#hoping for a Code Vein 2

[crystaltikal]

POV: Protagonist Borrowed Dracula from Louis

Had a funny idea of the Code Vein protagonist borrowing Dracula from Louis, and then trying to do vampire things, so I did my best to doodle it.

(And here I thought it would be easy if I just did the heads because hands are hard. 😅 Getting the faces right was hard too.)

Io finds the protagonist trying to turn into a bat.

The protagonist tries to hypnotize Yakumo.

[kingmlem]

CODE VEIN 2?!

CODE VEIN 2?!

code vein 2 and Silksong?

.....am I dead? Have I died?

[code-pain]

[]: I play for the story

[]: I play for the gameplay

CV: both sucks

[heatobrienswife]

.

[likeumeanit9497]

you jealous? pt. 2 | c.s. & m.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader x matt sturniolo

read pt. 1 here <3

summary: y/n hasn't quite figured out how to share, but sure as hell wants matt to learn.

warnings: NO THREESOME; smut; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); fingering; dirty talk; all 3 of these mfs are toxic af tbh; choking; SEVERE lack of girl code (booooooo); 18+

notes: omg i have wanted to write a pt. 2 for SO LONG but genuinely could not figure out a way to write it without making it a threesome (not yucking anyone's yum here i just physically recoil any time i've tried writing that stuff) (i do eat it up when other ppl write it tbh). anyways i finally sat down and forced myself to come up with a plot bc this has been hands down my most requested pt 2 of any of my work and my sole purpose on this earth is to please. sooo i hope u all enjoy reading this absolute freak show love u alllllll <333

oh yeah btw this is 7,322 words dkm

“Fuck Chris, keep going.” I whined, digging my nails into his bare shoulders and tightening my legs around his waist as he drove his cock into me relentlessly. His dimly lit room was hot and provocative, filled with the erotic sounds of our bodies slapping against each other. “Mmm baby, you f-feel so good.” Chris groaned, his curly brown hair feathering across my cheek as he buried his face in my shoulder; sinking his teeth into my delicate skin cruelly. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my temple as Chris’s rhythm began to grow sloppier. “You want my cum, pretty girl?” His crude words made my stomach tense as he breathed them against my skin. Wrapping my legs even tighter around his rolling hips, I nodded my head despairingly. “G-god, yes!” I cried out, running my hands through his damp hair.

I let out a sharp moan as Chris brought his thumb to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythmic circles. My body was set on fire, not far from my own orgasm as I felt his cock begin to swell inside of me. “I-I’m close.” I breathed, my jaw slack as I began to lose myself to the pleasure coursing through my veins. My senses began to fail me. Chris’s room suddenly became a black hole. I could no longer feel the soft mattress beneath me or hear the music playing from the tv. As I grew closer and closer to my orgasm, the only sensation that I was able to comprehend was the feeling of Chris’s heavy body pinning me down as his cock slid through my trembling walls. I released a sharp, desperate moan as I felt the rubber band in my stomach grow tense; so close to snapping. All I needed were just a few more sloppy thrusts from Chris, a few more circles against my bundle of nerves and I—

“Shut the fuck up sickos!” I gasped as Chris stilled above me, the sound of my best friend’s bellowing voice and a harsh knock on Chris’s bedroom door pulling us out of our trance. “Y’all need to hurry up, we’re leaving for dinner in 20 minutes!” Nick shouted through the door. Chewing on my bottom lip to stifle a laugh, I looked up at Chris in disappointment. His heaving chest was rising and falling as he smirked down at me, before leaning down and playfully biting my nose. I grabbed onto his forearms — each one confining me underneath him — and tried to gently push him off of me with a sigh.

“We should probably get ready, Chris.” I admitted, feeling the disappointment radiate through my unsatisfied body in ripples. As I attempted to adjust my body, I felt the remnants of my nearly-there orgasm in the pulse of my core around his thick shaft. Before I could make any real progress in climbing off of the bed, Chris paralyzed me with one sharp snap of his hips. I gasped, unable to deny my need to cum, as he snaked his hand to the back of my head and laced his fingers through my roots; keeping me in place. His eyes were still glossed over with desire, and he licked his smirking lips before he spoke. “We will, just as soon as we cum.”

𓆩☆𓆪

After hurriedly getting dressed and fixing my makeup, I climbed up the basement stairs on wobbly legs with Chris just behind me. Tugging down my short black dress, I walked into the kitchen and found Nick leaning against the counter with a knowing look in his eye. “You look a mess.” Nick deadpanned, rolling his eyes at me. I felt my cheeks grow red under his playful glare, avoiding eye contact as Chris chuckled behind me. “You’re weird as fuck for even walking downstairs to begin with kid.” Chris snarked back, draping his arm lazily across my shoulders. Nick scoffed. “Sue me for wanting to be on time for our reservation, dumbass.” I stifled a laugh listening to their flying insults. “Maybe if you figured out how to go five minutes without sticking your dick in my best friend you would have seen one of my many texts, and we could have avoided all of this.”

Although I had been trying to hide the fact that Chris and I had been sleeping together from Nick, I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t felt a flood of relief when he had ended up catching us on the couch together a few weeks ago; me with my face pressed into the cushions and Chris lining himself up behind me. Nick had been more than a little pissed at first — likely due to the crude imagery of us burned into his retinas — but after a long, honest conversation filled with more than a few vile insults thrown our way, he calmed down tremendously. Since then, he had seen enough of Chris and I slipping away to the basement that he really didn’t seem bothered by it anymore. I had felt guilty about keeping such a big secret from my best friend, but he seemed to understand why I had.

One thing I still hadn’t told him, however, was what had happened the night of their last party. What he didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t his only brother who had kissed me, touched me, slid himself in between my thighs. Wasn’t his only brother who ran his soft lips against my warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. Wasn’t his only brother who had whispered filthy words in my ear; who had made me cum so hard that I dissolved into a puddle. Chris wasn’t his only brother who had fucked me, and it was crazy, because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about any of that since Matt slipped out of his dark room that night.

As if reading my mind, I was pulled from my dirty thoughts by the sound of Matt’s door creaking open. Looking up from my shoes, my eyes immediately locked onto his; twinkling in odd amusement as he seemed to examine my appearance. He walked into the kitchen casually, sliding into a seat at the table before pulling his phone from his pocket. Nick walked up behind him and fixed the back of his hair. “Did you hear how loud these fucking losers were?” He asked Matt. I watched as Matt’s shoulders seemed to tense up before he shook his head wordlessly. To this, Nick groaned. “Then I guess I’m just the lucky one.”

My eyes were glued to Matt’s profile as he seemed to aimlessly scroll on his phone, his body language seemed fairly relaxed but I could see the tense muscles in his flexed jaw. “Uh, anyways,” I began, pulling my attention back to the rest of the room, “We ready to head out?” I looked up at Chris and shot him a quick smile. “Soon,” Matt replied, looking up from his phone and directly at me; his eyes shining with provocation, “Sophie will be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Matt hoisted himself from the chair and sauntered over to answer it. From where I stood frozen in shock, I heard Sophie’s familiar voice as she greeted Matt, and cringed when I heard the unmistakable sound of them kissing. After a moment, Sophie breezed up the stairs and into the kitchen where we were all still congregated, her sweet-smelling perfume preceding her as she air-kissed first Nick and then Chris. With a smirk, Matt walked up behind her. “Y/n, you remember Sophie, right?”

Even with my racing heart and heavy limbs I ignored his jeering tone, unwilling to give him the reaction that he so clearly desired. “Of course!” I replied, internally cringing at the high pitched faux-excitement in my own voice. “You’re coming to dinner!” I did my best to sound pleased, but by the look Matt gave me outside of Sophie’s view, I knew that I hadn’t convinced him.

Sophie had been an on-and-off again fuck buddy of Matt’s for a few months. She and I actually got along really well, and we spent a lot of time together at parties before the night that Matt and I fucked. When Chris and I began freely hooking up, I was always worried that she and I would cross paths on the nights that I slept over, but it had seemed that Matt and her hadn’t been spending any time together for weeks. Now that they seemed to be back on again, I couldn’t shove down the red hot jealously burning in my veins.

Sophie giggled, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “They didn’t tell you, I presume. I should have just texted you myself, can’t trust these guys to relay information.” She sidled up to Matt as she spoke, wrapping her arm around his waist possessively. Nick scoffed. “I would have told her if she ever left her and Chris’s sex dungeon.” I blushed from Nick once again sharing my business with everyone in his general vicinity, and watched as Matt quickly grabbed Sophie’s arm, pulling it from his waist. “We’re gonna be late, let’s go.” He mumbled, holding onto Sophie’s hand haphazardly as he began leading us to the garage.

As we reached the car, I watched as Matt opened the passenger door for Sophie before getting into the driver’s seat. As Chris opened the door for me, I grabbed his arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Sit in the back with me?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and adding a whisper of seduction to my voice. He looked down at me with a smirk, arching his eyebrow before following me into the back seat of the car.

I settled into the seat beside him as Matt began pulling out of the garage. It was dark outside, so as I looked up at Chris, all I could see was the burred outline of his gorgeous features. “You okay pretty?” He asked, his voice low as he looked down at me with slight concern. I nodded reassuringly, realizing that I needed to get my act together because even Chris, the most oblivious of the triplets, was picking up on my sudden strange mood. “Just hungry.” I lied, shooting him a forced smile. The car filled with the sound of Nick and Sophie’s laughter as Matt drove. “Oh my god! Matt was telling me…”

I forced myself to tune out the conversation that was happening at the front of the car, willing the night to be over so that I could seethe with jealousy in private. As I tried to absolve my embarrassing bitterness, my eyes fluttered to the rearview mirror, where I caught Matt’s vision already burning into mine. My breath hitched under his intimidating gaze, and even in my growing anger with him I couldn’t ignore the pit of arousal that I felt growing in my core. I knew that he was trying to get some sort of reaction out of me — wanted me to feel the way I was feeling. He had been purposely trying to make me jealous, so I decided that I would do the same.

Keeping my eyes on his, I lifted my leg and draped it across Chris’s lap; causing my short black dress to hitch up to my hips. As if reacting on instinct, Chris immediately responded by bringing his hand to my bare skin, exploring it for a moment before finally leaving it to rest on my upper thigh; just inches from my exposed lace panties. I watched Matt’s gaze darken as his eyes followed his brother’s movements against my skin, and I shot him a menacing smirk before dropping my own hand onto the crotch of Chris’s jeans.

Matt’s eyes widened briefly as he watched my hand delicately run along Chris’s growing bulge, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Even in the dim light, I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, doing his best to focus on the road despite all of the thoughts that I knew were racing through his head. My gaze was pulled from Matt as I felt Chris’s warm mouth against my ear. “Didn’t get enough earlier, baby?” He whispered, nibbling delicately against my soft earlobe. His hand moved even higher along my leg, until his fingers reached my barely-covered heat. Satisfied with the reaction that I was getting from Matt as well as the feeling of Chris’s fingers gently dancing against my core, I felt my anger begin to diminish and instead be replaced with burning desire.

Turning to face Chris, I placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline, causing him to grab onto my hip and pull me so close to him that I was practically on his lap. His hand laced through my hair and he jerked my head up before attaching his lips to mine. I palmed him roughly through his jeans as his tongue slipped into my mouth, and even with my back turned I could still feel Matt’s fiery gaze burn my skin.

“Oh my GOD! Get off of each other!” Nick shrieked, turning to face Chris and I in the backseat. “I swear to fucking god I will punch you both in the mouth.” Chris pulled his lips from mine, a goofy smile taking over his face. “You’re such a fuckin’ spazz Nick.” He retorted as he tried to pull my dress down slightly. Nick replied by burying his face in his hands and screaming dramatically. “A SPAZZ? You were swallowing my best friend’s face in DIRECT EARSHOT from me! You’re lucky I didn’t just projectile vomit on you.” Nick retaliated, smacking the leather seat as he spoke.

“We’re here.” Matt deadpanned, stopping the argument between his two brothers as he parked his car. I looked up at him once more through the mirror, but this time his eyes refused to meet mine. Once parked, Matt turned off the ignition sharply, his jaw clenched, before immediately jumping out of the car as if it was on fire. I noticed the slightly concerned look on Sophie’s face before she tentatively followed him.

Feeling surprisingly giddy, I crawled out of the back seat and hopped out of the car; embracing the cool breeze against my burning hot cheeks. “Let’s eat!” I exclaimed as Chris climbed out after me and pulled me harshly against his front; bringing his lips to mine again. As he kissed me, I listened as the rest of our group began walking in the direction of the restaurant. His hands moved from my waist down to my ass, where he squeezed gently before pulling his mouth from mine just enough to speak. “I know what you’re doing, Y/n.” He whispered against my lips.

Feigning innocence, I looked up at him through my eyelashes as I waited for him to continue. “What, one night with Matt wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, his gentle voice laced with amusement as his hand snaked up my dress, finding my clit through my lace thong and rubbing soft circles against it. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I shook my head no. Chris smirked at my admission, and his eyes filled with an indecipherable look that made goosebumps raise on my skin. “It’s okay baby, you know I don’t mind.” He replied, his encouraging words and working fingers making my stomach tie itself into knots. Running his middle finger through my soaked folds, he shot me a charming smile. “I’ve already showed you how well I can share.”

With that, he gave my ass a sharp slap before placing one final kiss to my nose. Using his grip on my flesh, he guided me in the direction of the restaurant where everyone was waiting for us in front of the doors. My head spun from the notion that Chris was so willing to let me have exactly what I wanted, which coincidentally was both him and his brother. I practically floated in the direction of the restaurant, riding the high that his words gave me, until I noticed Matt pressed against Sophie, peppering her with kisses.

Matt’s eyes lifted as he heard Chris and I approach and, upon noticing Chris’s arm draped around my waist, appeared to deliberately deepen the kiss he was sharing with Sophie. I watched as she giggled against his lips, seeming to still be oblivious to the unspoken battle playing out before her. Doing my best to seem care-free, I let Chris guide me into the restaurant and to our table. I sat down with Chris to my left and Nick to my right, while Matt and Sophie sat across from us.

As the waiter set down menus in front of each of us, Matt’s eyes briefly locked with mine across the table. I watched as he seemed to be studying the dynamic between me and Chris. His eyes traveled from Chris’s long arm that was draped over the back of my chair to his fingers lazily drawing circles against my exposed shoulder. Sitting much closer and under a much brighter light, I suddenly felt deeply exposed in the restaurant with Matt’s eyes on me. I did my best to ignore him, keeping my sight on the menu in front of me as I listened to Chris, Nick, and Sophie’s chatter.

As I continued to study the menu, I could see Matt pull Sophie’s chair closer to him in my peripheral vision. Swallowing harshly, I used all of my strength to keep my eyes trained to the blurred words in front of me instead of focusing them on Matt’s hand grabbing onto Sophie’s upper thigh. Feeling overwhelmed with conflicting desires, I wanted nothing more than to sink into my chair and disappear from the restaurant. Every time I saw Matt move closer to Sophie or heard them speaking to one another in hushed tones I felt flushed with anger, yet my core flooded with arousal as it flexed around nothing.

The waiter came to begin taking our order. Once it was my turn and everyone’s attention was on me, I suddenly felt the all-consuming need to get away from the table; sure that if any one of them looked at me hard enough, they would be able to pick up on my unspeakable desire. Unable to take it anymore, I suddenly shot up from my seat. “Uh, I — Chris, just order me, uh, order me whatever. I’ve just gotta, um, run to the washroom!” I stammered, taking off in the direction of the restrooms before anyone had the chance to reply.

My head spun as I walked calmly towards the hallway leading to the washrooms, sure that once I took a few moments to collect myself that I would be okay to go back out there. I took deep breaths as I approached the women’s washroom, just a few short steps away. I just needed to be away from the group. Away from the bright lights. Away from Nick’s scolding tone. Away from Sophie. Away from—

Just as I placed my hand on the door knob, I gasped as I felt a strong hand grab my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Y/n.” That familiar voice was in my ear, barely above a whisper; his words hot against my skin. Snapping around to face him, I was immediately taken aback by our close proximity. Blaming it on my maddening arousal, I quickly recovered before crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “What’s going on?” Matt asked, his eyes filled with the same look of frustration that was surely mirrored in my own.

“Nothing’s ‘going on’,” I lied, doing my best to keep my voice steady and inconspicuous. “Go back to your fuck buddy over there,” I nudged by head in the direction of our table, out of sight from where we stood outside of the washrooms, “Don’t want her thinking she’s wasting her time tonight.” I cringed at the bitterness of my words, and mentally apologized to Sophie for them. Matt’s eyes narrowed. “She’s alright out there.” He replied, his words biting the air between us. “Come on Matt,” I scoffed, leaning against the wall, “If you want her to crawl into your bed tonight the least you could do is spend time with her over dinner.” My voice was filled with indignation, but I was no longer able to control it.

“She’s not crawling into my bed tonight.” He replied, his hushed tone somehow still sounding exasperated. I let my head fall back, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “Oh really? Then why the fuck did you invite her to dinner?” I replied, finding his lie humorous. “Maybe because I knew it would drive you crazy.” He growled, taking a single step forward to close the gap between us. My confidence wavered at his sudden change in personality; the Matt that I was so used to now long gone. I watched, silent and stunned, as his eyes flicked down to my lips for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You don’t like seeing me touch her, do you?”

I tried to maintain my expressionless face and avoid reacting to his question, although my body had already begun to vibrate with desire. “Why would I? I’m fucking Chris, remember?” I smirked, satisfied by the reminder that he’s not the only one who can play this game. Taking one step closer to him, I leaned close — so close that I could smell his cologne and see his pulse hammering against his neck — before whispering. “His cum is still drying to my legs.”

Matt’s breath hitched at my words, and as I pulled back slightly I watched as his eyes darkened with lust. He took one final step towards me, his lips almost touching my ear as he seemed to struggle against whatever was running through his mind. Recognizing the shift of energy in the space between us, I decided to prod him even more. “What, now you’ve got nothing to say? You jealous or something?”

He stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being his heavy breathing against my ear. The feeling of him so close to me was suddenly heightening my senses, and I grew overwhelmed with heat. It wasn’t long before my breathing began to match his — ragged and desperate — as I waited impatiently for what he had to say. Suddenly, a sharp gasp fell from my lips as Matt’s hands ran up my bare thighs, snaking up to the sides of my skirt where he hungrily squeezed my fleshy hips; pulling me harshly against him so that I could feel his throbbing bulge against my radiating heat. As soon as my body made contact with his, a soft whine fell from his lips before he finally managed to whisper.

“My car.”

Unable to even attempt to think twice, I began following him back through the restaurant door and towards his car. As the cool air hit my skin, Matt grabbed me and began pulling me in the direction of the black car as though he couldn’t wait another second. Frantically, Matt opened the back door and hurried me inside, quickly following after me and closing the door shut behind him. Before I could even process what was happening, he pulled me onto his lap, his hands roaming everywhere at once as he claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss.

In an instant, all of the tension that had been simmering between us all night came to a boil, and I found myself at the mercy of his devouring lips. I whined against his greedy, open mouth as I straddled his lap, my dress riding up to my waist. His uncharacteristic aggression and desperation caught me off guard, but I embraced it with a submissive moan. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other moved to grip my ass firmly, grinding me against his hard length. I gasped at the relief that the friction was giving me, and as I did he released a sharp hiss. “Fuck, Y/n.”

Responding to his powerful control over me, I rolled my hips against his bulge, relishing in the satisfaction of its rigidity against my clothed heat. “Matt.” I cooed, my lungs constricting from what could only be described as deep-rooted, insatiable need. Looking down to our writhing bodies, I recognized the small pool of arousal that I had already left on him; tainting his jeans a darker shade of blue. Following my gaze, he looked down and discovered the wet patch as well. Cursing under his breath, his eyes seemed to lock onto the spot as he continued to roll my hips against his lap shamelessly. “What got you this soaked?”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit down on my bottom lip as I ignored his question, caught up in the waves of pleasure surging through my body. In my silence, Matt groaned before his hips bucked up involuntarily to meet mine. “Answer me Y/n,” He said, his voice low and menacing, as he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his wild stare, “Is all this for Chris?” My brows knit together in almost uncomfortable pleasure, and I writhed at his obvious jealousy. Looking down at him through hooded lids, I shook my head slowly.

