#menace and rage and defiance

[soulmates-for-real-tranquility]

Abandon All Hope

Tortured by the Devil himself!

[blakeswritingimagines]

Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

[estellan0vella]

Fraying Ties Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

The buzz of the tattoo parlour hums in the background as you sketch the final touches on a client's custom design. It's a calming routine that helps you focus, a necessary reprieve from the unpredictable nature of your epilepsy.

As you admire the intricate patterns forming on the paper, the door chime jingles. You look up, expecting a potential client or one of the regulars. Instead, your heart sinks as you see your parents storming in.

Their faces twist in disgust as they take in the sight of the parlour. The scorn in their eyes immediately focuses on you, and you brace yourself for the onslaught.

"Well, look who it is," your mother sneers, her voice dripping with condescension. "Still wasting your life away in this dump?"

You open your mouth to respond, but your father cuts you off with a derisive laugh. "And look at that," he points to the large tattoo on your arm. "Making yourself even more of a freak than you already are."

Heat flushes your cheeks, anger bubbling up inside you. But before you can retort, Gojo saunters over from his piercing station, his casual demeanour a stark contrast to the rising tension. "Hey there, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Can I help you with something?"

"Stay out of this, Gojo," your father snaps. "We're here to talk some sense into our daughter."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen," Gojo replies, his tone light but his eyes hardening. "Maybe you should leave before things get out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Your mother scoffs. "The only thing out of hand is our daughter throwing her life away and associating with people like you."

"People like me?" Gojo's eyebrows shoot up, amusement flickering across his face. "You mean successful, independent, and happy? Yeah, terrible influences."

Your parents' faces darken, but before they can retort, Toji and Geto join the fray. Toji crosses his arms, a menacing glint in his eyes, while Geto stands tall and imposing beside him.

"Is there a problem here?" Toji asks, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," your father barks. "Our daughter is the problem. She needs to come home and stop this nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Geto echoes, a smirk playing on his lips. "You mean her job that she's amazing at? The career she's passionate about?"

Your mother's eyes narrow, her gaze flicking to your tattoo again. "And look at her, covered in those hideous tattoos. It's disgraceful."

"Disgraceful?" you finally find your voice, your hands trembling with rage. "The only disgrace here is how you treat me. You've never accepted me for who I am, and you never will."

"Watch your mouth, young lady," your father growls, stepping towards you menacingly.

"I'm done watching my mouth," you snap back. "You're a miserable old bastard, and you," you point at your mother, "are a condescending bitch."

The room goes silent for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Your father's face turns red with fury, and he raises his hand as if to strike you. But before he can make contact, Toji steps forward, grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Touch her," Toji warns, his voice a deadly whisper, "and you'll regret it."

Yuji and Megumi, who had been quietly observing the chaos, rush to your side. Yuji clings to your leg, his eyes blazing with defiance. "I'll kick you again!" he shouts at your father, his small frame trembling with anger.

Megumi nods, his own expression fierce. "Yeah, and I'll help!"

You smile down at them, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. "It's okay, boys," you say softly. "I've got this."

But your father isn't done. "This is exactly why you need to come home," he snarls. "Look at what kind of people you're surrounding yourself with."

You laugh, a bitter sound that echoes in the tense room. "These people," you say, gesturing to Gojo, Toji, Geto, and the kids, "are more family to me than you ever were. So why don't you just fuck off?"

"Fuck off!" Yuji and Megumi echo in unison, their voices filled with innocent ferocity.

Gojo bursts into laughter, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "You heard the lady. Time for you to leave."

Your parents stand there, stunned and humiliated. Finally, with one last glare, they turn and storm out of the parlour, slamming the door behind them.

The tension in the room dissipates, replaced by a collective sigh of relief. You sink into a chair, your hands still shaking, but a weight lifted from your shoulders.

"Those are the only people you can tell to fuck off," Toji says, ruffling Yuji's hair affectionately.

"Yeah," Geto adds, crouching down to Megumi's level. "But you did good, sticking up for Y/N."

Yuji grins up at you. "Did we do good, Y/N/N?"

"So good," You say. 

As you pull Yuji and Megumi into a hug, the door chime jingles again. This time, it's Sukuna, back from his errands. He steps inside, immediately sensing the residual tension in the air. His sharp eyes scan the room, taking in your pale face and the relieved expressions of your friends.

Before he can ask what happened, Yuji rushes over to him, eyes wide with excitement. "Suku! Me and Megumi told Y/N/N's parents to fuck off! And I threatened to kick her dad again!"

Sukuna's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and then a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. "Did you now?" he says, his voice low and amused. He ruffles Yuji's hair, pride glinting in his eyes.

Toji steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, her parents showed up, causing trouble. We had to step in. Y/N handled it like a champ, though."

Gojo appears beside you, pressing a sugary soda into your hand. "Here, drink this," he says softly as he guides you to a chair. "You need to get your blood sugar up."

You take the soda gratefully, sipping it slowly as the room starts to feel more grounded. Sukuna walks over, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crouches down beside your chair, one hand gently cupping your face. "You okay, baby?"

You nod, feeling the weight of his concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just...a lot to deal with."

Sukuna's thumb strokes your cheekbone as you sip on the drink. "Did they touch you?"

"No," Toji interjects. "But her dad was about to. I made sure he didn't."

Sukuna's jaw clenches, his anger barely contained. "They're lucky they didn't." He looks back at you, his expression softening again. "I'm proud of you. You stood up to them."

You manage a small smile, the support from everyone around you filling you with a sense of belonging. "Thanks. It was time."

Megumi tugs at Sukuna's sleeve, his serious little face looking up at him. "We helped too, Suku. We protected Y/N/N."

Sukuna's expression softens even further as he looks down at Megumi. "You both did great," he says, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm proud of you, too."

Gojo chuckles, the tension fully melting away now. "Well, looks like we've got the best team here. No one messes with our family."

Your heart swells at his words. Family. That's what this was. Not the toxic relationship with your parents, but this—a group of people who truly cared for you.

You take another sip of the soda, feeling the lightheadedness start to fade. "Thank you, all of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sukuna stands up, pulling you to your feet and wrapping an arm around your waist. "You'll never have to find out," he promises, his voice a low growl. "We're here for you, always."

