured, trying to dismiss it, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

"nothing?" you echoed, your fingers still gently exploring the bruise. he winced at the touch. "your dad hurt you before you came here, didn't he? that's why you left home."

his hands moved to cover yours, stopping your gentle probing. "it’s just... it’s not as bad as it looks."

"does it still hurt?" you asked, searching for his eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding your gaze.

"no," he said through gritted teeth. "stop looking at it." he pulled down his shirt to cover the bruise with a violent tug.

you tilted your head, scrutinizing his lie and his sudden flare of irritability. it was uncharacteristic, a side of him you had heard of but never had seen yourself.

slowly, you reached out and pressed your fingers against the fabric of his shirt, right over the hidden bruise. your touch went from gentle to stinging as you pushed down, observing his reaction.

he bit his lip, a futile attempt to conceal his pain with a stubbornness bordering on childlike. when it really began to hurt him he finally winced, a sharp breath escaping him. "well, of course it fucking hurts if you press it," he snapped.

"sorry," you whispered softly.

you stayed in silence for a few seconds. you didn't know what to do, what to say, how to tell him that he shouldn't be embarrassed that his father was a sadistic brute. so in a movement as smooth as melting butter, you eased yourself onto his lap, your limbs wrapping around him with the languid grace of entwining vines.

you said nothing at first, just peppered his face with kisses, each one a delicate brush of your lips, grazing the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, and that upper lip you adored so much.

"what was that for?" he asked, still trying to perform crankiness with a tiny pout, but with a flustered red coloring his cheeks.

he yielded, his hands finding a natural place on your hips. with a tender smile, you murmured, “you've been going on and on about taking care of me, but look at you. you need care, too.”

“no, i don’t,” he retorted, his tone edging on petulant. “i can handle myself and take care of you while at it.”

“sure,” you reassured him with a soft giggle, your breath warm against his lips. “but let me take care of you for once.”

the kiss you gave him was a smiled out version of the wettened bites he liked to take out of your lips. a somehow tender ferocity, adoring. a violent hunger, soft like rose petals.

he liked lingering touches, gentle and exploratory. those that made him quivery and trembling. the kind that traced but not prodded, only brushed. and so you gave him that.

he liked wet kisses, deep and honeyed. kisses that felt like sinking your teeth into a ripe peach and letting its amber juice drip down your chin. and so you gave him that.

"i... still remember how good you made me feel yesterday." you whispered against his lips. he watched you in silence, pupils dilating at how bashful you were, how much adoration your eyes carried for his foul self. "i really tried to, but i couldn't stop thinking about it all day. about... you. i... i wouldn’t even know how to–" you stopped, words piling up in your throat. "how to give back."

your voice washed over him like holy water. a shiver run through him, the stirring whip of a stingray, from the nape of his neck down to his hardening dick. his eyes lit up with something animalistic, dark, even. there was a subtle change in the tilt of his head, an eager forward lean.

his hands were two starved beasts, roaming freely and gripping your body. you guided his touch, enjoying the tension changes in his muscles when he grasped the parts he liked best.

his fingers tightened firmly on your thigh, a strong ache of lust pulsing through his veiny forearms. he hesitated, eager for permission before moving his hands up to your ass. when you allowed it with a mild nod, his grip clenched tightly like iron.

he let his hands trail up, crawling under the shorts, beneath the underwear. the skin was tender, sweet marshmallow flesh. he kissed you violently, just for the sake of groaning into your mouth, to tell you how bad he liked you without the need for words.

pulling you closer, he grabbed firmly, causing your straddling legs to spread wider against him. then you felt it. him growing harder against you, his bulge pressing insistently between your legs, "b-beomgyu you're,"

"of course i am," he growled through gritted teeth, "shit– how could i not be?" his greedy lips traveled down from your neck, your throat, tour clavicles, leaving a trail of spit on your skin, icy against the air. 

"you were like this yesterday, too." you pressed your fingers against his tense jawline, feeling the strain in his muscles. “let me help you out, please, teach me how."

he hesitated. his baby princess was too pure to stain herself with his dirty self. he was just a ravenous dog, hungry, flushed and beastly turned on, but you were his little dove, his angel, you–

you took your shy hand down to his crotch.

you did so while looking him in the eye, firm but awfully nervous. trembling, experimental. you brushed against the throbbing bulge with your palm.

he drew his head back. holy mary mother of god, pray for us sinners. chewed on his lip. now and at the hour of our death. he was all in.

he put his hand over yours with the intention of teaching you, like you had asked for, but you stopped him. with a timid voice and a slight stutter, you requested, "m-mouth."

a hitched breath. then a heavy one. "you shouldn’t," he whispered huskily, “with those pretty angel lips…” 

you stirred on his lap, making him shudder with the slight brush of your covered pussy against his desperately hard self. "i have this friend from school," you began. "he’s not all that poetic, but today he said something… " you said, voice whispery. "said that having a girl on her knees for him made him feel like a king. i want to make you feel like that, too.” 

beomgyu's silence was charged, his gazy stormy. the heavenly image flashed before his eyes. his baby angel down on her knees for him. the blushing tint on her sinless cheeks. virginal hibiscus lips wrapped around his cock. all sweet, all fucking gorgeous.

he then said, "open your mouth for me,”

you did as he commanded. you parted your lips for a shy communion, reception of the body of christ. your tongue rested plump and glistening on your lower lip. pretty, pretty, pretty.

with one hand he held your chin. the other one he raised with his index and middle fingers extended, thumb holding the ring and little fingers down. he slid them inside your mouth, their sinewy length slipping past your lips, taste of salt, skin and wine.

he grunted when your plump lips closed around his fingers. gulped down his libido, his adam’s apple prominently bobbing up and down. soon enough —he told himself— be gentle.

guiding your head with a steady rhythm, he began to move his fingers in and out, the wetness of your tongue sloppy against them. "no teeth," he commanded. 

he entered a third finger in, stuffing your cheeks. the thrust got more forceful, his hand reaching deeper. you began to salivate, making a mess on his wet skin, unable to swallow.

you gagged when he pushed against your throat. then looked up at him, a glint of fear in your eyes.

“that choking feeling. it's gonna be like that.” he said in a sweet tone. “you think you can take it?”

you nodded eagerly, your voice coming out muffled in a throaty moan against his hand. it was a new feeling, but so sinfully delicious. a deep hot sweetness that got you helplessly soaked with its glowing tingle.

"use your tongue," he growled, his voice thick. you obeyed, letting it swirl around his skin. “such a good girl.” he said. your body quivered all over.

when he finally withdrew his hand, a glistening saliva trail draped down, connecting his fingers to your tongue. lewdy spiderweb of silver. without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to each gleaming digit.

then, as light as a floating bubble, you slid off the bed and guided him to sit at the edge. but instead of sitting, he stood up, looming over you. he was so tall, and for the first time, his height didn't feel protective but imposing, towering over you like a temple.

you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, silently for a kiss. he granted it to you. he could have been a giant, a monster, beastly like a wild bear, and he still would have brushed your hair behind your ear with all the softness in the world and leaned down to kiss you.

kneeling before him made you feel small, exposed, shrinking under his devouring gaze. but there was something thrilling in being so vulnerable to him.

your hands were shaking as you reached for the waistband of his pants. a ritualistic undressing of him, an unveiling of sacred flesh that you were terrified to ruin by being clumsy and uncoordinated.

his hand wrapped around your wrist. "are you sure about this?" he asked for the last time with a tender stroke at your head.

"yes," you whispered back, your voice barely audible over the thunderous beating of your heart. there was a shyness that coiled tightly around your spine, eating you alive, but there was also eagerness—the want to make him feel good.

you pulled down his pants, the big bulge in his underwear imposing, daunting. you pressed your lips tentatively against the taut fabric, the only thing you were certain you would do well, a slight whisper of a kiss that left behind a cold, wet spots.

the dampness seeped through the cotton, a chaste baptism of his aching cock. "pretty," he murmured above you, hand tracing your cheek.

a little more bolstered by his praise, your hands reached out and hooked into the elastic band, pulling it down with reverence. his cock was thick and pulsing, begging for your touch. rosy, gold-dusted. you gulped. this was him, purely in the flesh.

you leaned in, trailing soft kisses along its length and leaving small burning marks on his skin. his hand gripped your hair tight as he groaned. "you're gonna feel so good, shit."

with a hesitant exhale, you parted your lips, allowing the tip of his cock to brush against them. he tasted of musk and urgency. you struggled, trying to fit him all the way into your mouth. he was so big, so overwhelming for virgin stupid you. 

as soon as he felt your lips around him he winced and his hand gripped your hair, tugging sharply and sending a jolt of electric sensation down your spine. you felt a protectiveness in his touch, there was no force, only unreleased tension.

"you're so fucking beautiful like that,” beomgyu rasped, his voice thick. you leaked heplessly at his words. "be careful, alright, angel? stop whenever you need to." he said.

you pulled out for a second, just to answer to him. your lips closing at his tip, pouty. spit glistened all over his lenght like the glinting mix of melted ice and saliva on fruit flavored ice-cream. "don't hold back." you simply said.

beomgyu let out a grumbled groan as he watched take him in your mouth again, the plush walls of your cheeks hugging so beautifully around his cock.

slow and timid, you began the back and forth motion. the flow you managed was awkward at first, clumsy and arrhythmic. but with just a little silent steadying of his hand in your hair, you found the right pace.

“j-just like that, shit,” beomgyu groaned, his voice a low thrum that resonated through your ribcage.

the wetter you got, the more shame swirled like eddies in the depths. you knew she was waiting for you with her sinister glare, ready to and ambush and churn at your insides when beomgyu was gone.

but shame was titillating when your lower belly burned and your needy clit throbbed helplessly. shame leaked out in the form of arousal, pouring syroupy glitter. 

whenever you dared look up at him, you'd see the godlike vision of a strained, sweating beomgyu. his head was drawn back in pleasure and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, escaping a profane mess of heavy breaths and lewd sounds.

his voice was so beautiful, too, you kept thinking. low and mellow, incese and wood. he sounded so good, with his raspy “ahs,” and roaring moans. you did everything in your power to keep him panting like that.

with every flick of your tongue and suckle of your lips, you could feel him twitch and tense. as you took him further into your mouth, his thick and veiny shaft hit the back of your throat. 

a surprining rush of excitement surged through you when i you gagged, tightening your core. that lewd retched sound of the choking turned into a cried out moan of pleasure.

you salivated against his cock, the mixture of his salty precum, your spit, and the tears that came out of your eyes from the asphyxiation making a mess that kept dripping down your chin. 

you took him deeper, revelling in your own gagged-out sputters. "y-you're taking me in so good," he praised between clenched teeth. “my baby, you sound so fucking perfect choking on me.” 

but then you noticed. the way he remained still, fighting every instinct to move. the exaggerated tension in his body from doing so. he was holding back. lacerating self-control.

you pulled out, finding no resistence from him. he immediately leaned down, loving concern in his eyes, but his breathing still heavy and messy, and asked "are you alright?" he asked, gently gripping your jaw.

and though he was trying just so hard to focus on your well-being, he mouthed out a strained “shit, baby angel...” in pure awe upon seeing you all covered in the mouth-watering mixture of glinting fluids.

"b-beomgyu," you gulped, voice broken. "don´t hold back. i... like the choking."

he bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. "i don’t wanna hurt you," he said. a gentlemanly formality.