Matt’s eyes searched mine intensely, his grip on my chin tightening slightly as he demanded an answer. “Then tell me who made you make this mess.” He rasped out, his free hand sliding up my thigh to press firmly against my clothed clit. Reacting immediately to his thumb’s pressure against my clit, I let out a desperate cry as I rolled my hips against it. I tugged at the base of his t-shirt before running my hands along his skin beneath it. “Y-you Matt.” I finally replied, growing wild with lust.

“Fuck,” Matt breathed out, his dilated pupils radiating desire. “Get these fucking panties off now.” He whispered, but without giving me the chance to slide them down my legs he grabbed onto the waistband; ripping them in half and leaving me exposed. I whimpered from the raw desperation of his actions just as he pulled down the top of my dress; letting my tits pop free before he slipped one hungrily into his mouth. Without wasting another moment, Matt grabbed onto my ass with both hands and used his grip to lift me up. Gasping, I leaned against the driver’s side door as Matt propped me up in the air; my legs spread and my glistening core just centimetres from his face.

My legs shook in anticipation as Matt seemed to take a moment to admire my cunt, his eyes glossy and unblinking. “The things you fucking do to me…” He muttered, more to himself than to me, before finally attaching his mouth to my throbbing clit. Immediately, my back arched off of the seat behind me as Matt’s tongue drew relentless circles against my bundle of nerves. His lips acted as the perfect suction, drawing guttural moans from the depths of my soul. My hands slipped into his hair, holding him in place as I fell into an erotic trance. “Oh god…oh god…” I shakily cried out like a mantra, unable to control any part of myself as his tongue set my soul on fire.

Matt released soft moans against my sensitive skin, his own satisfaction palpable as he devoured me into shambles. My clit responded to his movements like an obedient servant, sending jolting shockwaves through my body on each lick. “Fuck M-Matt.” I whined out, incapable of forming any cohesive thoughts besides the dizzying image of his blissed face contentedly pressed to my folds. I grew hyper aware of each movement of his tongue, and recognized the steady pattern that he stuck to; consistently drawing me closer and closer to an orgasm. My body began to contract, and I found myself writhing under his firm grasp on me as I nearly fell apart in his hands.

“G-gonna cum!” I cried out, my own squeaky voice unrecognizable as I was washed away by a full-body orgasm. My grip on Matt’s hair tightened as his tongue worked tirelessly against my pulsing clit, making sure to work me through the crashing waves of my orgasm. Moans spilled past my gasping lips as I trembled against the driver’s seat, so far gone that I could barely feel anything beyond the radiating pleasure surging through every nerve in my body.

Even after I had ridden through my high, Matt continued running his warm tongue through my folds, collecting all of my arousal on his tongue and moaning in satisfaction. My body jolted as I came down from my high, needy for more. As if he was reading my mind, Matt finally pulled himself away from my core, glancing up at me once before admiring my swollen folds once again. I watched as he sucked on his bottom lip, using his grip on me to spread me open even more and marvelling at the mess he had made.

Growing impatient, I squirmed under his gaze. “Matt,” I whined, watching him as he looked up at me with a smirk. “Somethin’ on your mind sweetheart?” He asked, his voice filled with amusement. Incapable of caring anymore, I nodded fiercely. “Say it.” He taunted, bringing his finger to my opening and sliding it in, before quickly pulling it back out and admiring my slippery wetness that was now dripping from it. “N-need your c-cock.” I admitted, earning a grateful smile from him.

After sucking his finger clean, he gently lowered me back onto his lap. “You’re drowning in your own juices thinking about my cock, huh?” He began unbuckling his belt with shaky hands. The needier I became, the farther my walls dropped, yet I was still shocked by the filthy words that spilled from his mouth. My eyes fell to his hands as they worked against his shiny belt, and I licked my lips hungrily. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” I admitted, unable to pull my eyes away from his crotch as I waited for him to remove his jeans. “I need it so fucking bad Matt.” I confessed, my voice wavering.

The moment his belt came undone, he cursed under his breath, clearly turned on by my desperation. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.” He admitted, his soft words riddled with gruffness, before shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his rock-hard length. My eyes soaked in the sight of his swollen member, deep veins travelling up to his dark red tip where a bead of pre-cum was slowly dripping. After a moment, he grabbed my hips and yanked me back down onto his lap, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He groaned at the contact. “Fuck, so soaked.”

My core trembled in anticipation, the heat of his raw member pressing against me almost too much for me to bare. “S-sorry.” I replied, feeling my arousal begin to drip onto his thighs. “Don’t ever apologize for being this wet for me.” He breathed, the proximity of our bodies seeming to calm him slightly as one of his hands slid up my waist and up to my tits; where he toyed with my nipples gently. “Jesus.” He breathed, voice hitching as he adjusted me in his lap, his tip just barely entering me.

As he sunk me down his length, my jaw dropped as I felt my walls begin to stretch around his head as it crested my entrance. I was still raw from Chris earlier in the day, and I whined softly from the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. Noticing my sensitivity, Matt released a sharp hiss. “You okay?” He asked, holding me still for a moment. I nodded rapidly, desperate to be filled. “Y-yes.” I replied shakily. Matt let out a strained groan as I began pushing myself further down his shaft, rolling his hips upward to bury another inch inside me.

“You f-fill me so g-good.” I moaned as I slowly took more and more of him. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that sweetheart.” His nails dug into my hips as he pushed me down further, finally bottoming out deep inside me. A gruff moan escaped his lips once every inch of him was engulfed by my pussy, and he gave me a moment to adjust to the pressure. He must have felt my walls begin to relax, because after a moment be began lifting me up slowly, until just the tip remained inside of me; teasing. Then, with a powerful thrust, he slammed me back down burying himself to the hilt once more.

I gasped as all of the air left my lungs at the feeling of his cock filling my insides. My nails dug into his shoulders as I struggled to keep my composure while he slammed me up and down his powerful length. “Fuck, Y/n. F-feel so g-good.” His voice strained with lust, he kept one hand on my hip and the other moved to my throat, gently squeezing as he began to drive up into me. He began fucking me with brutal intensity, his movements so much angrier and desperate than the last time; all of his emotions on full display. “C’mon baby, n-need to see you l-lose your m-mind.” He groaned, his head falling back against the headrest.

“Fuck!” I cried out, completely engulfed in the pleasure of Matt taking out all of his pent-up frustration on me. “W-want your cock a-all to m-myself!” I moaned, so recklessly caught up in him that I didn’t care how greedy I sounded. In response, Matt grabbed onto my hips and flipped me so that I was the one in the seat. Leaning over me, he pulled the lever so that the seat moved back, making me lay down slightly. He only took a brief moment to adjust himself between my legs before plunging himself back into me, slamming his cock relentlessly through my spongey walls.

“Fuck, you’re so selfish,” He hissed, slamming into me harder with each thrust, “I have to hear you moaning my brother’s n-name almost every goddamn night but you d-don’t want me to fuck anyone else?” Recognizing the despair in his tone, I grabbed onto his fluffy brown hair, tugging at the roots gently as I smirked at him through hooded lids. “Does anyone else f-feel as g-good as me?” I asked, my voice punctuated by each of his thrusts. “You’ve got t-to be fucking k-kidding me.” Matt growled, his pace turning almost punishing if it weren’t for the anguish of his voice. Growing even more aroused by his state, I bit my bottom lip flirtatiously. “D-does Sophie f-feel this good?” I asked again, knowing his answer just by the look across his face.

“N-no.” He huffed out, snapping his hips into me harshly as though this fact was distressing. “N-not this g-good.” He added. His hand slid from my throat to grasp my chin roughly; forcing eye contact. His harsh grip along with his words drove me crazy, and I felt animalistic as I stuck my tongue out; running it along his salty skin. “You’re making me lose my fuckin’ mind.” He groaned, his eyes locked on mine intensely.

I greedily pulled his thumb into my mouth, wrapping my lips around it before sucking on it fervently. Obsessed with the new-found power I had over him, I locked my arms around his waist as he continued pumping into me. I moaned, my lips vibrating around his thumb before I let it drop from my mouth. I watched through my eyelashes as his eyes glazed over, completely lost in the pleasure he was feeling as he seemed to rapidly approach his orgasm.

“N-need you t-to learn how t-to share m-me.” I whined, my body growing burning hot as I fought against my own impending orgasm. “Jesus Chris.” Matt’s grip on me tightened painfully as he slammed into me again and again, his body tense in my hands. “The—the f-fact that you…” He struggled to speak, his cock twitching inside of me, “D-don’t say shit…like that.” He grunted, his rhythm growing sloppier. I dropped my mouth to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his clammy skin. “P-please,” I cried, urgency laced in my words as I balanced on the edge of my orgasm, “N-need both of y-you.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ k-kill me.” Matt choked out, his movements so sloppy now that I tightened my legs around his waist to hold him steady. His head dropped to my chest for a moment, seeming to contemplate what I was begging him for, before he suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair; pulling my head up to look at him. My eyes dropped to his swollen red lips as I let him hold me in place. “Please,” I mouthed, “Please f-fuck me w-whenever you w-want. W-whenever Chris isn’t u-using m-me.”

His eyes stayed locked onto mine, burning with possessiveness and desire and telling me that he had moved past his deliberations. He brought his lips to mine and engulfed them in a heated kiss. Pulling away, he kept his forehead pressed to mine as he spoke in a gravelly tone. “When you’re not in Chris’s room, you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip at his words, their intensity shooting straight to my core. Nodding my head, I felt myself begin to lose the battle. “F-fuck. I’m…I’m s-so close Matt.” I whined.

“Say it,” He begged, his fingers digging into my scalp, “Say you’re m-mine.” I moaned at the feeling of his cock as it began to pulse against my walls, his orgasm so close I could practically feel him falling apart. “I’m y-yours.” I squeaked out, and as soon as the words left my mouth I was consumed by my orgasm. As he continued to pound into me, seemingly re-charged by my words, my legs began to shake and a plethora of moans fell from my lips. “Oh fuck.” Matt choked out as my convulsing walls milked his cock, and as my back arched off of the seat and my nails dug into his skin, I felt his warm seed shoot deep inside my trembling cunt. His hips continued snapping into me as he came undone, guiding both of us through our highs until we simultaneously fell into a peaceful trance.

Matt collapsed forward and I leaned against his sweaty frame; my body heavy with exhaustion. My arms wrapped around his neck, where I brushed the wavy tips of his hair gently as we both came back down to earth. His breath slowly steadied against my neck, his lips brushing feather-light kisses against it as he calmed down. After a moment, I felt his lips turn up into a smile against my skin. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” He chuckled. Straightening myself up, he pulled himself off of me and I locked eyes with him. “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked, my voice still breathless. His gaze lingered on mine for a moment, a soft smile still plastered to his face. “I wish I did, but I don’t.” He replied, pressing a gentle kiss to my eyelid before pulling himself slowly out of me.

Finally able to recognize the kind Matt that I was so used to seeing, I smiled in relief. “Well, we should probably get back to the table. I’m sure they’re all wondering where we’ve been.” I sighed before adjusting my dress, wincing as I did from how raw I felt. Matt and I quickly fixed ourselves so that we didn’t look freshly fucked, and before long we were out of the car and walking back towards the restaurant on shaky legs. As we reached the front doors, I whispered to him, “I’ll go sit down first, and you come join us after a couple of minutes.” Matt nodded, shooting me a soft smile before I slipped through the doors and headed back towards our table.

Thankfully Chris, Nick, and Sophie were all laughing; deep in conversation as I arrived at the table meaning they likely didn’t see my limp as I walked towards them. “Hey, you okay? You were gone for so long.” Nick asked with concern once he noticed me. Doing my best to seem casual, I chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m all good. Just bumped into an old friend in the washroom.” I lied, surprising myself by how quickly I came up with a rather believable cover-up. Seeming to accept my response as the truth, Nick began chattering again to Sophie. Satisfied, I gingerly slid back into my seat beside Chris, shooting him a quick smile. I noticed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he peered at me with curiosity.

Just as we had agreed on, a few minutes later Matt appeared at the table. “There he is!” Sophie cheered happily as he sat down beside her. “I thought you got lost!” She attempted to joke, though behind that veil I could see the concern in her features as she examined him closely. I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, filled with nerves, as I waited to see what excuse he had come up with. “Sorry, I got an important phone call I had to take.” He replied, the lie slipping off of his tongue effortlessly. That seemed to be enough to satisfy Sophie, as she visibly relaxed before leaning against him cheerfully.

Matt’s lie didn’t seem to work on Chris, however, because in my peripheral vision I noticed him glance between Matt and I; staying completely silent. My breath hitched as I felt him suddenly pull my chair closer to him, and my heart began to race as he gently pushed my legs apart; hidden from everyone else by the table cloth draped over my lap. I felt my cheeks begin to grow warm as I slowly understood that he hadn’t been fooled by Matt and my lies, and I trembled in wait.

Suddenly, I had to stifle a cry as I felt Chris’s finger press against my sore — and completely bare — heat; and I heard his throaty chuckle as his finger ran along the small pool of cum still leaking from my opening. Casually, he swung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into him. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my burning ears before he whispered in a low tone, “That’s my girl.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[erindrinkstea]

Again and Again

Main! Mark "Invincible" Grayson x F! Reader x Variants! Mark "Invincible" Grayson

TW: Violence, Blood, Death, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Angst.

Description, Part 1, Part 2

Main Masterlist | Invincible Masterlist

Note: It hasn't been long since I wrote this series but wow there's a lot of you already! Hope you enjoy!

What made Mark Grayson different from the others you've encountered?

What made this Invincible stand out compared to all the other variants you’ve met?

What made him so unlike the rest?

"Earth to Miss Genius. You’ve zoned out again."

You snapped back to reality, realizing you weren’t alone—sitting at the lunch table with your friends.

All eyes were on you, full of concern. The longer you sat there, staring off into space, the more it felt like you were slipping away from them.

"Are you okay?" Eve’s voice broke through the silence as she nudged you from beside you. You forced a smile, scolding yourself for zoning out.

"Sorry. Just... work." You shrugged, your voice almost too casual.

Immediately, both Eve and Mark exchanged a pointed look. "Work" was their code for one thing: Cecil.

While Eve and Mark worked for him as heroes, you worked for him as his secretary—the mind behind his operations. You fed him the intel and resources he needed, and in return, he gave you the power and money that kept your life afloat.

Cecil knew about your ability to traverse dimensions after death. In fact, he was helping you find a way to tap into that power without having to die each time. He believed that as long as the abnormal energy ran through your veins, you could shift between realities. You just had to unlock it.

"Your boss giving you too much trouble?" Amber asked, voice laced with concern. Eve and Mark leaned forward, both watching you intently.

"Just the usual. Nothing new." You assured them, though the look in their eyes told you they weren’t buying it. They didn’t push further, but it was clear they weren’t fully convinced.

"Soooo... is this a bad time to ask for some help with Physics?" Eve slapped Mark lightly on the back of his head.

"I could use some tutoring too!" William piped up, and Amber kicked his leg under the table.

"I swear—boys," Amber sighed, exchanging a tired look with Eve as the guys stared at you with pleading eyes.

"You two are ridiculous." You sighed, shaking your head. "Fine. I’ll tutor you both, but it’s not free anymore. You owe me." you warned.

Mark immediately brightened. "I’ll buy you all the pudding you want." he offered, while William winked and made a heart with his hands. "I offer you my undying friendship."

"I’ll take it in the form of something less... questionable." You raised an eyebrow at William, who gasped dramatically. "Okay, ouch."

"Mark, you better have your wallet ready." you said with a mischievous grin.

Sure, you could easily buy a lifetime’s worth of pudding with the money Cecil paid you, but it just felt better when it came from someone else’s wallet.

"Should I be scared?" Mark looked at Amber, who knew you better than anyone. Amber smirked and answered with a deadpan tone, "Yes."

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

"How are you holding up, little Grayson?"

You’d heard about the Mauler Twins incident. Neither Debbie nor Mark were happy about it.

You weren’t exactly ecstatic either, but after 87 lifetimes with a murder-happy partner, you’d gotten numb to it.

This wasn’t your first time meeting Oliver. You’d crossed paths with him in other worlds as well, but this was the first time you saw him as a child.

"I just don’t get it! They’re not the good guys! Why should we just let them live?" Oliver crossed his arms, his frustration mirroring Mark’s stubbornness.

"You know, your brother’s no saint either. Does that mean Mark deserves to die?" You stepped into Oliver’s room and sat beside him on the bed.

"No! But these guys are bad. I’m doing the world a favor by taking them out. They hurt Mark!" Oliver’s voice rose, a mix of righteousness and anger. You ruffled his hair gently, trying to ease the tension.

"I hurt Mark too." you teased lightly, nudging Oliver’s side. "I hit him pretty good in the back of his head. Bet I left a nasty bruise."

Oliver pouted, clearly not amused. "That’s not the same, and you know it."

"Sometimes, yeah, killing is necessary—for the greater good. But it’s never the only option." You said it seriously, trying to drive the point home.

"That's what Mark wants you to understand. By sparing someone, we might be doing the world a bigger favor. We prove that there’s more to life than death."

In all the other worlds, you barely got a chance to talk to Oliver. Your focus was always on Mark, often ignoring those around you.

"If you ever need me, or your family, we’ll be downstairs." You said as you stood up to leave. You paused at the door, turning back to see Oliver watching you closely.

"You’re part of the family too." He said softly, and you smiled before heading downstairs.

"Hey." Mark’s voice greeted you as you descended. He made eye contact, his expression anxious. "How is he?"

Debbie was pacing, her worry clear. She stopped when you reached the bottom of the stairs. "Is he upset?" she asked, voice tight.

You paused for a moment, carefully choosing your words. "He’s fine. A little sulking, but he’s processing it."

"He was raised by good people." You reassured them, offering a comforting smile. "He’s going to be just fine."

Mark sighed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. He leaned down, resting his chin on your head, his arms wrapping around you in a quiet embrace. "Thank you."

"What would I do without you?" He mumbled, his voice soft against your hair. You smiled up at him.

"You’d be fine, you big baby."

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

The world lay in ruins.

What was once an organized empire was now a burning apocalypse, its ashes swirling in the wind.

Amidst the chaos, two figures faced each other.

"I’m here to offer you a deal."

The other scoffed, unimpressed. "What could you possibly offer that I don’t already have?"

"Do you not want another chance to see her? You know who I'm talking about. I'm only offering once."

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

"You better not be fucking joking."

[yuujispunches]

Of deadlines and desires ~ M.F. (Part 1)

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

Summary: Megumi Fushiguro infuriated you like no one else in that college, he knew how to get under your skin. You wanted to strangle him most of the time but a moment of weakness might just change everything.

CW (content warning): college AU (modern setting, no curses), academic rivals, aged-up Megumi and reader (in their 20s), smut, MDNI (+18), fingering, p in v sex, protected sex, some cursing, mentions of alcohol.

AN (author’s note): Hi guys! This is the first part of a small series I’m going to make, it’s the first time I’m really writing something like this but I think I’m really happy with how it turned out. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this in my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy Andes me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist || Part 2 || Part 3 >>

You hate Megumi Fushiguro.

That’s what you tell everyone. That’s what you tell yourself every time he walks into lecture, cool and aloof like he owns the goddamn room. It’s what you mutter under your breath whenever his name pops up at the top of the grade sheet, again, just a fraction of a point above yours. Every time he smirks when Professor Saito praises his thesis framework. Every time he doesn’t even look like he’s trying.

And it’s definitely what you whisper through clenched teeth when he strolls past you on the quad like you’re invisible, only to throw a lazy “Try harder next time.” Over his shoulder without even really looking at you.

Smug bastard.

But tonight? Tonight, you’re not thinking about grades or academic validation or whose literary analysis was more “emotionally resonant.” Tonight, you’re at a party.

Well, you didn’t mean to be. You told yourself you’d just stop by for a drink, show face, say hi to Nobara, make good on your practically empty social life. You’re the kind of person who highlights your planner. Who color codes your notes and sets calendar reminders for assignments you already submitted. So maybe, just maybe, you wanted to feel a little reckless for once.

It’s working. The cheap vodka’s doing something warm and unwise to your veins.

The house is buzzing with bodies and base-heavy music. Someone spilled something sticky across the kitchen floor. There’s a line for the bathroom and someone crying on the porch.

