#i start exploding and dying badly

[tiredstressedemotionalmess]

do you wanna come here with me

YES i basically live here anyways. we are holding hands in this beautiful world

[moe-broey]

I HATE VYVANSE

[nexysworld]

Summary: He warned you not to run. The consequences of trying to escape were made very clear - but you didn't listen, did you? Now you get to suffer for the choices you made. Alternatively: lots of monsterfucking with true form Sukuna.

Pairing: Sukuna x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, MDNI, Monsterfucking, True Form Sukuna, Two Dicks 4 arms baby, canon typical violence (not to reader), descriptions of death/blood (not reader), dub-con (reader is into it by the end), tongue fucking, oral, Unprotected Sex, reader gets referred to as a pet, no use of y/n.

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

AN: Similar to my Toji fic, this is the first time writing for Sukuna. Hope I did it justice.

“There you are, Little One.” 

The deep gravelly voice tickled at your eardrums before the wall behind you crackled and exploded, sending debris shooting past you. Outside light from the city lit up what was left of the now destroyed building, where you sat on the floor stunned. Heartbeat in your throat, you dared to stand, forcing your stiffened body to turn and face him.  “I told you, if you tried to run, I’d kill every person in the city.” He smiled lazily, recounting his own words, amused as you stiffened where you stood. He stepped closer, each footfall making the air feel heavier around you, forcing you still. “And yet you ran anyway.” His large hand cupped your cheek before patting it softly, the way one might a puppy on its head. “I can’t imagine you believed you could get away. So I assume you were looking for a display of power.” 

‘No. No. Tell him no. He’s wrong.’ Your brain worked the words up, bouncing around your skull desperate for escape before halting and dying in your dry throat. Not so much as a whimper came out.

“And since you want to see my power so badly. I saved the finale of the show for last.”

It only took a second for him to leap from the floor of the building to the ground below, you in tow under his arm. The weightless feeling, you always hated it. Disorienting and nauseating. The world blurred, colors mashing together as wind whistled in your ears. 

He tossed you onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. You pushed yourself up, the pavement rough under your palms. Not ready to make eye contact with him again, you scanned side to side. The city was in ruin, smoke and flames curling into each other as they danced around blocking the sky. What wasn’t burning or sparking with torn electrical lines, lay crumbled around. Specks that looked like ants littered the debris, your stomach threatening to come up once it occurred to you the ants were people. Bodies. Everywhere. The familiar feeling of saliva pooled in your mouth, you desperately swallowed it down, face tensing as you willed the feeling back.  “You’re missing the most important view, Little One.” He cooed, turning your form to face the opposite direction.  “N-no.” The words left you in an airy whisper. Three friends, lined up in front of you, forced to kneel down in a respectful bow.  “Yes, actually.” This time he nuzzled into your neck from behind. “Look at them.” “Y-you can’t.” Your eyes squeezed tight, unwilling to look at the scene before you. “I can.” He brought his hand around you, squeezing your face to lift your head, holding you in position. “Open your eyes.” When you didn’t comply, he squeezed harder, a forceful grip that made you feel like your bones would shatter beneath his fingers. “Open your eyes, or I’ll start with their toes. Make you listen to their cries of pain.” 

You complied this time, cracking one eye open, then the other.  “Now then, who first? You pick.” 

“I can’t –” You’d never heard a scream like that before. Sharp, like nails on a chalkboard before it died off into a pathetic sob. To prove his point, your friend’s foot was removed from her body, making her almost fall out of her bowing stance. In a panic you brought your shaky hands up to point at the same girl, not wanting her to suffer. “H-her.” 

You could feel the way his smile widened as his cheek was still pressed against yours. You saw two painted fingers wave just slightly in your peripheral, and the boy next to her split open all over, the piece of him collapsing to the ground. You tried to turn your face again, but his grip held firm. “Wh-why?” “You didn’t ask properly, pet.” His words felt like ice in the pit of your chest. 

Footless girl, fear-stricken, tried to run for it as she saw the remnants of the boy in the middle. A pathetic sight as she scrambled to her good leg, using a street rail to try and hop, blood trailing behind her. The same flick of his fingers, and her good leg was gone. Determined she continued, desperately clinging to the rail, pulling her torso along.  “Yes, yes! Keep going, see how far you get.” Sukuna laughed as he watched the spectacle.

Her breath was so ragged you could hear it even at this distance, shocked that she could move at all with the blood loss. Her movements slowed as she reached the end of the rail. “Looks like you have nowhere else to go.” He mused. 

And like that, she was gone too – head disappearing into thin air as if it never existed at all.

“And like that I’m bored.” He said flatly, your final friend combusting into a gush of blood before disintegrating. He didn’t even give the boy a second look.  Your knees wobbled, if not for his grip you’d have hit the ground, brain too overstimulated to process. He said something to you, but it didn’t register, your vision blinking in and out before you ragdolled entirely. 

*******************

You woke some time later, no real way to gauge how long – head heavy on your neck. Pawing at your sleepy eyes, you looked around not noting anything familiar. It was an older house, tatami flooring with a sliding door that was opened into the backyard. You could hear the thwacking of the bamboo fountain as it filled and emptied itself. Greenery and moonlight encompassed your vision, no sign of the city wreckage you’d been subjected to earlier. 

Scanning down at yourself, you had been scrubbed clean. Tattered clothes replaced with a soft bathrobe, hair brushed and smelling of flowers. It felt wrong. Pampered and preened like a prized doll while your friends, no, while all of those people suffered. You wanted to scrunch up and cry, red faced and ugly. Force the world away while you wallowed.

“He wishes to see you now.” 

Uraume’s voice made you startle, skin prickling as if it could fling itself right off your skeleton. You hadn’t noticed her presence or when she’d even entered the room. She didn’t give you the opportunity to reply either, yanking you up by the sleeve of the robe – your leash. You had no choice but to follow, using your hands to hold the fabric closed, not wanting to expose yourself to her, or the cold air.  She took a hard right down a long hallway, then a sharp left – headed to the mainroom of the home, in the dead center. She finally let go of you in order to slide the double doors open, pushing you forward, and sliding them shut behind you.  He sat in the center of the room on top of some colorful blankets. He was too far away and the room too dimly lit for you to see him clearly – but you could tell something was off.  “Come here.” He commanded, head resting in his palm. 

It was an automated response as you stepped forward, one foot, then another. A puppet on strings, hobbling forward. As his features came into view, you understood now why he looked so off. He looked less like Shuji now, that was for sure. An extra set of muscular arms were folded atop his lap, just beneath the regular ones. All four of his eyes opened, the left ones glowing red, skin distorted around them. 

You froze. Just for a second, fear forcing your legs to bring you forward again until you were standing before him. Your hands kept their death grip on your robe, nearly hugging yourself. Sukuna straightened up where he was seated, all four pupils locked onto you. “What’s the matter, Little One? Don’t like my true form?” 

You shook your head, not sure if the right answer was the truth or not.  Luckily for you, it was. He laughed, amused by your timidness. “Very well. But I think you’ll grow to enjoy it, and all of its offerings soon enough.” 

Not a clue what he meant by that, you stayed your position unmoving, staring back at him.

He looked you over one more time, scratching his chin. “Enough of this boring silence. Remove your robe.”

Your face went red at the commend, grip tightening further until the blood left your hands. It took only seconds to decide that the consequences of not listening would outweigh the embarrassed shyness you felt. Slowly, you pulled at the soft fabric – “Too slow.” Wind gusted past you, fabric shredding and hitting the ground, leaving you in nothing but the sleeves. You didn’t need to look down to know you were bare before him, your arms finally opening enough to let the remaining scraplets of fabric slide off of you and onto the floor. It was too reminiscent of your friend, the way he’d hit the ground in pieces. 

He reached out one of his bottom arms, grasping at your arm to tug you forward into a sitting position on his lap. Both lower limbs came to rest on your hips, holding you there. His top left hand came up to your face, stroking it gently with the back of his hand. “Beautiful, pet. I haven’t seen a human with such captivating features in a very long time.”

His free hand snaked up your side before kneading at your breast. He pinched at your nipple, tweaking the perky bud, playing with it. The urge to squirm had you attempting to move your hips, still halted by his firm grip, the rest of your body still tense.  “Hmm. You’re too stiff.” He let go of your breast, leaning back on his top hands to look at you again. “Relax.”  “I can’t.” Your bottom lip wiggled, eyebrows coming together as you looked down at the monster beneath you. You weren’t sure what you wanted more, to cry, or to wail on him after everything. But you knew better than to do either.  “You have nothing to fear from me, at least not now.” He added, releasing the grip on one half of your hips, rubbing your lower back tenderly. “Or maybe, it's not just fear.” He pulled you upwards slightly, so you were sitting more onto his stomach as he leaned back. “Regardless, you’ll be pliable soon enough.” 

Both his bottom set of limbs smoothed up your sides, kneading at your breasts, thumbs rubbing gently over your nipples. Your toes curled slightly at the sensation, hands reaching forward to brace yourself against his chest.  “That’s it.” He cooed. “Feels good, yes?” He replies, continuing to tenderly massage your chest. You nod, bringing your sight to his chest, unwilling to look him in the eyes while in such a compromising position. You were angry with yourself for reacting this way to him. You didn’t want him to garner any satisfaction, show any level or pleasure – and yet all it took was him playing with your sensitive tits to get you squirming. 

Involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding against his abs to get some relief from the aching sensation between your legs. The hard muscles were an interesting feeling, the ridge of them bumping your clit with enough force to make you hiss with pleasure. His hands gave your chest one last squeeze before pulling away. Something wet lapped at you between your legs, making you whine before jumping with confusion.  “You taste delicious.” Your head tilted to the side with confusion, before one of his hands pointed down. You followed the direction of the digit, another wet sensation against your clit made you jolt slightly before you finally saw the culprit. A mouth on his stomach, sitting squarely between his lower abs. It had no lips, but a large pink and slobbery tongue poked out, tasting at you. You watched as it licked against the entirety of your pussy, flat and slippery. It did it again, like licking ice cream. Confliction of disgust and pleasure melded together in your mind, nipples pebbling as your cunt squeezed together craving something to cling to as the muscle continued to attack your clit. The heady whine that flung from your throat made you feel pathetic, but your legs shook from the pleasure, thighs tensing around his stomach.  “Much better, Little One.” He praised, sliding you back to where you were seated directly over the mouth’s opening. “Let yourself enjoy the pleasure.” The tongue stopped its movement, drawing away from your bundle of nerves, making you whimper disappointedly. You realized why it had retracted a moment later when it was prodding at your slippery hole before diving in. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, much longer and thicker than a human tongue, yet not as stiff as a cock. It wormed inside of you, stretching you out gently, the tip easily finding that special spot inside of you.  “A-hng!” You whined out feeling yourself cinch around the muscle that continued tasting your insides. His hands took purchase on your sides, grinding you down onto him again while his tongue fucked you. Your own hands grasping at his arms for support while he moved you effortlessly against him. Your breasts bounced with the movements, the tension between your legs threatening to snap at any moment. He could sense it before you. “Good. Good pet, cum for me.” He commanded, the tongue flattening itself inside of you against the spot that had you seeing stars. His hands moved you faster against him. Like a well trained dog, you heeded the command – white hot pleasure exploding from your core before spreading out reaching the ends of your nerves, skin tingling. 