"i know.” you smiled faintly. “but i like the pain, i promise."

eyes round and doe-like, lips soaked in delightful filth, swollen and gleaming. a wet dream of a girl, you were. sweet dainty angel who just kept saying gut-wrenchingly hot words.

he traced one finger along your jawline, just one, all feathery. "you have no idea how perfect you are." he whispered. but his caress turned a firm grip on your jaw. big strong hand, poking fingers. he said, "you want it rough? then i’m gonna fuck your cute little mouth raw.”

he tightened his hadn't around your hair in a way that immediately let you know he wasn't grabbing you for guidance, no massages, no caresses. he wasn't playing anymore.

the first thrust back in was paced, but painfully deep. you let out a delighted whine around him, having craved the sensation of being filled by him again. then he lived up to his promise.

he pumped his cock into your mouth, thrusts steady and violent. that you liked the pain he took it religiously, believed it in heart and soul. and you revelled on it. sacrificial angel, dirty slut with needs.

but it was all you wanted from him, really. to pound his love into you, ruthlessly. to wreck you with his own hands and pick up the pieces after, kissing the scars. to carve in your skin a yearning so big and monstrous it could only be spiritualised in pain, only could be satisfied in flesh and blood.

his grip in your hair tightened into a makeshift ponytail as he urged you deeper, pushing you to the brink of what you could withstand. your eyes were so glassy you almost couldn’t see, holy lack of air that got your cunt trembling with want. 

a violent dance of pushing and pulling, giving and taking. with each thrust, you were the victim of his self-control slipping like sand through desperate fingers. his words became abstract, senseless, angel, and baby, and beautiful melted into one until all he could do was cry out.

never in a million years would you have been able to rationalise how you could've have gotten such harrowing pleasure, such a tear-jerking sense of utter love, from such a forceful act. but you felt it, everywhere in your body. in your whitening knuckles, in your sore scalp, in the ruthless thrusts that got you trembling, leaking, terminally ill in lust.

beomgyu got beautifully lightheaded. his every molecule trembled, his every nerve ending felt numb and petty compared the scorching beautiful fire there where your mouth brazed his cock, soon to explode.

"s-so fucking close." his body trembled with the strain, severing the bond of flesh and hunger. "h-hand– fuck, y-your hand." he struggled out.

he desperately fumbled for your hand, and when he found it, he guided it to the stem of his length, showing you how to stroke him, pushing him over his peak. you knew, you felt him tense up, get breathier, more desperate.

but he pulled out of your mouth. he grabbed onto your hair and pulled your head back roughly. neck strained, you let out a confused whimper. good little puppy.

that did it for him. he gave you one last awestruck look, and jerked himself off with your hand getting himself to cum all over your face with a shaky groan. 

warm liquid dripped down from his still-throbbing cock, landing on your quivering lips and streaming down to your cheeks.

he urged you to keep stroking him through his most sensitive, his whole body twitching and contracting under your touch. "ah, f-fuck. keep going like that, just a little more," he said.

he pushed through, your hand only a tool confined between his own hand and his cock. you were barely a puppet here, the symbolic means of lewdness, a kink.

you got to watch him attentively. his gorgeous hair shaking with him, his teeth almost peeling the skin on his bottom lip, the strained muscles of his neck. lusty frown, wax light skin, pearly sweat. your beautiful boy.

the oversensitivity caused his body to helplessly quiver and spasm all over, increasingly until it became too much and he doubled, finally letting go, his body folding in two. he let himself fall to his knees.

his eyes were glassy and rimmed with redness, his breath gradually steadying. he looked at you and whispered "fuck, look at that...", his eyebrows furrowed, as he reached up to wipe some of the cum off your cheek with his thumb.

the world went silent. tinnitus in your ears. breathe in. breathe out. breath not. shame arrived and choked you.

your bottom lip quivered. a round tear formed at the corner of your eye. shame gnawed at you with her ghostly voice of ice. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.

beomgyu immediately helped you up, perching on the bed and sitting you on his lap. "what is it, baby?" he muttered against the shell of your ear, cradling you. "are you feeling guilty?" he asked.

your words tumbled out between sobs, raw and revealing. "it's the filthiest thing i've ever done." your gaze refused to meet his. "but i liked it so much, i'm so wet."

he reached out to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb. "it's okay, you were such a perfect fucking girl, my baby. you did nothing wrong." he reassured you in a soothing tone. "let's get you cleaned up, alright?" 

you nodded softly. you still avoided his gaze, but your shame felt finite. he was there. you would be fine. 

he got up to get dressed, but he quickly returned to your side, not wanting to leave you alone even for a second. so invested in the caretaker roll he was, he insisted on carrying you to the bathroom himself.

“what are you doing? i’m fine.” you chuckled softly when he tried to pick you up, wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes, feeling their warmth against your fingertips. 

"i wanted to carry you," he replied with a pout.

he was determined, but you managed to convince him that it was better if you led the way. you were good at roaming around the house in the dark, a silent nightjar that could only get a semblance of freedom when everyone else was asleep. 

and so you exited your room in hushed silence, tiptoeing through the gloom, beomgyu’s hand securely wrapped in yours.

the coming light from your bedroom door cast eerie elongated shadows on the walls of the corridor. hazy and enthralled as you were with one another, you had forgotten to close the door, only leaving it ajar. big mistake. 

the bathroom was virginal with the scent of soap and piety—the place where absolution and sin mingled in the steam that rised from the heart of the house of god. 

beomgyu's eyes narrowed at the sight of the framed stamp of a female saint, perched on the sink. with a creeped out grimace, he plucked it from its spot and flipped it over, as if silencing an unwanted voice. the house was full of hidden eyes and he couldn't stand the feeling of constant surveillance.

you both settled onto the narrow edge of the porcelain tub, the coolness of the ceramic sending shivers down your back when it touched the fevered bare flesh of the back of your thighs. 

beomgyu fumbled for a towel, and with reverent hands, he turned on the faucet and laid it under the warm water flow until it soaked.

the water was a baptismal font, powerful enough to wash away almost any sin. but beomgyu wasn’t one to care about the religious symbolism. he just wanted to take care of you, gently wiping your face with each stroke, cleansing away the remnants of his cum.

"beomgyu," you whispered. the towel was warm against your face. it felt nice, hushed. 

“yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely audible as he focused on his task.

"…was i any good?" you tentatively asked, nervously looking down at your fingers.

with a mellow smile, he leaned in to give you a soft kiss before answering, "my baby angel. you did so well… so, so well" he said. "i’m sorry if i was too rough."

you shook your head slightly, unable to hide the smile that formed on your lips at his concern. "it's okay," you told him, your mouth curving into a bashful v shape.

as he pressed the towel against your neck, it felt like a wrung-out sponge. a few droplets of water managed to make their way into your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. the dampness slowly crept through the fabric of your pajama shirt, the chilly embrace from a ghost hand.

"should we take this off?" he asked, not a trace of suggestion in his eyes, only care. “so you can wash well.” he added.

you hugged yourself self-consciously. "no... i-" you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. “no.”

his gaze melted into yours, as if trying to ease your discomfort. "you shouldn't be uncomfortable with me," he insisted. "every little thing you do is pretty to me. you know that, right?"

he gave you a kiss that was simple and easy. not the blooming, lush cascades of perfumed lust you were used to, but steady and reassuring like soft moss. a tender formality of intimacy. a kind kiss, a kiss to trust him.

you slowly released your arms from their protective embrace, letting them hang limply at your sides, surrendering control to him.

"stand up for me," he demanded. and as you obeyed, he crouched down, his knees meeting the cold, unforgiving tiles. he reached out with steady hands to support you. "let me see just how soaked you are." 

a crimson blush spread across your cheeks. your fingers shyly reached out for the the elastic of your shorts, beomgyu’s hands intercepting them to gently pull down together.

your cotton shorts gone, all that was left to cover your pussy was an embarrassingly dampened pair of pinkish panties. the type that puritanical moms buy for their daughters at haberdashery stores - cheap, thin lace trimming the edges and a small embroidered rose at the center. 

the fabric felt cold against your exposed skin as the air grazed the darkened wet stain. embarrassing.but beomgyu's breath nearly caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the dainty cloth, delicate like wax flower, all soaked for him. 

"god, this is so fucking pretty," he breathed against your belly, his fingers trailing over the damp patch. he planted a soft kiss against your trembling sex, sending shivers down your spine. a twitchy chill ran through you.

he reached for the hem of it, eager to expose you further, but you stopped him. “not yet,” you breathed out. “please.”

his eyes widened like a puppy's and he looked up at you pleadingly. "to clean you up?" he asked.

but you shook your head. he stood up again, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you close. "i won't look," he promised. "won't see a thing. just like yesterday." he said.

“fine.” you said, giving in to his gentle touch.

he expertly slipped off your underwear with one hand, holding onto you with the other. you knew you were soaked, but hadn't become fully aware of how much until you were exposed to the cold and what had been warm arousal turned iced water.

you were nervous, but his hot breath and balmy kisses on your forehead eased some of your tension.

“now this,” he tugged at your pajama top, his fingers like curious spiders crawling over the soft fabric.

you flinched, jabbed his hand away. beomgyu's eyes showed worry and a hint of hurt from your lack of trust in him. still, he had a plan.

no words were exchanged; he guided you to step into the bathtub with him, closing any existing distance. firm yet gentle, he pressed you against the wall, the cool tiles imprinting their pattern on the naked skin of your ass.

as he twisted the handle, a sudden rush of water burst from the showerhead like a geyser. "we wash together, alright?"

the droplets rained down on you, pelting against your bodies. he threw his head back with a soft, painfully cute chuckle, watching the water fall like it was the first winter snow. 

his drenched clothes clunged to his body, but he payed no mind. he kept smiling like a little kid, kissing you with satisfied nibbles and smooches, cheerful like you had never seen him.

but the fun ended quickly. a shadow crossed his expression, filling you with immediate concern. he drew in a deep, somber breath, fingers hesitating at the hem of his shirt. with a tug, he pulled it over his head, baring his skin before letting it fall. you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, suppressing a horrified gasp.

swollen bruises, bloated and purplish-black, oozed cruelty as they sprawled across his abdomen, his ribcage, his chest. once elegant and pretty collarbones hid marred under stains like dark, spreading ink blots.

his father had completely shattered him and then discarded his body like rancid fruit left to rot in the sun.

he pressed his lips together, avoiding your eyes. there was embarrassment all over his face, hidden under a bitter defiance. "don't look at me like that," he muttered.

"like what?" you asked, not sure how to respond.

"like you feel sorry for me," he said, clenching his teeth. "i'd rather you were just grossed out."

"i'm not pitying you, i..." your hand reached out, gently lifting his chin to meet your gaze. he resisted a bit, looking sullen. "this shouldn't have happened to you, this–" you began to say softly, brushing your fingertips over the bruised skin with a light touch. "you can't be ashamed of this. you have to be mad. outraged. you– promise me you won't go back to him."

"i've got nowhere else to go," he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible.

and you didn't know what to say, either. stay here was a stupid answer, unrealistic. you have me was even more stupid, as you didn't even have yourself. your existence together hanged on a fine thread. there was no better option, only prison cells and bloodthirsty gods.

"i–" you began to say, trying to arrange some, any, words in your head, but he stopped you.

"i don't want to think about it now, please," he said. "i'm happy when i'm with you because i forget about everything else. i like it that way."

he meant every word. he wasn't one to dwell on the future, he couldn't stand to throw away the counted minutes he had with you worrying. unlike soobin, he took pride in that.

he pressed a soothing kiss to your temple. "i'm going to clean you up now, okay?" he said softly. "and you'll go to bed feeling light and clean, no shame and burning in the flames of hell bullshit. you're gonna sleep so well and so peacefully without any of the wicked nonsense they've tried to brainwash you with."

a gentle smile from him, a thanking peck from you. the water cascaded on.

however, when beomgyu's hands reached for the top button of your pajama shirt, you couldn't help but flinch. a first fleeting thought told you it was uncalled for, but then it settled on you that letting him see your body was a stupidly obvious next step.

he had already shown you the body he was ashamed of, and now he was asking you to share in that vulnerability. "please," he said. "i showed you how shitty i look. i… really wanna see you.”

it was the desperation in his frown and the ominous presence of his bruises. with shaking hands, you undid the next button on your own.

the rest of the buttons you undid in gradual little steps, not daring to look him in the eye. he limited himself to watch with narrowed eyes and his heart in clenched in his fist.

the shirt fluttered opened, a central strip of your body in full view. collarbone, linea alba, belly button –all delicate and liturgical in the semi-darkness. but he didn't glance any lower. he promised he wouldn't.

he brought his hand to your waist, letting his thumb caress your ribcage. as he did, he drew the shirt away from your tit, displaying it for him. he shook his head, exhaled, "you're so fucking adorable."

with a delicate movement he gently flicked the other side of the shirt, your chest all to him. peaches and cream, lovely cottony candy. sweet, sweet, so sweet.

there was something so disarming about seeing you naked, too. a vulnerability in your eyes he couldn't resist.

your hands, trembling emissaries of modesty, moved instinctively to shield your breasts from his view. but beomgyu's touch halted their ascent; his fingers wrapped around your wrists, "don't hide from me," he whispered.

all he did next was to reverently lower himself and leave a kiss on the tender skin. the water was falling, and the effect he loved so much, that of his spit against your smooth waxen skin, was lost in the shower rain.

he left it there, diplomatically. he would come back tomorrow night. he would be back to touch you with all the calm of the universe, to experiment on your skin and discover the cause and effect of all the things he could dream of doing to you.

the next kiss returned to your lips. a voracious mouth-feeding on your flesh. sharp jaws strained and tensed for the pleasure of the plump hedonistic lips.

then came the washing, the cleansing, the radical eradication of your shame. he hugged your waist tight and loving, as if to save his own life, and took the almond soap without letting go of you for a moment.

it was the third time in that same day that the viscous liquid touched your skin. but this time it came from his hands, not yours. this time it was lukewarm, not icy and lonesome.

he scrubbed every corner of your body, and in every single place that was left cleansed he planted a chaste kiss. the rubbing of his hand against your groin might have been lascivious, it might have made angels and saints look away in shame and offense. but it felt not lewd, but kind. fatherly.

last came the rinsing of the soap, a removal of every last trace of foreign liquids –be it an industrial hygiene product, be it the worldly product of the body.– off came the guilt, too. the repentance and the shame, the homicidal shame.

under the water your soul was feathers, under the water the angel, the dove, the butterfly was light and untied.

once clean he hugged you in a towel like a baby, arms around your body, and caressed the damp hair that clung to your face. a light kiss on your hairline, a light kiss on your brow, a light kiss on your lashes.