And standing in the middle of the living room like he’s some kind of dark omen is him.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Wearing a black t-shirt stretched a little too tightly across his chest. Holding a red solo cup like he’s seconds away from chucking it at a wall out of boredom.

You freeze. You could turn around. You should. You are about to. But then he sees you.

And he smirks.

“Didn’t think this was your scene.” He says, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music as he closes the space between you.

“Didn’t think you were capable of smiling.” You shoot back.

“It’s not a smile. It’s pity.” He retorts with a cocky grin etched on his face.

You scoff, already reaching for a drink you probably shouldn’t have. “What, you feel bad I’m here while you could be home reorganizing your books by existential crisis level?”

He laughs and that’s annoying too. Because it’s deep and smooth and doesn’t match the tightness in your stomach.

“You’re projecting again.”

You take a sip, even though your drink tastes like floor cleaner. “You wish.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just lifts his cup, eyes scanning you with that irritating coolness he always wears like armor. But there’s something else there too. Something that makes your skin feel hot under your clothes.

“I thought you’d be in the library.” He says. “Grinding your teeth over our last essay.”

“I thought you’d be halfway inside your own ass about how smart you are.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you off your game.” He scorns.

You blink, taken aback. What the fuck does that even mean? “What?”

He shrugs. “You’re always so... focused. Makes me wonder what you’d be like if you loosened up.”

Your pulse quickens and you hate it.

There’s always been tension between you. A low buzz under every debate, every paper handed back with too few red marks. You’d chalked it up to competition to the way two smart people burn when placed too close for too long. But now?

Now he’s looking at you like you’re not a rival. Like you’re prey. And maybe you’re drunk. Maybe the vodka’s making you reckless. But you don’t walk away.

Instead, you step closer.

“I’m perfectly capable of letting loose.” You say, voice low, defiant.

He tilts his head, clearly amused. “Prove it.”

So you do.

——————————————————————————

It starts with dancing.

If it can be called that. You have never been one to dance. But you press in close enough that you can feel the heat of him behind you. The music’s pulsing, people swaying and grinding around you in a haze of movement and bass. You’re not sure who closes the gap that separated you first, but one second you’re taunting him with your hips, and the next he’s got a hand on your waist.

You turn your head just enough to feel his breath against your jaw.

“You sure you want to play this game?” He asks, voice rough.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

But his grip tightens, grounding you. You roll your hips back and feel the way his breath hitches just slightly, but you notice.

You’re dizzy from it. From him. And when his hand slides lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, you know you’ve crossed some invisible line you can’t uncross.

You spin in his arms, grabbing his collar.

“We shouldn’t- ” You start.

He cuts you off.

“I don’t care.”

And then, before you can protest any further he’s kissing you.

It’s messy. Too much teeth, too much heat. You’ve spent the last two years arguing with this man words like blades, insults flung like grenades. But now it’s all hands and mouths and a feverish kind of need.

You pull him upstairs.

——————————————————————————

The room you manage find is thankfully empty.

He slams the door behind you, but you barely register it, you’re too busy fumbling at his shirt, yanking it over his head with the kind of frustration you’ve been building for semesters.

“You’re such a- ”

“- pretentious asshole?” He finishes for you, grinning as he backs you toward the bed. “Yeah. I know.”

You shove him. He laughs.

Then you’re both falling onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and tension.

Clothes come off in pieces, your top over your head, his jeans shoved down his thighs. You can feel how hard he is through his boxers when he grinds against you. You gasp, arching up.

“Still hate me?” He murmurs, lips trailing down your neck.

“I might hate you more now.”

“You’re wet for someone you hate.”

“Shut up.”

But you’re gasping when his fingers slip between your thighs, stroking you through your underwear. It’s infuriating how good he is at this. Like he’s studied you the way he studies for exams, precise, unrelenting, deliberate.

He hooks your panties to the side and sinks one finger into you, then another.

“Fuck.” You whisper, nails digging into his back.

He kisses you again, swallowing your moans, slower this time, but no less intense. His fingers move inside you, curling just right, dragging pleasure out of you like he’s coaxing it from your bones.

You grind against his hand, shameless.

“I knew you’d be like this.” He says, mouth brushing your ear. “So fucking stubborn until someone breaks you open.”

“I’m not broken.” He hits that spot again, you gasp.

“No. You’re perfect.”

It’s the sincerity that does you in.

You don’t want him to see you like this raw, open, vulnerable. But he’s already pulling away to shed the rest of his clothes, and you forget how to breathe when you see him.

Leaning back against the pillows, you reach for him, lips parting.

You help him roll on a condom with a hiss between his teeth, pumping him up a few times, slow deliberate strokes and for a moment he swears he is about to loose it right there and then, no better than an hormonal teenager. He regains his composure just barely before it’s too late and then settles between your thighs, kissing you like he means it. Like he’s wanted this. For a long time.

When he pushes in, it’s slow. Deliberate. Like he wants you to feel every inch.

You moan, it’s not graceful. He swallows the sound with his mouth once again.

“Still with me?” He murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

“Harder.” You whisper.

He gives you what you ask for.

Each thrust pushes the breath from your lungs. You wrap your legs around him, you lift your, meeting him stroke for stroke. He holds your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You kiss him or he kisses you. At this point you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

You’re close. God, you’re so close. His name leaves your lips like a curse, like a prayer.

And when you finally come, it crashes over you like a wave overwhelming and bright and utterly unacademic.

He follows soon after, shuddering against you, jaw clenched.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Heavy breathing. Sweat cooling on skin.

Then you break the silence.

“Well.” you say hoarsely. “That was a mistake.”

He huffs a laugh and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Totally.”

You lie there in the dark. His fingers find yours.

You let them.

——————————————————————————

The next morning, you wake up tangled in sheets that aren’t yours, Megumi’s chest rising and falling next to you.

You should feel regret. You should feel awkward.

Instead, you feel... oddly peaceful. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

That is, until he cracks an eye open and says, “I still got a better grade on that Gojo paper.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it.

He laughs real and unguarded. And despite yourself, you laugh too.

Maybe you don’t hate him after all.

Maybe you never did.

taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[dolcekissy]

Why is the song one more night by maroon 5 so rafe coded. Like reader and rafe can NEVER make it out of the situationship stage no matter how hard they try. Especially with the lyric

“ Try to tell you, "No" But my body keeps on telling you, "Yes" , when rafe comes over late one night and they have the nastiest, sex where he has you folded in half. Spitting in your mouth. Hand around your neck. Just to show you who you really belonged too one last time.

Anyways!!

oh my goshhh yes. i fucking love your mind!!! i decided to make them extremely toxic lmfao. i feel like i got carried away with this idk if i like it 🥲 ugh, i hope you enjoy this lmk if you hate it lol

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, spitting, toxic!rafe & toxic!reader, a bit of blood, and physical alterations.

─────────────────────────

for the past 2 years, you've been infatuated with rafe. every part of your being subconsciously attaching to him, begging to be closer, his presence crawling in your skin no matter how far he is ─ brain tingling when he's around, heart heavy when he's away.

the love rafe has for you is sickening, a problem almost. he shows his love through gifts, compliments, sex ─ when you aren't arguing. he'd kill for you, you wouldn't put it past him if he already had ─ always in protective mode, ready to go to bat for you. but no matter how hard you try, you can never make it past the stage of being labeled as anything other than, "the girl i've been seeing for a while." to the public.

it's a mind fuck, really. one day he's spoiling you, calling you his girlfriend and the next he's screaming at you, veins popping out of his neck, your finger jabbing at his chest as you scream back just as loud ─ threatening to hit him after you caught him with his tongue down some blonde chicks throat, apologizing by "making love to you," ─ moaning an "i love you." in your ear, begging you to never leave him as he came inside of you.

shoupe knows your full names by heart, addresses engraved into his brain, the inside of your places carved into his mind from each encounter he's experienced with the two of you. calls being made every other week, screaming and glass breaking, doors slamming and loud crying, car doors slamming and tires screeching ─ loud moans and beds creaking.

"when it's good, it's good but when it's bad, it's bad." you huff out each time sarah confronts the relationship you have with her brother, her eyes roaming over the hand print on your neck, not sure if it's from him choking you out of anger or pleasure ─ honestly you're not too sure either. you're telling her he did it during sex, no clue if that's even the truth.

you should hate him, he should hate you. the black eyes you've given him, the marks he's left on your wrists and neck ─ his actions harsh enough to make you cry, your words harsh enough you've made him cry. you're promises of never speaking to him again never falling through, always giving into each other ─ into the cycle. always forgiving him once his cock sinks into you and he's whispering apologies, whispering broken promises of the future he'll give you.

todays the same as usual ─ promising he would never hear from you again after another heated argument on the phone, angry tears streaming down your cheeks, face pale and eyes bloodshot from exhaustion ─ voice hoarse and your chest bubbling in hurt until his lips are the only thing soothing the burn in your throat. sinking his cock into your tight hole, thrusting slowly as his tongue licks away the tears slipping down your cheeks as your eyes squeeze shut, whispering, "let this be the last time, rafe." ─ something in him snapping at the seriousness in your tone.

your feet are pressed against his chest, wide and teary eyes gazing into his, soft lips parted as you pant, hands gripping onto his forearm as his hand travels up your sternum ─ hand wrapping around your neck tightly, blunt fingernails digging into the side of your neck. his tongue runs down your cheek again, down to your parted lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, exploring your gums and teeth angrily.

his hips ram into yours, cock hitting all the right places, balls slapping against the fat of your ass, his pelvis pounding against your swollen clit as he forces your thrashing head to face him ─ fingers digging into your cheeks as he spits in your mouth, eyes never leaving yours as he taps your cheek harshly, signaling for you to swallow.

your nails are scratching at his forearm, breaking the skin, little droplets of blood forming as his grip tightens ─ vision slowly turning black as you cry out in pleasure, your whole body on fire as his hand reaches down, slapping and pinching your clit. his head tilting to the side, watching as your eyes roll back ─ hand traveling back up to slap your cheek so your eyes focus back on him, his lips curling into a snarl as he speaks,

"want this to be the last time? fine, your wish is my fuckin' command then. but don't you ever─ever fuckin' forget who you belong to." he spits, hand pushing on your neck with each word, your head forcefully bopping up and down against the sheets.

"don't you ever forget who you'll be running back to every fucking time. i fucking own you."

─────────────────────────

[d-dantes]

⋆｡°·☁︎ ─── • 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

Pairing: Vergil x F!reader

Warnings: Reader is a demon but there are no specific traits listed, established relationship / childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, clawing, missionary, slight nipple play, creampie. Takes place before the events of DMC3 / coincides with the mangas code 1 and 2.

Wordcount: 5k

Notes: Of course I wrote him before Dante lmao. For my beloved @katsukikitten

It had been years since you two had last seen Vergil, life proving to be inherently cruel to have you pine for a soul whose progenitor separated the mortal realm and hell from one another. Erecting a barrier that sealed the worst type of creatures together with a tyrant, issuing peace to fragile humans while leaving them ignorant to the suffering their savior wrought for his own kind. 

Power struggles worsening already unloving homes much like the one you hailed from, conditioned to fight and fend for yourself at a young age. Beaten and battered, starved and poisoned with the reasoning to build you stronger to topple the rankings of those still loyal to the temporarily vanquished king Mundus. 

Only freed of your torment by a stroke of pure luck, slipping through a tear in the barrier between your world and his. Landing at his feet in a heap, weakened yet feral and ferocious in your defensive caution as you lunged at the young boy with a knife nearly too big for your hand at that age. You blame his overpowering of you on your lack of sleep and malnutrition, you pin your surrender on a lapse in judgment from the poison in your veins. 

If only your tyrannical father could see you in the weeks to months that followed, essentially in the lap of luxury of Makai’s traitorous lineage as you tentatively shared a space with that family, willingly and (your best kept secret) happily after some time. Nurtured, housed and fed thanks to the benevolence of Vergil’s dearly departed mother Eva despite her son bringing home the most unconventional of strays.

Even in adolescence you figured she always wanted a daughter that Sparda obviously hadn’t provided her with, but you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

And like all children, you assume you’re indestructible (the twins only proved to exacerbate this notion), that you’ve all the time in the world. Puppy love cultivating in your time together only to bicker and fight like cats and dogs whenever Vergil’s younger brother playfully gagged and mockingly sang a childish song in regard to the overt affinity between one another. 

You were both young and ignorant to the atrocities that would cleave you two from one another’s arms; but, much like flesh and bone, what is meant to be one will return as such. 

You won’t gift fate all the glory to the reunion either, not with how tirelessly you searched for Vergil that fateful night. You could smell blood on the wind amidst the flames and ash, both demon and his own. You never lost hope because you never found his body, only the skeletal remains of the same creatures that attacked Eva and set the home ablaze. 

Spending your teenage years hunting down any creature that even mumbled a ghosting mention of the twin sons of Sparda. Most of the leads only ending short with nothing to show for it besides guiding you to the next pathetic sod that sullied the legacy of Sparda in the form of his two sons. 

Only gleaning some good news from some of the lower level swill that Dante was alive and relatively well. You looked into his business and, despite the dilapidated building and the lack of clientele, he was doing as fine as he could be. 

At least he found the girl he’d lost that same night, his own soft spot to fight for instead of solely for the disdain he held for half of his genetic makeup. 

But with Dante’s very existence breeds an unrest that he’s founded a business model upon. A stirring in the underworld mercenaries doubling as devil hunters whisper trade secrets your keen ears pick up on. Often nothing notable, typical happenings of demons kicking up a fuss for hired hands to fight over silencing. 

Dante didn’t chase boring cases and as you linger on the fringes of his awareness to ascertain definitively that he was doing fine on his own, you realize the infamy of his name brings jobs to his doorstep in the form of a portly man. Something of a shifty sort for certain but you’d be hard pressed to find a soul that didn’t fit that bill in society's underbelly. 

You expend little effort to tail the man, keen ears perked to eavesdrop on the conversation you can tell the young mercenary isn’t entirely interested in hearing but you glean plenty from the exchange. 

Dante denies at first, scoffs at the details of the job but something about it engenders a familiar foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach, an instinctual reaction that foments your involvement. 

You don’t understand how Dante could choose to turn down a job with a promise of hefty payment simply because he deemed it boring but you don’t entirely share the same sentiment. He only agrees himself because of the soft voice that makes mention of looming payments with empty pockets but you’re already kicking away from the dingy brick wall for a jumpstart on the case. 

You know in your heart the scent of a setup but you find Vergil in the midst of it by chance alone, fate will never earn your thanks when it’s what tore you asunder. Only pouncing on him in the first place because you didn’t recognize him and the details of Dante’s job said nothing about a man’s presence. You’ve plenty of rage to spare and expend as you topple the figure from the momentum with your engraved dagger he’d gifted you as a child held closely to his adams apple. He only blinks, the ghost of a smirk quirking one side of his lip towards before he exhales a breathless chuckle.

“I see the way you make your presence known hasn’t changed even after all these years,” but there’s a tenderness to his gaze, a sense of relief as he drinks in the sight of you as you lower the dagger that fits well in your hand now, no longer oversized and awkward. 

The voice is more mature now, still soft but smooth in only a way his could ever be and he still styles the starlit locks gifted from his father the same way he did as a child; hell bent on distancing his similarities to his younger twin in any way he can. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, hastening its pace as you lean up slightly to really take him in. Same icy hues and serious expression but he still bore a boyish look about him, especially as he wears that ghost of a smirk on full lips.  

“V?” gasped as you sit up completely now, back arched as you hold your position but you lessen the pressure on the blade at his throat though you don’t completely remove it. Not yet, shapeshifters have tried to fool you with your beloved's face once before and though you saw through the farcical figure you’ve never been one to let your guard down so easily. 

His lids flutter slightly at the affectionate nickname you’d assigned to him, having haven’t heard it for a decade, it sounds like music to his ears. Vergil hums a response before snatching your wrist in his broad palm to disarm you but he makes no threatening move following the action. 

If you weren’t certain before of the man beneath you being your lost beloved, you were now. There were only two beings in existence that have been fast enough to disarm or react to your attacks and both of them were related to one another. 

Dante and Vergil. 

Whether you meant to or not, tension bleeds from your body as you subtly lean into him as Vergil sit’s upright. Neither of you detangle from one another and you familiarize yourself with his scent as you tilt your face towards his coyly, “don’t tell me you’re playing an elaborate game of hide and seek with Dante.” 

“Unlikely,” Vergil scoffs but says little more, his mother was no longer living in order to chastise him about his relationship with his younger brother. He has plans that include his brother but his involvement was not yet required. 

He pivots the conversation away from the subject of his brother as easily as he always has, silently and through physical redirection. Vergil skillfully spins your dagger in his hand and holds the hilt to you with his fingers pinching the blade. As you snatch it from him in a huff and your signature bratty pout, Vergil’s arms position behind the backs of your knees and around your up back to hoist you into a princess carry as he stands. 

Your nails dig into his chest, just above his diaphragm from the sudden movement but he does little more than grunt in annoyance more than pain, “this isn’t my first time carrying you.” 

“And this isn’t my first time clawing you for it,” you nearly hissed but relax in his hold nonetheless, resting your temple on his collarbone, “warn a girl first and maybe I wouldn’t have.” 

“Lies still favor that tongue of yours? You’d fight me regardless, there’s less fuss this way.” 

It’s comforting how familiar and easy interacting with him feels already, choosing to respond to him with a simple yet playfully petulant, ‘hmph.’ 

Vergil carries you from the streets and the steadiness of his gait, the rhythmic thump of his heart in his chest and the even draw of his breath threatens to lull you into an impromptu catnap. Familiarity fighting at the fringes of your reality as you recall him carrying you just like this whenever you first met. The memory of it paints your features in serenity as your fist the lapel of the vibrant velour blue coat, curiously glancing around at your surroundings as Vergil shoulders through a pair of intricately designed despite deteriorating with age double doors. 

You ascertain quickly this building is something of an archaic hotel, the vacant space obviously a lobby but you don’t ever realize how truly vast the spaces are until it’s devoid of decoration. 

There’s a crescent shaped desk towards the rearmost point of the room where dual staircases adorn either edge and lead to the second floor. You trail it with your eyes first as Vergil nears the mouth of the left set, glancing about to see rows seating and tables draped in sheets dingy from decades old dust. 

Running your fingertip along the banister as Vergil ascends the steps that lead to two sets of stainless steel doors in dire need of polishing. The only lighting in the space comes from the moon hanging high in the sky bleeding through the clerestory and aisle windows alike, casting elongated shadows from the mutins that divide the panes. 

“Auxiliary power,” Vergil answers the question you’ve yet to pose, glancing at you while he presses the button to his desired floor as the doors slip shut and the cabin shifts subtly as it rises. 

“Then why are none of the other lights on? Don’t tell me it’s for the haunted ambiance,” Vergil having always been an enjoyer of different types of literature, poetry being his main preference but he did indulge in gothic horror from what you could remember. He chuckles at your tease, earning a smile of your own because the sound has always been music to your ears though it was much more boyish and carefree the last you’d heard it.

“Auxiliary power prioritizes basic functions, though I’ve tampered with it enough to suit my needs,” plus, even though the building is abandoned doesn’t mean ambient lighting wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows. The last thing Vergil cared to deal with was human interference, the man he works with currently is less than tolerable as is. 

The elevator opens soon after and Vergil traverses the hall until he stops short at the second to last door before the hallways end. You take the liberty yourself of grabbing the crystal cut knob to push the door open yourself, tittering cutely as you sweep your arm in a motion for him to continue as if he weren’t the one carrying you. 

The room is sparsely decorated with a window covered by thick drapes to conceal the illumination of the bedside lamp from the outside world. Only the essentials remain in the room, a queen sized mattress with the bed neatly made but it doesn’t appear untouched by time. 

“You’ve been staying here?” You muse as you’re situated at the edge of the mattress, smoothing out the wrinkles your body causes. 

“For an interim,” he responds as he shrugs off his coat, footfalls muted by the carpet as he approaches the only other door in the room to place it on the hook that decorates it. You beam a wide grin, leaping to your feet as you coo about how divine a shower sounds after you’ve swung the door open to reveal a gorgeous porcelain clawfoot tub with a shower attachment overhead, “necessity dictated proper accommodation. I venture to assume you’re inclined to agree?” 