Yuji and Megumi cheer, their youthful exuberance a balm to your weary soul. You laugh, the sound light and genuine. Surrounded by your chosen family, you know that no matter what comes your way, you'll be able to face it together.

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1 @kalulakunundrum @ryomku

[candy69gurl]

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 5

Warnings- smut

wc- 2.3k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

You awaken, free from pain and aches, but find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is bathed in a deep red hue, and a sense of unease washes over you. As you sit up, confusion clouds your thoughts. In the distance, you notice something immense—a Tower of Skulls—with Sukuna perched atop it.

Your heart quickens, and adrenaline surges through your veins. With determination, you rise and begin to advance towards the tower, driven by urgency.

"You fucker," you call out, your voice trembling with anger upon seeing him.

As you draw closer to the tower, you see Sukuna seated on a throne, his head propped on his hand. His gaze meets yours, a chilling smile playing on his lips.

"Don't look at me without my permission, brat. I hate it," he growls, his voice filled with  menace. "Bow down before me,"  he orders.

Disobeying him, you inquire, "Where am I?"

"In my domain," Sukuna says, his voice sending chills through your body. "Malevolent Shrine. So you better be obedient and do what I say."

"How did I end up here?" you demand, glaring at him.

"Because you attempted to end your own life, brat," he retorts, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I couldn't allow you to perish, not yet," he continues, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Not until you learn the consequences of your actions."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you gaze at him. Summoning your courage, you take a deep breath, your voice quivering with anger. "Come down here, asshole," you command firmly. "I refuse to serve you, now or ever," you declare, your eyes flashing with defiance.

Sukuna chuckles, a cruel sound resonating through the shrine."You think you are brave enough to insult me?" he says, his voice laced with amusement. "Moreover, you broke the deal that we made."

In a surge of fury, you snatch up a skull, your rage propelling your actions. With all your might, you hurl it towards Sukuna. Swiftly, he leaps from his perch, landing atop you with a mocking laugh.

"Ouch!" you cry out, the impact stealing your breath.

"You don't get to disobey me, vessel," Sukuna snarls, pinning you to the ground and pressing your face into the bloody puddle.

Within a few seconds, he lets go of your head, letting you breathe again. "Get off me!" you yell, struggling beneath him.

"You will listen to me, vessel," he says, his voice cold. "Or I will make sure you regret it," he adds, his eyes gleaming with malice.

You struggle, but he is too strong; your efforts are futile.

"As I was saying, this is my innate domain. In other words, you are not dead yet. You missed your vital spot, so I was able to take over your unconscious body and heal it," he says, looking down at you.

"You're heavy," you remark, trying to deflect.

Sukuna releases you, grasping your neck to force eye contact. "You broke our deal by not allowing me to take over your body whenever I want,"  he says, staring daggers at you.

You study him intently, noting his imposing presence: the pink spikes of his hair standing tall, tattoos and markings adorning his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso. He's wearing a white robe, the cloth flowing around him.

"Do you like what you see?" Sukuna asks, his voice mocking, "I look like a god, don't I?" he adds, a silly smirk playing on his lips.

"You're still an asshole," you retort, your voice shaking with anger.

"And I'm still the owner of your body, and do you know what happens to those who break the rules?"

You roll your eyes, your anger growing again.

Suddenly, Sukuna's hold on your neck tightens, cutting off your air supply. You fight against him, your chest burning for oxygen. Gasping desperately, your vision blurs.

Summoning your last reserves of strength, you manage to land a kick on his jaw, momentarily loosening his grip.

His eyes blaze with rage as he growls, "You insolent wretch," his voice seething with fury.

In a whirlwind of movement, you find yourself seated upon the throne, Sukuna's hands firmly gripping your waist, his eyes narrowed with unbridled anger.

"Remember, this is my domain," he growls.

Your heart races; panic is surging through you. "Release me," you demand, your voice trembling with fear.

Sukuna's smirk widens, malice glinting in his eyes. "Not so easily," he retorts, his tone chillingly indifferent.

You are now stuck with Sukuna, as he keeps you pinned against him, his hand tightly wrapping around your waist.

With a low growl, Sukuna's hands reach down to your pants. His fingers are brushing against your skin, your breath hitches, and your body is tense with anticipation. You try to push him away, your heart racing.

Sukuna smirks, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I've been waiting for this moment, Sama." His voice is low and seductive, sending chills down your spine. He chuckles darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your waist, before he pulls you closer, devouring your lips in a passionate yet rough kiss. His tongue dances with yours, dominating you completely as he takes control of your body, moving it according to his will.

"I know all your sweet spots," he whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath for a moment before he yanks your pants off you.

You gasp as he slides his finger over your clit. "I am also aware of your virginity and how quickly you get wet,"  he chuckles, striding his tongue against your neck. Your mind keeps on wondering how he knows all this.

He leans down, yanking off your top and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it, causing you to arch your back in pleasure.

Sukuna grins, pushing a finger inside of you gently, watching as you twitch and moan softly. "Oh, look how you are so wet for me." He coos against your ear, thrusting his finger deeper into you. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you firmly.

"Ah, I am hitting the right spot, am I not?" he asks, intentionally wanting to get a reply from you.

"N-no, not at all. Your nails.. They-," you lie.

"Quit lying, you like the sensation of my sharp nails gazing at your walls; I can read your mind; don't forget that you are in my domain,"  he thrusts another finger, making you whimper. He chuckles darkly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

"Trust me, I can see through your mind right now." He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. His hands then move to your nipple, twisting and pulling, causing you to whimper into his shoulder. "Hmm. Gotta ruin your tough personality," he whispers as he thrusts his fingers faster, making you writhe in his grip.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him, desperate for release. "Nah, uh, you need to beg for it,"  Sukuna smirks, his finger sliding out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You try to think of something else, but your mind keeps on reminding your body about the pleasure it was feeling from his fingers.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Say it aloud; I want to hear it, though I already know what you want by reading this filthy mind of yours." He says, sliding his fingers back into you, twisting and pulling them, making you moan loudly.

"Please let me, Cum,"  you gasp, your eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Hmm? Already started begging? You are not as tough as I thought you would be. Guess, I am hitting your right spots," he mocks, bruising your sweet spot again and again.

Suddenly, his fingers leave you abruptly, making you whine in protest. You were so close, but he stopped. He laughs, still holding you firmly against him. "This is a punishment; I can't give you pleasure. Can I?"