"beomgyu," you talked under your breath, "i don't want you to leave."

a light kiss to your temple. “i really don’t wanna leave, either.” he said in helpless sincerity. then his eyes glinted playful. “but soobin misses me if i don't cuddle him to sleep. he’d get jealous." he smiled.

"he gets to sleep with you every night," you sulked in a pout that curled up at the corners of your mouth, "it’s not fair."

beomgyu chuckled against your skin, "i can wait for you to fall asleep, then i’ll go."

and the plan was perfect, and the world felt pink and glittery and like it existed for you and him and no one else. it wasn't your fault when you didn't notice. you were hazy fools in love, your minds too misty and cosy.

when he laid you on the bed in plumes and cottons and the sheets felt like clouds against your clean skin, neither him nor you noticed.

when you got in bed, him lying next to you and being physically unable to stop showering you with little kisses, neither him nor you noticed.

when he caressed your hair, your cheeks and the outline of your arm as he felt your breathing relax into deep sleep, your little heartbeat easing finally after a lifetime of guilt and agony, neither him nor you noticed.

not even when beomgyu reluctantly separated from you, planting one last kiss on your sleeping eyelids, "goodbye, my baby angel," and left the room without making a sound, not even then did he notice.

a fatal mistake.

not noticing that the door you had left ajar after leaving to the bathroom was wide open when you got back. that the overshirt beomgyu had tossed to the ground was nowhere to be seen. that someone else had been there.

a phosphorescent chesire grin. a stern boy in a charcoal gray sweater. or work of the holy spirit.

it was a faceless someone. but someone knew.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i took so long to update i am so sorry. ALSO. I INSERTED THE ETHEL CAIN LYRIC it fit so perfectly, i had to. there's a bts borrowed line, too. joon lyrical king. anyway. yeah.

[i-will-be-skinny-by-2025]

Fasting Facts:

-Water fasting cleanses the body, as the stored food (fat) is used rapidly and the body simultaneously expels built up toxins.

-If you are fasting for weight loss (um, yeah!!) and are following a juice or tea fast, a few days on just water will intensify the fast.

-Fasting can clear the skin and whiten the eyes and initiates rapid weight loss (yay!).

-Water fasting is not recommend for a first fast as toxins are released into the blood very quickly.

-Fasting makes it easy to overcome bad habits and addictions.

-Fasting allows you to have taste appreciation for clean, natural foods.

-Going on a fast can give you the motivation and the enthusiasm you need to make a fresh start! (And we all need a fresh start from time to time.)

Fasting Info:

-Distilled water is best for water fasting.

-Juice made w/fresh, organic fruits is best for juice fasting.

-Do not drink orange or tomato juice on a fast.

-You can dilute your pure juices w/water.

-Green juices made from leafy green veggies in a juicer are great for detoxifying.

-Pure veggie broths are good (with no seasons added).

-Herbal teas and honey can aid in fasting.

-Typical fasts (going totally w/out any solid foods) usually are performed as 3 day, 7 day, 10 day, 14 day or 21 day increments. 28+ days should be supervised. (Or at least the person fasting should let someone know they are doing it.)

-Break a fast by eating raw fruits and veggies the first five-seven days after your fast. Go back to solids slowly.

-Do not binge or overeat after the fast (or during!). Try to discover the amount of food your body really needs.

-Meditate, go for a walk, take lots of naps, journal, listen to music, take long, warm bathes and relax. This is your time for healing, losing weight and gaining self-control!

More fasting tips:

-Many people experience nausea and headaches during fasting and this is often caused by caffeine withdrawal (and we all love our caffeine here) so I recommend, if possible, if you are a heavy soda or coffee drinker start tapering off about a week before the start of your fast. This should do the trick and make it a little easier and your headaches won't be so painful.

-After your fast, when you start to eat normally try very hard not to gorge. The calories you take in directly after your fast will stay with you a lot longer than those acquired when your metabolism is up. Also, you could experience pain and become very ill.

-Don't eat a big meal the night before your fast and never end your fast with heavy foods. Keep it light w/raw or lightly steamed veggies and fruits.

-Dry skin brushing helps your skin to breathe easier and can help eliminate uric acid and other poisons from your system, taking the strain off your kidneys and liver. Start at the feet and stroke your skin towards the heart. Do these before you shower.

-Epson Salt baths are soothing to sore-achy, weak muscles and also help eliminate toxins through the skin. Warm Epson Salt baths are great during fasts.

-There are many types of fasts, here is another: The milk and fruit fast: 3x a day, a glass of milk, raw fruit and water in between.

Some more tips during your fast:

-Try to get plenty of sleep. And if you can't stand your stomach growling the first few days, and are tired of downing the H20, take a nap... listen to some soothing music and drift off.

-Get a massage. If you can afford it, or have your partner or a close friend give you a good rub down or deep tissue massage. This really soothes muscles and makes you calm and sleepy. It helps when you're having trouble sleeping due to hunger during your fast. Plus, it awakens your body, pushes the blood around, etc.

-You may feel weak during your fast so if this is the case, be careful of black outs and don't exercise until you've finished the fast... Stick to stretching, light walking and deep breathing.

-If you suffer from diabetes, hypoglycemia or other similar conditions, please be very, very careful fasting. I'd say don't fast at all but if you feel you can do it safely, you may need a slice of avocado or a banana... You could also add protein powder to your juices.

-Sometimes during a fast, the person will experience back pain. If so, a cold pack will help.

-Canker sores can be healed quicker by dabbing tea tree oil or vitamin E on it.

-If you are just too tired on your water fast, go to a juice fast and if you are already juicing, drink more carrot and melon juices for energy.

Water fasts are always the hardest but fastest for weight loss and detox.

Juice fast is next best and somewhat easier, especially for first time fasters.

You'll lose pounds faster if you have a fast metabolism and slower if you have a slower metabolism. On average, fasts allow you to lose 1-2 lbs per day. Some experience more around 3-5 lbs per day. You'll lose the most and the quickest during the beginning of your fast.

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 13: Make A Wish

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 7307 words. (long boi)

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

You were running out of time, less than two weeks to accomplish the task Sukuna had given you and you still doubted if you could do it. You sat up in bed as you watched the sunlight stream through the window, heralding the arrival of a new day, jumped out of bed to get to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and there it was. A small glass jar containing the favor you had asked Kenjaku for on the day of the harvest. You carefully examined the whitish mushrooms with brown caps. 

Amanita phalloides, the most deadly mushroom for humans. From what you had read in one of the giant encyclopedias in the library, it has caused the death of numerous people by being very similar to some mushrooms that are edible. The toxins in this mushroom act on the liver and kidneys, resulting in liver failure. You could serve it to your victim in a mushroom omelet and the poisonous mushroom would take care of the rest. All you had to do was the hardest part, pick a victim. 

It had to be a human, so Kenjaku and the rest of the curses didn't enter into the equation. Not being strong enough, it couldn't be someone with a cursed technique. That's how you ruled out Uraume and Yorozu. Whichever way you looked at it, your target had to be a servant. You couldn't kill Mrs. Inoue, you saw her as if she was your tender grandmother who worries that you eat well so that you grow up a lot. You could never betray her friendship for the sake of the king. 

“What do I do?” you asked yourself anxiously, putting the jar back in its place. 

You entered the dining room promptly as you did every morning for breakfast. You wished the servants good morning along with a smile. Now, it was harder for you to choose who to kill, as they had all been so kind to you over the past few weeks. They greeted you, chatted with you about their lives outside the castle, and looked out for you. The vast majority of servants saw you as just another fellow servant who was there because of a terrible fate, rather than a figure to be feared. You felt like a hypocrite greeting them when inside you knew the terrible fate you had planned for an unfortunate man. As soon as they knew you killed one of them, you could not restore their trust in you. You approached your designated place and were surprised to see that Mrs. Inoue was the one in charge of your chair. 

“Happy birthday, Miss,” she congratulated you with a smile.

“Oh, you remembered! Thank you!” You said before hugging her gently. 

You had spent so much time worrying about studying, taking care of your sister and choosing who you were going to kill that you had forgotten your own birthday. The days passed quickly between your responsibilities. Wake up, study, train, sleep, repeat. A vicious cycle filled with anxiety, insecurity and effort. Life at the castle really was complicated, but there were good parts. It was nice to know that someone cared enough to remember this special date.

Sukuna arched his brow at how tightly you hugged the lady. He didn't understand why they were making a fuss about the anniversary of your arrival in this horrible world. He doesn't remember how he came to this world. His earliest recollection was opening his eyes and being thirsty for human blood. From the moment he stepped onto this existential plane, he knew he had a greater purpose than being a mere man-eating curse. Birthdays don't matter when greatness is waiting. 

“Today is your birthday?” Sukuna asked you curiously as soon as you sat down at the table. You nodded excitedly. “Why didn't you tell me? If your birthday was so important, why didn't you let him know?”

“You never asked,” you replied. “Touche” he thought before taking his glass of wine. “Yorozu hasn't shown up yet?” You asked him while examining the room.

For the past month, Yorozu has not left his master's side even for a moment. She accompanied him when he did paperwork in his office, they trained together until sunset and followed him everywhere like a puppy obedient to its mother. So much so that the servants began to call her: “the dirt on the king's fingernail” or, as her friends call her, “the dirt”. It was rare that she was not present as soon as you entered the room. 

Sukuna was about to answer when a shrill voice started singing happy birthday. Yorozu kicked open the kitchen door to reveal the surprise she had planned for you. Your sister was singing at the top of her lungs, while Uraume held a small strawberry and cream cake with some lit candles. They didn't seem too happy about being part of the plan. 

“Happy birthday, dear sister!” She sang off-key. 

This brought back memories. Yorozu did the same thing every year. She would bake you a cake or something sweet from whatever was in the cabin cupboards, light a couple of candles and parade around the room you shared at 5 a.m. while crowing like a rooster. Your mother and sisters would yell at her to shut up while throwing pillows at her, but she never stopped crowing. It was annoying, but something about it seemed tender. Yorozu always wanted to make sure she was the first to wish you a happy birthday. 

“Did you bake it?” You asked Uraume when they placed the cake in front of you. 

“Only because your sister asked me to,” Uraume answered reluctantly. 

The strawberry and cream cake was a masterpiece of pastry making. Each fluffy layer of sponge cake bathed in a soft syrup that gave off a sweet and delicate aroma. The freckled fruits, fresh and juicy, rested elegantly on top of the cream. Its vibrant red color stood out against the white background and the silver platter in which it was served. At the top, perched the largest strawberry you had ever seen in your life. It made your mouth water just looking at it. Your sister knew you so well.

“Thank you, Uraume,” you said as you admired the delicious dessert in front of you. 