“Hmm,” you hum coyly, tapping your chin as your other arm folds under your breasts, displaying them more prominently as you spin on your heel. You bend slightly at the waist to tilt closer to him, gently jabbing your finger into Vergil’s sternum but miss how his gaze wander’s lower then back up to meet your gaze, “I suppose. As long as that water is warm, perhaps I may.”

“Ascertain at your leisure,” Vergil’s voice bears a playful lilt so subtle only you could ever pick up on it. 

You shimmy your shoulder alluringly, practically purring a coquettish, “care to verify my findings?” 

He clears his throat at that, faint simper on his lips but his expression appears overly relaxed in your presence; though only for a moment. There’s a notable shift in his demeanor, his gaze flirting to his peripheral as a minute amount of rigidity steals the moment as his fingers tighten around the hilt of yamato. 

“Another time,” he says and you try not to deflate, pouting slightly before he continues, “excuse me for a moment, there’s an irritant for me to handle.” 

You want to follow, to keep him within your sight to subjugate the fear of losing him again that gnaws at the floor of your heart. He stops you short, however, tilting his head slightly and the intention imbued in his words puts you at ease, “I will return, you’ll have to enlighten me of your findings when I do.” 

A heat floods your system, smile painting pretty features as your fingers wrap around the curtain of the fixture, “prepare for a dissertation if it isn’t to my standards, V.” 

He hums as he gives you his back, dull thuds of his boots singling his departures as he leaves you with no further parting words. 

You’re sure to have plenty to say upon his return but you won’t make mention of how alike the siblings truly were and how in sync they acted without intention. You can hardly stifle your giggle though as you turn the ornate knobs on the shower and test the temperature before shedding your clothes to enjoy a well earned, scalding hot shower. 

What were the odds that both siblings would find lodging in buildings forgotten even by the city? 

You don’t dwell on the thought long after stepping into the shower, near moaning at the divine heat that delightfully stings the surface of your skin. Standing under the spray just to bask in the warmth before passing your palms over your body as if to store the warmth in your muscles. 

Thoroughly relishing the moment before reaching for the gently used, eggshell white brick of soap. You lather it between your hands first, turning it over a number of times for a generous amount to coat your palms before starting at the slopes of your shoulders and working your way down. Losing yourself in the comfortable embrace of the steam and Vergil’s fragrance.  

You almost wish to have taken a bath instead but you weren’t sure how long Vergil would be gone. The tub seemed big enough for two, it would be such a waste not to test the hypothesis another time. You weren’t sure how long the two of you would linger in this building but you knew one thing definitively; you weren’t leaving alone. Not again. 

Nipping the train of thought in the bud before it could even hope to sour your mood, closing the faucet with a bereft sigh. You would live under the stream if you could but the temperature would run tepid before long. 

You rip open the curtain to snatch quickly for the towel on the wall adjacent to fight a possible chill. Wrapping the still plush fabric around you securely as you exit the room, steam rolling out as you survey your surroundings. 

Vergil’s yet to return but it hasn’t been long enough to worry you. Padding towards the single bed at the center of the space and scooping up his abandoned coat. Holding it to your face to breathe him in as a salacious thought crosses your mind. Cheshire grin contorting your features mischievously as you let your towel drop and pool at your feet. 

Donning his signature coat next and nothing else, toying with the lapels and situating it to your form for an artfully scantily clad look before positioning yourself onto the mattress. You crawl to the center and posture yourself into a seductive yet leisurely lounge for him to stumble upon. Glancing at the nightstand to find a book you recognize well, inscribed with an ornate initial ‘V’ full of fanciful swirls. 

The pages are still well loved, the spine yet unbroken and you can still pick out his favorite poems by the wrinkling of the edges. 

You don’t have to wait long for his return, however, only getting a few pages deep in the composition of poems before the door opens quietly. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, an exasperated sigh still in the midst of leaving his lips as the door clicks closed. Vergil rolls his shoulders and you swear your mouth could water at the way his back flexes without his coat to hide the scene away. 

“Feeling tense?” You coo to call his attention, letting your palm splay over the space beside you and pat enticingly. Vergil rolls his neck next, slowly turning to glance over his shoulder at you before pivoting in his heel. His brow raises subtly at your state of undress before he lets his shoulders sag, chin tilted upwards as if to mask his subtle ogling. 

But you’ve seen a hungry man’s gaze time and again, though none have ever felt as exhilarating as his own. 

“Want me to help you unwind?” You beckon him closer as you wag your finger in a come hither motion, slowly turning to lay in your back and with the new position more skin is exposed for Vergil to drink in. Your legs still crossed to cover your slit but even then you tease him, shifting until only your ankles cross and he can see your bare mound. 

He joins you with ease, naturally, weight dipping the mattress and pressing into you as he settles down. Arms thick with corded muscle slip beneath your body in a half embrace as you cup his cheek affectionately. 

Vergil turns slightly, brushing his lips over the heel of your palm, once, twice before cupping over the back of your hand to lay another chaste peck to the pulse point on your wrist. Trailing lower with another placed to your forearm before he leans to kiss your shoulder only to be stopped short in his journey before he can dip to your throat.  

Watching glacial hues flick towards your lips, dip lower to tease himself with the gratuitous cleavage on display that you apparently don’t want him to appreciate quite yet as the pads of your fingers press into the hollows of his cheeks. You hold fast when he pulls back the slightest bit, no real pressure to truly hold him in place and the moment reminds Vergil of how you both used to train and dance as children. In tune with one another then and now, nearly making his lids flutter at the feeling.

“Temptress,” Vergil husks as he gently pries himself from your grasp, leaning to close the gap and seal his lips over yours. A fleeting yet firm contact and his lips are soft, plush and perfect against your own before it’s over as quickly as it began. 

“You’ll learn to love it,” a sultry purr as you tip his chin with the claw of your index finger while the other rests on his chest, points of your freshly manicured nails pressing minuscule divots into the taut flesh of his bare chest. 

He’s tired of being denied already, obviously so with the roll of his eyes before he takes both of your hands with only one of his own. Vergil’s fingers lock firms around both of your wrists, crossing them as he lifts them above your head. The new position exposes you, placing your bosom on full display, nipples pebbling from the brush of the fabric and the cool air of the room.

Vergil basks in the sight of you, crystalline hues committing the rise and fall of your chest and the thinly veiled, flustered expression on your pretty face to memory. Stealing another kiss before crawling lower, adorning you in the affections. Your throat, as previously desired, your clavicle, your sternum, then to the tops of each of your breasts as he soughs against your skin, “I’m not that patient boy you once knew.”

You’re writhing beneath him, thighs clenching together as arousal warms your blood at every action. Still, as you always had, you work for an upper hand, arching into him with a sensual sigh, “you were patient before?”

It’s a gentle tease, one that births a lighthearted scoff as he sets to do as he pleases. First pressing a kiss to the bottom of your sternum as he inhales slowly, breathing in the aroma of fresh soap and what still lingers of your own body wash. It’s an intoxicating mix, the respective scents of one another and it makes his blood thrum in his veins. Placing another kiss along the valley of your breasts as he palms a greedy handful of the pliant flesh and settle more comfortably between your thighs. 

You can feel the rigidity of his cock through the thin material of his trousers as he gently kneads you as his thumb brushes over a pebbling nipple, making you arch into his touch with a sigh. Dampening his crotch with each upwards jerk of your hips at the stimulation, the friction to your clit maddening, leaving you near ravenous.

Singing in soft suspires the moment Vergil releases his hold on you to give equal attention to your chest. His lips wrap around the bud he toyed with cruelly while the other mimics his earlier ministrations.

“V, V, more V baby, please,” as your nails comb through the soft spikes of his hair and rake gently at his scalp. Tugging more insistently when he ignores your plea, growling slightly as he releases your nipple with a lewd pop.

Vergil's lips hungrily seal over yours, brushing your tongue along the seam of his lips and you moan appreciatively when he grants you entry. Wet muscle sliding over his as Vergil reaches between your bodies to undo his pants. Unclasping the button with ease as you hastily yank at the material of his shirt, buttons snapping free and landing with deft thuds against the thick comforter. 

“Who’s the one lacking in patience now,” he mutters into your mouth, shrugging the sleeves from his arms as your hands slide along his skin beneath his shirt to rid him of it faster. 

“You tease too much,” you all but whine as you toss away his shirt with a sneer like the garment offended you. Chasing his lips as Vergil shoves his pants and boxers down his thighs, allowing them to slip lower with his movements. 

“Forgive me then,” Vergil sighs between chasing kisses. He fits the web of his palm around the base of his erection, jumping in his hold as he head glides through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Cockhead kissing your clit, leaving you keening salaciously with his name on your lips before his tip catches on your entrance. 

His hips roll into you slowly, giving you a taste of every inch that sinks into you as Vergil placidly groans with every convulsion of your cunt that envelops him until he’s buried to the hilt. You both feel like you’re engulfed in an inferno but you’ve no desire to separate. 

Indulging in one another as you adjust to the size of Vergil, canting your hips beneath him and the action has his tip nudge into a patch that rips a moan from your lips too sinful to selfishly swallow. 

He wants the sound of your pleasure to haunt the halls for the years to come like they’ll plague his every waking and dreaming hour henceforth. Vergil’s hips jerk into yours to earn another and a gasp to follow it as he drags his hips slowly backwards, sinking into you at nearly the same pace as the first. 

You writhe and you whine beneath him, nails digging into Vergil’s back before raking angry red lines into alabaster flesh. His pace is rhythmic and steady, slowly dragging his hips back until only his tip is still sheathed before sinking into you with a shuddered groan. The grind of his pelvis into your clit leaves you twitching, gradually working you closer to release but hardly fast enough. 

You lift your legs, bringing your knees close to the bottom of his ribcage as you lock your ankles at the small of his back. Your thighs clench as he continues as he has, digging your heel gently yet insistently into the base of his spine. 

“Greedy,” Vergil growls but he responds with a hastened pace, his own demise steadily approaching. Teeth tugging delicately at your bottom lip as he pulls away, decorating you with a smattering of kisses beginning at the corner of your lip, over your cheek and ending with a press to the hinge of your jaw. He smirks at how you crane your throat to grant him any access he covets, rewarding you with a hastened pace and his lips gracing the skin over your thrumming pulse. Your nails bite into his skin, a delightful sword of pain added to the plethora of pleasure he continues to cultivate, laying another kiss before nipping at your earlobe, “don't whine, craving more?” 

You whimper at the tease, squirming as you sigh out breathy exhales in affirmation. He couldn’t deny you if he wanted to now, knees digging into the mattress as he slams into you with a bit more force. Jostling your body and knocking the headboard against the drywall it rests against. 

The steady crawl hastens to a hurdle into euphoria then, arching into Vergil but you can do little else but take him at this pace. Mewling the syllables of his name with broken gasps as your head presses back into the superfluous amount of pillows beneath you. Claws biting into the flesh of his back and your heels dig into his lower lumbar with a bruising force.  

Then the coil in your lower belly snaps, moaning prettily as euphoria washes over you in waves and Vergil works you through the high. Keeping his pace as he sits up and grips at the fat of your hips, pulling you into his ruts, satisfied smirk gracing his features as you babble his name. 

Prolonging your high for a few moments longer when the vice grip of your velvet walls sends him careening from the precipice of pleasure he’d been teetering on for so long. Filling you full, continuing to rock his hips into yours in slower ruts that the rhythmic slap of wood against plaster is replaced by pitiful whines and the lewd squelch of your cunt. 

He takes a moment to revel in the afterglow of your coupling, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest as he leans down to press another kiss to your sternum. Thumbs massaging soothing circles into the space where your hips and pelvis meet before unsheathing his spent cock. You twitch and whine at the loss but little else, Vergil shushing you softly as he sinks to lay beside you in the mattress. 

Arranging your bodies to lay on your side and curl slightly around you, unbothered by the tacky feeling from the sheen of sweat painting both of your skin. You settle comfortably against him, wiggling your ass against Vergil playfully as you glance over your shoulder at him. 

His eyes are closed, a serene expression on his features that makes your heart swell. How many years had it been since you last saw him look so peaceful? Carefree instead of burdened by a history you’ve yet to learn but now long to in this small sanctuary. 

You reach back to cradle his jaw in your loving hands once again and he cracks a lid open curiously at you. 

“Falling asleep?” You murmur as you bring your lips to his, casually and unhurried before you part long enough to finally ask, “V, baby, where have you been?”

He’s silent for a long moment after that, exhaling slowly as he contemplates how to truly answer that question. Posed innocently but the answer bears a substantial weight. He knows you mean more, to be enlightened of a history already laden with grief and strife alike you weren’t there to bear witness to and weather alongside him. 

Where would he even begin? Vergil couldn’t be sure, but there was one thing he knew without a shadow of a doubt. 

“Certainly too far from where I’ve longed to be.”

[aemondsbabe]

Duty & Sacrifice | Claimant Pt 2

summary: your wedding to jace will happen whether you and aemond like it or not; even still, you know where you truly belong

pairing: dark!brother!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, threats against jace, jace slander do not come at me you were warned, blood purest aemond like he's voldemort coded idk he loves that valyrian o neg, breeding kink, fingering, unprotected sex, piv sex, biting, brief hand on neck, possessive aemond, obsessive aemond, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: big thank you to @rabbit-hearted for sending a request for more dark!aemond! i hope you enjoy!! dark aemond was a bit toned down in this one but he (and the reader) will be going unhinged psycho in part 3 uwu

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 here!

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“Oh, you look absolutely beautiful, Princess,” your lady’s maid coos over your shoulder while she finishes tying the laces at the back of your gown, eliciting a chorus of echoing hums and titters of agreement from the other women fluttering about your chambers. 

“Thank you, Kella,” you murmur, meeting her gaze in the mirror, your lips stretched into a thin, tight smile. Even in your periphery, the sight of the ivory dress makes your stomach turn and twist into barbarous knots and you quickly glance away. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that eats at your heart as you keep your eyes trained on the shelves beside the mirror, silently reciting the name of each book stacked on them over and over again, anything to keep your mind occupied. 

It only halfway works, just as it had every time before – every other time you stood in this exact same spot as the tailor measured and fitted your dress, as you discussed hairstyles with your maids, as you chose jewelry with your mother. Helaena had spent weeks, hours upon hours, sewing bead after bead into the alabaster fabric, creating intricate patterns of florals giving way to flames, and you could hardly bring yourself to look at it. 

If I don’t look, it’s not real. If I don’t look, it’s not real, the words, foolish as they were, echoed in your mind for the millionth time as your maids added final touches to your outfit – sliding your feet into shoes and clasping on various ornate jewels. 

“Should we finish the hair first or get the cloak on first?” You hear one of your lady’s maids ask another, somewhere off to the side. 

“Mm, I think the cloak,” another one answers; you can hear the doors of your wardrobe being pulled open, “Her tiara may get snagged otherwise.”

Glimmers of red from the small garnet gemstones decorating your gown create bloody splotches in your periphery as morning sunlight filters through your windows; your mind begins to wander again despite your best efforts and crimson quickly gives way to hues of sapphire. Absent-mindedly, you dig your nails into your cuticles as you recall that night. The events play out behind your eyes like they have time and time again in the weeks between then and now – the pin-pricked chill you’d felt from his gaze, the way his whispered promises made your heart ache with a confusing whirlwind of longing and dread, the way his hands had felt against your skin. The sound of your blood pumping wildly in your veins drowns out any other noise as his voice echoes in your head. 

“Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl,” he had commanded, directing your attention to the hilt of his dagger. And you had, the memories of it make you shiver even now. 

You had.

But it didn’t matter because here you are, clad in an ivory gown that may as well be a death shroud for all the joy it brings you.

“Princess?” A little gasp falls from your lips as you’re hoisted out of your reverie and your eyes finally focus on Kella standing before you, matching cloak in hand. 

“My apologies,” you say, managing a little chuckle, “I’m not sure where my head was at.” 

“No trouble, Princess,” Kella smiles, waving a hand dismissively, “I’m sure you’re eager to get the day started, marrying a prince and all.”

“Eager, yes,” you sigh, forced smile falling flat the second she looks away. The back of your throat tightens when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and, for the umpteenth time today, you try desperately to ignore the urge to run – to sprint all the way to the Dragonpit, mount Silverwing, and go. Instead, you swallow down the sick feeling in your gut and compel yourself to be still as Kella drapes the cloak over your shoulders, the red silk underlining enveloping you in a sanguine veil. 

Just as she’s about to fasten it to the little ties at the shoulders of your gown, the doors to your chambers bang open, causing both of you to jump as your heads whip toward the sound of the noise. 

“Prince Aemond,” Kella says breathlessly, draping the cloak over an arm and curtsying politely. 

“Get out,” he murmurs lowly, violet eye not moving from yours as he stands at the doorway, arms tucked behind his back, “I wish to have a moment alone with my sister.” Your heart hammers so wildly that you’re amazed the sound of it doesn’t echo off the walls – that it doesn’t burst in your chest. 

You don’t miss the uncertain glances your maids give one another, though they ultimately nod their heads. A small chorus of, “Yes, your highness,” rises around you as they scurry from the room; Kella quickly drapes your cloak over the back of your vanity chair before leaving as well, the doors to your chambers closing behind her. 

Aemond quickly locks them, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips for a precious second as he does so, before turning to you. Your brows furrow as nervousness builds within you, nails digging into your cuticles as you desperately study the neutral expression on his face as he stalks toward you. 

“Don’t you look breathtaking, sweet sister,” his eye sweeps over your form as he speaks and you feel as if every ounce of air is pressed from your lungs when he gently grasps at your chin, angling your face up toward his when he comes to a stop before you. 

“How did you get in here?” You question, hating how feeble your voice sounds, how your heart slows the second he touches you. Your question is a valid one, though – your mother had taken great caution in the weeks following the night of your betrothal feast to keep you and your brother as separated as possible. 

He chuckles as he tilts your face to the side, exposing your neck. “Someone may have delivered an anonymous tip to Cole informing him of a supposed smallfolk revolt brewing in Flea Bottom,” you don’t miss the twitch of a victorious smile on his lips, “Of course, the Gold Cloaks had to attend to it – we wouldn’t want anything ruining such a… joyous day. Once they were gone, it was easy enough to slip from the Sept and make my way back here.”

“You’ve been planning,” his eye stays fixed on the ruby necklace clasped around your neck as you speak, though he hums in acknowledgement at your words. After another few seconds of heavy silence, you cannot help but huff and jerk your chin from his careful grip, “Did you come here to merely ogle at me or do you need something?”

“Mm,” he hums, narrowing his eye for just the barest of seconds, “There is something I need indeed, Strong girl.”

“Don’t call me that!” You snap, the little huff of laughter he gives only makes you more agitated. He turns his back to you and stalks over to your vanity; it’s only then that you see he’s holding a small box behind his back, “What is that?”

“Only a little wedding present,” Aemond drawls, violet eye meeting yours in the mirror as he runs his fingers over the soft ivory silk of your cloak; his nose twitches in disgust, the most subtle of movements that you’re sure only you are able to spot. 

“Can… can I see it?”

Another twitch of his lips, a little pulling at the corners, just enough for you to know he’s satisfied about something, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. Whatever game he’s playing at, whatever imaginary battle he’s thought up in his mind, he’s winning. 

Am I even fighting back? Do I want to?

Silently, he makes his way back over to you, each heavy step a nail in your proverbial coffin. He’s standing before you again, long hair spilling over the shoulders of his tunic like a pearlescent waterfall, held back from his face by two thin braids that join in the back. 

Finally, he opens the box, carefully sliding the lid off. Your lips part as you stare down at the contents, eyes as wide as the moon as it feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. 

“I had it made by the finest craftsman in the city,” he murmurs, eye gleaming with pride at your stunned reaction, “Do you like it, little one?”

“I… Aemond, I…,” you stammer, at a loss for words as you look over the necklace resting on a bed of soft cloth. Made from a breathtaking assortment of pearls, the attention to detail is immaculate; each milky white stone is threaded onto a fine silver chain, all leading to a gleaming deep blue sapphire in the center, framed by the figure of a small silver dragon. “I-It’s gorgeous, brother, I… thank you.”