He turns you so that he can see your face clearly, and your hands unconsciously wrap around his neck. "If you really want to cum so badly, then do it on cock," he said, his voice low and seductive, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"I don't need it from you," you lie, trying to sound tough but failing miserably as you can feel his laughter resonating in your ears.

"Oh, come on, I know you want it; your body is begging for it," he laughs, his lips trailing down your neck. "Your body is so slutty, you know that?" he asks, his hands roaming your back and your hips.

You shake his hold on you, trying to break free, but he grips you tighter. "Quit lying, I told you I can read your mind," Sukuna chuckles, his lips against your ear. "You really look good with that short hair," he whispers, his fingers tangling around your hair. "I apologise; if you truly care about your hair, it will grow back."

"Shut up, I hate you so much," you try to say.

"Kiss me then; let me fix us," he smirked.

You glare at him, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead, he pulls you closer, your lips brushing against his. His lips are soft against yours, and his tongue darts out to trace the line of your lips. You groan softly, your defenses crumbling. His lips press harder against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming it as his own. This time he kisses you thoroughly, his hands roaming your body and touching your every sensitive spot.

"Don't you want to feel the king of curses's cock inside you?" he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your breasts. You moan softly, feeling his hands on your breasts, causing you to shiver in pleasure.

"I-I don't need that," you stutter, your body betraying you as it moves against him.

"Don't lie; you know you do," Sukuna murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. "You are already imagining me fucking your little pussy, mhm." He chuckles darkly, his hands roaming your back, causing you to feel embarrassed.

"Stop reading my mind." Your hands travel to close his eyes. "I don't want your dirty cock inside me," you resist.

"Then why are you grinding against it? Why do you envision me fucking you?" he gently moves your hands from his face to his cock. "Can you feel it throbbing?"

You jolt at its thickness and say, "I-impossible."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates against you. "Is it?" His hands slide down your body, pulling your pants off. "Don't worry, you are loose enough," he murmurs, guiding your hands against his hard shaft. "Are you telling me you don't want this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, your body betraying you as your hips rub against him. He chuckles evilly and says, "I want to hear you. Tell me you want this inside you."

You hesitate for a second, your eyes wide with confusion and desire. "I think, I do," you stutter, your hands gripping his robe tightly. Sukuna chuckles, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Is that so, little slut? Fine, let's see how you react," he says, his hands pulling your legs apart. His cock slides against your clit, causing you to gasp and moan.

"Please…" you whisper, your eyes pleading. "Please, what?" he asks, and he continues teasing your clit. "P-put it inside,"  your eyes pleading with him.

Sukuna's smirk never leaves, his eyes gleaming with victory as he positions himself at your entrance. He thrusts inside you, making you gasp and arch your back.

"Yes, that's it; take it," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. You moan loudly, your hands tugging on his robe. "Good vessel, take it all," he praises you, thrusting in and out of you.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. "Hmm, nice and tight," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Tight as I thought you would be." You whimper, your eyes wide with pleasure and pain.

Sukuna chuckles darkly, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Where is the fierce girl you used to be?" he mocks, his nails digging into your hips. You moan softly, your body writhing under his touch.

He kisses your neck and, with his fingers, your hair. "I'll make sure you never forget this," he growls, his hips thrusting faster. You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. His thrusts become faster and harder, and your body shudders under his touch. He bites your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Do you know, get it, who's the owner of this body?" he growls, his eyes gleaming with lust.

"Yeah," your voice quivering with every demonic thrust.

"You look so good, taking my cock, so submissive," he murmurs, thrusting harder. His words send shivers down your spine, his cock sliding in and out of you, making you whimper. "I can feel your walls trembling around me," he growls, his hands wrapping around your neck.

You whimper, your body shaking terribly, your toes curling.

"Cumming already?" he asks mockingly, his hips thrusting harder.

"A-ah, I-I," you gasp, your body betraying you. You arch your back, your body quivering as you reach your climax. Sukuna groans loudly, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

"This body, these breasts, this pussycat—every inch of your body belongs to me," his low growl echoing through your ears, his cock pulsing inside you. He thrusts deeper, his orgasm coming hard, filling you up. He gives you a peck, and your body is still quivering from the experience.

"Now you know who owns this body," he mocks, his hands running down your body. "Next time, don't dare to deny me." You nod weakly, your body still under the effect of the intense climax. He smirks, slowly pulling himself out of you, his cock sliding out of your body.

You pass out, slumping against him. Sukuna chuckles ominously, his eyes bright with triumph.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13

Dividers from @cafekitsune

[elryuse]

Yandere mafia rose x male reader who likes to make her jealous

Mafia's Lover

Yandere Mafia Rosé X Male Reader

The world was a blur of red and pain. I remember the cold metal biting into my flesh, the acrid tang of blood filling my senses. A lifetime ago, it seemed. I was a ghost in my own body, a hollow shell drifting through a crimson haze. Then, he appeared. Y/n. An oasis in the desert, a beacon in the storm. His hands, gentle as a summer rain, tended to my wounds. His eyes, filled with a compassion I’d never known, held me together.

In that vulnerability, I found a strength I never knew existed. I clung to him, to the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath. In those stolen moments, love bloomed in my heart, a defiant flower pushing through the concrete of my world. But my world was a harsh mistress. A world of shadows, where loyalty was a chain, and betrayal a death sentence. I couldn’t drag him into that darkness. I had to let him go, even as it tore me apart.

Months turned into an endless winter. The world was a monochrome canvas of gray, devoid of color, devoid of hope. But then, a flicker of life, a spark of defiance ignited within me. I needed to see him, to feel the warmth of his presence once more.

And there he was, my heart aching at the sight. Surrounded by a flock of giggling girls, he was a sun radiating warmth. A sun that should have been mine alone. Rage, a venomous serpent, coiled in my gut. How dare they? How dare they infiltrate my world, my Y/n?

I watched him through the binoculars, a silent voyeur to a scene that was both beautiful and agonizing. His laughter, once a melody reserved for me, was now shared with others. A bitter taste rose in my mouth, a cocktail of jealousy and longing.

I had to have him back. Not just for the love I felt, but for the control, the power it gave me. I was a queen in a kingdom of shadows, and he was my crown jewel.