“Make a wish,” Yorozu excitedly proposed as she sat down next to you.

What did you really wish for? Just like your birthday, you had forgotten what you really wanted. You wished for your family to be well, not to be killed and to eat good food, but those are not really wishes, they are priorities. What was it that your heart really longed for? You had been at the mercy of other people for so long that you began to forget who you were. Your empty eyes gazed at the small flames dancing on the white candles, slowly melting around the edge as you experienced an existential crisis. Time was running out. What were you doing?

“Sis?” Yorozu called you worried. 

You blinked and focused back on reality again. The king to your left, your sister to your right and all the servants around you were looking at you worriedly. You coughed a couple of times to regain your posture and blew out the candles quickly. Everyone applauded you while you forced a smile as if nothing had happened. 

“What did you ask for, sis?” Yorozu asked you while a servant cut the cake to serve it to those at the table. 

“If I say so, it will not come true,” you excused yourself so as not to reveal that you had not ordered anything. 

The servant handed you a slice of cake with the biggest strawberry of the cake, you smiled cheek to cheek at the kind gesture. You were about to take it with your fork, but someone beat you to it. Yorozu snatched the strawberry with her hands and put it in her mouth without a care in the world. She chewed happily while looking at you with a mischievous smile. Despite being in the body of an adult, she still acted like a child. The servant, annoyed at the scene, placed two strawberries on top of your slice. 

Sukuna knew something was happening to you. He didn't know exactly what, but he recognized that expression anywhere. Nervous smile, watchful eyes and anxious hands. The signs couldn't have been clearer. You were uncomfortable. It was the expression all servants made when they saw him up close. He drank his glass of wine while you ate your cake without saying a word, while Yorozu chattered incessantly. It was odd that you were acting like that.

You stared intently at the blackboard with the double-digit numbers and letters to be solved. “Since when did math have letters?” you mentally grumbled as you paced back and forth across the library without taking your eyes off the wooden rectangle. After that archery lesson, King Sukuna ordered Kenjaku to continue the research he had been asking him to do for months. In the last few weeks, your teacher would leave you the lessons written on long scrolls or on the blackboard to focus on his new task from the darkness of his room. Sometimes you missed the company of a teacher, but the peace of solitude was fine too. The heavy door opened slowly, revealing Mrs. Inoue's head, asking if you were too busy. A smile crept onto your face as soon as you saw the colorful desserts on the golden tray. 

“Mrs. Inoue, what a miracle!” You greeted her by taking the tray from her hands so she could take a break. 

“I had to visit you on your special day. I had to visit you on your special day,” she answered as you handed her a chair to sit on. “The desserts and the card are from everyone.” 

The gold tray glistened in the dim light coming from the window. The small desserts were displayed with a precision that bordered on the artistic, denoting the creativity of the servants who were in charge of the kitchen. Small fruit tarts, a cup of chocolate mousse and tiny macaroons glistened with color in the dim light coming from the window. 

The gold tray glistened in the dim light coming from the window. The small desserts were displayed with a precision that bordered on the artistic, denoting the creativity of the servants who were in charge of the kitchen. Small fruit tarts, a cup of chocolate mousse and tiny macaroons glowed with color.

“How is everyone?” You asked worriedly as she checked the small card that was signed by all 53 servants.

“Well, what can I tell you? These last months of winter are the coldest in the dungeon. Do you remember the time when we had to sleep together to avoid hypothermia?”

The dungeon was the main cause of illness from the low temperatures that came with the season, muscle atrophy from the uncomfortable beds and broken bones from the old men falling out of the giant bunks. You were saddened to know that the situation hadn't changed at all since you stopped being a maid. You felt guilty that you were able to sleep in a comfortable bed in a heated room when several old people were sleeping in the worst possible place. The only thing that pitied your remorse was that they were safe from the clutches of curses during the dangerous night. 

“How many have fallen ill?” You asked as you looked back at the blackboard. 

You knew exactly why you were asking.  Partly it was because you did care about the servants, but you also wanted Mrs. Inoue to give you a victim to kill soon. 

“3. Less than last year,” Mrs. Inoue replied optimistically. 

You have influenced her way of thinking for months now. Even though they lived in constant fear of dying, it was better to make the most of the days alive because it was the only thing they could do. 

“Who is the worst off?” you asked. 

You prayed inwardly that he wouldn't ask you why you were asking that. Just as you were about to answer, the door slammed open again. Mrs. Inoue stood up in panic thinking it was the king or Uraume, but it was only Yorozu with a wide smile as always. 

“You're studying on your birthday!” She scolded you, offended by the sight. “Let's go practice archery like last time!” She proposed while running towards you furiously.

“I can't. I must solve these problems,” you answered. 

“Then solve them," Yorozu answered with a certain obviousness as if it hadn't occurred to you before. 

“It's not that easy,” you sighed. 

Yorozu grumbled when you looked back at the board. It wasn't fair that you were doing something so boring on your special day. You should be having fun with it. You took one of the mini fruit tarts from the tray and ate it in one bite. Quickly, he noticed Mrs. Inoue's presence. 

“Long time no see! How are you doing? Getting older every day, aren't ya?” Yorozu joked. 

“Yorozu!” You scolded her while writing something on the blackboard. “Be nice to the lady.”

“It seems they didn't teach you any manners at home, child,” the lady grumbled in annoyance. 

“What did she say?” Yorozu asked, offended. she reached over and pulled her ashen hair. “Say it again, old woman,” she challenged her. 

You looked back as you heard the lady's moan of pain. You couldn't believe what Yorozu was doing. You knew she was a troublemaker, but you never thought she would get that angry with a lady three times her age. Yorozu's hand was turning red from the pressure she was exerting, but the lady was not going to bend easily. After all, she suffered worse humiliations from the king and Uraume. You clenched your fist and lunged at your sister to punch her in the face to get her to let go, but she blocked your blow with her arm covered in glowing green armor. Your fist hit so hard that a certain part of the armor shattered, but it still hurt you more than it hurt her. 

“Don't you think my new armor made of beetle skin is cool? Although it looks like I need to perfect it,” Yorozu said excitedly before releasing the lady. 

“Apologize. Now,” you challenged her while holding your injured hand. 

“Are you really defending the old lady?” Your sister asked you in surprise. 

You only answered her with a knockout look. It was one of the few times she saw you upset. Seeing you as a second mother after the biological one, she knew she shouldn't bother you anymore if you were already angry. She undid her armor to return her posture to the lady. 

“Well, well...” She reluctantly surrendered. “I'm sorry she's so old.” 

“Yorozu!” 

“I was only joking. I'm sorry.” Finally, she apologized to your friend. 

“Aren't you supposed to be training?” You asked annoyed.

“Are you kicking me out?” Yorozu returned the question offended. 

“Yes,” you answered seriously. 

“Oh how boring…” She huffed in annoyance before walking quickly out of the room while complaining to herself. 

As soon as she was out of your sight, you collapsed into the chair next to Mrs. Inoue. The fist you hit her with stung against your other hand wrapped around her. You grabbed a macaron to eat it to calm the adrenaline rushing through your body. You couldn't believe what had just happened. It wasn't the first time you had hit your sister, but this time it felt personal. 

“What am I going to do with this girl?” You asked Mrs. Inoue rhetorically as you grabbed your forehead. 

“Thank you for defending me, but the truth is I didn't want to tell you this because she is your family, but... May I get this off my chest?” You looked at her curiously, wondering what she had kept so much to herself. “Your sister is a real bitch. She's rude, useless and stupid. She's a real pain in the ass. A fucking bitchy little bitch that nobody wants. I hope she eats a hill so she won't hear her bark. She thinks she's a good dick just because she has the king's permission...”

You only listened to her complain about how scandalous her snoring was, how rude she was to the servants and how much she talked about King Sukuna as if he were God himself. You knew Yorozu's behavior was bad, but it seemed to have gotten worse after the discovery of her powers and would only get worse as time went on. She was a barking bitch, but at some point she would bite back. 

“And you know what angers me the most?! How dare she take your strawberries?!” The lady complained. 

“She always does. I have always shared with him what is mine,” you tried to justify her on the only thing you could defend her on. 

“But that doesn't make it right,” she argued back. 

“It's my fault she's like that.” It was also your mother's fault that she was like that, but you never corrected her.

“Be that as it may. Let me give you some advice.” The lady interrupted you to stop excusing your sister's shitty attitude as she got up from her seat to face you, making sure you paid attention to her. “I may not know much about royalty, but what I do know is that if you're going to make a queen, you should learn to stand up for what's yours.” Leaving you with the word in your mouth, she wished you a happy birthday and walked out of your sight. 

You took another macaron to relax your posture on the chair and look at the ceiling of the library. You ate it slowly while admiring the splendid painting depicting a reddish sky and grayish summer clouds. You swallowed the viscous mixture of jelly and wafer before dropping your hands to your sides. “Fucking hell, Yorozu,” you thought. 

Sukuna was up to his neck in paperwork, so much so that he had to send Yorozu to practice on his own for the day. Document after document. Report after report. Sukuna loved being a king, but this was the part he hated the most. After finishing reading a mining production report, he put it away in the file cabinet and leaned back on the leather chair. He held his forehead to rest his eyes. He was sick of reading. A couple of knocks on the door woke him from his brief pause. He ordered with an annoyed grunt to the person behind the door revealed itself. Kenjaku bowed and approached the desk. 

“You'd better have moved on with your investigation,” Sukuna threatened him. “He's in a bad mood today,” the minor curse thought.

"Of course. It's the only thing I've done in the last two weeks,” Kenjaku said wryly behind a smile. “I have good news.”

“And what are you waiting to tell them?” The king grumbled.

“Since you are the reincarnation of a sorcerer, you have almost human genetics.” 

“Almost?” Sukuna arched his eyebrow.

“Humans don't have four arms and two penises, my king.” Kenjaku replied. “Your double genitalia are what makes it difficult to know if the conception will be effective or not.” 

“And how will you find that out?” Sukuna asked, trying to understand what he was talking about. 

“The only way we can know is by empirical research,” Kenjaku replied. 

“Empirical research, huh?” The king tasted the words in his mouth in confusion. 

“You know what I mean, don't you?” Kenjaku quickly deduced that his boss was not keeping up with the conversation. 

“Not at all,” Sukuna answered honestly. 

“Coitus,” Kenjaku replied. The older curse looked at him with no fucking idea what he was talking about. “Sex?” The master asked. There was no reaction. “The devil’s tango?” He tried a more vulgar version of the concept. Nothing. “Do you know how humans reproduce?” Sukuna shrugged.

This was worse than he imagined, but it didn't surprise him in the least. Sukuna should remember almost nothing of his past life as a sorcerer. Besides, he has been murdering and eating humans for as long as he can remember in his entire life, so he knows a lot about them. As a hunter he knows hares and deer to stalk, but not enough to understand them. He knows how they act under stress, sadness and life and death situations. Now, Sukuna was to learn about one of the greatest causes of joy for humans: reproduction. 

“Human reproduction is complicated.” Kenjaku mentally prepared himself to give a lesson to the ignorant king. “It is divided into many phases, but we will focus for now on the first one: the sexual act.”

“Just tell me what to do and I will do it,” the king ordered him to get to the point.

 “It's not that simple and even less so if it's you,” Kenjaku joked to himself.

“There is nothing I can't do,” Sukuna threatened him with the look that he was losing his patience. 

“I don't doubt it, my king, but it will be difficult to go from causing pain to pleasure,” he explained. 

“Pleasure? That's a waste of time. I just want an heir,” Sukuna scoffed. 

“If you want an heir so badly, you must give y/n pleasure,” the teacher explained. 

Now that would be tricky. The only pleasure Sukuna knew was terrorizing and killing people. It was the reason he woke up every day. He doubted it would even cause you to smile since you cared so much about others. Every time you saw him it was the same anguished and timid face as always. Like you were walking through eggshells every time you saw him. 

“Luckily, I got ahead of this problem,” Kenjaku said. “I took the liberty of choosing some novels that illustrate what he must do to satisfy the lady and conceive a seed,” he announced while handing her a couple of books marked with dividers indicating what she had to read. “If you still have questions, I will answer them in the morning.”

“Do you plan for me to read all of this by tomorrow?” Sukuna asked him while going through the books. 