Panting, you let go of his arms, falling backwards from the heaviness in your limbs. He caught you easily, sitting up again while he cradled you before placing you down on the bedding in front of him. There was a tent in his pants, the large indentation straining against the fabric. Your eyes stayed glued to it, half lidded as your pussy leaked spit and juices onto the blanket. 

By the size of the bulge you could tell he was big. Not surprising given he was barely human. What did make your eyes widen into saucers, was the sight of him undoing his fabric belt, freeing himself. One fat cock sprung free, the tip drooling with beads of precum already, twitching and pulsing with need. It was massive, but human-enough. Below it though, a second one emerged, equally as large and leaky as the one above it. 

You stared at them, intimidated, fearful. “Now lets see.” He stroked the top one a few times, more precum pearling at the tip before dripping off onto the bottom one. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to have fun in this form. Should I breed you with both of them at the same time?” His top most eyes narrowed as he watched your response. 

Wide eyed and afraid – exactly how he liked you.  He laughed, taking the massive cock he was stroking and smacked it against your cheek a few times, leaving a sticking trail of precum. The cooling sensation of it, as it dried in the night air made you shudder. 

That word though, breed. The thought made you bristle as if this situation couldn't get any more awful. “N-no. Please don’t. I don’t think I.. I don’t want to be bred.” Where the confidence came to speak in this situation, you’ll never know. 

He laughed again. “You don’t think? Little One, your job isn’t to think, not anymore. Not ever again. You do as you're told. Like a good pet. Now, come here.” He motioned for you to come closer. 

You didn’t move, looking up at him, a small act of defiance – or at least it was supposed to be. The reality was you were too disgusted and petrified to move. Tears were soaking your cheeks again, plopping against your knees before rolling off onto the blanket. 

He raised a brow, curious at your reaction. “Why are you crying?” “Because I–” The words stopped again, choked up in a sob. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, swiping them away. “I can’t do this. Not with you. Not after….please.”  “Not after what? If you’re going to accuse, do it with your whole chest girl.” “It’s not an accusation! You killed them! You destroyed the city!” You wailed, grabbing the blanket in your fists.

He dropped his cock to put the hand on his stomach, leaning back into a full deep bellowy laugh, clearly finding your outrage and tears hilarious. He finally calmed down, smile still stretched onto his features. His two upper hands cupped your face, the lower ones moving to drag you forward, closer to him, until your noses nearly touched. “Who made me do that?” He asked, mockingly. “Who knew the consequences of her actions, but chose to be a cowardly little mouse anyway?”  “B-but –” “No buts. You ran. They died. It’s all your fault, isn’t it?” He cooed, smoothing your tears away from your eyes.  “S-stop it.” “Stop what? Reminding you of your own misfortune? Tch. Can’t even take responsibility for your own ineptitude.” He rubbed his nose against yours, a bunny kiss. “This is exactly why you’re not made to think, Little One. Can’t handle more than a thought rattling around up there before you’re in tears. Pathetic. Cute but pathetic.” Yanking you even closer, he had you reseated on him, just above the two appendages between his legs. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll clear all the thoughts out of that head. You’ll only be able to think of me from now on, no more guilt. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He pat your head, not giving you the chance to reply, leaning down to lock his lips with yours. 

It was a rough kiss, messy, but softer than expected. You let out a “mmph!” into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock prod against your hole, still slicked up from the tongue. He let go of the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting you both. His hands gripped you, sliding you down over the shaft, the stretch too much at first. As if sensing your discomfort, his abs parted again, the tongue making its way out to flick against you as you adjusted to where you were seated on him. A new gush of slick pooled out of you as your cunt clenched around him while the tongue worked your sensitive bud. It felt good, incredibly good.

“See? Just give in.” He spoke through grunts, beginning to slide you up and down his length. Each time the head of his cock would press against your inwardly sensitive spot before gliding past to kiss your cervix. The tongue below continued to circle and lick at your clit as best it could, following the motions of his hands. You were weightless to him, no harder to manipulate than a fleshlight. 

Legs trembling again, your back arched as much as would allow in this position, tensing like a bow string before that familiar tidal wave of pleasure crashed down on you. This time far more intense than before as the tongue kept lapping, his cock kept drilling. Your vision had white spots scattered about, each aftershock of pleasure made you squeal. 

Every now and then, the bottom cock would slap at your ass as he glided you back down. The overstimulation nearly hurt with pleasure, a sensation you didn’t think possible to experience. A particularly hard thrust had you whine out again, this time tongue out like a panting puppy, just trying to catch your breath. 

He adjusted your positions, this time so your back was pressed into the blanket, legs folded against you. It made the feeling of being full intense, like he was reaching into your ribcage and popping your lungs with each movement. One hand laid flat onto your stomach, splayed out as the outline of his cock disappeared and reappeared beneath it, before pressing down. The pressure was all it took to make you cum again, toes curling, arms clawing at his back to cope with the sensation. Whatever thoughts, worries, memories had been swirling in your brain were dumped out – replaced only with a comforting black numbness as you squeezed your eyes shut, snippets of Sukuna flashing in every now and then. 

A few more quick thrusts on his end had him spilling into you, hot cum warming your belly from within, spilling out of your cunt from the overflow. His movements slowed, keeping a pace that was pleasing enough to ride out his own orgasm, but not too quick to overstimulate himself. 

Tired. You were tired now, could fall asleep at any moment. He patted your cheek again to get your attention. Lazily, you turned to look at him, chest still heaving as you caught your breath. “I’m not done yet, on your belly.”  The thought of getting to blackout on pleasure again made your sore pussy ache again. You beamed him a dopey smile, giggling, before forcing yourself to roll over. You ignored the tired ache in your limbs, lifting your butt up for him.  “What a good pet.” He praised. “Learning so quickly.” Sukuna placed the second cock at your entrance, slipping it in easily. He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your hip when you yelped. “Marked up, just for me.” He added. “My royal lap dog.”

You nodded eagerly as best you could, face squished down into the bedding.  “Bark for me.”  “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Humiliation didn’t have a spot in your fucked out blank brain.

“Good girl.” He said through a dry laugh, continuing to pound into you from behind. “Do it again.” “Woof! Woof!” 

“Like you mean it, brat.” 

You scaled up the pitch a little, bringing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “Woof!”

He rewarded your good behavior by leaning back on his legs, using all four hands to grip you firmly, rabbiting into your tight hole from behind at nearly and inhuman speed. Your front remained flopped forward, mouth open, drooling pooling against your cheek as a fourth orgasm was ripped from you.  “That’s it. That’s my good pet, taking all I have to give you.” He grunted one last time before you felt the telltale twitch of the second cock told you he was close. It throbbed inside of you again, pumping more of his seed into your spent hole. He smacked your ass lightly. “What do we say?” “Th-thank you.” You replied dumbly, leg muscles twitching as your lower half slid off of his softening cock and down onto the bed. Your eyes were too heavy now to keep open even as you fought the impending feeling of sleep pulling you down. He said something else, but you didn’t catch what it was, slightly jostled awake by the feeling of being moved. 

He’d laid you flat onto him, two arms holding you in place while a third gently stroked your hair and back. The warmth of his chest and the heavy heart beating sound were what did you in, finally letting that happy sinking feeling take over. No thoughts of anything, not even your slain friends as you curled up on him, out like a light.

[blueicequeen19]

Unwanted Attention

Masturbation, sexting, toys, Kook obsessed with JJ and he’s not about it 😏

I look down at my phone to see a incoming video call from her. The girl I’ve told to fuck off on numerous occasions but she won’t take no for an answer. When I asked her how she got my number, she told me that half the Kook girls had it because they all wanted me to ruffle their feathers. Something about a bad boy and pissing off their daddies.

Well it wasn’t happening. The Pogues came first and I knew they’d hate me if I stooped as low as fucking Kooks. Those girls were stuck up and totally not my type. Yet this one is annoyingly persistent.

I rake my hand through my hair as I step away from the party heading towards the water before hitting accept. I don’t even get words out before her tits fill the screen. Perfect. Round. More than a handful. Suckable. Bitable. Fuck. I’m hard.

“JJ.” She moans my name, the camera switching to show her fucking herself with a big pink dildo. Her clit is plump and swollen and slick with her arousal. She’s so goddamn wet.

“Listen.. I..” I start but she cuts me off with another sexy moan. My chest is tight. My balls are heavy and my dick is practically steel. I fucking hate this girl. HATE her. But here I am about to cum in my fucking shorts over the sight of her.

“I’m pretending it’s you, JJ. I wish it was your cock.” My knees nearly give out at her words.

“Why.” It’s all I can manage. My throat is tight and my chest feels ready to explode. I can barely catch my breath.

“What’s not to want?” She purrs, adjusting the angle closer until I can hear the sloppy wet sounds of her fucking her own pussy.

“It’s not going to happen. You can’t just—.”

“I’m close! Fuck, JJ, I need you so badly.. what’s a girl gotta do?” She begs, all desperate and needy. I grit my teeth, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one has followed me before turning all my attention back to her.

“Spread your legs wider. Fuck yourself deeper. Harder.” I growl, unable to stop myself from palming my dick in my shorts as she does as I ordered.

“Oh— god—.” She cuts off, her cries piercing the air as she cums. I can’t breathe as I watch her coat the toy in cum until she finally stills, the only sound becoming her shallow breathing. I palm my aching dick, dying for relief.

“That should’ve been you.” She whispers, pulling the toy out and showing me the evidence of her release. The toy is thicker at the tip and longer than I thought. Fuck, she might be sore later. I shake off my emotions and let my gaze harden.

“Don’t call me again.” I snap, hitting the end button and pocketing my phone before she begs me to come over and actually fuck her.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hey! I wanted to know how Lisa, Yae Miko and Beidou would react to an S/O who in public is quite stoic and mature, but in private they can be quite submissive and are easily embarrassed when smothered by their affection.

(Genshin Impact) Lisa, Yae, and Beidou with a stoic but easily flustered S/O

I believe in Electro women supremacy

Lisa absolutely adores the reactions her S/O has.

While on the outside, S/O seemingly doesn't react to her petnames like "Darling" or "Cutie", but she knows they're dying on the inside.

Especially when she suddenly hugs them from behind when they're alone in the library, hearing a soft yelp come out.

(S/O) "A-Ah, Lisa!-"

(Lisa) "Hm? Something the matter?~"

Lisa fails to contain her amusement as she sees S/O squirm under the attention she gives, always stuttering over their words or just quietly blushing.