“You deserve only the best,” he purrs, watching closely as you reach up and carefully run your fingers over the glittering stones, “Shall I put it on you?”

“I already have a neck –” You start, only for a loud gasp to rip itself from your throat as Aemond tears the ruby necklace from you, the delicate gold chains easily snapping and sending dozens of tiny rosy stones clattering to the floor. All you can do is gape at him, one hand grazing against the place on your neck where the necklace once sat. 

Meanwhile, your brother’s violet eye merely follows a few of the stones as they skid across the stone floors. “Pity,” he tuts, stalking around you like a lion would its prey before stopping behind you and meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Do you have any idea who that necklace bel–”

“I don’t give a shit about who it belonged to,” he hisses, reaching over your shoulder and grabbing your jaw, forcing your head to turn back enough to meet his heated stare, “All that matters is that you belong to me, not some sniveling fucking bastard who shall only bring you ruin.”

He stares at you for a second more as if trying to drive the point somehow further into your heart before finally releasing your chin, smirking at the little shiver that runs down your spine when he skims his fingers over your neck. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he delicately sweeps the hair away from the back of your neck before pressing a soft kiss there, only to trail more down the crook of your neck and shoulder; time seems to slow for a moment while you savor the feel of his lips against your skin and your chest tightens when he groans. 

He huffs when he straightens back up, like being apart from you, even if only by a few scant inches, is painful – a feeling you know all too well. Opening your eyes, you watch as he carefully clasps the sapphire necklace around your neck. The larger middle stone sits perfectly at the base of your neck, the rich blue hue sparkles beautifully against your skin. 

“Flawless,” he says lowly, gently kissing just below your ear before trailing his eye up to the floor-length mirror the two of you stand before, hands resting on your waist, “We look perfect together, don’t we, little one?”

Automatically, you nod your head, unable to separate your gaze from the mirror. He’s right, he always is. The two of you simply fit together – perfect compliments of the other. 

He smiles lazily over your shoulder and pulls you closer against him, relishing in the small gasp that leaves your lips as his length presses against you, already half-hard and wanting. “Yes, you and I were meant to be together,” he breathes, slowly pulling up the skirts of your gown, “You may be marrying that traitorous little cunt, but you’ll belong to me soon enough, sweet sister.”

Your brows furrow at that and you start to question him, ask what exactly he means, but before you can utter a word, a feeble, stuttering moan is wrenched from your lips instead. Aemond holds you steady, keeping one hand firmly around your waist, as the other fits itself between your thighs; you’re helpless to do much else than watch yourself fall apart in the mirror as his lithe fingers slip through your already drenched center.

A pleased hum reverberates against the side of your jaw as he presses soft kisses against your neck, ravenous eye glued to your chest as it rises and falls with sharp pants, your breasts heaving beneath the bodice of your wedding dress.

“Promise me you won’t let him touch you,” your brother growls, swirling his fingers around your already aching pearl with practiced ease, “Swear to me that I am the only one who will ever claim you, sweet girl.”

“A-Aemond, I…,” you gasp, already having to fight through the fog in your mind to remain upright, much less speak, “Brother, please!”

“Swear it!” He snarls, biting harshly at your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. 

“I promise, I promise!” You quickly concede, the truth willingly spilling from you. You did not want anyone else, you never had – your gaze had been firmly set on Aemond for as long as you could remember. Your heart had soared with hope when Aegon and Helaena’s betrothal was announced, only for those hopes to be squashed when you were all but promised to Jace not too long after Aemond’s eye had been taken – doomed to a marriage built on regrets. 

Your older brother had felt the same from an earlier age still, always doting on you, even as a child. He loves Helaena, yes, but his heart had only been yours. His screams still echo in your mind – the only time he’d ever raised his voice at your mother, when he’d stormed into her chambers as soon as Aegon had taunted him with news of the raven from Driftmark. 

But it was the same each time, excuses of repairing relations and making amends, commands for you and Aemond both to grow up – to make sacrifices for the realm. 

Was I ever more than a lamb raised for slaughter? That question has kept you up for more hours than you care to admit. Now, watching in the mirror as a man who is not your betrothed brings you to heel on the morning of a day you have mourned for years, the dam inside you finally bursts – you are tired of bowing to duty. 

“Aemond, please!” You gasp, nearly crying as the fog in your mind finally lifts, “Please, take me, please!”

He pauses at that, the fingers on your aching bud stopping as his eye flicks up to yours. His eye is studying, calculating while he looks over you — there is a terrible relief in being finally, truly seen. “Is that what you wish?” He hums, chuckling when you pant as his fingers circle your dripping entrance, “To be filled with me, little one?”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished the question, desperate whines spilling from you as he slips his hand from between your legs, only long enough to loosen the ties at the front of his trousers.

“I’ll breed this sweet cunt,” he grunts, the arm around your waist moving to hook securely around your chest while the other grabs at his length, positioning it at your entrance as you hold your skirts out of the way in a trembling grasp, “Give you a pure Valyrian babe, just as you deserve.”

All of the air is knocked from your lungs as he pushes into you, spearing you on his cock in one swift motion. Your fingers abandon your skirts to instead claw helplessly at the arm draped over your chest, knees nearly buckling as Aemond pauses long enough for you to adjust. 

“Gods!” You whimper as he sets a punishing pace from the outset, though the harsh thrusts feel like paradise after being deprived of his mere presence for so long. Your head droops forward as he snakes a hand around your hip to begin rubbing at your pearl yet again, lucid enough to know that the two of you are operating on borrowed time. 

“You have always been mine, all of you,” he gasps, watching as your bodies writhe together in the mirror. After a moment, he growls and grabs at your neck, forcing your head up until your eyes meet his. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praises, leaning forward to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, “You’re mine, you’re mine…”

You nod as best you can as he chants the words again and again like a prayer, pushing his length in and out of you in time with each one, until your mind is nothing but a cacophony of mine, mine, mine. 

“I-I’m, Gods, I’m – Aemond!” You all but sob, the knot in your stomach that had been pitifully winding itself for weeks finally about to unravel as your cunt tightens around him, his grunts and growls in response only pushing you further to the end. 

“Do it,” he commands, redoubling his efforts on your bud, his other hand scrambling frantically to grasp at your stomach, “Let go and I’ll breed you, I’ll give you a babe, our babe, little one. Let go for me, let go.”

His muttered command sends shivers down your spine and you’re powerless to do much else other than obey and your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part as a harsh, shuddering cry is knocked out of you; fire seems to ignite every cell within you as you pulse around his length. Your knees buckle when your high washes over you, Aemond’s grip around your waist the only thing keeping you upright. 

“Good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, the sound of his voice just barely cutting through the rush of blood in your ears. A handful of thrusts later and he stills against you, growling and squeezing you to within an inch of your life as he fills you, cock twitching. 

You both still for a moment, harsh pants filling your chambers as you catch your breath. You whine when Aemond finally pulls his softening length from you, though he shushes you sweetly before leading you to your vanity chair and sitting you down. 

“I don’t want to marry him,” you whisper suddenly, sniffling softly as tears sting the back of your eyes, “I don’t w-want to, Aemond, I –”

“Shh, shh,” he says softly, gently cupping your cheek and angling your face up toward his, “There’s nothing we can do to change today, as much as it pains me. Were it possible, I would gut him in the Sept and stake my claim to you then and there, Gods be damned, I –” 

He pauses, cutting himself off with a harsh sigh, “I will have you, I swear it. I will not fail again.” 

Were it any other time, the dark shadow that lingers behind his words would give you pause, would frighten you as they have before. 

Now, though, they settle over you like a warm blanket – there is a safety in this fear. Aemond, for all his faults, is nothing if not determined. 

Whatever surety had settled within you only an hour before is swiftly and sharply pushed from your mind as you exit the carriage and climb the many steps up to the doors of the Great Sept of Baelor, unsteady even with Aegon at your side. 

By the grace of the Gods, Aemond had managed to slip from your chambers, and supposedly from the Red Keep, unseen by all except your lady’s maids, and they had all been sworn to secrecy long ago. Once he had gone, they filed back in and had blessedly made no mention of the intrusion as they bustled about you yet again – quickly braiding your hair through the prongs of your tiara and securing your cloak to your shoulders. 

They knew better than to ask about the sapphire clasped around your neck, or about the mess of rubies on the floor.

Your eldest brother, however, had not been so forgiving; his dark eyes had narrowed the moment you were seated together in the carriage. “Today, sister? Really?” He had teased, a dangerous spark in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you had grumbled, clenching your legs together as you sat. 

“Hm,” he hummed, chuckling softly, “Maybe I’ll soon be mother’s favorite after all.”

“We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon’s booming voice fills the Sept as you stand together with Jacaerys, your hands in his, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

You try your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his, to keep your lips crooked into a smile, but all you can focus on is the two stares practically searing your flesh. 

Alicent’s face swam in your vision, the way her cheeks had paled when she had caught sight of the jewelry clasped around your neck, at the guilty look in your eyes. You can feel hers boring into you now and you have no doubt her jaw is clenched, her fingers bloodied and raw. 

The other stare makes your skin prickle, much as it did on the night of your betrothal feast. You keep inwardly scolding yourself, again and again, as your eyes lock with Aemond’s every few seconds as he stands at the base of the steps to your side. 

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the septon continues, gesturing to you and Jace, “Look upon one another and say the words.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” you recite together, all the while you desperately try to ignore the hollow, aching pit slowly opening itself in the very center of your chest.

“I am hers and she is mine,” Jace murmurs, dark gaze fixed solely on yours as he squeezes your hands, a terrible longing in his stare, “From this day, until the end of my days.”

“I am his and he is mine,” you say, each word feeling like a knife being twisted in your gut, “From this day until the end of my days.”

The septon gestures once more for the two of you to step closer together; it takes all of your restraint not to gasp when you feel a rivulet of Aemond’s spend leak down your thigh as you do. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jace says softly. His warm hands cup your cheeks before he leans in but when your lips touch, all you see is sapphire.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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[take-everything-you-can]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6

A/N: This has been a year in the making and it is finally here. Thank you to every single one of you, I truly think this would have been dust in the wind if I didn't have the support of all of you. A special thanks to my loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult and @keeryhours for beta reading and letting me talk to you of any and all ideas before I put pen to paper (finger to key) P.S : THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without y'all )

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )

Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one you're married to.

TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, (mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self-deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner, depressive episode, throwing things and tears. Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining, sweet talk, caring in silence. Smut- fingering, female oral, soft touches, male oral, unprotected PIV, cream pie. ...... if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)

WC: 6.3K

The heavy tread heading down the stairs wakes you up yet again—an alarm clock of sorts in how Jason goes about his daily routine. 

Although sleep had never found you the night before, your mind raced with thoughts of sweet words, and your body craved the way his fingers sent jolts of electricity through your veins. Like a live wire to settle in the water, unsuspecting and fatal. 

Today was Eddie's day. A day you wouldn't have to pretend to be excited for. One you could lock away the burden and let the hope free, if only for a few hours. Even if at the end of the day you were going to have to slash and slice and mold that hope back into its box. Locking it down once again, securing it once more, like it should be. Right beneath your rib cage, tucked gently behind your lungs. 

Every time you let it see the light of day it grows. Gravitational pull into his smile, like sunflowers to the sun. You let it fester and take root. You let it grow around your heart for a day. Let it break apart old vines that decayed long ago. If only for a day. 

A morning like any other and still your heart flutters with knowing what the birds and breeze will bring with them. A glimpse in the mirror and your entire world shatters. The bone tiredness is evident on your face. Deathly hollow shadows where Eddie likes to see evidence of life. Pale lips, dried with the constant nag of picking. A habit of holding your tongue. Blemishes where it was smooth the day before, even the night before, just right before dinner. Evidence of the longing and loneliness.

Eddie can't see you like this. He can't! You won't let him. But the longer you look the longer your care seems to fold. Fading like a light that stubbornly won't go out, one that flickers and blips as if it's trying to reach out in Morse code. An S.O.S. One Eddie would be able to cipher but would send Jason into a fit of rage. 

You dress in a simple silk robe, over your shorter nightgown, a soft pink one you claimed you got from the department store when Jason questioned its origin. A lie that rolled off your tongue easily. The truth was Eddie had bought it for you and you had refuted it at first. You couldn't accept that. That was cold hard Evidence of the sins you had committed.

 Couldn't have that in the same house your husband was to come home to every day, but at that point in time Jason had already started staying down the hall. He had packed the majority of the room you had shared and taken it and put two doors in between the both of you. Eddie had convinced you to take it, to tuck it away for days you needed him and he couldn’t come to you. A thought that pestered and ate away at the walls of your memory. Made you turn down halls of darkness in your mind. 

Depression had taken your hand at the age of sixteen and it had never quite let you go, it was a mole that showed up one day, and you barely noticed it until one day someone dared to point it out to you. A subtle sadness that never quite lets you catch your breath. You thought marrying Jason would make the sadness take its leave, that it had finally left, and good riddance you thought, but you were wrong. 

Marrying Jason was just a temporary solution, and it never felt right. It would seep back into your mind and body. Days where getting out of bed was so exhausting you never even rolled over. Days where you thought of setting everything in the house on fire just to not wash the remnants of breakfast down the sink. You close your eyes and say a silent prayer that it doesn't last too long this time. 

You take a coal stick, smudge the water lines of your eyes, and take a brush to your hair. Sighing when the flatness wins over the battle in your head of trying to figure out if curlers are worth it today or not. They are not. A small amount of blush to your cheeks and a soft tint of gloss to your lips so that you stop trying to bite through them. 

Jason is already seated and drinking a cup of coffee at the small kitchen table as you make your way to the fridge. You take out the eggs and a block of cheddar cheese. A small frying pan sits idle on the stove, everything in its place to Jason’s liking. Knowing he’s been waiting for you to make him breakfast brings the smallest flicker of joy.

 ‘Thats Right wait mother fucker, starve for all I care’

 The thought runs through your mind as you crack the eggs in the pan and shred the cheese to add to his omelet. The same one you’ve made every day since you've been married. Some days he would leave extra early for work and you’d only have to make something to sustain yourself, oh how you favored those days. 

You plate his food and set it down in front of him, pouring the last of the milk into a glass before settling down into the chair across from him. Barely looking up from his paper, he picks up the fork to his left and takes a bite. The fork scraping the plate grates your nerves, but falling against the porcelain plate makes you jump at the sound. 

“What Happened?”  He glares across the table at you and you shrink into yourself.

“A shell. You obviously weren't paying any attention when you were cooking and of course, I bit into a damn shell. Can you do anything right?”

“You know you could have made your breakfast yourself, although you’d still probably find shells since you've never cracked an egg in your life.” Jason stood up from his chair, a scoff coming from the back of his throat. You hold back the urge to laugh, to be hateful beyond repair. You wouldn’t sink to his level, no matter how badly you wanted to.

“You think you’d at least be half good at something by now but yet here we are, right?” 

You sat there quietly. You would not cry, the tears stung the corners of your eyes but not yet. You listened as Jason picked up his briefcase, threw on his jacket, and stood as he opened the door, barely hearing him as he left he stated he would be home late for dinner. A rare occasion to even let you know but it meant more time. More time with Eddie, more time with yourself. You look across the table and pick up the plate with the omelet throwing its remains in the garbage, scraping the disappointment off and on two steps towards the sink you feel the tear fall. The frustration and hatred you knew too well as a weakness. 

Shards and bits of porcelain fly across the room as you throw the plate against the farthest wall. A sob falls out of your lips before you let yourself fall to the floor next to the sink. You let yourself cry for a moment, finding solace in the fact that your mother and hers before her went through this exact feeling. An ancient call from within to wipe the tears that had shed and to straighten up before anyone could see, but you were so tired of not letting them see, of hiding away. 

A record plays, and a soft slow song bellows throughout the room. Fitzgerald and her jazz soothed the rough edges of the morning down. Letting your mind wander off as she sang about dreaming little dreams. The blanket is half thrown across your lap along with a book to your right, sitting on the cushion next to you, thinking of reading at least one page but your hands fail to move an inch toward the spine of the well-worn novel. 

A small hideaway in your home a secret room in which Jason rarely ever steps foot in. His old study, the one he had to have and never used, sat filled with your things and your things alone. Jason was never one for books or music. He would pester you on how you could waste money on things like a new book, because why would a woman of the house need to know these things? He never liked the melodies that floated through the house, it needed to be silent so he could think straight, and many many other things he had told you over the years.

A rough knock on the door had you falling back into the real world, looking at the giant clock Jason had insisted be put up, it was noon. Eddie was finished with his route and no doubt was making his last stop of the day. You stumbled up from off the couch and slowly made your way to the front door, taking a heavy breath before opening it. The only thing that grounded you before he took it away. His uniform was in pristine condition, as always, and he stood tall with his smile dimpling at each end. 

“Fine day out, ain’t it miss?”  He took one good look at you and the smile fell from his lips as you looked up from under the hair that had fallen in your face. 

“A fine day indeed.” but your tone lacked its usual shine. He had seen you like this a handful of times and each time he hoped would be the last. He could see the lines of stress eating away at your features, how your brows stayed knitted together as if tied, how your lips had been bitten and not by him, but by the nervousness of holding your tongue.  

He looked worried and it made you want to crawl into yourself and die. To make him have that look on his face, one that meant he cared for you when you knew this was only skin deep. What he would give for you to know that it isn’t. 

You stepped back as he took the milk straight into the kitchen and began putting it away like he did every Tuesday, and you went back into the study. Eddie was a smart guy. It wouldn’t take him long to find you, especially since the last time you were like this he found you in the same place. The only thing that had changed was that now he knew not to startle you, knew that too many questions would overwhelm you. Knew that if the record was over you would let it play and scratch away at the silence instead of getting up to place a new one down. He would usually sit next to you and wait until you were ready to talk to him, like you were a stray animal and he held out a hand of food to you. A scared little thing. 

Instead, he leaned against the doorway and watched as you placed your blanket back over your lap and waited until you patted the seat next to you, wanting him to come and sit close to you.  You could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he were a fire-burning stove, the chill that reached bone-deep made you want to reach out and play with the coals. Like a child that was yelled at by their mother for touching the stove, you were hesitant but he let you take his hand. 

“How are you pumpkin?” a small question, yet you could feel the fresh wave of tears. How much care he had put in a simple question. 

“I’m good,” you said trying to smile as softly as you could,” How are you eds?”  He sat quietly for a second wondering if he should answer honestly or not. He took his time trying to think of what to say. He took his other hand, the one not holding yours, and caressed the side of your face. 

“I’m doing okay baby, but you most certainly are not.” Before you could argue he held his thumb to your lips.”I can’t stand seeing the sadness in your eyes, the fact that you’ll barely look at me.” You held eye contact, and now his big brown eyes bore into your soul. “ It’s not okay that you’re not okay.” You could feel the hot warmth of his hand now releasing yours to hold the other side of your face. He kissed you gently before bringing your face to his chest and he let you cry. He let you sob and rinse away all of what the morning and the days away from him had brought. He let you grieve for something that would never happen. He let you find that feeling was never your weakness, it was your strength. 

He rubs your back in soothing circles and when the clock strikes two you realize that the tears are now dried and he is still here. He didn’t leave you to fight your invisible monster alone. If anything, he stood ten toes behind you with shield and sword, daring another self-hated thought to pass him by. 

“Jason will be late tonight,” You say aloud, unsure if it’s to remind yourself or to let Eddie know. A simple hum is all he gives you as you lean back away from his hold to see his face. Just wanting to see if there is any sense of worry etched in his features instead, you find the hint of a smile. 

“What time do you expect him home?” he asks as his face comes close and rests it against your shoulder. 

“Around seven or so…” You nudge him with your elbow, a soft hit to the stomach and he lets out a low laugh, one you have desired to hear for days. In an instant and a sudden shriek from your lips, you find yourself laid back against the couch, eddies got your hands pinned beneath his chest as he leans into you. 

“That gives us plenty of time then Pumpkin.” You huff out a sigh trying to blow the hair that had fallen into your eyes. 

“Plenty of time for what eds?” instead of answering you he gives your lips a gentle peck and he slithers and writhes his way down the front of your body, mapping his way down your chest and kissing you right above where he believes your navel to be. Wishing he would just take and rip the cotton that covers you, but he is slow and he is sure. He lifts the nightgown to find that you had left your underwear safely in its drawer last night instead of putting a pair on. A sight that has him groaning into the gown he has bunched up in his fist. 