“What, you can't?” Kenjaku asked sarcastically, knowing it would hurt the king's ego. In the blink of an eye, Sukuna cut Kenjaku's cheek with his technique. “That's my cue to leave,” he said with a bow to get out of her sight as soon as possible.

“Wait,” he ordered him, stopping the master suddenly. “Do you know if Mahito is busy?” Now it was Kenjaku who arched his eyebrow.

You were brushing your hair in front of the dressing table. The red moon was seeping through one of the holes in the rose window. You had put on a pink nightgown that matched your fuzzy slippers. Bedtime was approaching, along with the night's anxiety. You still had no clear target for your assassination, but at least you knew that one of the servants would naturally die soon. That calmed your worries about choosing a victim, but the anxiety of having to kill someone was getting the better of you. 

The door abruptly opened. You jumped out of your seat and grabbed the golden comb like a boomerang, ready to throw it in case it was a surprise attack. You were reassured to see that it was only Yorozu, who was laughing hysterically at your frightened reaction. 

“You should see your face, you look like you've seen a ghost!” He scoffed as he jumped onto your bed. 

“What are you doing here? You know it's curfew.” You asked worriedly. Uraume would cheat her if she found out I was in your room. 

“Are you kicking me out again?” I already apologized to the old lady. We are already the best friends in the world,” you really doubted it after hearing how Mrs. Inoue had expressed herself about her. 

“I just want you to know that even though we have more privileges than the servants, we still work for the king so we must obey his rules,” you explained gently as you sat down next to her. 

“Nah, we are not equal,” Yorozu said proudly. 

“We are humans, just like all the servants,” you shook your head. 

“No, you are equal to all humans. I, on the other hand, am superior to all humans,” your sister answered stubbornly. 

“But the king will only use you like all of us.” You told her in frustration. “Don't you see? If it weren't for your powers, you would have died by now.” Clearly, you were worried about her. 

“You don't know that,” Yorozu pouted at you. 

“I've seen the king kill people just for looking them in the eye without their permission. He's a bloody tyrant.” You grabbed her by the shoulders in an attempt to talk some sense into her.

“Do you hate him that much?” Yorozu asked you, in an attempt to change the conversation. 

“It's complicated,” you answered with a sigh. 

“Then why don't you give me your job?”

“What?” You asked dumbfounded. 

“Just think about it. You don't want to marry him. He seems interested in me for his personal use. I have everything it takes to be a queen. It's a win-win,” your sister explained as if it was the best plan in the world.

“I don't think you realize you're missing out on all this. King Sukuna may be acting gentle, but he's a cold-blooded killer. One wrong step and you're dead. Do you really want to die like that?” You were trying to talk sense into her at all costs, but she just wouldn't try. 

“If it's at the hands of the king, yes,” she replied. 

“You're crazy,” you whispered in disbelief at how foolish she was before you let her go. Where had it all gone wrong? “Just answer me something. Would you kill for him?” You asked her, begging her with your eyes to say “no”. 

“All the men he asks me to,” you recoiled in defeat, but a new feeling of justice grew in you. 

After hearing what Mrs. Inoue had to say and from what your sister herself was making clear to you, you now had a wish you wanted to fulfill. No matter what. Yorozu wouldn't be Sukuna's queen. If the king was already a horrible tyrant, then her as his queen would only make things worse. If you were the queen, some would die. If your younger sister was the queen, thousands would die. You were sure of that. You couldn't let her become a tyrant.

“Wow, you really love him, don't you?” You asked with a smile.

“That's right! The king is so strong, big, rich, and handsome. I love him and I want him to be mine, but I need your help,” Yorozu asked you with a pout.

“Tell me and I'll do it,” you replied.

“Tell him about me. Tell him that I'm a better candidate for queen than you and that I'll be the happiest girl in the world if he looks in my direction. If you do, I promise I'll give you the best life in the world.” You already knew that speech by heart. It was the same silly speech she told your mother to buy her a new dress with the few savings she had. Only you weren't stupid enough to fall for her empty promises.

"How about I tell her now?" You proposed excitedly.

"Really? Would you do that for me?" Yorozu replied.

"Of course. I owe you for hitting you," you told her remorsefully. "Just stay here. I'll take care of everything." You forced her to sit on your bed.

"You're the best!" Yorozu exclaimed as she clapped her hands proud of you.

"It didn't take long!" You said with a smile before closing the door.

The fake smile disappeared as you walked through the dark hallways with determination towards your king's room. You walked stealthily to avoid attracting the attention of Uraume or any of the curses that guarded the halls in case of a surprise invasion. Now you had a clear objective. Prevent Yorozu from becoming a queen at all costs.

The count opened the door with his heart in his hand. She must be the only person he expected to see under the beauty of midnight. It was her, his beautiful beloved wrapped in pink lace. His lips pounced on her with the force of a desperate hurricane. They couldn't waste a second of this spontaneous encounter away from everyone. He unwrapped her like a birthday present and laid her down on the bed. He was going to make love to her as if this were the last night he would be alive.

"So love is made?" Sukuna wondered as he read Letters of Passion. One of the novels that Kenjaku had asked him to read so he could learn about sex. He read in the comfort of the armchair that faced directly in front of the lit fireplace. The small crackles of the fire against the wood were the only things that accompanied him on this cold night, along with the hundreds of golden artifacts that shone from the warmth of the flames excited by the fuel. Now he understood why Kenjaku had told him to let him know his doubts in the morning. He wasn't understanding anything he was reading. Sukuna has always been a direct and initiative-taking being, he just wanted to leave his seed and that's it. Why waste time on kisses, caresses and hugs? Kenjaku had told him that he should do it for you, but he doubted that you would want him to do something like that. Surely you also wanted him to finish quickly. You weren't the enamored count and his beloved, you were just a monster and a slave. He licked his finger to turn the page, but a familiar voice distracted him.

“My king, are you awake?” You asked from the other side of the door.

Sukuna opened the door, finding you in pink pajamas. He was going to ask you what you were doing in his chambers after the clear curfew hour, but he ended up hyper-focusing on the lace that delicately decorated your chest. “Like in the book,” he thought in surprise. “Choosing some novels that illustrate what he should do with the young lady,” Kenjaku quoted in his mind. Was this how it all started?

“I’m sorry to bother you late at night, but…” Your words were interrupted by your king’s lips against yours.

In a kind of surprise attack, Sukuna bent down to your level to kiss you softly on the lips. If this was how he was supposed to do it, he might as well take advantage of it. Even though he was on the right track, he was missing one detail: that you wanted to kiss him too. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt the gentle attack against your person. Your first reaction was to step back, but Sukuna quickly grabbed your waist to stop you from escaping. His four eyes stared back at you before deepening the kiss. You had no choice but to play along with your tongue as your mind searched for answers. “What does he think he’s doing?!” you thought in panic as his kisses moved in accordance with the rhythm he had set. “Did the king steal my first kiss?!”

Kissing the king felt like you were committing the worst of crimes, but you slowly got used to it like an acquired taste. He was fierce but kind, like the calm in the middle of the terrible storm. After a few seconds of special tasting, you realized something. “Wait, this is perfect for Yorozu not becoming queen!” you thought before closing your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the passionate act. Your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him just as close, melting into the warmth of the approach in an attempt to coax him in your own way.

It was strange. Too strange. Why were you closing your eyes? Why were you hugging him? Were you really enjoying it? Is this how it should be? Sukuna had no idea what he was doing, but he was enjoying it. He knew you would reciprocate, but surely it was because you would do anything for him. Your lips were juicy and sweet, it must have been because of all the desserts you had consumed during the day. If he concentrated he could guess the taste of the macaron you had eaten after dinner.

As the novel dictated, he carried you by the thighs with ease to get you into the room without breaking the kiss that slowly became wilder. He laid you down on the bed gently to take possession of your body. You knew so well that he didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. You were so gentle with him even though he deserved to be punished for his multiple genocides. With his lower hands, he took your pajamas and lifted them up to show your naked body. "Are we really going to do this?" you thought worriedly as you closed your legs feeling the wetness in your crotch.

Sukuna threw the pajamas on the armchair where he was sitting and broke the kiss to admire you beneath him. Your leg over the other, your hands covering your breasts shyly and your cheeks flushed, was something he hadn't seen since the last time you showered together. You were very nervous, more than other times. Your lips were parted and shone against the firelight from the saliva you had exchanged. You looked beautiful, but there was a small problem.

“Is something wrong, my king?” You asked him worried when you saw that he just looked at you without doing anything else.

“I don't know what to do now,” he admitted.

“Excuse me?”

Sukuna stood up to take the book he was reading and throw it at you. You sat on the bed confused to try to figure out what was going on. You looked at the king and then at the suggestive title of the novel he had given you. You opened the book to the passage he was reading and immediately blushed. “I just acted out what was happening in the book” you concluded before slamming the book shut.

“Kenjaku told me to do it,” Sukuna explained. “Kenjaku?!” you thought astonished. “Love is made?” He asked you directly as if they were casually chatting and you weren't completely naked. Sukuna really was a strange curse.

With that question you could deduce what was going on. Sukuna wants an heir, but he doesn’t know how to get one. So, he sent Kenjaku to investigate and gave him an erotic novel so he could understand. “Why didn’t they ask me before?” you thought as you covered your uncomfortable nakedness with your arms.

“Something like that…” you answered. “Love must already exist for it to happen. Making love is a mere literary expression that refers to sex.”

“Damn! Everyone keeps repeating that word, but I don’t know what that is!” Sukuna complained.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ignorance. You had always seen Sukuna as a powerful curse that knows everything. Seeing him so frustrated at not being able to understand a subject so simple for you made you laugh a little. “Wait, does this mean that the king is a virgin too?”

“You know what it means, don’t you?” He asked you directly. You nodded shyly.

You knew what sex was thanks to the education your mother gave you, but you knew how to do it thanks to the friends Yorozu made at the balls. They always talk about the gorgeous knights and what they wanted to do to them in such detail that sometimes they surprised you at how graphic and vulgar they could be.

“You owe me a favor for saving your sister at the harvest,” Sukuna reminded you. You had already forgotten that detail. “Teach me what sex is.”

“That means you want to make your heir… Now?” You asked him confused.

“What?!” The king was really lost. He had many questions and almost no answers.

Not expecting that reaction, you burst out laughing. You were laughing. You were laughing with him. It had never occurred to him that he could hear you having fun so close. It was as if you weren't afraid of his reaction for making fun of him. You were treating him like he was just another human. He blushed when he realized that he was surely acting like a lunatic in front of you.

“Let me explain,” you took his hand to sit him on the bed next to you. He obeyed your guidance. “Just pay attention”

You explained to him how sexual relations worked, the difference between the types of sex and how vaginal penetration is the only way to achieve conception. Sukuna listened intently as you explained everything to him as if he were an innocent 12-year-old boy. Then, you explained how pregnancy works. That was the easiest part to explain, since you had seen your mother get pregnant twice. The king nodded at everything you said as a sign that he was paying attention to you.

“Wow, it’s more complicated than I thought,” Sukuna said when you finished your master class.

“You just have to worry about the conception part, I’ll take care of the rest, my king,” you explained.

“No, I have to make sure you and the baby are okay,” he said before rubbing your bare stomach as if there was already a baby there. “Let me worry about it.”

Your cheeks turned red at those words. You really thought the king would leave you alone once conception had taken place like many families did. After all, Sukuna was a very busy king so it wouldn’t surprise you, but you had misjudged him.

“Thank you, my king,” you told him before kissing his cheek softly.

You smiled genuinely at him and he tried to return the gesture, but he only showed his teeth like a dog trying to smile. You laughed at how silly he looked and shook your head to stop him from doing it. You and Sukuna sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a while while you watched the small bonfire. The heat was so much that it didn't bother you to be naked, but it was better to look for your clothes before you caught a cold. You got out of bed to look for the nightgown that the king had taken from you.

"And by the way, what are you doing here at this hour?" Sukuna asked you to remember the time it was. "Ah, that's right, I came to tell him something."

"I wanted to ask him to stop training Yorozu for a while," you asked the king, starting the operation: "Yorozu can't be queen."

"Excuse me?"

"I understand that she is a sorceress that can be used for future battles and protection, but her attitude has worsened since she arrived at the castle and it makes everyone uncomfortable," you explained. “It bothers everyone in the service, even Uraume.”