The next day, I stood at his door, my heart a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The moment he opened the door, my world shifted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw pain that mirrored my own. It was intoxicating.

“I missed you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. But my hands, they spoke a different language. They wrapped around his, a possessive claim. His wince was music to my ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice low, a purr of menace.

His eyes, wide with fear, were exactly what I wanted. He was trapped, a bird caught in my web.

“Those girls don’t deserve you,” I hissed, my voice laced with venom. “All you need is me. And only me.”

With a decisive pull, I dragged him inside, closing the door on the world. We were alone, two souls caught in a tempestuous dance of love, obsession, and control.

His fear was a sweet nectar, fueling my desire. He was mine now, completely and utterly. I would mold him, shape him into the perfect reflection of my desires. The world outside could wait. This was our moment, our world. A world of two.

I ran my fingers through his hair, the softness a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. His eyes held a mixture of fear and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. It intrigued me.

"Remember when I was weak, and you were my strength?" I asked, my voice soft, almost seductive. His eyes flickered, a silent acknowledgement. "I gave you everything, Y/n. My trust, my love, even a part of myself."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "And what did I get in return? Betrayal."

His lips parted to speak, but I silenced him with a gesture.

"Don't," I warned. "Your words are meaningless now."

I leaned in close, my breath warm against his skin. "Now, it's my turn to shape our destiny."

I could feel his fear, a delicious tremor running through him. It was intoxicating. I wanted to break him, to rebuild him in my image. And then, I would possess him completely. Body and soul.

I smiled, a predator's grin. The game had just begun.

A week had passed since I dragged him into this gilded cage I called home. In those seven days, I had transformed from the predator to the caretaker. I cooked, I cleaned, I tended to his every need. I had become the woman I had always pretended to be, the one I thought he wanted. And to my surprise, he seemed to be thawing.

The fear in his eyes had gradually been replaced by a hesitant trust. His body, once tense and rigid, now relaxed under my touch. It was a slow, insidious process, but I was patient. He was mine to keep, and I would ensure it.

I watched him sleep, his face serene in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There was a vulnerability in his slumber that made my heart ache with a strange tenderness. This was the man who had saved me, the man who had ignited a fire within my soul. And now, he was mine.

Morning brought with it a new routine. I would wake him with soft kisses, the scent of coffee and toast filling the air. His sleepy smile was a reward I craved. We would spend the mornings together, lazy and intimate. I would read to him, my voice a soothing melody that seemed to calm his spirit.

In the afternoons, I would teach him about the world beyond his sheltered existence. He was fascinated by the stories of my life, the danger, the thrill. I painted a picture of a world that was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he listened with rapt attention.

As the days turned into a week, I began to see a change in him. The fear was fading, replaced by a quiet strength. He was learning to rely on me, to trust me. And in that trust, I found a love I never knew existed.

One evening, as we sat by the fireplace, I took his hand in mine. "You are safe here, Y/n," I whispered, my voice soft as velvet. "No one can hurt you."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion I couldn't fathom. "I know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

I leaned in, our lips brushing together. It was a tentative kiss, filled with unspoken promises. When we pulled apart, I could feel the shift, a seismic change in the dynamics between us. He was no longer the terrified victim. He was becoming my equal.

My world, once a monochromatic canvas of black and white, was now painted with a thousand hues. There was still the darkness, the undercurrent of my past, but it was no longer the dominant force. Love, a foreign concept, was now a vibrant part of my life.

Time passed, and I managed to extricate myself from the underworld. The life of a mafia boss was not one I wanted anymore. I wanted a quiet life, a simple life, with Y/n by my side.

We opened a small cafe, a sanctuary away from the chaos of the world. It was a world away from the life I had once known. But in this new reality, I found a happiness I never thought possible.

Y/n thrived in his new role. He was a natural with people, his smile a beacon of warmth. And as always, he attracted attention. Young girls would flock to the cafe, their eyes sparkling with admiration. I watched him interact with them, the same warmth and kindness he had shown me.

A pang of jealousy would sometimes strike, a ghost of my past self. But then he would catch my eye, and with a playful wink, he would send the jealousy packing. I would smile, a mixture of love and amusement.

One evening, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the cafe, I found myself watching him. He was laughing with a group of young customers, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a remnant of my past life.

I walked over to him, my arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He turned, his smile widening. "Jealous, my love?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Maybe a little," I admitted.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "You're mine, remember?" he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I turned in his arms, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. As we pulled apart, I looked into his eyes, seeing the love and adoration reflected there. I was home.

Days turned into weeks, months, and years. Our love deepened, a rich tapestry woven with threads of passion, trust, and companionship. The cafe became more than just a place of business; it was our sanctuary, a testament to our love story.

And as I watched the world change around us, one thing remained constant: my love for Y/n. He was my everything, my beginning and my end. And in the quiet moments, as we sat together in the warmth of our cafe, I knew I had found my happily ever after.

The end.

[maddiethedogstories]

Tablet Time

This story is inspired by and starring @pinkducttape and their partner Midnight! Go check out their awesome blog!

Sunset, the 24-year-old college drop out, lazily twisted the cord to their pastel pink kitten headphones as they stared down blankly at the Kid Edition Fire Tablet in their hand. They sucked their pacifier as the bright colors of Cocomelon danced in front of their eyes. The cartoon characters sang the same nursery rhymes they had heard hundreds, if not thousands of times.

Sunset hated Cocomelon. They hated their tablet. They hated their headphones. They hated their pacifier. And, they definitely hated the damp pull-up strapped to their bottom. But they didn't dare turn off their tablet, spit out their pacifier, or even look away from the screen. They couldn't risk it. This is how Midnight, their Daddy, wanted them: As their dumb, useless, tablet-addicted, little toddler. A kid so dumb, so distracted by their childish television shows that they couldn't even be bothered to care about being properly potty trained.

"Excuse me? Excuse me? Can I take your order? What would you like to eat?" The waitress said as she tried to get their attention, but Sunset couldn't look away from their screen. As much as the flashing colors and inane music bothered them, they knew that if they looked away for a moment, the eye tracking software their Daddy had downloaded onto their tablet would recognize it, and they would be at risk of not meeting their minimum 14 hours of screentime for the day.