It was a challenge to see how much love she could smother them in before their facade in public would crack, thinking it the cutest thing she's seen.

If anything, their stoic nature contrasted by their bashful one made them all the more attractive to her.

Knowing how level-headed of a person they were, and that she alone could reduce them to putty in her hands.

Now that brought a smile to her face.

(Lisa) "Where did all your confidence from earlier go, cutie?~"

Yae knew how easily S/O could fold just by her affection, and you can bet your ass she would abuse that knowledge. (Lovingly, of course.)

She'll act as the (kinda) responsible Guuji she is well known for with S/O next to her, right before she whispers something in their ear.

While S/O's facial expressions do not budge, their cheeks suddenly start burning a crimson red as Yae chuckles.

In private, her laughter grows even louder.

(S/O) "I cannot believe you said that to me in front of the others!"

(Yae) "Hm? Which thing did I say, S/O? You're going to have to be a little more specific-"

(S/O) "I am not repeating...something so vulgar!"

Yae's hand covers her mouth as she watches S/O pout. If anyone else saw how they were reacting, their perception of them would completely shatter.

As fun as that would be, there was something special about having that side only be shown to Yae.

And she was quite possessive of that fact.

(Yae) "Don't worry, little one. I'll keep your reputation of being stone-faced safe...At least in front of the others."

Beidou kind of gets where S/O is coming from.

She was quite the boisterous, loud, and fiery person in front of the crew, but she only really showed her softer side to very few people.

And it seemed S/O was the same way, seeing how flustered they got whenever she wrapped an arm around them.

It makes her own heart skip a beat as she snuggles closer to them in the safety of her quarters, smiling all the while.

(Beidou) "You're damn cute, you know that?"

She felt S/O fidget from the compliment, proving her correct even more than before.

(S/O) "You as well..."

(Beidou) "Heh, at least look at me when you say that."

While Beidou will still tease and mess with S/O, mercifully she doesn't unleash her full power unless it's just them.

Mostly so that S/O wouldn't explode from sheer embarrassment, because the things she did say and do in private.

Well, that was the Captain's secret, and all that anyone knows is that S/O walks out of her quarters with their hair disheveled quite badly.

[banamine-bananime]

AITA for trying to save my friend and keep the rest of my asshole friends safe from their bad decisions?

I (M26) just went through this real shitty breakup. So basically, my ex C (M lmao man fuck if i know his age idek if knows it. or has one i guess) has this god-fucking-awful habit of deciding to solve every problem by dying about it and/or fucking off without so much as a word to the people unfortunate enough to give a shit about him, except maybe his sister (unhelpful for the rest of us because she also inherited the "fucking off without a word" gene. man fuck this whole family for making me care about them. whatever). Also, killing himself inside peoples brains thats like a whole hobby for him. like okay either ghost us OR kill yourself in front of us altering the trajectory of our lives forever PICK ONE like a NORMAL person.

Okay wait im not explaining this well. So years ago C and W (M37 now) were partners but C was, uh, in a really bad place mentally (S is telling me this is more diplomatic to say than "crazy af") and that situationship ended as badly as a situationship can end. I mean W's told me he pretty much had his sense of identity as someone separate from C totally destroyed by that for a while, which like, in hindsight its kinda an accidental dick move that our team made him take C's legal identity, but in our defense a) the fuck were we supposed to know?, b) tbf he really did need it not to go back to prison, c) it's not like C was using his identity, on account of the fucking off and effectively-dying-as-a-solution habits, and d) i mean. i gotta admit it's also pretty funny in a really fucked way.

aw shit derailed on a tangent again

recently its just like, we just get so focused on one thing its hard to remember anything else, you know?

S is so good at getting us back on track though. thank god because you would not believe the number of irons weve got in the fire to keep track of, its ridiculous. (i love making my partner be the planner in the relationship lol. highly recommend being a passenger princess in the body sometimes. fuck massages, i'm telling you THIS is what you need after a long day getting shit DONE and taking care of everyone else's messes)

So I met C 6 years ago, right out of basic, when we were privates stationed at the same base. middle of nowhere. shit, this is gonna be hard to explain, just realized i should use different names for C to keep them straight. I knew "A" and W knew "E", i didnt meet E until years later. theyre alters and also the same guy but also not the same guy. dont worry about it if you dont get it bc ive dated both of them and i dont think i do. my life is stupid.

Bunch of bullshit happened, A ghosted (lol. you'd be high-fiving me if you knew him) and then found a problem to solve by dying. you get it by now.

Then i meet E, E encounters a problem and tries to die about it round one (i guess round two, after exploding in W <- LOL. you should be high-fiving me right now), E's sister drags him back to the land of the living, E ghosts, W and i start dating, W tries to martyr himself and disappears because i guess E rubbed off on him (dude i am on a fucking roll. you should be high-fiving me out of pity for my glamorously miserable soap-opera life if nothing else. homophobic not to), our team gets W back, E strolls back like he has no idea why im mad at him, we fight about it, makeup-makeouts about it, and E tries to die about it round two: in my brain boogaloo.

So thats how S and i meet. oops, guess i never introduced S? Feels weird to have to introduce ourself twice, people dont really meet us separately anymore LOL. S (M, ageless) is also C's alter, my partner in life and badassery and brain and body. and obviously freaky sex stuff, that goes without saying but i'm saying it anyway to brag. the swish swish to my stabbing people who really deserve it. Not really interested in your opinion on our relationship, it's not what i'm asking about. we're aware its not conventional, because we're not fucking braindead. Im so sick of all the "oooohhhhh this isn't healthy", "he's a male manipulator and youre codependent i know bc i learned psychology from tiktoks by girls with green hair", "why are you wearing your ex-boyfriend's armor colors while wearing his dead ex-boyfriend's armor while dating and sharing a brain with your dead mutual ex's alter", "have you considered going to therapy instead of a quest against death itself" blah blah blah. If youre so bored you need to judge our life then just get your own 🙄🙄🙄

we've been really on that sigma grindset the last few weeks. S has got our sleep optimized down to a tight triphasic 3.46 hours and we're minmaxing the fuck out of the rest of every day. Biohacked to shit over here. too much to do, so we have to make there be enough of our time to do it. who else is gonna? my teammates? the REDS? we're half batman half babysitter to a gaggle of idiots who can barely be trusted to wipe their own asses, let alone fight their own battles and make decisions like "wah wah wah A is dead let's just give up and cry about it or whatever".

Don't even get me started on W. Oh youre all about character-building wake up and grind self-improvement and taking leadership until we're making decisions you dont like, i guess. WHATEVER. this is why we dont listen to you.

its hard, okay. like, you cant understand the sheer fucking stress were under trying to keep all our plans going smoothly while keeping these guys safe while they're basically actively trying to unravel every carefully-laid thread and also strangle themselves in them. im probably going prematurely grey and also losing some time. its hard to remember when we need to hold back and use the kiddy gloves. i really didnt want to come to holding - uh, we'll call him MC (M25) - by the throat, passed-out. he's like a brother to me, been through thick and fucking thin together, so yeah, i feel really bad about that, my bad, we were the asshole there, but like, maybe stop throwing yourself in the way? like run out into the road you're gonna get hit by a truck no matter how hard they slam the brakes. mfw the conses quence. but im NOT asking about that. everyone's been on our dick about "please god stop doing all of this" and abandoning A and trying to break us up way before that, and THAT'S what im asking about

Anyways tl;dr are we the asshole for getting shit done when it takes methods that all our monday morning quarterback friends dont like

_____

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

it really was a dick move to dangle my teammate's limp body in a chokehold even though it was basically an accident and also not even directly relevant to the question

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might not be the asshole:

okay but we're right

[im-leaking]

One of my best holding experiences:

I started by drinking a huge bottle of water, then started playing undertale. I was thinking maybe I could get to the end but halfway through I was starting to squirm.

(During some points I spread my legs real wide and didn’t allow myself to hold or touch down there. I also tried to not squirm my hips and grind myself into my bed below but it was eventually really hard and I would spurt a little in my pants if I did this)

I was holding myself and crossing my legs whenever there was text and I would try to hurry through it using the skip the best I could. I started off very strong but it hit me very fast. I got through ruins and near the end of snowdin I felt it. I beat Papyrus and went through all of waterfall but kept dying to undyne. At that point, I was literally leaking in my underwear and sweat pants that I decided to leave on to make it more fun. I kept squirming, even rubbing my pussy to try and keep it in.

I died again, but at that point I couldn’t take it anymore. I pressed my bladder just a little and leaked quite a lot. It was hard and I just couldn’t keep the leaks in so I decided to go to the bathroom for some more torture. 🤤

For this part, I took all my clothes off and sat on the toilet (still not allowed to pee). I had an extra bottle of water and then poured the water over my genitals while still trying to hold. It felt so amazing and it was such a fun tease. I spurted only a little, then got my clothes back on, flushed and washed my hands. The sound of the water didn’t help and the warm water on my hands made me nearly piss myself on the floor. I was so desperate and potty dancing to try and hold it in.

After that I got in the tub and tried to keep holding until I exploded. I was squirming desperately and potty dancing while constantly leaking into my sweatpants and everytime I would try to hold the rest back and not give myself that relief I needed. I turned the shower on but faced it away from me so I wouldn’t get wet and kept holding. The leaks kept becoming more and more and everytime I pressed on my bladder just a little, I would squirt and gush. I couldn’t stop whimpering and thinking how badly I had to go potty. I was soon very wet with pee running down my legs and I just couldn’t take it anymore and just spread my legs pissed my pants all the way. Everything was soaked and I was soon standing in a large puddle while shivering the entire time. My little tdick was so hard the whole time and it felt so good to finally just let go and have an accident in my pants. 🤤

[nightgoodomens]

I’ve had this idea to use in fanfiction but I’ve been kind of thinking about it in a way it could work in the show too (not that I think it will but hey want some angst?)

Bentley is everything to Crowley right. The only thing he has left at this stage and it’s his home too.

Metatron clearly wants Aziraphale and Crowley separated, he clearly has something against Crowley because of the right ugly look he gives him and worries if he remembers him.

Imagine Aziraphale who keeps on talking about Crowley because he misses him so badly and it’s driving Metatron insane. He needs Crowley to disappear for good, otherwise Aziraphale will not let him go.

Imagine Maggie is actually an angel helping Metatron.

So Metatron comes up with a plan. Now, he thinks the worst of Crowley (because he’s behind his fall and he needs to believe he deserved it, but actually he’s simply a bastard who hated someone better than him) so the plan, in his mind, will either have the result of Crowley dying or going full evil. Either way, Aziraphale will fully reject him.

Maggie’s job is to invite Crowley for a coffee. Crowley drives over, parks further away because he doesn’t want it close to the bookshop, starts walking away.