“I know that,” he answered. “Uraume had never given me a service report as bad as your sister's”

He remembers the day Uraume left the report on his desk like every two weeks. Even though her face was monotonous as always, he knew from her attitude that she had left him a bomb in the form of words. She had dedicated herself to writing three pages explaining what a terrible servant Yorozu was and why she should kill her soon. She had a headache just from resisting the urge to kill her for your sake.

“Even though we are both adults, I am still her older sister, so it is my duty to discipline her.”

“And what does this have to do with training?” Sukuna asked.

“She sees training with you as a reward, it is fun because she can tempt you to her liking and that must stop. She must learn how to behave around you. What good is a powerful weapon if it's going to act under its own regime?” You knew that wasn't the reason you didn't want me to stop training with him, but if you wanted the king to be on your side, you had to give him his side. “Plus, it'll give me the chance to practice how to deal with a rebellious child once I become a mother.” You also had to infantilize Yorozu as much as possible so that the king wouldn't see her as a possible candidate for queen.

“Okay. I'll stop training her until I see that her attitude has changed.” Sukuna accepted your notion. Maybe too quickly, since you thought he would fight a little harder because he wanted to make his new weapon more powerful as soon as possible, but it had worked. “Check” you thought, avoiding a smile to prevent the king from seeing your true intentions.

“Thank you, my king,” you thanked him with a bow. “That would be all. I'm leaving to let you rest.” You turned around to go back the way you came, but Sukuna grabbed your arm. You looked at him confused as he stopped you.

“It’s curfew. If Uraume or some curse sees you in the hallways, they have the right to eat you alive.” You gasped, you didn’t know that was the reason for the curfew. “You’ll stay with me tonight,” he ordered.

Sukuna pulled you by the arm to get you into bed. He carefully tucked you in next to him so you were as warm as possible. You had known each other for so long that you felt comfortable with the idea of ​​sleeping next to him. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you watched him settle into the large pillows. His skin glowed orange from the fireplace, while he combed his pink hair back, causing his muscles to flex in front of you. “I can’t believe this king was my first kiss” you thought before turning around so he wouldn’t notice your blush.

It had been a while since you slept with him, but this time was different. Before, you were just a servant who only obeyed his orders to the letter and trembled just by looking at him. Sukuna had only slept with you because he saw you as a sleepy pet, but now you felt like he really wanted to sleep with his future wife. You felt Sukuna’s arms snake over your body like that time to catch you by the waist and shoulders. He pressed you against his body while you felt his heavy breathing in your ear. If only he knew that this was the only thing he had to do to give you pleasure.

“My king,” you called him in a whisper.

“What?” he asked you as he closed his eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked him curiously.

“Like what feelings?” he asked back.

You smiled and closed your eyes to drift off to sleep. You didn't know why you had asked now, but it confirmed that he had no feelings for you. He only saw you as the future mother of his heir and that was it, but for some reason that made you happy. You hugged back his arms that held you while you caressed his hands.

“Forget it, my king. Rest well,” you said before resting your head on his bicep.

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[sugarsprinklesoul]

GLOW TIPS FOR SKIN

Skincare Routine: Establish a consistent skincare routine with cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen to keep your skin clean and protected.

Hydration: Drink plenty of water to keep your skin hydrated from the inside out, promoting a healthy and radiant complexion.

Balanced Diet: Include fruits, vegetables, and foods rich in vitamins and antioxidants for overall skin health.

Sun Protection: Use sunscreen with at least SPF 30 to shield your skin from harmful UV rays and prevent premature aging.

Adequate Sleep: Ensure you get enough sleep as it plays a crucial role in skin regeneration and overall well-being.

Exercise Regularly: Physical activity improves blood circulation, promoting a healthy glow and helping to flush out toxins.

Avoid Stress: Chronic stress can affect your skin. Practice stress-management techniques like meditation or yoga.

Gentle Exfoliation: Exfoliate regularly to remove dead skin cells, unclog pores, and promote cell turnover for a brighter complexion.

Moisturize: Keep your skin moisturized to maintain elasticity and prevent dryness, especially in dry or cold environments.

Limit Makeup: Allow your skin to breathe by minimizing the use of heavy makeup and opting for non-comedogenic products.

[ixtaek]

They were all incredibly kind.

Zelda watched them as they helped the former residents of Skyloft—moving supplies, crafting tools, teaching the patrols how to defend themselves from the dangers of the surface.

The Hero of Hyrule demonstrated how to tell if water was safe to drink. “You want water that’s moving, and ideally deep.” He grinned as he ladled out of a bucket. “It’s best to boil the water and let it cool. That will get rid of any toxins and germs that might be lingering in it.” He tried to take a sip but the water poured out faster than he expected, pouring down his front as Kukiel giggled at him.

A vision flashed through Zelda’s mind, overlaying the scene. The Hero of Hyrule gripping a sword, blood dripping down his tunic as he struggled away from a monster clawing for his face. The beast cackled as the Hero tried to swipe at them while his shield arm hung limp, shield dragging—

She blinked, Hyrule’s laughter as he dumped a spoonful of water on Kukiel as well breaking through the vision. The girl squealed and shook her head to send droplets flying.

The Hero of Twilight and Time lifted a log into place, letting the builders work to secure it in the new cabin wall. The two seemed to have a bet going about who could hold it up longer. Their arms both shook from the effort of—

A boy, barely reaching her knee, breathing heavily as he shoved his shield forward to block a blow by an undead monster. The boy lowered his defense to fumble for his sword. The monster took the blow without flinching, long teeth slavering as it unhinged its jaw and screamed—

The scene dissolved into a long bridge. A snarling boar pawed at the other end, tusks stained with blood. The monster astride its back howled a battle cry, a small child held aloft on its spear. The hero to her left gasped in horror, his blue eyes locked on the child. He spurred his steed forward, sweat dripping down his face as—

“I yield, I yield!” Twilight yelped. The wall was already secured as the hero fell back, giggling. The Hero of the Wild accepted his ten rupee bribe from Time before continuing his tickle assault on his mentor.

A mere boy staggering as the lasers hit him in the chest, the side of his head gushing blood, arms still trying to hold up a shield to protect—

“Zel?”

She turned, almost falling against Link’s chest. Sky’s eyes were soft as they traced over her face. “Are you… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, ignoring the wetness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Link. Just a little out of sorts.”

The divine blood in her burned. Link smiled and pulled her closer, hugging gently.

Soft hands wielding a flaming sword, lighting crackling through his body. Fighting a demon that should have been slain ages ago by the gods, by— by—

“… By me…”

“What?” Link held her at arms length so he could look at her face. “Zelda, what are you talking about?”

“All of you… none of you should have had to go through what you did!” Zelda could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Hylia shouldn’t have put you through all of that. She—I—used all of you! It’s all my fault for not defeating Demise sooner, before you ever had to step in and clean up my mess!”

She pushed away. Many people were staring now, villagers and heroes alike.

Falling from the cliffs as a giant bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky, the screams of his sister like—

—hounds baying in the distance, knights brandishing swords as his short legs fled—

—waves of foes overwhelming their defenses, his brothers in arms falling around him, the weapons clattering as they fell from their limp hands—

—the blade his grandfather made going flying as the blow meant for Zelda hit him head on, the wind ripping at his tunic as he heard the curse strike his friend—

She couldn’t stand it. Her feet were moving before she knew where she was going.

“Zelda! Wait!”

She kept going, the visions buffering her every which way. A mask clamping—his body fracturing—a traitor’s blade in—the island fading into—the malice clinging to his—tentacles lurching forward—his own face rendered in dark—reaching for her as a tornado sucked her away—

Zelda blinked, looking up. The impassive face of the goddess stared down, without a trace of pity. Hylia. The divine protector of her people. The holy maiden. Her.

The one who had failed, who had sent them all to—

—dark magic suffocating his split mind—sparking a flame so they wouldn’t claim his blood—the magic of the woods stripping his flesh—the dark water—the endless fighting—the intrigue—the—

“Why?!” She screamed. “Why would you do it to them? Why make them suffer?! They are just boys, and you—I—we break them down and don’t even care that we do! They must hate us for—“

“Why should we hate you?”

The voice made her wince, spinning around, covering her mouth. The heroes, all of them, stood a careful distance away, Link at the head of the group. It wasn’t him who had spoken.

The Hero of Legend ambled forward, looking up at the statue. His sharp eyes scanned the goddess, and he sighed.

“I was 11 when my uncle was killed. He held my hand as he died.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “He wasn’t killed by Hylia, or the golden three. He was killed by a wizard called Agahnim.”

“When I was 12, my best friend got turned into stone.” Four shuffled his feet. “It wasn’t Hylia who did it. It was a sorcerer named Vaati.”

“When I was 10, I was trapped in a time loop trying to stop the apocalypse.” Time ignored the whispers by the others at this admission. “It wasn’t Hylia or the goddess of time who started that disaster. It was a demon named Majora.”

“And my sister got taken by the Helmaroc King!”

“My village children were taken by Zant.”

Legend looked at her sidelong. “And guess who was behind most of those threats?”

“Ganon.” whispered Hyrule, running a finger over his gauntlets. “It’s almost always Ganon.”

“But—“ Zelda scrubbed at her face. “But it’s my fault! Why didn’t I stop Demise before he could do that to you? What sort of goddess sends children to fight her battles?”

Time snorted, moving closer to her, careful not to invade her space till she nodded weakly. “Zelda, do you think we wouldn’t have done those things?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ya think I wouldn’t have gone after my sister? No one had to make me!” Wind grinned. “In fact, nothing would have stopped me!”

The others nodded.

“But I saw it, the terrible things you went through! Hylia watched, and you suffered!” She gestured at them all. “What you’re still suffering! This quest—“

“Sounds to me like we have a goddess literally lookin’ out for us, even now.” Twilight crossed his arms, smirking. “Probably wouldn’t have ended as good as it has without you protecting us.”

“As good as it—“

Smiling and blushing as the newly awakened princess kissed him on the cheek—gripping the rails as the new land swung into view over the horizon—watching the reflected world bloom back into life as Lorule’s Triforce was restored—hugging the children as they rode back into the village—fields of blue flowers blooming underfoot as he rode along and watched the reconstruction—the proud smile of his father as he worked with the squadron instead of going rogue—joining Zelda and Lana as they stood before the cheering troops, Hyrule free once more—Malon looking radiant as she walked down the aisle—clutching their daughter, the first Princess of the newly founded Hyrule—

Link took her hands gently. “If Hylia didn’t care, why would she—or you—have watched out for us the whole time? If you didn’t care, why would you be so upset by what we’re going through, if our own free will?” Zelda sniffled, letting him hold her. “We don’t blame you. It’s Demise’s fault, or Ganon’s. Not Hylia’s. And not yours.”

She squeezed him, looking up at the statue. Her smile was gentle, her wings spread overhead, sheltering them all. She swore she always would watch over them.

Till the very end.

[vulnonapixes-dc-corner]

Remember when I told you all about the "Damian & Tim bonding fic, where Damian gets turned into a cat?"?

Well, I do.

I have two wips! One for a fic and the other is a small art sketch

"It's OK! You are OK! With me, you are safe!"

Tim hummed, as he gently rubbed the little fluff ball dry, making sure to clean its eyes and ears out in the process.

He had found it in a trashcan on patrol, all alone, shivering and seemingly abandoned.

The teen couldn't get himself to leave it there.

After all, he wasn't that cruel, and Damian would probably break his back again if he found out that he let an innocent animal die.

It meowed weakly, as he used two of his fingers to gently massage its stomach. He couldn't feel any swellings and injuries, so it should be fine. Hopefully.

"Hey, it's alright! We'll get some food into you and then you'll feel better."

The kitten looked too young to stomach solid food, so milk was it.

He knew that cowmilk was bad for cats, but almond milk should be fine, at least till he could get some special cat milk and wet food to ween the little one out.

After making sure that it was warm and comfortable on his couch, he made his way to his kitchen.

The search for some almond milk and a saucer to fill it in took him some minutes and when he returned to his living room, the cat was gone.

Gone was probably a harsh word, considering that he could hear some really pissed off growls from beneath his bookshelf.

It was quite impressive, considering that the animal making those sounds was barley bigger than his hand.