Sunset just couldn't risk their Daddy's punishment for not meeting their screentime requirements. Last time they hadn't met Daddy's expectations, Daddy decided that Sunset must be too little for even toddler entertainment, and forced them to spend 2 days as an infant, complete with diapers, onesies, bottles, pacifier gags, and no entertainment--toys, music, or books--that was meant for anyone older than 6 months in age. While their time as a tablet-addicted toddler was horrible, being treated as an infant who wasn't even trusted to support the weight of their own head with their neck, was far, far worse.

Daddy's voice interrupted Sunset's train of thought. "Sunsie! Turn off that tablet and answer the nice waitress. What do you want for dinner? Chicken nuggies and milk? Or how about a kid's cheeseburger and a glass of juice?"

Sunset groaned internally. Were they really going to make them put on his favorite performance? Here, in a public restaurant? In front of all these people?

Sunset never looked up from their screen as they chirped out their defiance from behind their pacifier. "No, Daddy! I'm watching my tabby!"

Sunset never looked up, but they knew from experience that Daddy had a self-satisfied grin plastered on their face.

"What was that, puppy? Are you telling Daddy no?" Daddy asked with a playfully menacing tone.

"Yeth, Daddy! I'm watching my tabby! Weave me awone!" Sunset lisped out in defiance, pulling their tablet out of Midnight's reach.

Per Daddy's rules, the only reprieve Sunset got from their daily screentime quota was when Daddy took their tablet away from them. They got double credit for each minute Daddy refused to let them watch their babyish shows. However, that exception only applied when they threw a temper tantrum before Midnight took the tablet away.

"Sunsie, you aren't defying Daddy, are you? Give me that tablet right now!" They bellowed as they reached over and grabbed it in one hand.

"No! Daddy! It's my tabby! No takies! No takies!" Sunset screamed, tears flowing down their cheeks as their Daddy unceremoniously plucked the child's tablet out of their hands and pulled their headphones off of their head.

"No! Daddy! I want my tabby! I want my tabby!" Sunset spit their pacifier out and slammed their fists on the table has they let their fake rage overwhelm them and devolved into a full-blown tantruming toddler

Now able to see Midnight's face with their tablet removed, Sunset could see their Daddy's self-satisfied grin as Sunset made a fool of themselves in front of the entire restaurant. Other patrons were staring at the adult, dressed like a toddler, throwing a fit over their tablet being taken away. The waitress looked both amused and befuddled by the whole situation. Sunset would have blushed, but their face was already red from their fake tantrum.

"Baby, do not make me take you over my lap in front of all of these people!" Midnight said, warningly.

Being in public, Sunset recognized the true meaning in their Daddy's words. They had made a big enough scene. They could stop their tantrum now.

"Okay, Daddy," Sunset huffed like a defeated toddler as they leaned back in their seat and pouted indignantly.

"Now, tell the nice waitress what you want, Sunsie," Daddy instructed Sunset. Now was the time that Sunset could really blush. After throwing such a childish tantrum in front of the woman, they were now forced to make a decision on which item off the kids menu they wanted to eat.

Without making eye contact, Sunset gave the waitress her order. "Um... Chicken nuggies and milk, please." Heat radiated up Sunset's cheeks as she spoke those words.

"Good job, baby," Midnight said as they handed the waitress their menus, "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Sunset risked a glance at the waitress only to catch her smirking at the whole situation.

"I'll be right back with those drinks," the waitress said before winking at Sunset, "so, don't you go anywhere sweetie."

Sunset felt like they could die from embarrassment. They felt a little pee trickle into their already damp pull-up as they tried to melt into the seat of the booth they were sitting in. It only took moments for their Daddy to reproduce Sunset's tablet and headphones.

"Does my puppy want their tabbie back?"

Sunset immediately reached out with grabby hands. As much as they hated the tablet, they wanted nothing more than to plop their headphones back on, turn on some ridiculous show for infants, and pretend they were anywhere but in the busy restaurant they had just humiliated themselves in.

Sunset ignored Midnight's knowing grin as they ripped their tablet out of their Daddy's hands, threw on their kitty-themed headphones, and let themselves become absorbed in an episode of Miss Rachel that their Daddy had downloaded for them earlier in the day.

Sunset barely noticed the waive of calm that washed over them as they let themselves become one with their tablet again. They also barely noticed when the waitress brought their milk in a sippy cup. Or when Midnight warned them to be careful not to get ketchup on their tablet. Or even when they leaned forward in their booth and pushed out a giant mess into their pull-up.

As Sunset laid on the changing table in the family restroom of the restaurant, distracted from the shame and humiliation of being changed by Midnight by the soft voice of Miss Rachel singing directly to her, they thought to themselves that, despite it all, maybe a little bit of tablet time wasn't such a bad thing.

[barrenclan]

Obsessed with elderly cat Nightberry so crushed by grief and rage she kills a fox that is bigger, stronger and has more battle experience than her! Also Pinepaw ripping Hacksaw's wing~ Pine & Night rage!!!

Ranger finding the way to have his little revenge is so fun, too!

And in contrast, Cormorant choosing to chase off his murderous semi-friend rabbit because he's tired of killing...

Our no-good uncle reveal is amazing, and I love how menacing he looks in the last frame, despite (or perhaps because!) he hid himself from his family and was dissociating in the back of Defiance's army.

Also R.I.P. his raccoon friend?

Slugpelt being attacked by Cupid and killing him was also so good - but I wonder if Rainhaze will even notice or care, with how far gone he seems.

I can see why Nightberry is Like That in one of your human AUs drabbles!

In the goblin fridge, I've been putting up little descriptions for each issue, and Issue 36's was:

So I'm glad that theme was picked up on!

Nightberry is a vicious old lady and no one should ever underestimate her.

[soireegurl]

can you write bully heeseung (or any other member if you want) with reader? like he is always nice to everyone and no one believes that someone as sweet as him would bully someone. but he bullies reader a lot and actually likes her. can you also make him like REALLY mean if you can

Thanks for requesting!!!!

In the bustling halls of Gwangyang High, Heeseung was adored by all. His smile was as radiant as the sun itself, his charm captivating. To everyone else, he was the epitome of kindness, but to you, he was a venomous presence, a yandere masked in sweetness.

Despite the facade, his affection for you was twisted, expressed through cruel taunts and relentless bullying. You were the only one who saw through his façade, the only one to witness his true nature.