The idea is that someone drops a holy water bomb under the Bentley. It explodes, Crowley loses his beloved Bentley and home, knows it’s Heaven because of the Holy Water that hopefully will hurt him too, and in Metatron’s mind he loses his shit and joins Hell against Heaven. Result = Aziraphale’s heart breaks and he lets him go.

Or even better, Metatron hopes, that he will notice they’re putting something under the car and goes back close enough that it kills him. Aziraphale loses him and hopefully his own mind so he’s easy to control.

But it’s not what happens.

When Maggie smiles brightly to welcome him, as he’s making his way from where he parked over the road, it’s Nina who walks out too and waves to him - and notices someone running to put something under his car so she shouts for that person to leave the car alone.

Crowley turns immediately and makes his way back, Nina following him. The car explodes, Crowley is luckily not close enough to be killed, but he gets hit by the power of the explosion, gets thrown right against the building. Nina who was farther away just gets pushed away.

She and other people rush to Crowley, and to Maggie’s surprise, while he is clearly in shock and needs a moment of them to sit him up and Nina to talk to him until he finally focuses on her and his mind clears… Maggie can see that he’s soaked in Holy Water which is doing absolutely nothing to him.

Crowley doesn’t realise it’s Holy Water, his eyes are on his Bentley, his home, and he chokes no… and Nina with others need to hold him down because he tries to run to it.

Someone shouts to call an ambulance, Maggie clearly wipes those ideas from their heads, Crowley is in too much shock to think clearly and do it himself. Muriel runs over shocked, her and Nina drag Crowley to the bookshop where they try to calm him down because he’s shaking and they wipe the dirt from his face, try to dry him up with towels, and actually hold him tightly until he stops shaking.

Maggie reports what happened to Metatron. Crowley has nothing now. Metatron hopes the next step is Crowley losing it. He doesn’t understand why Holy Water didn’t work but then it didn’t before so clearly that wasn’t a fabricated story.

What Metatron doesn’t know is that Crowley is now really immune because… he kissed an Angel. A certain angel who’s in love with him and without knowing gave him such protection.

What Metatron doesn’t know either is that Aziraphale has kept in touch with Muriel to hear about the Bookshop and most of all about Crowley.

He also doesn’t know that Crowley and Aziraphale are so close that Aziraphale would feel if something terrible happened to Crowley. And he definitely felt the pain of Crowley getting hurt and losing his Bentley. It nearly tore Aziraphale’s heart apart.

He doesn’t know that Aziraphale gets in touch with Muriel immediately and she tells him about the bomb. Of course Aziraphale is still foolish enough to think that it was Hell’s work. Muriel didn’t know about the Holy Water.

But Aziraphale, in rage, goes to see it happening as Heaven records everything. He finds the video. He recognises the angel who puts the bomb under Crowley’s Bentley. He can’t believe it. He digs deeper and finds out that Metatron ordered the Holy Water Bomb.

He holds the picture of Bentley on fire, and Crowley, devastated, held to the ground by humans, protected by humans, so he doesn’t end up hurt even more.

And this is how Metatron loses Aziraphale completely.

[hmiltonzee]

JEALOUSY- PABLO GAVI

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─ plot . . . ❨It's your birthday and Gavi is jealous of you with Balde❩

─ warning. . . ❨none just fluffy, cute❩

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Sun. Beach. Party.

The three things I love the most.

Celebrating my birthday has always been a furdunço, but a furdunço that I have always loved. And today would be no different, nothing better than celebrating my day in the place I love the most. Beach.

I called my friends for a review at the house I have here in Ibiza. At the moment we are boating along the wonderful beaches.

“What's up, birthday girl! How many candles will the cake have? Seventy?” Balde implies with me, it was already customary.

I have always been very welcomed by the boys of the team since my brother was hired by Barcelona. And Alejandro was what made me most comfortable, so much so that we are friends to this day.

“I think there are ninety candles, huh!” My brother gets into the game.

“Ha ha ha! How graceful you are, I'm dying of laughter” I force a smile.

“You don't have a sense of humor, boring” Balde approached me with a dirty smile.

“Alejandro doesn't even invent! I end our friendship now if you do what you're thinking!” I move away with every step he takes.

“Hey, I'm not even thinking about anything! I just want a hug from my best friend” He opens his arms with the intention of hugging me.

“I know you Alejandro, get out of my way”

“A hug of nothing, y/n! Stop treating your guests badly!” He grabs me and jumps into the water with me on his lap.

“ALEJANDRO BALDE I HATE YOU! “ I'll tell you as soon as I get back to the surface.

“Doesn't hate anything, kitty! I'm your favorite here!” He throws water at me.

“Mischievous Spanish!” I start a water war with him.

The moment we stop throwing water at each other, I go up the stairs to go back to the boat. As soon as I get back to the boat, I get a drink, sit down and watch the sea.

I feel a pair of eyes staring at me and as soon as I find them I see that they are not happy at all.

Pablo Gavi.

The player I have been dating for three and a half months, we have not yet revealed our relationship for fear of what they will find and for being "recent".

His jaw is locked and his hands hold the glass firmly that if he squeezes more he is able to break the utensil. I get closer to where he is sitting and start to start talking.

“Won't you get into the water?”

“No. I'm good right here” He answers dry.

“ Is everything okay? You seem to be angry” obviously he was, I wasn't that slow.

“I'm fine! You can go back there with your "best friend"” He makes fun of Alejandro's speech.

“Are you jealous?!” more I say than I ask; I start laughing at your face “I don't believe it!”

“I'm not jealous!” He looks at me. But it's obvious that he was, I decided to provoke.

“So there's no problem if I go back to the water with Balde, do you?”

“Go, I can't forbid you to have fun because of my jealousy” He admitted.

“So you admit to being jealous?” I provoke even more.

“I admit y/n, I admit! What the fuck, I thought it was very clear” He explodes and I laugh even more “And do you still think it's funny?”

“You don't have to be jealous, I date you and I'm all yours!” I caress your cheek.

“I know that, but they don't”

“If that's the problem, we can solve it by magic” I get closer to him and seal our lips, I feel him smile in the middle of the kiss and pull me even more to him.

“FUCK Y/N! IT REALLY KNEADS, GIRL!” Balde screams from the water, which makes me and Gavi separate from the kiss and start laughing.

“I think your brother will kill me” He says with his mouth still close to mine.

“He likes you silly, stay calm” I kiss him again.

[sentientgolfball]

Hello! Sorry to do this on anon 😅 I had a fic request!! I’ve been going through a really really rough time recently and all I’ve been needing is a Mountain/GN!Reader/Rain comfort fic with a reader with chronic pain 🥺 I appreciate you reading and, no matter what, thank you for your time!!

aw I am very sorry to hear that :(( I hope this can make you feel just a lil bit better <3

Enjoy some soft Mountain and Rain

My requests are open !

You crack open your eyes and immediately know what kind of day it’s going to be. You can feel the chill of the room on your face. You can hear the rain pouring down outside. You can feel the deep ache of your joints and you haven’t even moved yet. You thought maybe if you just laid in bed a little bit longer then the pain would go away, that you were just sore from sleeping in a weird position. When the pain persists you completely flipped your thinking, maybe you actually needed to get up and stretch. Yea that was definitely it. You sit up and quickly realize that was a mistake. It feels like there are a million tiny shards of glass trying to worm their way into your brain. 

You clutch your head and groan, screwing your eyes shut at the pain. You lay back down and bury your head under the pillows. You breathe deeply through your nose waiting for the pain to dull down. While you wait you do the only thing you can. You get upset. At everything. You curse the summer for dying away into autumn. You hate the feeling of the cold seeping deep within your body. You hate the rain for deciding to come now that the warm weather is over. You curse your body for reacting this way. You hate that you can’t enjoy the changing of the season because with every change in temperature comes days like these. Days where it’s too hard for you to move, to think, to just be able to function. 

A sharp throb pulses through your whole body and you whine realizing you definitely weren’t going to be able to work today. You blindly reach for your phone, not even bothering to remove your head from the pillows. You look at the screen when you grab it and it hurts. You quickly text the head librarian your situation and throw your phone back on your nightstand not even bothering to wait for a response. The longer you looked at the screen the more sick you felt. 

You laid like that for hours. You didn’t have the energy to even attempt to get up and do anything that might help with the ache. There were a couple times you tried to move when the ache seemed to die down, but doing so only made it flare right back up. So you stayed there with your head buried under pillows barely able to think. And then you heard your phone buzz. You ignored it the first time, but then it kept going off. You were starting to get annoyed at the noise. You reached up and grabbed it with the intent to put it on do not disturb. That was until you saw who was blowing up your phone. It was Rain. 

Did you stay up too late lol you weren’t here to greet me

Decided to skip work? Can’t blame you it’s nice outside

Are you alive?

…No seriously I’m worried are you ok? 

You wanted to reply but just as you tapped on the messages your head exploded in a thumping ache. You cursed and threw your phone day willing to settle just long enough to type a coherent sentence back to the water ghoul. You crack your eyes open when you feel your phone buzz again. 

I’m on my way. 

You slump back down and groan. You hated making him worry. You hated making any of the Siblings or ghouls worry. You wanted so badly to be able to just push all the pain away and get through your day with a smile. But the logical side of you screamed and begged to let them help you, let them worry and care for you. 

That side ended up winning when you heard a soft knock at your door. You mumbled a half hearted ‘come in’ and hissed when the light were turned on. 

“Shit sorry.” You heard Rain say before the lights were flicked off once more. 

You hear him walk over before the mattress dips with his added weight. You feel his hand start to rub firm but soothing circles into your back.

“Bad day?” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Have you eaten?”

You shake your head

“Drank?” 

You shake your head 

“Moved at all?” 

You shake your head 

He sighs and there's a moment of silence as he pulls out his phone and quickly types something. When he’s done he sits it on the nightstand next to yours before standing. He carefully removes the pillow from your head and peels the blankets off of you. He gently hooks his arms under you and picks you up with ease holding you close to him. He carries you to the bathroom and puts you down on the edge of the tub. He makes sure you're stable enough before pulling away and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. 

He quickly lights a few non-scented candles before gathering various soaps and other care products. He begins to fill the tub adding a few cups of bath salts to the water. You can already feel the heat coming off the water as Rain crouches in front of you. He slowly brings his hands to the bottom of your shirt and waits for your permission. You run a hand through his hair and nod. He smiles affectionately at you as he carefully undresses you and then himself. 

He dips into the tub first, settling back against the tile before gently pulling you in with him. You sigh heavily, feeling the hot water envelop you as you lean against Rain’s chest. You sit heavily against him putting all your weight on him as he begins to slowly massage your shoulders, working his way down your arms. You feel his tail squeeze around one of your legs and the pressure feels amazing. 