"Poor little baby, this situation must be quite scary for you."

He pushed the makeshift bowl next to the furniture, avoiding the sweep of tiny claws, before he all but collapsed on his couch.

Then he quietly cursed himself.

In the trouble of making sure that the kitty was alright, he had utterly forgotten about his own needs.

"I am such an idiot."

The vigilante forced himself back on his feet, as he glared at the couch.

Who knows what kind of toxins and germs he had gotten onto it now.

"You know, this totally ruins my whole week. I usually deepclean my furniture every Monday. But with all the blood and shit on my suit this can't wait."

He smiled gently towards the kittens direction, who had stopped growing when he started speaking.

"I will take a short shower, before cleaning the couch and taking my meds. Please try to drink a bit of the milk, alright?"

The teen was aware that the cat couldn't understand or answer him, but he wanted it to get comfortable with his voice

Soaking his suit in disinfectant, showering, checking his body for small injuries, going through his skincare routine, throwing his suit into the washing machine, getting a clean suit ready for the next patrol and starting up his textile-deep-cleaning routine took him nearly an hour.

It left him utterly exhausted and wanting to sleep.

But he still had to finish the cleaning, drink that disgusting, nutrien rich smoothie, take his meds and work on that case Duke asked him about.

His eyes wandered to the kittens hiding place and a smile appeared on his lips as he looked at the empty saucer.

"Good work! Eat a lot and grow stronger. "

The tiny head of the kitten popped out and Tim had to stifle his laughter at the animals unimpressed expression.

"Oh, Damian will absolutely adore you."

It meowed as Tim concentrated back on cleaning the couch.

"He is my little brother and he adores animals. I am planning to give you to him when the weekend comes around."

This was the safest course of actions for him and the one thing will guarantee a happy life for it.

The kittens eyes were watching him clean the couch, as he explained every step to it.

" Now we are just going to let the disinfectant soak in and let it dry. I'll take my medicine and then we'll try to get some more food into you! "

It actually came out of its hiding place when he brought out his yellow pill bottle.

Somehow, it looked as if he had offended it, as it meowed loudly at him to get his attention.

"This is just the medicine that I spoke about. I am sick, you know. A year ago, I lost my spleen due to an injury. I had a flare up a few days ago, since Steph decided to drop in unannounced. Its fine now though."

Steph had been hurt and he was the closest, so he was glad that she came to him instead of bleeding out somewhere.

But the fever he got afterwards was not so nice.

The kitty meowed, as it clawed at his leg, what was suprisingly painful.

"Whats the matter?! This hurts, you know?"

Tim picked the small animal up, as it growled angrily at him.

"You know. You kinda remind me of my little brother right now."

It had the same green eyes as him.

"You are even behaving like him right now!"

He smiled as it spitted in his direction, Biting and clawing at his hand.

Getting the hint, he gently placed it back onto the ground, where it quickly went back to his hiding place.

Tim couldn't help himself as he sighted, as he saw the blood running down his hand.

He needed to disinfect and bandage ut up as quickly as possible now.

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

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

"Jason, calm down-, i cant understand what you are saying if you scream like this!"

Damian glared at the teen from bellow his hiding spot, as he placed back and forth in his living room, his elder brothers voice screaming through the speaker of the phone.

It was pathetic.

No Vigilante, especially one that studied under his father, should allow someone to yell at them.

[via-the-cryptid]

so we rejoin the story to find the Riddler having a crisis over the fact that Ellie somehow Does Not Know Who Batman Is. Ace is trying to explain it to her, except the Riddler can’t see Ace and is therefore considering the fact that the weird little girl he picked up might have a legitimate mental disorder that’s causing her to hallucinate. however his prevailing theory is that the toxin from the bullet (because of course it’s toxin, why else would it be green?) is messing with her head, so maybe she’ll make more sense once that’s dealt with.

except then he tries to say something about cleaning the wound and trying to get all the green out so she doesn’t get poisoned any further, and she fuckin goes.

“Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“What?”

yeah, so fun fact for you, Eddie: Ellie’s insides are just green sometimes. and she’s not explaining why. there’s a reason, yes, allegedly a very good and normal reason according to her, but she’s not going to tell you what it is.

Lovely.

“Well, will you at least let me clean it?” He asks, not entirely believing that her blood is Supposed To Be A Little Bit Mostly Green. “Infections are a serious business, you know, they’ll eat away at your flesh if you don’t know what to—”

And Ellie just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. As long as I come out of this with as much flesh as I went in with.”

And what the fuck does she mean by that. Is that an issue for her? Tissue theft? Do people regularly attempt to make off with her flesh? Every word out of this child’s mouth makes him more and more baffled and concerned.

Ellie, of course, is well aware of the fact that sometimes she would go into Vlad’s lab and then leave with less mass than she had before, so it’s quite a valid concern for her. Ellie also does not entirely know what a hospital or infirmary is, and therefore is under the impression that all people-fixing happens in a lab, since that’s how it went with both Vlad and Danny. Ace’s account of experimentation only supports that, although Ace is at least somewhat aware of what a hospital is.

so Eddie takes his newly acquired headache back to his base, grabs the first aid kit, and comes back into the room he left her in to find that yes, her blood is both green and red, and yes, it’s now on his floor. and so is the bullet.

“Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, Jesus Christ,” he mutters, punching the bridge of his nose. Ellie is unsympathetic.

“You were taking too long and I wanted the bullet out.”

Above her, Ace is sighing, though Eddie can’t hear it. “I told you to be careful. You could have waited for tweezers. I know he was bringing them.”

“Yeah, well, my fingers worked, didn’t they? I don’t need his tweezers.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ceiling ghost.”

“…What?”

“I said what I said. She’s unimpressed by you, by the way.”

“I— what? Why is a ceiling ghost judging me? And for that matter, whose ghost is in my ceiling?!”

“That’s irrelevant! You should work on being someone the ceiling ghost can be proud of, dammit!”

(Eddie is very close to throwing something, but Ace is laughing for the first time since Ellie’s met her, so. Ellie can’t really bring herself to regret antagonizing the question man.)

[arjudy224]

Alfred’s extra help

Batfamily x new maid part 1

The past couple years haven't been kind to Alfred. Although, he would never admit it... His years have slowly been catching up with him. After a recent attack on the household, Alfred took it upon himself to hire some extra part time help during the school year. The new help just so happened to be a college band kid in desperate need of money. This is how it went.

Jason:

It was the little things, Jason had decided, that made the family enjoy the extra addition to the household. The faint singing that could be heard three doors down as she made her usual morning rounds. Dusting. Bleaching . Sweeping. It didn't matter what she was doing: music always played in her head. If you were lucky, sometimes you'd get to hear it too.

Alfred:

Monday Mornings were Alfred's favorite. After a long weekend of dealing with super-powered vigilantism, Alfred looked forward to the way she would clock into Wayne Manor with shy grin. It didn't take much prompting to get a play by play of how the Gotham U football game went. The Batfamily had never considered her being targeted by Batman's Rogue Gallery until Halftime was interrupted by the Joker emerging from a comically large birthday cake. When reinforcements arrived, they were shocked to discover the entire Color Guard beating the Joker senseless with their wooden rifles. To any outsider, this would have appeared to be part of the choreography with the way each guard member chanted "5,6,7,8 SLAM DOWN."

Y/N couldn't figure out why Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin had all come to check on her until Monday morning when the door opened to reveal a hallway full of smiling Wayne's. Even Damian couldn't help, but give her a hug... after an intense lecture on how dangerous the Clown Prince of Crime was.

Even more confusing was the way Damien's older brother, Jason, would always end up forgetting something at the manor when she worked. After chatting for a couple hours, she would say her goodbyes and silently acknowledge the fact he left empty handed... again.

Damien:

Damien admired the dedication on display. In the early morning mist when she thought nobody was awake, the wooden rifle would make an appearance. With the kitchen wiped down and the oven on self cleaning, all there was to do was wait. Damien admired her resilience when practicing rifle. Each brutal slap of the wood and metal on skin had to be painful, but she never complained when the bruises littered up and down her forearms. She was radiant. In her element, it was easy to get distracted by the crisp rotations on display. One day, he hoped she would feel comfortable enough to show him a few tricks... until then he enjoyed his early morning performances.

Dick:

Dick had warned her against working for Bruce from the beginning. The Bats mood swings could drain even the sweetest of souls. The relentless pursuit of a better Gotham has always been tainted by the blood of those lost. Bruce Wayne was not always known as the nicest guy to work for. Yet, after years of witnessing the tragedies of Gotham... Dick couldn't help, but notice the way her eyes shone with excitement whenever they would visit a new part of the city. The alley Scarecrow tested his fear toxin for the first time now is littered with book shops, ice cream parlors, diners, etc. In each street that’s rooted with trauma, a new sprout of hope grows out of the shadows. The quiet formality that he had grown accustomed to growing up in the Manor faded away. It was a nice change.

Tim:

Tim didn't even notice there was a change in the household until he stumbled into her conversation with Jason for the 3rd time that week. Typically, her shift would have been over at 3pm, but since her classes had been canceled that day she had worked overtime. With Jason's sudden reappearance after months of no contact, Tim took note of the way his older brother's voice deepened ever so slightly whenever she was in the room. Or how during Saturday night patrol they always managed to spot Red Hood "doing business" on a building close enough to the stadium to watch halftime. If anybody questioned it, Jason would have fiercely denied any interest claiming that he was merely "watching out for the Joker".

Tim mostly minded his business whenever she was working. His night life tended to consume most of his waking time, so if he got sleep (big if) he tended to wake up hours after she left. Mostly he appreciated the cute little animals she would make out of the groceries that week. One day, he opened the fridge to a cheese ball that looked like a turkey. Two olives made the eyes and each of the turkeys feathers were made out of crackers. His favorite had to be when she made a Robin out of Bell peppers and Grapes. Tim had left his sketchbook out the night before flipped to that exact drawing. After she had cleaned the kitchen, she left the treat along with a note explaining how beautiful she thought the drawing was.

[artiststarme]

Let’s Get Medical!

Ok so I saw a few comments about Steve’s injuries on one of my last fics so let’s speculate! @goodolefashionedloverboi and @absurdityaddiction, thank you for your comments! They really got me thinking lol.

~*~*~*~

Steve had some pretty deep wounds to the left and right lumbar regions of the abdomen that were left untreated for at least several days. There are a lot of important organs in this vicinity including the large intestine, small intestine, liver, and stomach, as well as many blood vessels that supply blood to the rest of the body.

Steve should have cleaned the bites immediately to avoid infection or horrific scarring. Usually, wound care would be performed shortly after the injury in which sterilized water, hydrogen peroxide, and betadine would be used to prevent infection. Understandably, he had other things to worry about at the time such as getting out of the alternate dimension that was trying to kill him and his friends. All Steve did was have Nancy apply an improvised bandage from her shirt that was already soaked in lake water and tainted by the Upside Down toxins. It would’ve helped to slow the bleeding by applying necessary pressure but it wouldn’t have helped with infection or scarring. 

When he got back to the Rightside Up, he should’ve cleaned them with sterilized water, saline, or hydrogen peroxide but he didn’t. Instead, he went to sleep or something. We know because he was still wearing Nancy’s improvised cloth bandage the next day when they were making plans to go to the War Zone.

He might’ve been able to change his bandages and apply some remedial first aid after the War Zone once he changed his clothes but by then, the infection would’ve had time to set in. 

Bats are known to carry a multitude of harmful bacteria and dangerous viruses. Because demobats look so much nastier than the disease-infested cute bats in real life, I have to assume they would have some demented version of some virus (like Rabies) or bacteria (like leptospirosis). 

Steve would’ve started experiencing fever, chills, lethargy, and muscle aches within hours of the initial bites but he still went into the Upside Down to kill Vecna. All of the strenuous physical activity likely tore the wounds open over and over again which would cause horrible scarring as well as some chronic pain and inflammation in those areas.

When he got out of the Upside Down, he would’ve gone directly to the hospital for Max, Dustin, and Eddie (we don’t talk about other alternatives). After several days of untreated wounds, blood loss and infection, Steve would be having a truly horrible time. 

When his adrenaline crashed, he would’ve collapsed in the hospital with wounds the rest of the Party didn’t think were too serious. They wouldn’t know what to think when the doctors said he could die. 