Every day was a new torment orchestrated by Heeseung, his words cutting deeper than any blade. Yet, amidst the pain, you refused to see his actions as anything but cruel and unjustifiable. You saw no affection in his twisted behaviors, only malice.

"Why do you do this to me?" you demanded one day, your voice trembling with anger and frustration as you confronted him after another round of humiliation.

Heeseung's smile remained unnervingly calm as he looked at you, his eyes gleaming with a possessive fervor. "Because, darling, you belong to me. And I won't let anyone else have you."

His words sent a chill down your spine, the implications of his possessiveness filling you with disgust. You refused to be anyone's property, least of all his.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the torment only seemed to intensify. Heeseung's jealousy grew into a consuming obsession, his actions becoming increasingly erratic and dangerous.

One day, after catching you talking to another boy, Heeseung's jealousy erupted into violence. He cornered you in a deserted hallway, his fists clenched with rage as he advanced towards you.

"You think you can talk to other guys behind my back?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom as he grabbed you roughly by the collar. "I'll make sure they never look at you again."

With a sickening sense of dread, you realized the depth of Heeseung's obsession. His love was not sweet, but poisonous, a dangerous obsession that threatened to consume everything in its path.

"Please, Heeseung, stop," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled against his grip.

But Heeseung's rage knew no bounds. With a vicious snarl, he delivered blow after blow, each one landing with the force of a sledgehammer.

As you lay bruised and broken on the cold tile floor, Heeseung leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Remember this," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "If you ever so much as look at another guy again, I'll kill them. And then I'll kill you."

Tears stung your eyes as you watched him walk away, his footsteps echoing ominously in the empty hallway. You were trapped, caught in the tangled web of his twisted love, with no hope of escape.

But deep down, beneath the fear and despair, a spark of defiance flickered to life. You refused to be a victim, refused to let Heeseung's cruelty define you.

And so, with each passing day, you vowed to fight back against the darkness that threatened to consume you, to break free from the shackles of Heeseung's toxic love, and reclaim your life from the sweet venom that had poisoned it.

[johaerys-writes]

can you bless my soul with a Snippet Sunday of baby born blue?

*pleading puppy eyes*

Also i love your work so much and it has became a slightly unhealthy obsession 👀

Hello!! I'm so glad you like my work that's so wonderful to hear 🥰 Here’s a little snippet from the next chapter of baby born blue where Achilles is being a menace as usual:

Patroclus jolts just a little when Achilles leans over him, his arms coming around his shoulders from behind.

“Why don’t you come and take a shower with me, hm?” he whispers, lips caressing his ear. “Continue where we left off.”

A flash of rage blinds Patroclus momentarily. He shrugs Achilles off, staring resolutely at his laptop screen.

“Get away from me,” he growls warningly. “I’m busy.”

“Well, you don’t have to be,” Achilles tells him, a little miffed. “We won’t be going back to Greece for another week, at least.”

“A week?” Patroclus turns around to pin him with a glare. “We’re leaving, Achilles. Tomorrow.”

Achilles purses his lips in a pout. “Five days.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fine, four days. And three quarters.”

“I’m not bargaining with you. We’re leaving tomorrow and that’s final. I’m booking the tickets right now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Watch me,” Patroclus says, turning back to his laptop and pulling up a flight booking page.

Achilles’ hand shoots over his shoulder, but Patroclus catches his wrist on reflex; there’s a brief struggle where they both try to get their hands on Patroclus’ laptop, and Patroclus seems to be winning until Achilles basically climbs over his lap and onto the desk, slapping the laptop screen shut and sitting half-way on top of it.

“Get off, you’ll ruin it!” Patroclus shouts in a panic, trying to catch Achilles’ legs and pull him away, while Achilles kicks at him and clings onto the desk for dear life. It is all so comical and ridiculous that Patroclus is glad no one is around to see them. He throws his hands up with an angry huff.

“Achilles, you fucking asshole—” He takes a step back and glares at him, sweating beneath his suit. He tries not to worry about Achilles’ weight that’s currently probably crushing his poor laptop as he says, “You’re like a child. You know that? A stubborn, arrogant, spoiled brat. Things always have to go your way, otherwise you’ll throw a fit and make it everyone's problem. I’m done with you, you hear me? I’m done with your bullshit. Done.”

“You weren’t done with me when you were doing me this morning,” Achilles retorts haughtily, tilting his chin up in defiance, and Patroclus has to use every ounce of his willpower not to walk over to the desk and strangle him.

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Ten: Radstorm Beast

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: An intense radstorm appears in the night leading to a battle and a revelation. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 2.8k

The feeling of raindrops gently tapping against your skin startles you awake in the dead of night. It's a sensation you haven't experienced in this region for what feels like an eternity. Wiping the cool water from your face, you sit up slowly, taking in the sight of the camp. The Ghoul lies peacefully nearby, undisturbed by the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain.

As you watch the fluttering embers of the campfire, a sudden green flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a deep, rumbling thunder. The unexpected storm spooks you, a sense of foreboding creeping in as you realize a radstorm is fast approaching. In all your years across the wasteland, you've never witnessed one this far west. Back east, you encountered them far too frequently.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you anxiously mutter under your breath as panic sets in. Desperately scanning the surroundings for any form of shelter, a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the darkness, revealing a dilapidated Slocum’s Joe in the distance. Without hesitation, you crawl over to the sleeping ghoul and shake him awake.

"Heh?" he groans, barely stirring from his slumber. "What's the deal, Smoothie?"

"Radstorm!" you urgently exclaim, your voice filled with concern.

He looks at you with a hint of indifference in his sleepy eyes. "And?"

"Come on, we need to find shelter," you implore, gesturing towards the looming storm outside.

The Ghoul lets out a nonchalant grunt. "Doesn't affect me, remember?"

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" Frustration boils over within you as the urgency of the situation amplifies. Without hesitation, you grab the Ghoul's cowboy hat and bolt towards the donut shop, hoping he'll follow. Despite his yelling obscenities at you, you push forward, each step bringing the looming storm closer.

The sound of thunder reverberates through the air, a chilling reminder of the imminent danger. Your heart races as you push yourself to run faster, the limited supply of rad-x in your bag serving as a stark reminder that you can't afford to risk radiation sickness at the moment. The rain intensifies, pouring down in heavy sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally reaching the building, you muster the last of your energy to slam open the door and collapse onto the ground, your chest heaving as you gasp for precious air. As you struggle to catch your breath, you turn to shut the door behind you and that's when you notice The Ghoul standing in the doorway, his dead eyes staring back at you with an unsettling calmness.