After a while of just sitting there, letting the water cradle you as Rain works his hands over every joint, he eventually scoops some water to pour over your hair. He gently runs his claws against your scalp when he’s satisfied before grabbing your favorite shampoo and lathering it into your hair. You hum in gratitude as he works his hands through, being sure to rub some gentle circles against your temples. When he’s finished he once again scoops some water into his hands to rinse the soap out. 

As he’s doing this you hear a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Right on time.” Rain says repositioning you so he can hop out of the bath. 

You watch bleary eyed as he wraps a towel around his waist and cracks open the door. He whispers something you can’t make out and nods his head with a slight smile. When he turns around after closing the door he has some clothes. One bundle is lounge wear you’ve seen the water ghoul wear hundreds of times, but the other is a massive sweatshirt and an extra pair of Rain’s sweatpants. Rain sets them down on the counter before walking over to the bath and hoisting you up. 

“Mountains waiting for us” he whispers and presses a kiss to your cheek “he brought something special for you.” 

You allow Rain to dry you off before you get dressed in the clothes brought for you. Moutain’s sweater and Rain’s sweatpants. When you’re ready he takes your hand and walks with you back to your bedroom. You’re greeted to the sight of Mounatin sitting on your bed smiling softly. There’s a tray on your nightstand with three mugs, steam rolling off of them. You can smell the herbaceous scent from where you stand. You notice there’s an added blanket on your bed and you nearly cry when you realize it’s heated. 

You practically slump against the earth ghoul who carefully pulls you against him as he leans back and against the headboard. He pulls the blanket over you as Rain hands you and Mountain your respective mugs. He takes his own before walking around to the other side of the bed to get under the covers. He slides in right next to Mountain who pulls him closer to you two, wrapping a massive arm around his shoulders. 

You take a sip of the tea and practically moan at the taste. Mountain chuckles and takes a sip from his own mug. 

“Like it? It’s a new blend I’m testing. Rain said it helped him so I thought you’d want some.” 

“It’s perfect Mounty.” You hum taking another long drink. 

When you finish Mountain takes the empty mug from you and lays off to the side. He holds you close to him letting the pressure of his arms wrap around you. The combination of the tea, the heated blanket, and two ghouls happily purring away make your eyes feel heavy. 

“Tired?” Rain says snuggling in closer, giving you a few soft kisses before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. 

You nod, pulling Mountain’s arm tighter around you, resting your head on his chest. He kisses the top of your head. 

“Go to sleep, wildflower. Rain and I will stay as long as you need us.” 

You and mutter an incoherent form of ‘thank you’ before closing your eyes. The two ghouls laugh and twine their tails together, resting them on top of you. 

“Sleep well.”

“We’ll be right here whenever you need us.” 

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr Day Eight: Blood covered hands

Fandom: Endeavour

Word count: 1,094

__

“Just let her go.” 

Morse held out an appeasing hand, standing back from the two people, standing near the edge of the street. One had his arm around the other’s neck, dragging her backwards, a gun pressed to her forehead. She was crying, afraid enough that her tears were silent. 

Morse couldn’t get much closer, not while the gun was to this girl’s head and her captor so unpredictable. But he couldn’t just let her go either--not with her panicked eyes begging him for help, not when he had promised he would get her out of this safely when it all had started. 

“You’re going to let us go, copper,” the man growled, dragged the girl back another pace. She whimpered, weakly clawing at his arm, but he was much stronger than her. Morse took another, uncertain step forward. 

He still wasn’t sure how they had failed her so badly--she’d come into the station a few days ago, hestantly and shyly reporting a stalker. Now, Morse was determined not to let her down any further. 

But backup was still on its way, and for the moment he couldn’t do much beyond keeping them in his sights. He had no idea what this man was capable of, and he refused to let the young girl become the victim. 

“This isn’t going to end well for you,” he said, keeping his voice steady and even. In control of the situation, that’s how he needed to be. 

“You’re not going to risk her life,” the man said, baring his teeth in an approximation of a smile. He dragged her back, shoving her head with the end of his gun. She sobbed and Morse ground his teeth in frustration, wishing he could do something. 

“Just listen to me,” he said. “Let her go and we can figure something out. I know you don’t want to kill her.” 

The man snarled, stepping back again. But he moved the gun--not pointing it at her head, shifting it to press against her neck. She sobbed again. 

Morse could make out sirens in the background and made the mistake of relaxing, just minutely. Backup was almost here, with more men they could disarm this man. He stepped forward again. 

“Not one more step,” the man growled. 

Morse took one more step. 

The gunshot shattered the world with a deafening explosion. 

Morse found himself shouting, a wordless cry ripping his throat raw. 

He saw the girl’s eyes, wide and terrified. 

He saw blood, staining her face, staining the cobbled street. 

Another gunshot exploded, and then he was kneeling beside her, hands pressed to her neck, to the welling pit of blood spreading across her front. 

“No,” he cried. “No no no.” 

Dimly, he was aware of shouts around him, uniformed officers rushing by. But all he could focus on was the girl in front of him, the blood welling under his hands. He felt her pulse, throbbing, beating under his hands. Dying, rapidly, draining out of her with the blood. 

He had promised her he would keep her safe. He had promised her he would fix this. 

“Morse!” 

Someone was calling his name, but he didn’t move, staring at her face. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, hands still pressed against her neck. 

“Morse, she’s gone.” 

A hand touched his shoulder briefly and he started out of his stupor, glancing up to see Thursday, crouched over him, expressionless. For a moment, he couldn’t quite register the words. 

“Nothing you could have done, lad.” 

Thursday’s voice was even, calm. Morse let himself be pulled away, still feeling distant, dizzy. She had just been there, right in front of him. Scared. He had tried--

“I couldn’t--” he started. Thursday guided him to his feet, and someone took his place over the girl. Morse couldn’t even remember his name, and he felt an achingly familiar sense of shame and failure. 

He had promised her. 

“You did all you could.” Thursday’s voice was still steady, and Morse looked up at him, feeling dizzy. 

“I… I promised,” he muttered. 

He looked down at his hands and the dizziness increased, causing the world to tip and spin into nausea. His hands were bloodied, his white shirt stained red. Her blood. 

He stumbled, and Thursday’s hand caught his shoulder. 

“Alright?” he was dimly aware of Thursday asking. 

“I promised,” he repeated, his mind reliving that moment. Stepping forward. The gunshot. The girl, dropping to the ground. 

“Morse. Morse.” Thursday’s voice was growing concerned and Morse blinked, looking up at the older man. Again, the world twisted dizzyingly and he felt the overwhelming need to sit down. He shut his eyes, reliving the moment of the gunshot again. 

Thursday was shouting something, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. His hands were covered in blood. He had failed her. 

“Sit down, lad, that’s it. You’re alright.” He was lowered to sit on the edge of the road, and opened his eyes to see Thursday’s worried face hovering in front of him. 

“What?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“You’ve been shot,” Thursday said. The world tipped sideways again and this time was accompanied by a flaring of pain--pain Morse realised he’d been feeling for the past few minutes. A sharp, pounding pain in his side. 

“Oh,” he breathed, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly shaky. He falt pale, distant, like he was about to fall over if it wasn’t for Thursday’s hand on his shoulder. He looked down to see blood on his shirt. 

Blood on his hands. 

“I’m going to take a look, alright?” Thursday said. Morse nodded, baring his teeth as Thursday pressed a hand to his side. “Seems to have just grazed you, you’ll be alright.” Morse nodded again. 

The girl wouldn’t be. He lowered his head, staring at his hands, resting on his knees. Bloodied. 

“Morse?” Thursday’s voice pulled his attention again and he looked up. “You did well.” 

“I couldn’t save her,” he said softly. 

“You did all you could. Nothing you can do against a madman like that.” 

“If I had just waited-” he began, but Thursday shook his head. He lifted his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding Morse’s blood inside, and squeezed Morse’s shoulder. 

“Ifs don’t do anyone any good.” Thursday held Morse’s gaze for a long moment, then looked up as uniform arrived at their side. Morse lowered his expression again, eyes landing on his bloodied hands again. 

He continued staring at his hands, even as the scene was cleaned up around him, even as he was bustled off to casualty. 

[deathbxnny]

Yanqing with a nature spirit/deity S/O. They draw power from being around pure nature and come from a planet that was blessed by Abundance, but they don’t agree with Yaoshi. So they join the Alliance as a healer and hunt down abominations.

But they don’t tell anyone that being on the Xianzhou for so long is practically killing them. The ship is a big hunk of metal, so they can’t replenish their energy.

Worse off, Yanqing notices when they start becoming tired quickly but they brush it off.

They reach their breaking point when they’re in battle and use the last of their power to heal Yanqing. They take a fatal blow to protect him and their body gives out, turning to leaves and leaving behind a seed.

(If Yanqing were to plant the seed, it would eventually grow to a point where his S/O is essentially revived with all their memories in tact, but this is an angst post.)

-----♡

A/N: Hello there Anon! Thank you for the painful request and for your patience!<33

Content: Angst, Reader dies, mentions of battle, mentions of death, established relationships, hurt/no comfort, Reader is a nature deity/spirit, mentions of injuries, the people want Yanqing angst

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

You knew that this would eventually backfire. That eventually, you'd pay for disagreeing with Yaoshi and leaving the way you did. You noticed the way you were weakening. You knew it was happening. And yet you ignored it, in hopes of maybe escaping your fate this way. You just wanted to ignore the pain and the way you were slowly deteriorating.

And at first, this seemed to work. You went on with your duties, healing those around you, before spending the rest of your days with your unsuspecting boyfriend. You didn't want him to worry. You knew he would, if he found out that you were dying. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him, because you didn't want to accept your fate either. So you acted like everything was fine, until it eventually all came to a head. Some call it karma and you called it fate.

It was supposed to just be a simple fight. One that, on a normal day, you should've been able to beat with ease. But things weren't so easy now, not when you had barely any energy left. You were panting and coughing, trying your best to keep the energy you had left. But it was impossible with no trees or earth to pull your energy from. It dawned on you then, that you weren't going to live long anymore. That there was no way you could.

And Yanqing noticed you weren't doing well either, but brushed if off, something he'd come to regret soon enough. He got injured pretty badly at some point and that's when you knew that it was over. Your hand reached out to rest on his bleeding chest, as you channelled the last of your energy into him.

He was shocked by you slowly disintegrating into nothing but leaves infront of him, which made him finally realise what was happening. He tried to stop you, but by then it was already too late. The enemy that had hurt him tried to throw one last attack at him, which you took instead. You practically exploded in a rain of petals and leafs that also took out the enemy in the process. You couldn't even say goodbye.

Yanqing sat there for what felt like an eternity, before he noticed the small seed that you left behind. He grabbed it and held it close to his heart, grateful that there was at least something left of you for him to remember by. But alas, the emptiness remained, until perhaps the seed grew and filled his now cold heart once more.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, I genuinely hope this was somewhat coherent, because I'm exhausted lol. But anyways, thank you again for the request and your patience, Anon!<33

[cactuupng]

I hope it's still okay to talk about traffic!Mumbo

A lot of the times,it's either Grian or Scar or Martyn that's popular within the life series fandom,but Mumbo's my favourite character so I'm glad that you like him a lot as well!