“So pretty, so perfect aren’t you?” You began squirming away from his question and he doesn’t like that all too much. He grips your hips and flattens his tongue across the mound of your pussy, teasing in the worst ways. “Come on, you know what I need to hear honey.” He licks a stripe through your folds and sets his chin against the top part of your thigh, waiting for you to give him what he wants. 

“I can’t Eddie, you know I can’t.” he scoffs and laughs mocking you and the tone you use. 

“Now I know that's just not true. You’ve done it before you can do it again.” He dips his tongue against your clit swirling and sucking until you buck your hips up toward him.  “It’s one simple phrase baby. You can say it, come on.” He pleads asking you to do this one thing and you can have everything he can offer. 

“ Eddie I need it, Please baby I just.. Please.” 

“Begging will not help you, although I love to hear it. You know that's not what I meant.” You feel him huff out a long sigh, annoyance you know is just in the vein of the game he wants you to play with him. 

“I’m per-” You had thrown your arm across your face in the hope of muffling the embarrassment of saying something you knew was a lie.

“I’m sorry. What was that Sweetheart?” he tugged at the bend in your arm until it fell away and rested in the soft curls he had let fall throughout his day. Scratching the stress away letting your nails have him melting into you, the words slip from your lips. 

“I’m perfect.” he smiles and kisses the side of your thigh. A small token of what is to come.

“Just the way you are?” You look down, eyes taking in the small golden fleck within his, and nod. You see the way it brightens his entire aura. Like the sun was coming from within instead of just peeking through the curtained windows. “Words please.” 

“Just the way I am.” You give in, you can ask a higher power for forgiveness later, lying the way you are. He takes your breath with how skillfully his tongue moves. Sucking and teasing in the best way imaginable. You take and grip his hair in your fist and he moans into your cunt as he dips two fingers in and hits that spot that has you seeing white. He feasts like a man who is starved to the brink of death. Letting his saliva mix with the slick that pours out of you, his favorite flavor on his tongue as you arch your back up off of the couch. Letting your head dangle off the edge and your hand keeping his face tight against you so his mouth can work with his fingers. You reach absolute bliss until his name leaves your throat scratchy.

 He licks the proof of that bliss off his lips and offers you the fingers that were once deep inside your walls. Taking them to the hilt you taste the heady mix of the hard work he had put in and it sent you to a floaty place. A place where you felt like you had your head in the clouds like the words he spoke were far away, like they were trying to reach out and bring you back down to earth with each one.

“Baby, you still with me?” Eddie is holding your chin forward as he had come to lay down next to you, well your body is not mainly on top of his so he must have moved you so you wouldn’t fall off the edge.  You hum letting him know that you heard him and are too lost for words right now. He kisses your nose and brings his lips to yours licking his way past your teeth and you let out a laugh and end up in a fit of giggles. Eddie laughs brightly along with you but he still asks what had got you tickled in the first place, you decide to answer him honestly.

“You Eddie, just you.” He stares at you in awe his eyes tracing your features as if he is trying to commit them to memory. “You know that feeling of when you're riding a bike and you let your arms lift from the handlebars, you make me feel like that.”

“Incredibly dangerous?” He asks with a sliver of teasing. You laugh at him and put your arms around his neck bringing him down to kiss you. 

“Free. You make me feel free Eddie Munson.”  He kisses you deeply and you start to trail pecks down his neck, and below his ear, you hear his breathing catch. You try to sit up and Eddie pulls you back down next to him. You try again and this time he lets you get situated however you like, although he is not expecting you to settle in between his legs. 

“What are you doing hun?” He asks kindly as his hand finds your face as you look down at him. 

“Want to make you feel good too baby.” You had begun slipping his belt through the loops in his pants and he lifts so you can slide it through the ones he sitting on. You know you don’t have to return the favor, he has told you that every time you’d tried before but how could you not? 

He was too good a man for you not to want to give him just as much pleasure if not more than he had given you. Too pure in his sinful ways. His zipper came down and as you reached for him, Eddie stopped you. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You make sure he knows by the look in your eyes that you mean it. “Do you- do you not want me to?” feeling that flicker of self-doubt rattles the bars of its enclosure from within. 

“Of course, I want you too, fuck I don’t think you understand that it's not even a want at this point, it’s a need baby.” You smile shyly but the thought that you are not his only one filters through. He lifts your chin with a finger to get you to look him in the eye. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

You can feel the tears start to sting again and one betrays you sliding down your cheek and hitting eddies wrist with the fall. You want to know if this is more than just a simple fling if it’s just something he can throw away easily. You want to know if his heart is as in it as yours is, need to know. You need to be brave, even if the answer isn’t one you want to hear. 

“ Do you care for me, Eddie ?” He looks confused, eyebrows almost touching. 

“You know I do.” he is quiet, thinking of a way to express the way you make him feel. There is only one thing he can think of that will prove it to you. A small and powerful phrase, one he had never said to another person and meant so wholly. “I Love You.” 

“You must say that to every one of us huh?” Now it's his turn for his brows to meet.

“Who?” 

“All of us women Eddie I can’t be the only one.” 

“What are you talking about? I have been with you the entire time I've been in Hawkins. Only You! I’ve never told anyone I’d loved them before you darling.”

Did you believe him? You would have to take that chance, you just had to. One day you would have a drawn-out, long conversation about it, but for now, you just had to go for it. 

You stood up from the couch in shock. He loved you, no he loves you as in right now. This feeling that flows between you is current. Eddie Munson loves you. You turn towards him and he is starting to look worried. Did you not care for him in return? Was this just a fuck to you and nothing else? He couldn’t stop kicking himself for putting his foot in his mouth, he should have just stayed quiet, but you stopped him from thinking any further. You drop to your knees in between his legs that had spread to accommodate you. 

“Baby come here.” he tries to get you up off the floor but you want to taste him first so you reach for the waist of his coveralls and pull them until he lifts and lets you pull his suit down enough to reach his briefs. You lay your head against his thigh as you trace your way up his other leg with your other hand gently grasping the bulge that you had now come to face. You rub your face against his lap with need, wanting to taste it had you leave a trail of open mouth kisses from the edge of his clothed tip up until you reach the the waistband. 

You slip him out of his briefs with a heavy slap to his stomach letting the trail of precome he had created, watching as if left a small puddle against the happy trail he had leading to glory. You dip your tongue into it letting it coat the tastebuds and moan at the flavor that you had come to know as all Eddie. 

You take his tip and suck the head of his cock letting it settle on your tongue, its weight and movement, small twitches of knowing you are turning him on more and more. His large hand comes to rest on the top of your head weaving his fingers into the hair, pulling gently to coax a rhythm of movement.

 You start to bob up and down on his length and you hear him huff out a guttural sigh from above you. Letting himself get lost in the warmth of your mouth and feeling your tongue against the underside of his dick. He can feel the burn in the lower part of his stomach starting to rage war with his mind, the decision of letting you finish or to stop you. 

You make that decision for him as you feel his hand pause in its movements. You lift off of his length and turn to look up at him with your gaze, he is focused on the coal that had smudged from tears running down your face. He lifts you by your arms and has you straddle his lap, an easy lift that had you yelping at how fast he moved. He began kissing every surface of your face that he could reach, giggling at the action of his lips covering your entire eye, and in another move he caught your ear, one more and he had nipped the tip of your nose. 

“I love you Eds.”  He leaned back and the smile that broke out on his face could have lit Times Square with how bright it was. He kissed you with that smile, more teeth than tongue and you loved him. More than anything, you loved him. 

He started to bite his way across your jaw as you started rocking your hips gently into his. One hand had taken residence behind your neck and the other was gripping your hip to help you slide comfortably in his lap. His cock slid between your folds hitting your clit in the most delicious teasing way.

“Need you.” Without hesitation, he slid his cock through the wetness he had created just one more time groaning at the feeling, letting you take hold of him, and guiding him to your entrance. Lifting your hips and lowering yourself onto him and moaning out together at the feeling. Him from just how tight you were squeezing him, you from how stretched out he could make you feel. 

“Fuckkk you’re amazing. Perfect for me always, aren’t you?” You start to bounce once the stretch isn’t taking your breath away letting his hips meet yours with a sinful sound of of wet you were, having him continue to mouth incoherent babbles. 

“God Eddie need you to fill me up, give me every last drop.” 

“Jesus, you’re doing so good for me baby, just right, yeah just like that.” He was gripping you so hard you knew that you were going to have small yellow indentions forming within the next few hours, little gifts of your time together. You knew he was close by the way his breathing kept catching in his throat, wanting to tear out of him like a muted scream. He leaned back letting his head rest against the back of the couch as you rode him, kissing up his neck until you were in his ear.

“Love you, my pretty boy.” As soon as his brain lets him process the words that left your mouth, he is shooting rope after rope of white into you and you feel the way he tries to fuck it as deep as it will go, wanting it to live in you, a piece of him. 

“I love you more Pumpkin.” You let him catch his breath and you let out a small giggle of ecstasy.  He kisses you hard on the cheek as his laugh starts to join in a symphony of joy and it makes you want to dance. 

He sets you on the couch next to him and he gets up only to turn to you and tell you he will only be just a minute. Thoughts of him spread the vines around your ribs, daring you to pull them out one by one this time. Begging you to not let you starve them for sunlight and water, to not have them wilt when he leaves this time. 

He comes back into the room with a warm wet cloth and makes you stand as he takes a knee. A sight that makes your heart squeeze in a whole different way. He wipes you clean of anything that starts to drip out of you and down your thighs, making sure you are as comfortable as possible before standing and kissing you softly. 

“You okay?” All you can do is smile, the kind that has your cheeks hurting from how wide it stretches. He takes and drapes your robe across your shoulders from where you had let it fall.

“I’m good, better than good, thank you, Eddie.” He watches as you start to move across the room and reach up on a high shelf to grab a record. Placing it down and pinning the needle to the first groove the sounds of Sam Cooke start to float through the air and surround you both. You turn to Eddie and he sees that you had an outreached hand, waiting for him to take it. 

Pulling you to him as he grasps and twists your fingers until they fit snuggly in between his own, he has his other arm around your waist as you sway back and forth as the lyrics make you want to manifest them into something real. 

‘ I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me ‘  

God how you feel the words worm their way into your brain like it's the only true thing like Sam had gone through and lived your life for you. A dreaded feeling to know someone somewhere out there could feel this deeply about another the way you do for Eddie. Quite impossible if you do say so yourself. You lay your head on Eddie's chest and dance slowly as the song begins to fade and another starts in its place, and you stay that way for quite some time, right up until the bell of the clock above you chimes. 

The time for Eddie to leave had come and all you could do was grip him tighter. You couldn't let him go, not yet, not so soon. Not after he had finally let you know his feelings after you had finally let yourself give in. Not yet. You could feel his lips press to your forehead and they just stayed there, that stinging sensation coming to your eyes once again. 

“I don't want you to leave.” It was muffled by his shirt but he heard you, he wrapped you in a hug gripping you as tight as he could, like the act would morph you into one being so he could carry you with him right out that door. A punch to the gut when you could feel his arms start to ease up from their hold. 

“I have to sweetheart, you know I do. I’m sorry baby, you know I hate to leave you.”  You did now, know that his words were true. Every time he had left before you didn’t let yourself believe them, how could you when the hurt would be tenfold if you had? The dread of what was to come through the night had you swiping the corner of your eyes against the edge of his collar. 

“Makes it even harder when I know you are feeling the same pain and having no one to comfort you through it through love.” He hums in thought.

“Do you let Jason comfort you through your pain?” You laugh wetly at the question but when you look up to see Eddie's face his smile is flat and his eyes are pleading to hear something akin to a denial. 

“Eddie, Absolutely not. I know I’m married to the man but do you think once I started having feelings for you, true feelings, deep feelings that I would have given myself to anyone else other than you?”  He gives you a look of complete understanding, He felt the same way. Ever since that first time, you let him see past the curtains and you fed him that lemon bar you had made by hand, he knew he was a goner, a fucking goner. 

He knew he would have a hard time with a crush but then he got to know you, got to taste you and he was utterly hooked for the rest of his life, or until the fateful day you would tell him that you just couldn't see him any longer. He looked down at you now and he kissed your forehead letting his lips rest thereafter and closed his eyes feeling all he could before he was to walk out of your door for another week. 

You let him hold you close, smelling that smokey wood blend mixed with something sweet, his cologne mixed with a laundry detergent you were sure you had seen on the bottom shelf at the store too scared to buy in case Jason didn't like the scent. You inhaled and slowly let your arms loosen, his sign that you could let him walk out the door without absolutely breaking you. Little did he know you had already started to crumble, the door would send the pillars of your composure flying, like a sand castle with no structural integrity, All sand and give. 

“One week, You can wait for me, right sweetheart? “ You nodded through the numbness that was starting to overtake your limbs. 

“I can wait a week Eds.”  You had walked him to the back door, his normal escape route and you watched his hand grip and hesitate in its turn of the knob. He turned to face you once more, he rushed to your side and gripped you close to his chest one last time, kissing you deeply trying to convey all he could. 

“I love you, sweet girl.”He walked back towards the door your hand in his barely touching with his reach out at full extent. 

“I love you more baby.” He turned on that mega-watt bright smile before he was out of the door and your hand had fallen back down to your side, cold and unnerving in the silence that followed. 

You walked back towards and into the study, taking all the records and placing them back into their rightful homes on the shelves. Letting the tears fall wherever they wanted, streaming and leaving you a mess. You worked through it, you cleaned the study up the rest of the way. Fluffing pillows, taking the blanket, and wrapping it around your shoulders still smelled faintly of Eddie. 

Walking to the kitchen you poured yourself a glass of wine and drank it all down in one go, not even a thought before pouring just one more and repeating. You also knew that if Eddie were there he would no doubt be upset that you had decided to drink without even attempting to put anything in your stomach so you made a small sandwich and took it wrapped in a cloth upstairs. 

You eat the sandwich, more like you nibbled like a rabbit but at least you knew Eddie would be proud that you tried. You stood and walked into your bathroom, ran some warm water in the sink, and took a rag to your face to get rid of all the bad parts of the day, rubbing your skin until it was stinging and irritated by the material. The tears still threatening to fall but you crawled into bed so that your pillow could catch them instead of your cheeks. 

A clock somewhere downstairs had chimed that it was past eight in the evening and Jason had yet to come wandering through the door, when it chimed a little later past ten you heard a soft knock at the door and you shut your eyes to the dark room. Listening and hoping he would just go on into his room, he opened your door you could tell by the sound but he whispered to you sitting on the edge of your bed, sadness in his voice, 

“I’m sorry I’ve come in so late.” You wouldn’t let him disturb you. “I- I am, I know I say that pretty often now but I do mean it darling.” the words felt like they were poison, tainted, and disgusting coming from someone other than Eddie. 

“I’ll leave you to your sleep then.” his hand patted the bed beside you and only when you heard the door shut behind him and he did the same down the hall, did you finally let it all out. Silently you wished upon whatever and whoever was listening to your prayers for what to do.

[secretsandwriting]

HELLO!!!, can I request a etho fanfic

So this is not hermitcraft but the life series, so I would like the secret life one. like etho got a task but it involves reader, they have to like they both have to kill 2 or 3 warden together, but unfortunately the reader died, but the reader will respawn tho. if you dont want to make it secret life you can do it in hermitcraft, but it will change a few, BUT ITS FINE, That it! I dont know if you get it or not😭😭 but I hope you do get it🥲🥲, THANK YOU💜 LOVE YOUR WORKSS🫶🏻🫶🏻

I got this in April, i'm sorry it took so long!! I hope you see this anon!

Anyways, this has a hint of the hermits being borderline god mentioned bc I love that so much. So many emotions too...

Death Games and Wardens

Etho wasn’t sure how to go on about this, He had to keep his task a secret but it involved you. He stared at the book in his hands.

Kill two wardens with Y/n. Neither of you can die.

The thought of you dying sent a pang of fear through him. Logically he knew that if you died, you would respawn and if you lost your last live you would go back to your home server. Which was hermitcraft, the exact Server he would return to. 

Respawning was bad on a good day, but on a Server with rules that didn't follow Players normal code and instead added some, made respawning even worse. He didn’t want you to go through that. 

“Etho!” His focus was torn away by you. He couldn’t help but relax around you, even when playing against you in death games. Somehow, you brought comfort to him no matter the circumstances. The book burned in his hand as he remembered what your task was. He saw your book in your hands and a nervous grin on your face. “You got a good one?”

“Let's go somewhere private.” You nodded and followed him to the border. Etho glanced at the two sentences in his book and signed. The fear of you getting hurt was back and growing stronger. You broke the silence, apparently he waited too long to start.

“Does your task involve both of us?” He nodded, the sick feeling in his stomach growing. “Good my task does too… Now.. Is yours something we have to do?” Another nod and more stomach pains. “Ok, this is my task.” You handed him your book and he opened it.

Etho’s secret involves you. Do it with him and guess what it is to finish.

Etho may read this book.

He somehow hated this more. You didn’t even know what you were getting into. That meant more room for mistakes and mistakes would lead to a very fast death. You were oblivious to his dilemma and just waited for him to figure it out, assuming he was just trying to figure out how to go about this. The expression on his face was very abnormal but these were death games, they put everyone on edge and filled them with stress.

“Are you ready?” Etho’s head jerked up to look at you. “We only have so much time after all.” He sighed and nodded. He really wanted to come up with a fake task but he knew you wouldn’t like that.

“We need to gear up.”

Fully geared,you followed Etho do into a cave, when the shrieker went off, you hesitated. This wasn’t looking good. This had to be a hard task and probably involved wardens. Something you avoided no matter what. The sound of the Shrieker going off a second time had adrenaline pumping through your veins and terror settling in your bones.

“Etho,” You whispered. “Is the task to summon a warden?” 

“No, but that's your closest guess so far.” You were starting to understand Etho’s hesitation and strange looks. The shrieker went off a third time, darkness filling your vision and the sound of a warden spawning filled your ears.

“It’s over here,” Etho whispered. You weren’t sure what to do until you saw Etho launch himself at it and attack it with his sword. Pulling out your bow, you shot it with arrows both to lower its health and to help Etho out of any sticky situations by drawing its attention away.

To focused on the fight, you didn’t notice the second warden spawn or it approaching from behind until it was too late

Y/n was slain by Warden

Etho’s attention on the warden shattered when he saw the death message and another warden standing in the middle of all your items. His hesitation cost him some hearts but he managed to get away and took the surface without them following. Rushing to spawn he looked around, desperately trying to find you and make sure you were ok. He found you not too far away, sitting on the ground looking a bit dazed.

“Y/n!” Etho grabbed you and held you close. “I’m sorry! I should have noticed! I shouldn’t have let it happen!” You sat in his arms, letting him ramble at you while you readjusted  after a hard respawn. When you finally got yourself together, you listened to Etho’s rambles, pulled yourself out of his grip, and slapped him hard. Etho immediately stopped and jerked back to look at you.

“Pull yourself together!” Etho immediately took a deep breath and squeezed your hand. Once he was calm, you continued. “Etho, I'd respawn no matter what. You know that. If I didn't respawn here, I’d be back on hermitcraft. If I wasn’t there we have enough people that are almost gods on the server I'd be found and brought back.”

Etho shuffled forward and dropped his head on your shoulder, he wrapped his arms around your waist and his shoulders shook with sobs. You ran your fingers through his hair while your other one rested on his back, you slowly rocked side to side. From your spot you could see a few of the red names started to surround you.

Your communicators buzzed with the 5 minute warning but you knew you wouldn’t make it until then. Not with the intent in Gem’s face as she came closer. She paused and pulled out her communicator and typed for a second before flipping it so you could see the message to Xisuma letting him know to expect you. Something only done when one of the players was having a rough time. She smiled when you mouthed a thank you and slipped it back into her pocket before lifting her sword.

Etho was slain by Geminitay

Y/n was slain by Geminitay

Waking up on hermitcraft was disorientating. It always was when you respawn from another server due to death. Your communicator buzzed with a message from Xisuma.

Xisuma: Did you respawn ok? Gem messaged ahead, she didn’t specify who

Y/n: Yeah

Y/n: Etho was having some trouble at the end. Did he respond?