“Hat. Now,” he snarls, his tone commanding. Despite the exhaustion coursing through your body, a spark of defiance ignites within you. With a stubborn glare, you reach for the cowboy hat and place it atop your head. The Ghoul's eyes narrow as he watches you defiantly wear his cowboy hat. His patience begins wearing thin as he demands in a low, threatening growl, "Give me the hat, now."

"Maybe," you pant, still struggling to catch your breath, "I feel like being a cowboy right now."

The Ghoul's expression darkens, his jaw clenching in a silent display of seething anger. His hand twitches, as if he's on the verge of taking action, but he ultimately restrains himself. The storm outside rages on as you both stand locked in a silent standoff.

"You don't get to play games with me, sweetheart," he snaps, his voice dripping with menace. The underlying threat, coupled with the disturbingly affectionate nickname, instills a queasy feeling deep in your gut. This standstill begins transforming the donut shop into a pressure cooker of defiance and intimidation.

"It's truly confusing," you begin, your voice steady, "the way you seem to constantly switch between wanting me and hating me."

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the room, casting a stark light on his face and revealing a conflicting mix of emotions. His features contort, caught in a moment of indecision, as if battling an internal struggle that threatens to consume him. You catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a glint of something deeper beneath the tough exterior. He clenches his fists, the muscles in his arms tensing with a raw, primal energy. The room seems to vibrate with his pent-up frustration and simmering rage.

“I don’t hate you, I-“ The Ghoul's words are abruptly cut off by a loud roar that shakes the building, the sound reverberating through the air and drowning out whatever confession he was about to make. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts from tense to downright terrifying.

Realization dawns as heavy footsteps draw closer, the unmistakable sound of a yao guai echoing through the walls of the shop. Panic sets in as you both understand the gravity of the situation - there's no way the two of you can take it on, especially in the midst of a raging radstorm.

Without exchanging a word, he swiftly ducks down beside you, his presence offering a sense of fleeting protection. The storm outside intensifies, the howling winds and crashing thunder serving as an ominous backdrop to the situation. Your eyes widen in surprise as you notice The Ghoul loading a weapon that looks like a hand cannon, unlike anything you've ever seen before. Is he seriously thinking of fighting that right now?

He glances over at you, his gaze meeting yours with a silent intensity. In a swift and subtle gesture, he lifts a finger to his lips, a universal sign for silence. But you can't help but shake your head in protest, silently urging him not to go through with whatever dangerous plan he has in mind. Ignoring your protests, he quietly gets up and heads toward the door, each step deliberate and filled with purpose.

“Cooper…. Don’t do this,” you whisper, the sound of his true name cutting through the silence like a knife. It seems to startle him, making him pause in his tracks as he turns to face you. The look of utter confusion in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent question as to how you could possibly know his real identity.

He pushes forward, his hand reaching for the doorknob. You watch in silence as he steps outside, the heavy door closing with a muted thud behind him. Alone in the dimly lit donut shop, you are left to anxiously peer through the large window in front of you, the glass reflecting the eerie glow of the radstorm outside.

In the darkness outside, the glowing silhouette of the yao guai stands out starkly, its massive form a menacing shadow against the backdrop of the swirling rain and debris. Through the large window of the shop, you watch in tense silence as Cooper moves with quiet determination, carefully maneuvering around the deadly creature.

The sight of it sends a shiver down your spine, its sheer size and ferocity a chilling reminder of one you faced years ago. You realize that this is the same yao guai from the other night. It must have been stalking the two of you.

As Cooper steps closer to the yao guai, you hold your breath, fear gripping your heart in a vice-like grip. The rain pelts against the window, creating a distorted view of the unfolding confrontation. Despite the chaotic storm raging outside, an eerie calm settles within you as you observe his movements with bated breath. The yao guai lets out a guttural growl, its glowing eyes fixed on the ghoul’s silhouette.

A flash of lightning illuminates the scene for a split second, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. In that brief moment, you catch a glimpse of Cooper's face, a mask of determination etched with a cocky smirk. As another rumble of thunder reverberates through the air, the yao guai lunges forward, its massive form hurtling towards him with frightening speed.

But just before the creature reaches him, Cooper moves with astonishing agility, sidestepping the attack with a grace that belies his rugged appearance. In one swift motion, he raises his weapon and takes aim, the deafening roar of the gun echoing through the storm-ridden night. The shot reverberates through the building, shaking the very foundation as a bright flash of light illuminates the room. The yao guai lets out a deafening roar, a mixture of pain and fury filling the air. It stumbles back, wounded but not defeated, its glowing eyes fixed on Cooper with a fierce intensity.

Against all odds, Cooper stands his ground, his jaw clenched in unwavering determination. With a steady hand and fierce focus, he raises his weapon once more, the fire of resolve blazing in his eyes. Another shot shatters the stillness, the creature's glowing eyes fixed on him as it charges forward with deadly intent. But as the gun roars, the bullet misses its mark, and the behemoth's momentum proves too great. With a sickening crash, Cooper is flung through the window - a shower of glass fragments scattering in his wake. The deafening sound of breaking glass fills the air as you shield your face from it and he tumbles to the ground beside you.

You glance between your hands, shooting him a pointed look. “If this is your idea of being a hero, you're not doing great.”

He groans, pushing himself up from the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Smoothie. You ain’t doin’ any bet-“

Before he can retort, a deafening crash shatters the moment as the massive form of the yao guai jumps through the broken window, its glowing eyes fixated on the two of you with a predatory intensity. The creature roars, its sheer ferocity filling the cramped space of the donut shop with a bone-chilling sound. The yao guai charges forward, its massive claws raking the air as it closes the distance between you. You attempt to make a run for cover as it lunges towards you but the glass covered floor proves difficult.

Cooper's finger tightens on the trigger, the gun's barrel aimed with lethal precision. A resounding gunshot echoes through the room, shattering the tension like the glass surrounding you. But before the bullet can find its mark, the yao guai's massive form crashes into you from the side, its claws slashing through the air and striking your back with a searing pain. The force of the impact sends you sprawling, the breath knocked out of your lungs as you slam into the debris-strewn floor. The world swims before your eyes, a haze of agony and disorientation clouding your senses as you struggle to regain your bearings.