I just love that Last Life kind of started so good for him,with the Southlands,the aha jokes,the base and farms,but then he and Grian had that moment on the bridge and would only be red with Grian,who wanted him to join him SO BADLY,if he killed Mumbo fair and square.

Then Mumbo turned red and went INSANE with the end crystals.He was forced out of the Southlands (I think),he was trying to attack so many people,and didn't hesitate to push Impulse off of the SAME bridge that Grian tried to kill him on.He still joined up with fellow reds but he kept moving through different people,until he met up with Jimmy,a fellow Southlander,and died in his home,by the hands of one of his closest allies.

He's just kind of a tragic character that's different to the usual angst of the life series,somebody who wanted friends but lost them all and went insane and bloodthirsty because of it.

This might not make sense,or just feel like a basic explanation of Mumbo's Last life journey,but still,it was nice to talk about him and I love your art of Mumbo!

Yes yes yes YES!

I absolutely love traffic!Mumbo because the more you rewatch his povs, the more tragic he seems to become.

Like you said, it started out great! He got a group of friends, he got 4 lives, jokes - everything was perfect! But then the Bastion happened, and he lost his first life. Okay, that's scary! He hadn't died on hardcore before, so it's weird and was definitely a lot more terrifying than if he died on Hermitcraft.

He calls for help in chat, asking if someone, anyone, can come help him get home and protect him. He buries himself underground, waiting for Martyn and Jimmy to come back for him. No one comes, though, leaving him to wait. He's completely alone for the night, terrified to go out in case a mob hurts him and kills him again.

Mumbo's rightfully upset at them, commenting how the "aha" is traumatic to him now and how he can't do it due to not having a spyglass anymore. Meeting up with Grian, Mumbo makes a jab at himself about burning and dying, clearly still upset.

Then he dies again at the hands of, again, lava, but this time it was because Scar poured it on him. His friend from another world, killing him just like that, not really caring. He respawns, but he stays burning. Mumbo tries to jump into the water, trying to distinguish the weirdly non damage taking flames, but they don't disappear no matter what he does. The others don't comment on it, as if they can't see it. He's still burning. It's still warm.

and THEN THE GHAST BRIDGE?? INCIDENT HAPPENS??? Mumbo only heard talks about red names and how they can't team with non reds, only seeing Joel act that way. He's never experienced this. So it's incredibly distressing when he watches his best friend die in front of him, going down to red. He leaves a sign at the bottom, saving Grian's stuff and pleading for him not to hurt him, because hey! I saved your stuff! I'm your pal!

The whole conversation makes me sick, because Grian clearly isn't fully trying to kill Mumbo off. He wants to be friends with him, of course, but he can't kill him. Grian resorts to making pathetic attempts to drop him, but of course it doesn't work. He backs off the moment Mumbo tells him that he will join him if he kills him fair and square. Mumbo wants to join him, he wants to stay friends, but only if Grian does it fairly. Grian doesn't. He can't.

I'm skipping through everything to when Mumbo turns red because MUMBO ON HIS RED LIFE IS CONSTANTLY ON MY MIND BECAUSE OH MY GOD. This man is not used to this amount of bloodthirst. He's a killer, of course he is. His middle name is Killsalot god damn it! But he's not used to it being this much. He immediately goes insane, not hesitating to hurt, to explode, to push the limits. Seeing how Ren and BigB were scared of him if he even went NEAR them with something explosive, it filled him with power. "I like having this power!" he says, absolutely ecstatic of how he can do what he wants.

All this power comes with a cost, of course. Mumbo coming back to the place he called home, meeting face to face with Grian and Impulse. He shouldn't be here. They tell him that in the face. Mumbo tries to protest, to talk about about how he somewhat already was exiled already, but his voice gets quiet as the realisations hit him. He cant come home. Grian exiles him right in front of him, telling him that he should leave. He does, but not without doing what red names were meant to do. Destroy. Scare.

Back on the ghast bridge, Impulse and Grian are there. Mumbo doesn't hesitate to push Impulse off, laughing. Grian's upset, yelling at him while Mumbk tries to explain himself. Mumbk tries to do Grian's old tricks of breaking the floor beneath him, but he can't. Grian can now, though, not afraid to protect himself as he starts scaring Mumbo. All Mumbo fan do in turn is to apologise repeatedly, saying "sorry" over and over as if he didn't mean to do ehat he did, running away.

He keeps burning the flame. He keeps making the flame larger and larger and larger until its too much, until he burns himself down to ashes. He flies too close to the sun as he watches Jimmy die in front of him, realisations crashing over him after hitting his best friend of what he's done now, running away before turning back, hoping that he didn't follow. Grian did, though. He always does.

It ends with Mumbo getting stabbed in the chest as he feels himself dying. Not dying in the way that is on Hermitcraft, the way that it is back home. No. He's dying.

Mumbo has a constant theme with burning in LastLife. His first deaths relating to burning in lava, coming back permanently burning due to a glitch after his second one, his third happening right after exploding an end crystal right in front of him, his love for end crystals in the first place...

I like to associate him with a burning candle flame that just got too big, slowly burning himself down until nothing but a puddle of what once was remained.

[lyly04s]

You’re losing me (Leon Kennedy x reader)

Part 2 to tolerate it (link below)

(Again very very sad)

“You say I don’t understand and I say I know you don’t”

He didn’t want to talk about it “answer me please” tears still in her eyes “just fucking say anything!” She screamed. “I-I don’t understand” he said “I know you don’t” she got up before walking to there bedroom. She laid down on there shared bed for hours but he never came in. She sobbed she wanted them to be like how they used to when she was happy it hadn’t been the same since they got engaged he refused to even make plans for there wedding.

“I’m getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes”

She didn’t make dinner the next night. She didn’t clean. She simply sat on the couch with a bottle of wine and watched whatever sitcom was on. He walked in expecting dinner and a clean house but no there was none of that she truly was sick of his shit. “You didn’t cook?” He asked confused. “No didn’t feel like it” she responded before taking a sip of wine. “I’m hungry though” he said. “Then make your own damn food I’m tired” she said not even looking at him.

“How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying?”

She laid in bed she felt his side of the bed dip with his weight he still wouldn’t hold her. She knew the second he put his arms around her she would give up the cold act but he wouldn’t do it he was to proud to apologize. She truly felt like she was dying she knew there love was dying she rolled onto her side and silently cried into her pillow. She felt him shift slightly closer to her still not close enough to touch her but closer than he’s been recently.

“And the air is thick with loss and indecision I know my pain is such an imposition”

He truly was losing her. He would never admit it but he felt terrible he had pushed her this far. She hadn’t cooked in a week there was no groceries in the house. The house was messy she also hadn’t cleaned. He wanted to hug her, kiss her and beg on his knees for her. He couldn’t take seeing her so sad but he couldn’t push himself to apologize he had to much pride to big of an ego.

“And I wouldn’t marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her”

He came home the next night to see she had made him dinner she was wearing something besides sweatpants for the first time in weeks he sat down at the table “I want to say sorry for exploding on you that night I understand that you’re busy” she was apologizing to him? He thought it should be the other way around but he would take the apology “it’s ok I promise” he said before he started eating. In reality she only apologized so they would stop ignoring each other she knew he would never do it he could never let his ego go. She hated herself for forcing herself to apologize to him when she’s the one who deserved an apology but she couldn’t lose him no he was all she had now.

“And I’m fading thinking do something babe say something”

He still wouldn’t hold her still wouldn’t kiss her still wouldn’t make love to her she felt like they were going in a circle “am I not enough for you?” She asked him one night he wouldn’t answer the question she wanted to scream at him again but it ended badly last time she really was trapped in a loveless relationship. It was awful she hated herself for this she blamed herself.

“You’re losing me”

[daytaker]

The Adversary

“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.

AN: This is a modified chapter from a longer fic of mine called "Let's All Be Shadows". (Link leads to ao3.) There are references to events from that story, but this can be understood without reading the long-fic.

POV: Satan Nightbringer Timeline Word Count: ~ 4500 Synopsis: Satan recalls his earliest months in the Devildom and a new revelation that hit him just recently. CW: violence, rage, blood, manual choking

Most of the fic is below the cut.

----

Nominative determinism.

That’s a philosophical theory that argues that people gravitate towards interests, careers, or behaviors that align with their name. Nominative—named. Determinism—fate.

The name Satan comes from an ancient human language; the Hebrew word הַשָּׂטָן (hasattan), which means “accuser” or “adversary”. So, following nominative determinism, that is my role. I am the opposition. I am the adversary.

And, following this human theme, if you asked the average human today, they’d probably tell you that Satan and Lucifer are both names for the same entity.

They wouldn’t be completely wrong.

----

The first thing I knew was a white hot pain. It exploded through me, starting at my core and bursting outwards. I was on fire. I was dying.

It’s ironic that birth and death must feel so similar.

I was in a fugue, then, for what felt like a long time. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I could only rage. Everything that approached me, I tore to shreds. I was feral. I was out of my mind. Flashes of memories are all I have of the beginning. There’s the taste of copper in my mouth and blood smeared over my face, on my hands, in my hair. I’m tearing at something that used to be alive. Then oblivion, and the next thing I recall is writhing on the floor in a dark room, the rough masonry scraping my bare back. I bled all over the Demon Lord’s dungeon, and I never stopped screaming.

I screamed until my throat bled, and after that, I screamed in choked, gargled bursts of sticky blood and saliva.

After the rage, the blinding heat, the blood, the broken nails and torn hair and shattered restraints… After that, there was him.

I hated him.

I knew who he was; what he was to me. It was instinct, the way a baby knows its mother. Lucifer was my mother.

I’ll never forgive him for that. I’ll never forgive him for making me.

Because he did. He made me. He put me here, a struggling, suffering, raging mess of tissue and blood and bile and hate.

I don’t think I can effectively put into words how badly I wanted to die. There’s no way to say it without sounding pathetic. But I wanted death in a way I can barely understand now. Everything hurt, and now he was here, and every nerve ending in my body seared with a sort of fuming hatred that I couldn’t understand. I still don’t understand it. The idea that I could end my own existence never crossed my mind, though. That didn’t feel like an option. He made me. I was his responsibility. He should be the one to liberate me.

Instead, he tied me up, cast enchantments, and put me into bondage; he prevented me from moving. 'For my own good,' he said. And there, where I couldn’t lash out with my body, when I couldn’t strike and bite and rip, when I could no longer express myself physically; that’s when I spoke my first coherent words. They were like pebbles on my tongue, awkward and slathered in saliva, garbled, but intelligible.

"Traitor," I growled in a strange voice; a voice I'd never heard before. "Look at the mess you made."