Xisuma: No, I was just about to go check on him.

Y/n: I’ll do it. I’ll let you know if anything went wrong with his respawn.

Xisuma: Ok

You got up from your temporary bed at your mega base and made sure your elytra was equipped before shooting off to Etho’s base. You searched the entire place, the only sign of Etho was the messy bed and his communicator on the floor. So you took a gamble, instead of flying you ran down the path leading to your starter base. Looking for a mop of white hair along the way. With no sign of him along the way, you looked through your house. Stopping in the doorway of your room to see Etho sitting on the floor next to your bed.

“Etho.” He didn’t seem to hear you. “Etho!” You tried again, nothing. Carefully, you moved towards him, making sure to go slow. When you were close enough, you gently rested a hand on his shoulder. He jerked out of your grip and looked up at you.

“Y/n!” He launched himself at you, pulling you close and holding you tight, relief crawled up his spine as he clung to you. “I thought you were gone.”

“I just respawned at my mega base. I told you I would respawn… Come on, let's lay down for a bit.” You managed to get Etho into your bed and when he relaxed you sent a message to Xisuma.

Y/n: Etho’s ok, just the death part of the death games messing with his head.

Xisuma: Ok, take care of him. Let us know if you need anything.

With that out of the way, you put your communicator away and decided to get some rest. Maybe when you woke up, the two of you could figure out what you were. But for now, you were tired.

Etho x Y/n shippers

Geminitay: I kinda felt bad, Etho was clinging to Y/n when I killed them. I mean CLINGING

Xisuma: Y/n went to help Etho right after his respawn when he wouldn’t respond and then let me know he was ok.

Xisuma: What happened?

Grian: So I might have purposely messed with their secrets so they had to work together. I forgot it might have been a bit traumatic.

ImpulseSV: What were their secrets?

Grian: Ethos was to kill two wardens with Y/n and not die and Y/n’s was to help and guess what it was.

Xisuma: Etho is literally laying on top of Y/n in their sleep

Geminitay: THEY'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER

Grian: THEY’RE CUDDLING???

Xisuma: [Image]

Tangotek: You think they’ll actually talk this through after this or not?

You two did not in fact talk about it afterwards. Both of you just acted like it didn't happen and the group chat with every hermit except the two of you were outraged

[innorogers]

Awakening

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Steve was panting. He couldn’t feel anything else but pain. He clenched his jaw, trying to fight back all the emotions tearing him apart. But it was nothing compared to the agony that tore him apart inside. 

Warning: Angst / Hydra Past / Sad Steve / Angry Steve / Protective Steve / Past Revelations / This one is very emotional /He is very sad very angry / Hurt & Comfort

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare

Hydra’s brainwashing mechanism operates like a code embedded in a computer system. Implanted deep within the nervous system of each asset, it’s triggered by a command—a specific sequence of words, like a complex password. It only takes effect once the entire sequence is spoken. However, each word acts as a layer, tightening control over the asset with every syllable. It gradually overrides the brain's natural functions, until complete control is achieved over both mind and body.

You knew this. You also knew that fighting it only made the effect stronger, accelerating the process. Resisting was like trying to stop venom already spreading through your veins—inevitable and deadly. So, your only option was to buy time.

Time against whatever you were about to become.

“Мечта.”

Four triggered the first word unexpectedly, and you saw it in his eyes—he was going to finish the sequence fast.

But you were faster.

Your fist slammed against the wall, hitting the hidden button you’d been shielding.

"NO!!" Steve’s roar echoed through the room as a thick, crystallized wall dropped from the ceiling, sealing him and Maria on the other side. He pounded against it with all his strength, his fists useless against the reinforced barrier. "Open this!" he was desperate: “Open this fucking thing!!”

But it was useless. This was The Crib, the place where you, Tony, and Bruce pushed the limits of crazy ideas. Naturally, it was equipped with a “Hulk Containment” feature, just in case one of those experiments went too far.

“Jarvis, override!” Maria commanded immediately, pressing her comms. “Stark, 116, 116, in The Crib! Now!” She stepped back and shot the wall, only to leave soft marks but unable to break it at all.

Four smiled, pleased. 

“Шкаф”

A sharp pain crossed your mind, like a thunderstruck that cut you as a knife. For some seconds you think you lost control. You stumbled forward, losing completely balance. And stretched an arm for a glass somewhere over a desk nearby knocking everything off. The glass went flying and smashed to pieces on the floor. You tried to reach it blindly, you were loosing your sight, with trembles and the last thread of senses you handled to grab it, so you squeezed with all your remaining strength.

The glass pierced your skin and palm, leaving a long trail of blood down your arm. You could hear Steve's frantic pounding echoing through the walls, his voice a raw, anguished, shouting your name, but pain is dominating your senses.

But this is good, pain is good. Pain meant you were still here.

"Тетрадь." Four stepped back. He was enjoying this. All this show was worth it, even though he failed and had to face the rage of all the Avengers together later.

Nononono. You pressed harder your fists, the glass embedded left out more blood. Feel the pain, feel the senses. You're good. You're good. You are not this. You are not Hydra. You did not survive up to this day to be used again as something disposable. 

On your knees, you pressed your other hand into the shattered glass, hoping the sharpness would anchor you.

"Open this!" Steve was almost unrecognizable in his panic when Tony and Bruce entered the room. “Get this thing open!” His voice was a mix of rage and fear.

“Shit…” Bruce rushed to the nearest console, typing furiously. “The code’s simple but old—it’s uncrackable. We’ve got 15 seconds before it overrides.”

“What?!” Steve was outraged: “You’ve got to open it! Open it! Tony! Get my girl the fuck out of there!” 

“Oh shit, this is good.” Four’s laughter filled the room. This was a feast for him.

“Радуга.“

“No…” You whispered, holding onto the pain as if it were your lifeline.

You are not this. 

You are good. 

You are…

You are an oak tree, hidden deep in the forest. Sitting around the fire with your siblings, their faces bathed in a golden glow. The words that hung in the peaceful silence on that night. 

Starlight on the Siberian peaks, a full moon overhead. Natasha’s hand pulling you out, the scent of her leather jacket against your frozen skin. 

The first time you saw the ocean. The sensation of sand beneath your feet, waves tickling your toes. 

Christmas lights twinkling on a giant tree, champagne in the compound and Dr. Lin’s drunk laugh. 

The first time Tony led you into the abandoned lab, that door opened to what you thought was perfection. The bad jokes you shared with him and Bruce here in The Crib. The coffee you made for Sam and Nat at your lab.

And Steve. The first time he smiled at you. The way he laughed at your childish bedtime story. The first time he kissed you. His lashes brushing your cheek. The sound of his heartbeat at night, the strength in his embrace.

No. You were not this monster they were trying to turn you into. 

You were the life your brothers and sisters never got to have. 

The sunlight, the breeze, the snowflakes, the spring rain in your garden, and the summer air in you hair they never felt. You were living the memories they couldn’t.

You weren’t this. A puppet someone could easily manipulate over some ridiculous words. 

“No…” You felt your tears crashing in your hand full of shattered glasses. “I’m not…that.” 

You are not Hydra’s Frankestein. 

You are the faith you still hold for humanity—the goodness, the kindness you’ve seen. You are the broken fairy tales One and Two told you and your siblings to soothe your sorrowful nights

You are this precious jewel Steve treasured every time he hugged you, kissed you, or looked at you.

“Конфета,” Four sneered, delivering the next word.

But you fought back.

“No.”

Your eyes locked with his, burning with defiance.

“You wanna play, huh?” Frazer chuckled. 

“стена.”

Another shock hit your mind, but this time it didn’t knock you down. You stumbled but stayed standing, hearing Tony override the code. The wall would be down soon. You had to act before anyone else got hurt because of you.

Four stared in disbelief. He couldn’t understand how you were even resisting. 

So he rushed into it.

“Облако.”

You felt your body betray you, limbs refusing to respond. 

C’mon, focus. Stay focused. Everyone you love is on the other side of the wall, you couldn’t let them get hurt.

You lunged at the desk and ripped open the top drawer. God, what's all that noise? Stop the drums, stop that noise… please… You couldn't stay awake much longer. Damn it, where is it…Your hands desperately looking for something.

‘Зеленый.'

Four said again. And that command felt like a hammer that struck your head. You collapsed to your knees, your bloody hands finally finding it. An injection. Fuck, your vision was blurred; you couldn’t see the dosage.

'лес '. 

Nononono you couldn't wait, it was almost at the last word. So you didn't measure it, and you plunged the injection into your neck. God…! That hurts. You pressed all the content in you. 

Ok now…now we should be good. You were panting and sweating as you dropped the injection and came over your knees. Shit that was closed. Too closed.

Four looked stunned. He didn’t know what you’d done, but before he could react, Steve burst through the room like a storm and crashed his face with all the strength Captain America would have in a battlefield. You even heard the crack sound of their bones crashing. 

“Stop!” Maria shouted before Steve in all his fury, outraged and unstoppable, would kill the guy with his bare hands. “We need to track that retina layer! Stop!” She lunged and seized his arm, preventing him from striking further. 

Your mind recovered some senses as the words stopped, now all you felt was pain, but you managed to let out what you’d been holding in all day.

“Steve…”

That worked as a Hydra’s password to him, Steve felt he was woken up from a dream, and before you knew it, you were pressed into his embrace, his arms holding you tight yet gentle and with care, as if you were fragile as the most precious thing in the world. 

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, trembling as you tried to hold onto him. “I wanted to tell you…I…” God, his skin is so warm. You missed that the entire day. 

Steve froze. The ache on his chest made him paralyzed, he could barely speak. You were worried about him? Now? 

“It's ok…” He was feeling a lump form in his throat, his hand weaving through your hair, pressing you against him and kissing you on the forehead. 

“I’m here baby, it’s ok, you are ok…” He barely could put himself together. You were a mess—bloody, battered— and he was scared, so scared he can’t remember when was the last time he was falling apart like this. 

You were panting as your consciousness was losing it, giving in finally to the injection you put into yourself to paralyze you and prevent you from doing something you can’t manage. 

“Did you…get hurt?” You raised a hand and touched his face. You were fading, the injection taking its toll, dragging you into unconsciousness.

“Shit baby…” Steve pressed his forehead against yours, barely holding himself together. He couldn’t believe what you were saying: “That’s the last of my concerns.” 

But you were already slipping away.

Steve’s heart froze in his chest when he looked down and saw your eyes closed, your body limp against his. A cold wave of terror surged through him, threatening to pull him under. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, it was like the world had stopped spinning. He couldn't hear anything, not Tony, not Bruce, not even his own heartbeat. 

His entire focus narrowed to the sight of you—still, lifeless—like all the color had drained from you. His hand hovered over your face, trembling, afraid to touch you, afraid you wouldn’t respond.

“Hey…” His voice cracked, hoarse and broken. “Babe...?” 

Panic gripped him in a way he hadn’t felt since the war, since waking up alone in a world that had moved on without him. But this was worse, infinitely worse. His fingers found the pulse at your neck, but his heart refused to calm. What if it was fading? What if you were slipping away, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it?

"What...What's happening?" He could hear his own voice, vulnerable as ever. 

“What the f…?” Tony knelt next to Steve, grabbing the discarded syringe. 

Relief washed over him as he read the label.

“Oh, for god’s fucking sake…!” He passed it to Bruce, sinking to the floor. “It’s just a tranquilizer. She’s asleep. Damn, that was close.” He rubbed his face, still shaken. “That was the scariest thing ever. Shit.”

"Holy shit." Bruce and Maria leaned back too, releasing the breath they had been holding.

"Okay..." Commander Hill, always the first to pull herself together, stood up and exhaled in relief as she began to make sense of the chaos. 

"Let’s get her to the med bay. Now." Her voice was determined, but her movements were gentle. She patted a still-in-shock Steve softly on the shoulder. "Come on, Cap. We need to get her out of here. And there’s work to do." She tilted her head toward the unconscious Four on the floor.

Steve didn’t respond. He was panting, his body covered in cold sweat as Tony’s words sank in. It was...tranquilizer? You were ok? He was still holding you close, feeling the warmth of your skin, the quiet and steady rhythm of your breathing. And he could hear your heartbeat. 

He never really believed in God, but in that moment, he wanted to thank every deity in this world or beyond that you were still in his arms. Alive. Safe. 

And, God…he swore right then, he would never let this happen again. Whatever the hell had gone down tonight, he was so fucking sure that was never, EVER, happening again.

"Steve." Tony placed a hand on his shoulder as Sam and Natasha entered the room with the elite team to deal with Four. 

"Come on, buddy, let’s go. Look at her hands—she’s a mess. We’ve got to get her wounds treated." And make sure that brainwash thing is gone, Tony thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. With Steve still so on edge, he didn't want to end like Four on the floor.

Steve closed his eyes for a long moment, then tightened his grip around you, pulling you closer. He lifted you carefully, pressing a kiss to your forehead and inhaling your scent. You smelled like blood, and he felt a deep, crushing guilt. 

"Alright, let’s go." He finally spoke, his voice steady, though full of pain. "But I’m staying close." There was no way he was letting you out of his sight.

You inhaled sharply, and your eyes flew open, heart pounding in your chest. 

The room was bright, sterile, and the soft hum of Stark technology filled the air. 

Disoriented, you stared at the blinking machines and glowing monitors around you. Tubes and wires were connected to your arms, and a soft beep from the heart monitor echoed in the quiet space.

Flashbacks hit you hard. Four. The keywords. You injected yourself to prevent anyone from getting hurt. And you succeeded, didn’t you? Did anyone get hurt?

You remembered Steve being the first to approach you. Four was beaten down, wasn’t he? Is Steve okay? Is everyone ok?

“What the hell is this…” You muttered, frowning as you glanced at the data on the monitors. Then quickly decided you didn’t need any of it. You reached for the tubes, yanking them out one by one. The pain was sharp, but adrenaline dulled it. You didn’t care. You hated anything related to medical clinics, anything that reminded you of being in a lab, a subject of experimentation.

You pulled off the monitors, ignoring the rapid beeping as alarms blared. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood shakily, your legs weak, your vision blurry.

“Damn…” you muttered, walking in a dizzy haze, trying to balance. You must have injected quite a dose of tranquilizer. How long had you been out? There were no windows, and the room’s enclosed space only heightened your panic. 

Barefoot, you rushed out and collided with Steve, who was rushing in, pale and shaken.

“What...What are you doing?!” His voice was agitated. Pulling out the tubes must’ve triggered an alarm. He immediately scooped you off the cold floor. “Are you okay?” He set you back on the bed and inspected your bruised and bleeding arms. “You’re freezing. You ok? You’re hurt? Do you want me to call the docs?”

“I…I…” You didn’t know what to say, so you just stretched out your arms and pulled him close, holding yourself to him and hugged him as tight as your weak strength allowed. 

“I missed you.”

You said in a low voice, closing your eyes, inhaling his skin, arms around his neck and feeling him. “I woke up and I wanted to see you…I was scared…” 

You felt a strange wave of vulnerability, the kind that made you feel like a child seeking comfort.

Steve stood rigid, his heart and soul settling back into place now that you were awake and in his arms. But he was also…furious. You had no idea how angry he had been, how the team had barely managed to contain his rage. He wanted to stay quiet, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“You were scared…now? You didn’t seem scared when you used yourself as bait and stood up against this guy alone…!” 

He wanted to shout it out, his voice was thick with frustration, fear, and anger, but he stopped. 

His arms remained gentle, holding you tightly. 

“What were you thinking? I was…You scared the shit out of me…I thought…” 

He cut himself off, tightening his grip around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips brushed against your hair as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He clenched his arms, flashing back to that moment when he was breathless, but now you were there. 

Thank God you are here.

Your arms around his neck, body against his, his arms holding onto your waist, He could smell your hair, could feel your warmth against his lips, and he didn’t want this moment to end. 

“I’m sorry… I wanted to tell you… And I knew you were looking for me, but I couldn’t look back. It would’ve given me away.” You looked up, cupping his face with a soft smile. 

Steve exhaled, his heart twisting in his chest. He clenched his jaw, his voice thick with emotion, still fighting to keep composure, he pulled you impossibly closer, holding you against him, his voice a shaky whisper.

 “Just promise me…promise me you won’t do such reckless…dangerous things again…ever.” 

Your fingers softly moved around his face, and gently kissed him, you pressed your forehead to his, calming and soothing his pain. 

You could hear his breath becoming softer and lower with your touch, you stood still, hugging and feeling him as you were comforted too. 

“Were you hurt?” you asked suddenly, remembering Steve knocking out Agent Frazer, unsure of how the events had played out. Breaking the hug, you looked him over. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, noticing his swollen, bleeding knuckles. “Steve, let me see. Is this bad? Are you in pain?”

“This?” He opened and closed his fist, showing you it was fine. “This is nothing… it hurt less than hitting a punching bag.”

“The Hulk container IS NOT a punching bag.” You carefully caressed his injured hand, your eyes welling up with tears. “Can you get it checked later? Does it hurt?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He tightened his other arm around your waist, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

You hadn’t cried when you found out about your brother being alive, or later when you learned he was a fake. You hadn’t cried when you clenched your fist around glass to fight back the brainwashing. You hadn’t even hesitated when you injected yourself to save everyone.

But now, you were tearing up because of his bruised knuckles.

“I’m ok.” He said after a long pause. And it felt so clumsy. But he didn’t know how to describe the feeling he had right now. He couldn’t find the words. He wished there were some way to predict the future, to shield you from every upcoming danger, every pain, for the rest of your life.

“When can we go home?” You rubbed your eyes, you were exhausted, but you didn’t want to sleep here. 

Steve smiled at your mention of “home”, and thought about your secluded, private, little lab, full of sunshine and plants. Your home. Our home. That’s such a wonderful word. His voice softened as he helped you lie down.

“Soon, baby. Just rest, ok? You’ve been through too much today.” He adjusted the pillows and pulled a blanket over you. “Are you okay? Are you cold?”

“Yes.” You frowned and looked up at him. “I’m cold. I want you to hold me.” You moved aside, making room in the bed. “Now.”

You had never used that childish tone before, and it made Steve chuckle. Shaking his head, he climbed into bed beside you, holding you in his arms, your head resting on his chest. “Spoiled little brat.” He teased with a smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “My spoiled little brat.”

You inhaled deeply, resting your head against his chest, your favorite spot in the world where you could hear his heartbeat—the sound that made everything in the universe make sense. And when he thought you were asleep, you spoke, your voice clear.

“Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

Your voice carried a sense of determination, and Steve sighed. He had it coming. Just not this soon. 

But then, he thought back to everything, and realized you were one of the bravest people he'd ever met. It didn’t surprise him that you were ready to talk.

“Only if you're sure.”

“Yes.” You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbow to meet his eyes. “I should’ve told you from the beginning.” You exhaled deeply. “I was just scared of becoming a disappointment.”

“What?” He turned to you, incredulous. “No… don’t say that. You could never be a disappointment. Ever.” His gaze was steady and unyielding. “Don’t ever think that.”

You kissed his fingers, pausing for a long moment before beginning.

“Once upon a time…” You stopped as he chuckled. “I’m kidding. Bedtime stories are supposed to be soothing. This one would give nightmares.”

Steve held your hand as he looked at you: “I’m here. And…no nightmare could ever keep me away from you.”

You smiled but stayed quiet for a long while, gathering your thoughts. Steve remained silent, wrapping his arm around you, gently twisting a strand of your hair between his fingers, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“We were twelve, as you might have guessed. I'm the last one.” Your voice was distant, soft, like whispering a dream from another lifetime.

“It started with One and Two. They were perfect, like gods—healthy, strong, fast, fierce. They had rapid healing, heightened reflexes, tolerance to extreme temperatures, and incredible immune systems. Like you. Or Apollo and Artemis. And of course, they weren’t enough. Hydra wanted more. They’ve always wanted more.”

You made a pause, those memories felt like thousands years ago.

“By the time they made Three, Four, and Five… One and Two had begun to… fail. They developed flaws.”

The fingers twirling your hair froze. Steve held his breath. He had thought about this ever since Natasha handed him your file, asking, ‘What do you think happened to the other eleven?’ He hadn’t answered, a terrible feeling gnawing at him that the others’ fates might have been far worse than yours.