The doctors would have to debride the wounds of dead skin since it wasn’t healing on its own. They would administer strong IV antibiotics and flush his system with saline to try and override the sepsis. Steve would most likely have to have several surgeries to harvest skin tissue from his back and thighs to try and replace the “pound of flesh” that the demobats tore off of him. 

He would be fine eventually but he would always have the extensive scarring, both mental and physical, to remember the Upside Down by. 

Luckily for him, Eddie definitely would think that the scars looked badass.

[witchofthesouls]

Hey! I saw an earlier post you had about the boys in the grocery store and it got me wondering about how they would react to hunting. I’m a hunter, have been all my life. I hunt deer, boars, ducks, coyotes, turkeys, quails, pheasants, wild Burmese pythons, and I fish locally too (strictly a vermin exterminator and food hunter, I find sports hunting to be distasteful and I strictly use a bow and arrow, no traps or guns as I take issues with those too). I can picture the absolute horror of the TFP or Lost Light bots seeing their/a human skinning and processing an animal that they just hunted for food, they see the modern convinces that are grocery stores so it’s easy to forget where human food actually comes from 😂

Weirdly enough, IDW/MTMTE does have Cybertronian edibles like cesium salami and rust sticks.

But then again, there's a big percentage of the crew members who were produced by the war, so there's a great chance that they didn't get a crash course on things that were deemed "unnecessary," like Cybertronian cuisine and fauna to forage and hunt.

TFP Cybertronians, on the other hand, have Questions.

Get ready to pull up diagrams, manuals, videos, and live demonstrations via YouTube or your own hands because they got the curiosity of two-year-old with the capacity to keep you in their palm for no escape.

Ratchet absolutely hates it. It's too messy and squishy and completely unalike the organized and relatively clean method of converting crystals to fuel. Horrified over the mysteries of hotdogs and how everything can and will kill humans without specific preparations to negate the toxins. Ratchet is boggled over spice challenges and how the hell humanity hadn't died in its infancy over culinary explorations. Someone told him to look up Hákarl.

He takes great displeasure when the kids sass him over Cybertronians eating their own blood. Different. Absolutely different. He clucks over the base kitchen and is not above making things disappear. He argues with June and Agent Fowler over the groceries and fast food bags. Ratchet's crunchy.

Bulkhead actually enjoys fishing. He's more catch and release rather than for keeping and gutting. He likes soaking up the heat of the sun, the sound of running water, birdsong, and insects buzzing, the gear setup and picking out the right lure and bait. It's a different kind of downtime, but it's nice. All he's missing is engex, but he's able to throw a line farther out than anyone else and has the capability to detect motion far greater than an average human. He still wants an engex cube.

Arcee has mixed feelings. She enjoys hunting. Patience, tracking, stealth, and the sense of accomplishment with a clean catch. She likes less the process of handling carcasses, but really hates waste anything that could have been useful. Meat, leather, tools, jewelry, and raw ingredients that could be sold or traded. Arcee just doesn't like sharing something with Airachnid's methods.

Bumblebee's a scout. People expected him to like foraging or the wilds. He prefers domesticated stock. In particular, beekeeping. To him, it represents a more equivalent partnership: he provides accessible resources and safe quarters and the bees yield honey, comb, and wax in return. If the hive don't like him or the area, then they can leave elsewhere.

Optimus is deeply fascinated by how Earth's biodiversity is so immense and how ecosystems are so diverse and complex, yet so fragile. He quietly wishes for Alpha Trion's presence because Optimus is seeing familiar similarities of Cybertronian long gone biomes: wetlands, woodlands, and reefs. The Sea of Rust once was a massive ocean of mineral-laden Energon. It has long since disappeared by the consensus of heavy, unregulated industrialization, but if Earth has the water cycle, ocean currents and belts, and complex system of thermoregulation that replenishes itself, then Cybertron had to have something similar at one point, no?

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

What do you think each of the Gotham rogues smell like?

"Smells and Scents" Rogues Party

For the sake of my own fun, I'm going to put what they actually smell like vs. what a perfume based on them would smell like. Please note I am in 0 way an expert on what pairs well for scents, so some of these might actually be terrible LMAO.

TW: None

Riddler

Actually smells like: Motor oil/grease, whatever take out or food he managed to cook, and, if he's been working long hours, body odor.

Perfume: fresh apples, matcha and narcissus.

Penguin

Actually smells like: He wears a woodsy smelling aftershave. On good days, he smells like that and and freshly cleaned laundry. On particularly bad days, he will actually smell like fish he's eaten.

Perfume: Seawater, amber and cigars.

Mad Hatter

Actually smells like: various plants and herbs he uses to make his concoctions with a chemical undertone.

Perfume: Black tea and freshly made biscuits. Faint hint of hookah smoke.

Scarecrow

Actually smells like: Sterility- chemicals used for his practice and disinfectant. Another subtle vague scent difficult to pick up... it's fear toxin.

Perfume: Dried funeral flowers, moss, anise.

Music Meister

Actually smells like: Mothballs and antiques. Theater kid smell.

Perfume: Strawberry lemonade and cedar wood.

Victor Zsasz

Actually smells like: Sweat, dried blood and sometimes the rubbing alcohol that he threw on a fresh cut or wound.

Perfume: Leather and blood oranges.

Killer Croc

Actually smells like: Better than before. There was a time he'd straight up smell like sewer because it was easier to travel down there instead of risking people seeing him. These days he has a eucalyptus body wash he really likes.

Perfume: Mustard seed and tea tree oil.

Harley Quinn

Actually smells like: the smell of cosmetic face powder and whatever body spray she threw on that day. There's multiple and several are sweet/food smells like vanilla.

Perfume: Raspberries, lychee, and fresh custard cream.

Poison Ivy

Actually smells like: Her pheromones, a flower bouquet and fresh dirt.

Perfume: Ivy, lily of the valley and rosewood.

Two-Face

Actually smells like: gunpowder, steam pressed suits and a sage scented cologne.

Perfume: dark chocolate, tobacco and clementines.

Black Mask

Actually smells like: Some fancy, stupid expensive cologne that he'll dab on his neck when he's been working for 48 hours. Doesn't overdo it, so there's that at least.

Perfume: Dark roast coffee beans and bourbon.

Mr. Freeze

Actually smells like: Nothing. He doesn't even smell like sweat because all bacteria on his body is long dead. Sometimes you can smell the coolant if there is a small leak somewhere.

Perfume: pine, bergamot and fresh snow.

Ra's al-Ghul

Actually smells like: A plant that's long been extinct. He revitalizes the petals for personal use and they are washed in his clothing.

Perfume: Jasmine, parchment and dragon's blood resin.

Bane

Actually smells like: On a good day- it's dove soap bars and leather. On a bad day, he smells like gym mat.

Perfume: myrrh and sandlewood.

[finniestoncrane]

What’s this? I haven’t fallen into your inbox yet?

Time to change that.

Any scarecrows your pick, what’s their dirtiest fantasies

Dirtiest Fantasies

Scarecrow Headcanons my beloved for you anything u-u (and also i wanted to be yucky disgusting about the boys anyway lol) 🎃🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: humiliation and degradation, abuse of authority, teacher/pupil vibes, blood play, knife play, fear play, some cnc, somnophilia OH GOD SO MANY GOOD THINGS

golden age

he feels it's probably not a great thing for him to admit to

given his chosen career path...

but it's just a kink, so let him live omg

so what if he wants you to pretend to be one of his students

a struggling little soul who needs some extra tutoring

and maybe you tell him you'll do anything for him

anything to pass his class

"please professor crane, i want to make you proud"

"you're my favourite professor, i admire you so much"

"i actually... have a little bit of a crush on you haha"

"maybe we could come to an... arrangement?"

the feeling of control, of having you under his thumb

of you needing to please him

that's what's getting him off for sure, all the power play

he might even have you bend over his desk for some spanking

arkham

this jonathan would prefer to have you in a state of agreement

preferably coerced or (agreed to beforehand or not...)

he wants to feel in control, but also needed by you

so his fantasy involves you being lulled into a gentle sleep

and then subjected to his fear toxin, inducing a nightmare

while he watches from the corner of the room

palming his cock as you squirm and whimper in the bed

tears falling in complete terror before he lays down on top of you

you'd do anything to feel some comfort in that moment

even if it's coming in the form of nightmare vision crane

so you'll be likely to let him do what he wants

anything to bring you out of the horrible dream you're stuck in

having you beg him to save you, clinging to him

to look at your face contort in terror and pain

while he empties himself inside of you? perfect

btaa

more fear play, but with a very physical and very lucid twist

he needs you to be fully conscious and completely aware

the fear isn't coming from any drugs or toxin

no no no, he wants to create the fear in you

so you'll definitely be tied up, only a safeword in your arsenal

as he dangles a rather literal sword of damocles above you

vulnerable body exposed to the potential danger

the teasing, the threat, your pulse beating fast as he measures it

maybe it drops a little, maybe it punctures the skin just a tiny bit

and maybe, just to make sure everything is nice and clean

he licks it away, hiding the evidence, like a good criminal

maybe he'll get you to lick the blade clean yourself

because you'd do anything for him right?

mostly out of adoration and devotion... obviously

but also because you know what he's capable of

[chimerahyperfix]

YAAAAYYY MORE IN CRAFT AND CAGES CONTENT!!!! YIPPEE WOOHOO!!!! Ive been meaninf 2 do one of these 4 a while (shoutout 2 the handful of drafts for these lost in the vast expanse of my Drafts) Time for The Horrors smile.

(content warnings - self harm, suicide + idealation [both simply mentioned but. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on], short but relatively graphic depiction of death/injury - this one is heavy)

There are many ways for you to end a loop. You don’t like any of your options, but you have them. The House is tall enough to jump from. Messing up crafting the bomb works, but it takes longer than you'd like it too-- and Change forbid someone finds you. The tears are nice enough, better than anything else you have access to. The King; well, the less he kills you the better.

The EASIEST option you have is in your room.

Easiest. Not the kindest- just the easiest.

It’s not hard to see how many… extremely dangerous chemicals you have. They litter your desk you should have cleaned it you should have cleaned it you should have cleaned it.and fill your closet. Spilled over and swept up and hid in all the little nooks and crannies of your shared room. Mirabelle knows not to bother using them for anything - and thank Change, because you're not sure what you'd do if you hurt her because you were careless. Yeah, you two have your little squabbles; but in the end it's all fun and games to you. You don't want to hurt her.

You don't want to hurt anyone, actually. Barring the King, of course. That was never your intention. Every now and then, your mind wonders to all those cut-off loops, and you wonder if they continued without you. It's something you've started to manually block out.

They are the fastest the quietest the lonliest an avaliable option. And it sucks, because they hurt. They hurt so, so much. But it’s the fastest way out and you don’t have to make others watch.

The first few times; they were all accidents. Back when you couldn't make the craft bomb fast, back when it took you hours to craft -- it's hard work, making a bomb from scratch! -- you'd always eventually mess up trying to take a drink of your water.

The first time was the worst. You don't remember all of it, not really, not anymore -- blotted that one out as much as you possibly can. You do remember the pain. It was basically acid, so it absolutely tore your throat up.

Everything after the realization point is blurry. You remember screaming, maybe, and blood spilling everywhere. A hand smacking your back. Choking to death. Waking back up at the very same desk with the lingering feeling of gore mashed against your mouth.

Even now, you can still taste it. Like the blood and toxins have seeped into your very being, coating your teeth and your throat. If you bit something you'd probably poison it, too, like a snake, or a scorpions tail.

It's... not that bad, now. You can hold down the sounds that scream in your chest, and simply lay down and die in a puddle of lightless, and that's fine. You've gotten the whole ''look like your sleeping at your desk'' shtick down too. It still hurts, crab does it ever, but you must've burned through all the nerves in the area recently, bevause the pain just gets further and further away. Smaller. Quieter.

Eventually, there's a possibility someone will find you. It happened the first time around. It's not a thought you'd like to entertain, but every hypothesis has a line of reasoning behind it, and eventually the variable will pop up. You very well could be running on a tightrope of when the other side will drop, or a coin flip or something. Until that actually happens, you swear off thinking about it.

For now, you close the door behind you and make your way to your little glass bottle-ridden prison. You need to loop back.