I used those words to remind him what he was. That was my violence. Words like:

Coward. Failure. Hypocrite. Pathetic. Weak. The worst thing to ever happen to the people who trusted you.

It was a chorus of insults designed to burn him. Babies nurse on their mothers. So did I. I nursed on his pain. I wanted so badly to hurt him the way he hurt me. And maybe, possibly, he’d do what he should have done the instant I was born into this world. Maybe he would lose his temper. Maybe he would kill me.

He didn’t. Obviously. He never even responded to what I said, in those early days. He’d just look me over, examining my body, treating the rash of scabs on my back and shoulders. He’d put this cooling salve on the sores, and it burned like ice on my skin. I screamed and I bit at him and I tried to show him what words, still so new and ineffective, refused to do for me. “I hate you. I will kill you.”

Sometimes he’d get this look on his face… This awful, sick… sad… sour look. Pity. It was just pity.

And it enraged me. How dare he pity me when this was his fault? I told him as much.

I told him everything back then, in those earliest days. Every thought that entered my head. I only knew three things: pain, hate, and Lucifer. And only one of those things could understand me.

My memories from then are fuzzy. Rather than a narrative, I recall a tapestry of impressions and sensations; reds and whites and blacks, flashes of green, and long stretches of gray. But some incidents stand out in my mind, clearer than all the others. In one, I was bound and naked—I wouldn’t wear clothes then, in the earliest days; I just shredded them when I had my hands free, and I screamed and tensed and scraped my body on the walls when I didn’t. I hated how they felt, hot fibers rubbing against nerve endings that were so raw I could barely think. But I was naked, and I was bound to a bed or a chair or something in the Demon Lord’s castle, and I was screaming, and tears and blood stung my eyes, and I told him:

“This was inside you all along, Lucifer! Look at me! I was inside you! This is you! I am you!”

And he sighed. He looked so tired, so pathetic. He ruffled my hair with a gentleness that ignited the rage inside me to a maddening level. And he said to me:

“I am me. You are you.”

I told him to eat shit, and he shrugged and cleaned me up.

I wonder if he was punishing himself, the way he always took care of me on his own. Or maybe it was just one of his self-imposed responsibilities; another thing he could do to convince himself he didn’t deserve to be miserable.

Back then, in those early days, he treated me like I was his child. I was his child. It always makes me sick to think about it that way, but he was my parent. He gave birth to me. He nursed me. He raised me. And just like so many parents since the dawn of time, he made me into a miserable facsimile of himself. I was Lucifer, but worse. I was Lucifer, but broken and ashamed and out of control. I was Lucifer, if Lucifer hated Lucifer. I didn’t want to be Lucifer.

“I am me. You are you.”

That’s easy enough to say when you’re the original. What about when you’re the parasitic thing that exploded from someone’s wounded body and heart? What then, Lucifer?

----

In spite of everything, I somehow made progress. I learned to dress myself, and to wear clothes without tearing them to shreds. I learned how to walk without erupting into an inferno of fury. I learned to speak without screaming. And that awful mother of mine was always with me, it seemed; always by my side. “Remember to breathe,” he’d say, or “Focus on what’s in front of you.” And I’d mutter curses at him, and I’d try; I’d try to do what he told me to do, and I’d feel so ashamed . But when I did what I was told, he’d give me things. Books, mainly, but also different foods, changes of scenery… So I did what I was told.

In some ways, I was as naive as a child. I remember the mystery of my first snowfall, touching it and putting it to my lips and staring at the impression of my handprint in the white blanket on the ground. But there were also plenty of things I never had to learn. I knew how to read and write; I understood, conceptually, that there was a Celestial Realm and a Devildom, and which one I was in. I knew that Lucifer had brothers and a sister, and I knew the sister was gone.

I knew about Lilith.

Lucifer says I often talked about Lilith in my early days. I don’t remember it myself, but he says I seemed fixated on her. I would sob and rage at him for letting her go, letting her die, twisting what was left of her and warping it into something ugly.

Lucifer said he thought it was because he was so heavily focused on Lilith when I was ‘born’; he supposes he must have imparted some strange impressions on me in his grief. I don’t remember any of that though, like I said, so I had to take his word for it.

I don't think that's the real reason anymore, though.

----

I remember meeting my brothers. Tch. My ‘brothers’....

“This is Satan,” Lucifer said to them. “He is your brother. I expect you to treat him as such.” They all stared at me as I sat bound and chained to a chair, gritting my teeth, and then they glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to say. And then they stared at me again, and I knew they were told how I’d erupted from Lucifer’s body, and I knew they had heard me screaming in the dungeon and down the otherwise quiet corridor of unused rooms, and I knew they were afraid. I knew.

But I was just six weeks old, and I was terrified too. And being terrified made me so angry. I struggled to swallow the rage, but it was only a matter of seconds before I choked out the first coherent thing that entered my mind, the words crescendoing into a grating scream by the end.

“They’re not my brothers!”

My vision wobbled, my head ached, and my muscles burned with an energy that could only be expelled with violence. I broke free from the chains around my wrists, and soon I was throwing things. Whatever I could get my hands on. A table. A painting. A priceless vase. Levi and Asmo and the twins scattered, and Mammon looked like he wanted to join them, but he didn’t. He stood uselessly in the middle of the hall as Lucifer grappled with me.

“O-oi, whadda you need?” he asked Lucifer, who responded by flapping his wings in irritation and grabbing onto my throat.

I grinned at him. I wanted to show him the worst, most sickening face he could possibly imagine. Lucifer’s expression hardly changed, but he squeezed, and I knew I’d succeeded. “Kill me,” I spat. I was crazy. I had lost my mind. It was empty of everything besides the hate. “Kill me, you scum. Kill me like you killed her.”

For a short while, I thought he might really do it. His fingers dug into my throat, his jaw clenched, and there was a rage in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before as I used some of my last stores of strength to strike him with my tail. Yes. He fed off my rage, and I fed off of his, and it was an infinite feedback loop. The border of my vision started to grow hazy, and my pulse was pounding in my ears, and…

He released me far too soon. Far, far too soon. I didn’t even fully lose consciousness; didn’t even get to enjoy a moment of oblivion. I’d just let myself go limp. I surrendered so easily. And that second of lowered resistance was all he needed to cast some binding enchantment on me and leave me irate and screaming, wheezing for breath, my pulse pounding in my face as my blood resumed circulating, and I wriggled on the floor like a worm. I felt like a worm. 

Time was still so new back then. I couldn’t follow how it passed, and it seemed to dilate, stretching and squeezing, becoming longer and shorter based on my moods. And now, it all feels so long ago.

It was a lifetime ago, I suppose. From then to now, for me.

I wasn’t kept under lock and key. Not normally, at least. I was allowed to wander the Demon King’s castle. While Cerberus stalked the labyrinth below, I was treading the hallways above. I wonder how Lucifer convinced Diavolo to agree to that…

It never got better, though.

The rage.

I just learned to manage it. Slowly. Bit by bit. I’m still learning to manage it. Sometimes I slip.

I slip a lot, actually.

Books were my main solace in the Demon King’s castle, just as they are now in the House of Lamentation. Because I understand how little I know, and how valuable books are as resources.

But funny enough, that wasn’t why I became so interested in books at the start. I was far less interested in nonfiction than I was with novels. Reading a good novel…a really good novel… It can feel like a possession. Like you’ve entered someone else’s body and attuned yourself to someone else’s mind.

I wonder if others understand what a relief that is? I wonder if anybody can have any idea what others actually feel, and how it compares to yourself? It’s a question I sometimes get stuck on. The question alone takes me out of myself. I like that.

I didn’t care much about the real world when I was new. Why should I? The only things in it were Lucifer and his brothers, and I got enough of that already. I would rather be Azaz the Summoner, the demon who forged pacts with other demons in defiance of all natural laws. Or a young human boy living in the wilderness with wolves. I like stories like that.

No, what piqued my interest in the world outside was the butler.

I don’t know where he got the time, or why he cared enough to be bothered with it, but he told me about his own life. Only in the vaguest terms, of course; never touching on anything that felt truly personal. He talked of how ancient he was, and how he’d walked in the human world before humans ever did. And he told me about his room. He even let me look inside once. It’s shocking. Doors and stairs all over the place, leading to different places and times… 

There’s no way for me to know if he was being honest with his stories, but he knew so much, it seemed insane to believe he was making it all up. He knew about the way the Devildom smelled when it was first inhabited by demons; he knew about the sulfur mines that shut down millennia ago, and the infrastructure that transformed the place into somewhere livable… 

So I read some books about the ancient history of the Devildom. From what I could tell, his descriptions were accurate, and though he could have learned those things the same way I had, I didn’t feel he did. It felt more as if he was speaking from experience.

But when I read about the early Devildom, I wanted to learn about the fae. And when I read about the fae, I wanted to learn more about magic. And when I learned about magic, I wanted to learn more about curses, and magicians from all three realms, and soon I was no longer reading about fictional worlds, but my own. And I wanted so badly to see it.

----

When we moved into the House of Lamentation, Lucifer gave me the scroll. It was shiny and strange, and he told me it belonged to me, and that I should look it over when I was ready. He told me it had information about my birth. He made it sound like some sort of legal document, and it seemed to me that he wanted me to look at the thing sooner rather than later. So I tossed it on a high shelf and ignored it. I ignored it until you came to my room and started asking questions.

Lucifer came into my room the night I had you over. No knocking. He just burst in, arms crossed, wearing that disgusting look of beleaguered disappointment on his face. Like I’d let him down again. Like I owed him the consideration of trying to do anything else…

“You had a guest today, I heard.”

I was sitting on my bed, reading a book about who-knows-what. I’ve forgotten. He made me forget. And I was suspicious. Why was he speaking like that? Why wouldn’t he just say what he meant? I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so I glared at the page of my book without seeing a single word.

Lucifer continued. “Did you become angry? Or were you cruel out of some new, cold sadistic streak?”

I threw my book at him and he dodged it with ease. Then he continued as if I hadn’t tried to smash his face in. “Or perhaps it was unintentional. But it seems you left our attendant in a state of deep distress. What did you discuss?”

“Get out of my room, bastard.”

I turned and lied on my side, back to him, and I dragged my tail over the bedspread. I was working away at it, slowly turning it to ribbons as the threads hooked onto and snapped over the sharp spines. I knew he hated it when I did things like that. And he knew I knew, so he pretended not to notice.

Irritating.

For about three minutes, I laid there, and he stood there, and neither of us said a word.

“Why does it matter?!” I finally snapped. I found myself tugging at my hair in irritation. Every part of my body feels so unnecessary when I’m agitated, from my hair to my horns to my skin. “Why won’t you leave?”

“You should be more careful with whom you share family matters.”

I actually spat out a laugh. Was he serious? I rolled back over and sneered at him. “Why’s that? Anyway, isn’t this all more or less a matter of public record? The entire Devildom knows how I came into the world.”