“What kind of flaws?” You could hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Just…they weren’t flaws for me. But they stopped being perfect. Their immune system presented infections, something never happened before. Their recovery speed was not as fast as before, or they weren’t healing 100%. Or…speed decrease, lack of strength. And of course their minds started to … be uncontrollable or not manageable at all.” You sighed. 

Steve’s hand tightened slightly, a ripple of horror passing through him.

“Three, Four and Five presented earlier symptoms. Three was fast, but he lacked strength. Four was strong, but he wasn’t able to heal as fast as the rest. And Five was super smart but she was…weak. Well, not weak, normal.”

You paused, and smiled: “It was true, you know? The story Agent Frazer told. I was a great tree climber, and we used to have fun in that oak tree. But…” 

You felt Steve’s hand holding you tighter, and you hugged him back, your tone turned low.

“Four did that tricky thing of putting a rock on a pile of leaves. Seven hit against it so hard, and that’s right… he won’t stop bleeding, we headed to the base, and of course, got grounded as hell.” You inhaled: “Four died because of that. They sacrificed him, they were planning on doing so anyway, but it was used as a warning. They’ve put everything that ‘worked’ in Four, to ‘fix’ Seven.”

“What?” 

Steve felt every fiber on his body tensed, his chest growing tighter and tighter as you spoke, horrified at the realization of what Hydra had done.

“And of course, Seven didn’t last long either. He died about a year later. I think… he just couldn’t live with what was left of Four.” 

Your smile was thin, sad. “I saw the autopsy report. There was nothing physically wrong with him. He just…shriveled, or…died from a broken heart.”

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for the next revelation.

“And today…I didn’t stop Frazer right away because… I was curious.” 

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, as you were ashamed of this little wish.

“I wanted to know…I’ve always wanted to know, how my brothers and sisters would be like…if they’d grown up. I knew Frazer was a fraud, but I couldn’t help it. He was identical to Four…and Four…he was just a kid, a bright, playful, funny kid.”

Steve clenched his arms and held you tightly as you were shivering uncontrollably. He was shaking too, his teeth chattering, it was beyond anger, he felt his heart filled with sadness and despair. 

He tried to speak several times before his voice finally steadied. 

“You were a kid too.”

“I was not a kid.” You responded, surprisingly quiet. “I was the kid. I was…the final version.” You looked at his horrified eyes as his expression shifted. 

You lowered your eyes at his sight, and calmly continued the story: “One and Two passed away when I was young, very young, I still don’t know what happened to them. But Hydra…just continued experimenting, Seven was good, but then he … turned off when Four died, Eight died as a toddler I think. So they just kept going, taking things out of this one, adding to the other… until they got it to the right perfect model… or at least… to one that wasn’t deteriorating with time and maintained a regularity.”

You curved your lip as you looked at Steve.

“The last number of the great Hydra’s Dynasty. Frankenstein number Twelve.”

“I’m alive. Because my brothers and sisters died.” 

Steve was in horror.

This pang in his chest, he didn’t know if he wanted to destroy something, vomit, or just…take the time stone, go back in time, and burn all Hydra’s bases he’d known down to the ground until they were ashes and dust. Until the very last of them were fucking burning and screaming in hell.

“They died so Hydra could have a perfect soldier?” His voice was barely more than a growl. “They were…torn apart so you could exist?”

“Well, it’s not like I have Eight’s eyes or Ten’s arms.” You looked at your hands. “It’s like…their DNA, their…existence, were transmitted to me. A prototype that succeeded, but the original versions…just didn’t make it.”

Your voice was like a faint ghost as you observed yourself.

“You know my powers, right? I can see…the components or layers of solid things when I want to. Not all the time, but it gives me a great advantage with stuff like machinery, weapons, gear, construction…I think I have Five’s intelligence too, and some of Three’s speed, or even a shadow of One and Two’s strength. And Eleven’s sense of humor—I’ve always thought we were twins…but this power…It’s only in me.”

“And it used to work on humans too, if I wanted it to.” You sighed in sadness and sorrow. “There’s something I haven’t told anyone, no one knows…not even Tony.” 

You intertwined your fingers with Steve’s, confessing in a calm voice.

“There’s something…in every living being, within their layers and layers of components, something impossible to explain—something divine, and impossible to replicate. And that’s like a golden thread.”

You traced a line in the air as Steve held his breath. 

“I see it as a line of golden glitter. Some shine more than others, like yours…yours is like a strong ray of sunshine, like all the stars in the sky unified within your being. That’s life. Or…the divine power of life.”

Steve held his breath in awe. There was something incredibly beautiful within the horrors you had to endure. He suddenly remembered all the plants in your lab and home, the leaves cascading from the ceiling, growing strong everywhere. He could picture it—the stunning view you’d have, all those waterfalls and cascades of golden strings, of living life.

He hesitated before speaking, his voice as gentle as he could make it: “And…you don’t use your powers on humans anymore?”

“No. I shut it down. Or it shut itself down…” You shook your head. “Hydra used my powers to make their experiments more…efficient. But my brain, or my powers, were too important. They didn’t dare experiment on me with something that might go wrong. I only had one brain procedure—the one that implanted all these keywords.”

You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes. 

“They didn’t brainwash me…So I remember everything. I was forced to participate in the experiments on my siblings. I didn’t know…I thought I was helping them heal, but they lied. I was part of it…!” 

Your breath quickened as the memories flooded back.

“I could see them. I could see how their life threads faded, losing their shine little by little. Strong, sparkling golden glitter slowly fading, disappearing. Like a spark extinguished…absorbed by nothingness. And after my last sister, Nine, passed away, I just…this power of seeing layers on human, it went off. I can only see threads in living beings now, nothing else.”

A terrible silence fell across the room. Only the soft beeps of the medical machines echoed through.

Steve sat up straight. He didn’t want to let go of your hand, your touch, but his body just reacted. It was too much, even for him. Your words were calm and serene, but the horrors and the cruelty behind them cut through him like a knife, piercing his soul and breaking him down.

He didn’t know what to say because…what was left to say? There was no comfort, no kindness, nothing that could soothe what you’d been through.

The fact that you remembered everything, that you saw brainwashing as a gift because you had witnessed every death, with genuine hope and devotion that you were helping, only to find out the goal was for you to be the perfect prototype. The guilt you must’ve felt, the despair of watching those threads try to hold on to life before they faded…

The image of you standing alone in this world after your last sibling was gone, facing all that darkness by yourself…he couldn’t imagine it.

“And then, everything is history.” Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

“The project ended when Dr. Erskine actually succeeded in creating something…combined. I went into a cryostasis pod that eventually shut down. I don’t know for how long. Then one day, I just woke up in an empty facility, in the dark, and escaped. Natasha found me in the mountains. I think the lab sent out some kind of signal Tony detected, and she was sent to scan the place.”

You were relieved that your story had finally ended, or at least, the nightmare part. 

But Steve was stiff. 

He felt…waves of guilt crashing over him.

What year was that? When did all of that happen to you? Where was he? Could he have changed anything? If he had tried harder…if he had discovered Hydra's remnants in SHIELD earlier…could he have saved you?

“And I was…where?” He murmured to himself, trying to remember. “Wakanda…and then…it was the Blip…and I…I never knew…that you were here…until the night we met.”

“Steve…” You frowned, sitting up and placing a hand on his back. “I’ve told you already, what happened to me is not a weight for you to carry. I’m here now. And I’m with you. I’m safe.”

“Safe?” He could hardly bear the guilt and pain he felt. “Safe how? Look at you…you’re…” He took your hand, bandaged and scarred from all the glass and needles you’d endured. “How can you say you are safe…with me?”

He exhaled, his voice low as he suddenly tightened, his stomach twisting in pain. He didn’t know where to begin expressing the emotions, the guilt, the responsibility he felt for all of this.

“I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped this. If I had tried harder, been faster, I should have protected you, saved you…if I’d just been there…”

“You did.” You put a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face you. You could see all the emotions swirling inside him. “You did.” You spoke softly but firmly. 

“You ended Hydra, twice. I wasn’t used during the War, or after. And when you ended them for good, I was free. You set me free.”

Steve was panting. He couldn’t feel anything else but pain. There was a huge lump in his chest and throat that intensified when you said that. The word you used—“used”—how could anyone in the world apply that verb to you? His heart ached so deeply that it took all his willpower not to break something.

You could see him suffering, so you caressed his cheek.

“And…” You cupped his face, your voice gentle. 

“And I had this new identity. I met Natasha, Tony…all these new friends, all this good in the world. I don’t need to hide anymore. I can live under the sunshine, see the sunrise, feel the wind, touch the grass. I even saw the sea for the first time, I had ice cream… And…” 

You inhaled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I got to meet the love of my life.”

“God…!”

The word escaped Steve like a desperate prayer.

Steve pulled you in, holding you so tightly that it felt like he wanted you to melt into his body. 

He clenched his jaw, trying to fight back all the emotions tearing him apart. But it was nothing compared to the agony that tore him apart inside. 

You had suffered so much—more than he could bear to imagine—and yet you were here: Kind. Good. Pure. Selfless. All those beautiful words Natasha and Tony used to describe you and yet he thought they weren’t enough. 

He pressed his face into your hair, his breath ragged, trying to fight back the tears that stung his eyes. Why hadn’t he been there? Why hadn’t he saved you sooner? He could have spared you so much pain, so much suffering, if only he had known, if only he had been there before the scars ever formed.

He clutched you tighter, as if holding you close enough might erase the past, might undo all the hurt. But he knew it wouldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take it away. And all he could do was hold you, trying desperately to protect you from any more harm, even as the weight of his guilt bore down on him, suffocating and relentless.

You held him back. You could feel his heart trembling and his soul aching. So you pressed a deep kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the past,” you said softly. “I’m here now… hey, hey, look at me.” 

You cupped his face, and your vision blurred as tears fell. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want to upset you, but I’m here now, and I’m just… so grateful, so happy… I’ve never felt this way until I met you, so… fearless, like… like the universe has rewarded me with this… rebirth, with meeting you, and loving you, and…”

“Stop.” It was more than Steve could take.

His voice was broken. 

“Stop. I…” He inhaled deeply and gently wiped away your tears. He needed to say something before your selfless, pure words continued to break his heart.

“I love you.” He breathed. 

The words came out like a sacred vow, a promise sealed with every heartbeat. He’d been holding them back for too long—since this morning, no, since the first day, since the moment he held his breath when he saw you for the first time. 

He spoke it like a promise written in the stars, one he would carry until the end of all things. Until his blood thickens into frozen ice, his bones crumble to ashes, and his soul dissolves into starlight, fading into cosmic dust at the very edge of time and the farthest reaches of eternity—he will love you.

You gazed into his eyes, a smile breaking through the tears. “I love you too.” 

You wiped away the tear that traced down his cheek. 

“And we’ll have new memories. We’ll make a new life. And we’ll be together. And we’ll be happy.”

“Yes.” He smiled through the pain and heartbreak, swearing as a sacred vow, his voice a little choked as he clung to you just as tightly.

“Yes. We will. I promise. We’re gonna be so damn happy…”

Steve waited until you had fallen asleep. 

After everything—the confessions, the heart-wrenching words—you had been exhausted. He’d made sure you rested, gently insisting until your breathing slowed into sleep.

In the silence of the night, he walked quietly to the command room. It was empty now, the weight of the day still hanging in the air. He pulled up the files—yours, and your eleven siblings’—onto the big screen.

A deep sigh slipped from his lips.

There you were. Blurred, black-and-white images of childhoods interrupted, dreams shattered, lives stolen far too soon.

“Jarvis.” His voice broke the stillness, steady yet heavy. “Do I have overwrite authorization to change the ID names?”

“Yes, Captain.” Jarvis replied, his tone as polite as ever. “Would you like to change the names of these files and subjects?”

“Yes.” Steve’s gaze lingered on your face, captured in that haunting picture. “Change them all. M and the ID number.” He said with resolve, his words carrying the weight of a decision long made.

“In an instant, Captain.” came Jarvis’s response. The screen flickers briefly as the files change, HE00X to M00X, twelve names, twelve identities, rewritten in seconds.

Steve stared at the screen, his expression grave, but something deeper stirred inside him. 

This was it—the meaning he wanted to give your siblings, like an unspoken monument on their unseen graves. 

Something none of you knew, because the world hadn’t been kind, or good, or fair enough to tell you. But he had known it right away, the moment you spoke about that beautiful golden thread that was within every living being.

You weren’t experiments. 

You were this new name, and he couldn’t thank the universe enough for that.

The twelve of you were this name.

M.

For Miracle.

The End

Continue to:

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohoo...OMG I cried so much writing this ;_; thank you for reading thus far, hope you enjoyed the...intensity and the angst? xD

So I've been struggling with the name of the series, I was going to call it something like 'the golden thread', but then this image of Steve changing their ID names with this conviction and seriousness appeared in my mind as I was wrapping up Chapter 5, and it was something that's...so him, that's definitenly something he would do. So the name just popped up itself, I think I'll call it 'Miracle Nr. 12'. What do you think?

Ok so Chapters 6 & 7 are wrapped up already, I'll see you next Friday! Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist ;)

Taglist: @steviebbboi / @jamneuromain / @heletsmelovehim

Love.,

Moon.

[rebirthgarments]

Disabled communities! Can we help Boshra raise enough funds to evacuate with her family? ❤️‍🔥

You can donate at bit.ly/boshrafund

Boshra is an 18 year-old with muscular dystrophy. Her condition has worsened due to the scarcity of resources during the genocide in Palestine, and because she was infected with Hepatitis A. Boshra’s father has deep vein thrombosis, a herniated disc, and other painful conditions. Boshra is living with her family of 20 in a tent in Rafah. The tent frequently flooded in the winter and is now incredibly hot due to the summer temperatures. The lack of clean water, food, housing, medical care, and everything makes these conditions intolerable for Boshra, who needs a special wheelchair and toilet for basic living.

She needs to evacuate ASAP, but cannot go alone. She needs the rest of her family with her. Boshra has raised enough money to register two people of the six she hopes to evacuate ASAP. She needs enough now for four more people, each at $5,000 USD. This means she needs at LEAST $20,000 USD more ASAP! This does not even account for the medical costs she will need for care after evacuation. We need donations now, any amount possible! 💵d

Please note that the fundraiser is in Canadian currency and the evacuation goal is in US dollars! You can use this converter to convert your intended donation to CAD before sending it in!

Please like, comment on, bookmark, and share this post to boost visibility! To access the QR code on a phone, screenshot the post, open the image in your photos, tap on the QR code, and go to the link it generates.

Image description (post 2): a young woman with a pink top and white hijab is shown against a pale yellow and blue background with navy blue text reading : "Help a disabled 18 year-old evacuate Gaza / Boshra needs support! Boshra has muscular dystrophy and is living in a tent in Rafah in horrible conditions. She needs immediate medical care. Her father is also disabled and needs urgent care. Her immediately family of six people need to evacuate ASAP together! SHORT-TERM GOAL: $20,000 USD bit.ly/boshrafund Please note that the GFM is in Canadian dollars. Convert the currency before donating!

[neragufetta]

That is a code, your honor, but better

I'm an idiot. I wrote part 1 immediately after I saw this moment

without realizing that, if I'd waited only an instant more, the teacup is removed and the message becomes visible almost entirely

I won't repeat how to solve the code (because yes, that is a code fully decipherable! :D), but the whole message is:

--the heart of the forest a sudde-- --ic spread among the animals. Fox-- --recting Elephant to douse the flames d-- --wiftly spreading messages of urgency ra-- (h)owever only cared about fleeing for safet-- the forest succumbed to the fire’s wrath.

Determined to prevent such tragedies, the animals hired a detective to uncover the culprit. What they discovered was beyond their wildest imaginations.

He believed that the key to solving the problem was to eliminate all potential sparks that could ignite troubles.

In the previous screenshot, due to some part missing, I totally missed the reference to Liu Xiao metaphor of the forest's animals, so let's start my blabbering from scratch.

The message implies the existence of different people:

the animals and, among them, Elephant and Fox are mentioned. I can't think of anything regarding Elephant but the twins were depicted as foxes in season 2. I don't see how Li Tianchen could be already involved at this stage but let's keep him in mind.

the detective (also referred as He in a following passage) hired by the animals. It could be Liu Xiao, Vein o someone else, depending on how we interpret the rest of the message.

the culprit, which is probably Lu Guang but it could also be Cheng Xiaoshi or, why not, Cheng Wei Ming.

The potential sparks, which probably include Qiao Ling, Xiao Li and the whole group.

Let's not forget the writer and recipient of the message, which could be Xiao Fei and the blond woman, respectively.

Focusing on the content itself, the forest might be a metaphor for the whole society, it could refer to a specific group of people, or it could be a phisical place, but I doubt that, at this point: the forest we see in Lu Guang's memory, back in season two, might not be a real place, I'm not sure yet. The fire is most certainly the moment the past changed, which created different timelines and is probably breaking the time, at this point; however we cannot exclude that an actual fire does happen, we see it multiple times in the opening sequence.

I'm a little less inclined to think that the phrase "Determined to prevent such tragedied" might allude to a person endowed with powers that enable him to see or act in the future, but nevertheless I do not rule it out yet.

And that's it, I hope it was useful.

[andrewisdoing]

Things That Definitely Made Me GAY (Part 2):

MUSIC ICONS: Part of my Coming Out would be incomplete without the music that found me during that time. I’d wager my survival had every bit to do with the singers, songwriters and entertainers I was playing at the time. I especially credit Madonna, Janet Jackson, Barbara Streisand and Rufus Wainwright. They were the unexpected heroes in my ears everyday reminding me it was okay to embrace the dramatic, funny, complex, sexual situations of life in song.

FILMS: I am a firm believer that people are always searching for bits of themselves in the movies. So, being the teen I was, I wanted to find parts of my being in the movies to be affirmed that I wasn’t alone. Whether it was a documentary or rom-com, I wanted to escape into a potential future or an idea of what it looked like to be a gay man in 2009. Documentaries were a gift from heaven because I got to see where we had been and where we were going. I still feel that way as a 30 year old. I feel like I still am eager to see stories of us and find parts of myself on celluloid.

VOGUEING/PARIS IS BURNING: This movie quite simply changed and saved my life in a LOT of ways. When Madonna’s Vogue (BEST SONG FOREVER ON REPEAT) came into my life, my godmother introduced to me to the Houses of New York City, the Ballrooms and the origins of Vogueing. I had never felt so seen as a black gay person in a film prior to seeing PIB. It was the antidote to existing in a suburb in Washington. To know I wasn’t alone in the world and that there was a place beyond Washington where people like me exist, was (and still is) the greatest gift anyone, especially from kin, could’ve given me.

QUEER AS FOLK: THIS SHOW TOOK ME THERE. I remember hiding the box sets at many friends’ houses when I first had come out. While the show can be a bit dated, the stories and original characters really shaped what being a part of the LGBTQ+ community could potentially be as I grew into adulthood.

HISTORY: When I first came out, I made it my personal mission to read up on all things gay history to understand who came before me and whose footsteps I was walking behind. I found so much solace in the bravery we displayed as a community. I know that I am free to be me because of the folks who came before me. I hope that as time goes on, we discover more unsung gay heroes.

HEROES: I went out to of my way to find people who were like me and people who had the same interests as me. Finding people who made me feel understood and created the work to express all the facets of not only the human experience but the gay experience. Whether it be through dance, poetry, filmmaking or photography, I credit these artists for saving my life through their work.

FATSO: Some kids first cartoon crushes were Aladdin, Hercules, HELL, I could even bet that some had crushes on The Beast, BEFORE HE BECAME HUMAN! Me? Mine was (and still is) Fatso. Some have read him as a queer coded character and for my sake, I really hope that it’s true.

PORN & The Pornstars That Make Em’ : As weird as it may seem, discovering Porn really helped me feel liberated and free to understand my sexuality and what I really liked. Also..boy, oh boy, the men and the videos that still to this day..get me off is a list that’s too long to count. From Zeb Atlas to Tom Katt, these men served the fantasies that were so hot and beefy, I still can’t believe my eyes. Being gay certainly has its perks.

NOAH’S ARC: In the same vein as QAF, Noah’s Arc made me feel not only seen as a gay man but as a black man. I love that the show gave the community so many versions of our existence. Making us more than a side character or the uplifting and sassy character, at that. We were portrayed as human and proof that we exist.