“Hm. So that’s what you discussed.” He nodded, and there was something supremely cocky in his mannerisms that made me want to strangle him. But I couldn’t strangle him. So I did the next best thing.

“Lilith came up.”

I stared at him, and I saw the flicker of emotion on his face when he heard that name. That name… Lilith… It’s a name I could use to hurt him. That’s all I was thinking when I sharpened it like a knife.

“I don’t understand why anyone would be cautious talking about Lilith with me,” I said nonchalantly. “But I guess my ‘guest’ thought I would be bothered. Tiptoeing around the fact that she died. As if I would be devastated over it.” I laughed, but it was hollow, and I wasn’t getting the reactions I wanted.

I doubled down.

“Really, I’m glad I never had to deal with her. She sounds infuriating. When you get down to it, the entire war was her fault. All because she couldn’t stand some human dying ten or twenty years before he would have ended up dying anyway.”

I could sense his rising annoyance, but it was too tempered. He knew I was trying to get a rise out of him, so he wasn’t as angry as he might have been otherwise.

“She was your sister,” Lucifer said. He had a strange voice when he said it.

I laughed again. “Right. Like they’re my ‘brothers’. But I never even met her. She’s just some idiot who threw away her life and all your lives for a single stupid human. She’s a stranger. She means nothing to me. She has nothing to do with me. And she deserves what she got.”

Lucifer was quiet for a few seconds. I couldn’t tell if I’d struck a nerve or not. He wasn’t so upset that he reacted, though, which annoyed me.

“She has nothing to do with you?” he echoed.

“Nothing whatsoever.”

His eyes roamed around the room, and they quickly fixed on that damn scroll, as if it was a homing beacon.

“You haven’t read that yet, have you.” It wasn't a question.

I felt another sharp jab of annoyance. “It doesn’t interest me.”

“Don’t be pointlessly stubborn, Satan.”

“What do you care?” I snapped. “Did your attendant come crying to you? Did that break your heart? You just can’t stand seeing someone in pain, is that it?”

“It’s not like you to be intentionally ignorant.”

“Didn’t you say it’s just a record about my birth? I don’t want to know anything else about how I was born. I hate what I already do know.” I jumped out of bed and stalked towards him. If he wasn’t going to walk out the door on his own, I’d gladly help him get there. “And it’s completely like you to dodge a question.”

“You weren’t asking that to hear the answer.”

Again, irritating.

“Why does it matter if I read that thing?”

“Because it concerns you. You should understand how you came to be.”

“I know how I came to be,” I growled. “You pulled your wings off and bled all over and cried. Am I wrong?”

Lucifer lowered his arms to his sides and frowned deeply at me, but he didn’t say anything. Something about that...scared me. Something about that filled me with dread, like I’d suddenly found myself on the edge of a precipice. But dread can’t exist inside me for long. Soon, it had churned through my body and hardened into something more familiar.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I growled. He didn’t say a thing, and he didn’t move. My stomach roiled in my gut. The frustration and disappointment were no longer evident on his face. Instead, I felt like I was a newborn again, “Stop looking at me like you’re worried about me! Like you pity me! It makes me want to vomit!”

I lunged at him. He reacted with the strength and dexterity I’d come to expect. I could never land a blow on Lucifer. If I hadn’t been so damn angry I wouldn’t have even tried. But my entire being ached with rage, and I acted without thinking. I felt so weak. I felt so helpless. I stood there, struggling to free myself, and he stood over me, my fists in his hands, that same, awful, pitying look on his face that he used to have back at the Demon King’s castle. Seeing that look…

“Why do you look at me like that?!” Hot, angry tears blurred my vision and burned my eyes. “Your face always makes me sick, but I can’t stand it when you look at me like that! Why can’t you hate me?!”

And before I could do anything else, I was bound up. Again. Just like I used to be, back in Diavolo’s place. I screamed, and I sobbed, and I felt like I had felt when I was first born. Like nothing but wrath, poisonous wrath, was coursing through my veins. And I felt arms around me—his arms, and I couldn’t push him away, so I just screamed as he embraced me. Like he had any right to embrace me! Why couldn’t I make him leave?! How dare he touch me?! I’d kill him. One day, I’d kill him!

It had been a long time since I’d been that angry. I think it took a toll on my body, because I slipped off to sleep without realizing I'd ever slowed down, and when I woke up, I was in bed, unbound and alone.

My body was sore from straining all my muscles the night before, and I felt groggy and unwell, like I’d been drunk on rage and woke with a hangover. I stepped out of bed and looked around the room. I felt I was searching for something.

Again, like a homing beacon. The celestial glow drew my eyes.

My fingers twitched.

I took the scroll from the shelf and untied it. I hated that I was giving in to him so easily. But what choice did I have? I had half a mind to burn the thing unread, but it slipped open and the words appeared before my eyes in a language I barely recognized. A human language, bizarrely. It appeared to be Latin. It used Latin characters, at least.

ANNO MMCDXCI REGNI GARDONI MAGNI A SANGUINE LUCIFERI ET CORPORE LILITHAE IN REGNO QUOD INTER REGNA EST CREATURA NOVA E PACTIONE SANGUINE CONSIGNATA APPARET. EX AMATO AD AMATUM IN ACERBISSIMO MORTIS DOLORE CORPUS CORPUS ITERUM FIT ET SANGUIS SANGUIS ITERUM FIT. HAEC PACTIO IN TERRA NEUTRIUS PARTIS CONCELEBRATUR AB INFERNO CONFIRMATA NEQUE A CAELO RECUSATA. SATANUS, ADVERSARIUS, NATUS EST.

TESTATUM PER DIAVOLUM, GARDONI MAGNI FILIUS NATURALIS TESTATUM PER BARBATOS, DAEMONUS TESTATUM PER LUCIFERUM, ANGELUS LAPSUS

----

I wandered to Lucifer’s study. It was empty. It took awhile to find the right sort of dictionary, but eventually, I had what I needed. And I got to work.

Within the hour, I was rampaging around the house. Mammon tried to get me under control, but he was never able to contain me. Only Lucifer ever did that.

“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.

----

Playing the adversary is hard work. It’s exhausting. It makes me miserable. But I have to do it. It’s my role. It’s my name. And I’m made out of Lucifer’s wrath. He must feel so much lighter without all that anger weighing him down. How nice for him. But when I learned about what else I was…

I’m Lilith, you know? I’m made out of her.

For some reason, that made me crazy.

----

IN THE 2491st YEAR OF THE REIGN OF THE GREAT GARDONUS, FROM THE BLOOD OF LUCIFER AND THE BODY OF LILITH, IN THE REALM BETWEEN REALMS, A CONTRACT SEALED WITH BLOOD BRINGS FORTH A NEW ESSENCE. OF BELOVED, BY BELOVED MADE, IN THE AGONY OF DEATH, BODY AGAIN BECOMES BODY AND BLOOD BECOMES BLOOD ANEW. THIS DOCUMENT BEING LEGALLY SOLEMNIZED ON NEUTRAL GROUND, SANCTIFIED BY HELL, UNCONTESTED BY HEAVEN. SATAN, THE ADVERSARY, IS BORN.

WITNESSED BY DIAVOLO, NATURAL SON OF THE GREAT GARDONUS WITNESSED BY BARBATOS, DEMON WITNESSED BY LUCIFER, FALLEN ANGEL

[viscerax]

Aughh..! i love your Vance x reader ficsss!

Theyre just soo..good *sniffles* :'>

Anywaysss...please ignore if you dont want to write this request or anything m'k?

I was wondering if you could do like.. Reader gets kidnapped by the grabber and she's like..mid dying on the mattress and then the grabber throws vance in the basement. Angsty moment when the reader dies, grabber gets her body and buries her then vance like..also dying soon after? Fluffy ending pleaseeee?? I love these afterlife fluffs.

Stay With Me

Everything was blurry. A mix between the tears, sweat, and hunger made everything blurry. There was a pounding in your ears. You wished you never went up there. You wished you didn't take the chance. Theres no way the Grabber was that dumb to leave the door unlocked. You should've known it was a trap.

Amidst the tears and the splitting headache, the sound of the door opening caught your attention. You figured that he had come back to finish you off, and you couldn't even muster up the strength to fight back.

You turned your head, and amongst the blur, you saw a familiar face staring back at you. Those eyes that you had found yourself getting lost in so many times before. You felt everything seem to freeze as you stared at his face.

Vance.

You reached up. Maybe you were hallucinating. Your fingers brushed his face and thats when you knew it was real. Vance sat down on the bed next to you. He pulled your head onto his lap, trying his best to hold back his own cries.

"Y/n?" Vance spoke and you winced. The voice echoed, and the feeling bounced around your head. You felt like you were going to explode. Vance hummed and lowered his voice. "Y/n? Are you okay? What happened?"

You stared at Vance, a sort of longing in your eyes. He was right there, and yet he felt so far away. You knew what was coming. You knew you couldn't prevent it, and yet you wanted so badly to fight. To show Vance that you wanted to stay with him.

Vance stared down at you as you didn't respond. Through your tears and exhaustion, you could see the expression on his face. It was a look of anger and sadness, the kind of look you've never seen with so much intensity.

"Get out, for me? I love you." Those were your last words. Those words stuck with Vance. Those words stuck with him when that monster came to collect your body.

Vance wanted to attack him, but he knew he couldn't. He hated the way that man carried you so gently. Like he actually cared about you.

Vance tried everything he could think of. He tried the window, he tried the freezer, he tried digging out. Nothing worked.

The door was unlocked. He thought it was a mistake. He thought he would get out. He thought this was his chance. And he could get out, and he would get revenge on the man that killed you.

But he was stupid. He was dumb enough to think that everything was going to work out for him.

And that's how he ended up like you. He ended up dying in that basement, on that rickety old mattress. He felt like he could still feel you as he laid there in his last moments, staring at the ceiling.

Dying was the best relief Vance had ever experienced. It felt like every weight that ever held him down was lifted off of his shoulders and he was free.

Afterlife was... different. It wasn't dark. It wasn't bright. It was just there. It felt like wandering around in a place you didn't know.

The longer Vance spent in this "afterlife" the more familiar it felt. It felt like his soul was being tied to this new plane of existence, and he started to recognize his surroundings, recognize the items in his field of vision. He could smell things, and touch them. He began to feel like he was at home.

"V-vance?" A familiar voice called out from behind him. Vance swiftly turned around to see you.

You were perfect. You were like a breath of fresh air. Without thinking, Vance threw his arms around you.

You smiled at the familiar feeling. You hugged him back, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get out, Y/n. I was stupid. I thought he left it open by accident." Vance murmured, resting his head on top of yours.

You sniffled, trying to hold down your tears.

"Its not your fault, Vance. I'm just glad its all over."

The whole world could be falling apart. But that didn't matter. All that mattered to the both of you was that you were there, and you were with each other, and no one could take that away from you.