As you attempt to push yourself up from the shattered floor, the yao guai looms over you, its hot breath washing over your face in a putrid wave. With a primal growl, the creature raises its massive paw, claws poised to strike a fatal blow. Panic grips your heart as you desperately search for an escape, the pain in your back lancing through you with each labored breath.

You manage to wrestle the gun from your holster, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal weapon. With a quick and precise movement, you aim at the yao guai's looming eye and pull the trigger. The yao guai stumbles back, a deafening roar of agony escaping its maw as it flounders in pain, its one good eye now filled with raw anguish. With a final, desperate cry, the monstrous creature collapses to the ground, its massive form shaking the very foundation of the donut shop. The once-glowing eyes now dim into lifeless orbs, the threat extinguished in a single, decisive moment.

The room falls eerily silent, the only sounds breaking the stillness being the rain drumming against the shattered windows and the ragged, uneven sounds of your breaths as you struggle to regain your composure. Cooper rushes to your side, his voice cutting through the haze of pain and disorientation. "Hang in there, Smoothie," he says, his tone a mixture of concern and urgency.

The initial shock begins to fade, replaced by a wave of searing pain that radiates through your body. With a raw, guttural scream, you feel the full extent of the deep claw marks on your back. The agony is overwhelming, a pulsating ache that renders you momentarily breathless. Cooper's hands are gentle yet firm as he assesses the wounds, his expression set in a mask of focused concern.

"We need to get you patched up, sweetheart," he whispers. He helps you to your feet, offering support as you wince with each movement. The world spins dizzily around you as you take a step forward. A spike of excruciating pain lances through you, causing the edges of your vision to blur and darken. Your strength gives out, and the world tilts dangerously before everything fades into a deep, dark abyss of oblivion.

As consciousness ebbs and flows like the tide, you struggle to grasp onto the fleeting moments of lucidity that come and go. In the haze of fragmented reality, you catch glimpses of Cooper's rugged features as he carries you through the wasteland, the passage of time blurred into a seamless continuum of day and night.

Snippets of words filter through the fog in your mind, fragments of his voice urging you to hold on, to fight against the tide of darkness threatening to consume you. You hear him mutter curses under his breath, his gruff tone laced with a hint of exasperation and affection as he chides you for getting hurt.

Through the haze of pain and fatigue, Cooper's presence is a constant, his unyielding strength a beacon of hope in the otherwise desolate landscape of your fractured consciousness. You recall the moment when you let slip Cooper's real name, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in the face of danger. Does it really matter now, where death looms ever closer?

A sense of resignation settles over you, the harsh truth of your mortality looming large in the recesses of your consciousness. Despite Cooper's valiant efforts to keep you alive, you can't shake the feeling of impending doom that hovers on the edge of your fading senses. The wasteland is a merciless mistress, and you are but a speck in its vast and unforgiving expanse. Sleep overtakes you once more.

Your eyes struggle to focus as consciousness timidly returns, the relentless grip of pain still a haunting presence in your body. With a deep, shuddering breath, you manage to pry your heavy eyelids open, the dim light of the decaying hospital room casting a grim shadow over your surroundings. The stark realization sets in as you take in your surroundings – the barren walls, the layers of dust and sand coating every surface – a far cry from any functional medical center.

The afternoon sun filters through a cracked window, casting dusty rays of light across the dilapidated room. The muted sounds of the wasteland drift in through the broken walls, creating an eerie backdrop to the scene. Lying on the ancient hospital bed, you feel a sense of disorientation wash over you, the memories of the yao guai still a jumbled mess in your mind.

As you turn your gaze to the right, your eyes fall upon the ghoul posted against the wall, his weathered features softened in sleep. Despite the desolation of the room, there is a strange sense of peace in the quiet of the moment. Your throat protests with a raspy cough, a harsh reminder of the parched dryness that plagues you. When was the last time you drank water?

The sound of your cough reverberates through the room, rousing Cooper from his slumber. "Shit, Smoothie. You still hangin' in there," he croaks, his voice rough with concern.

You try to form a question, to ask where you are or what happened, but the overwhelming pain clutches at your words, silencing your inquiry.

"Now shut that pretty little mouth of yours, darlin'," Cooper interjects, his tone firm yet filled with a hint of warmth. "Save your strength. I found us a doctor. Or at least a fella who claims to be one."

A man enters the room, a palpable stench of sweat and decay trailing in his wake. Dressed in a tattered, weather-worn suit that hangs loosely on his emaciated frame, his hair a tangled mess, he exudes a dubious air of confidence. A crooked smile twists his lips as his bloodshot eyes fixate on you. Recognition sparks in your mind - this man is the infamous salesman from Filly with a reputation for his indecent liberties with chickens.

"I have concocted an elixir that heals all! But I must warn you: the taste, not great," the snake oil salesman declares with a dubious grin, his eyes alight with a deceptive spark of promise.

Your gaze slowly shifts to lock with Cooper's, a silent exchange passing between you. He sees the storm of rage building within you, the distrust and disdain simmering just beneath the surface.

"What's the problem?"

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

[elysiaheaven]

𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿-𝟮𝟴-(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:2399

Mentions of gorey, blood,mentions of sewing..disturbing descriptions.

Hoolay loomed over Jiaoqiu, his presence suffocating, his words laced with venom. The foxian healer stood his ground, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed him. Every secret, every revelation between them was a slow unraveling, and Hoolay reveled in it.

"Secrets are a weapon that a hunter cannot live without," Hoolay hissed, his voice low and menacing. "Those that have no secrets are no more than prey, cut open and waiting for death."

Jiaoqiu clenched his fists. "What you're saying is, in your eyes, I am no more than prey that has exhausted all of its secrets and is simply awaiting its death?"

Hoolay smiled darkly, leaning closer, his breath cold against Jiaoqiu's face. "Do you think you have some other escape route? Jiaoqiu, I have already peeled back your disguises and defenses, layer by layer. I know all the secrets that you and your general have buried so deep."

"But you've told me all of your secrets too, Warhead," Jiaoqiu retorted, a glimmer of defiance still burning in his voice.

Hoolay's laughter echoed, dark and mocking. "And yet, you will never have a chance to use them. You will be buried with them right here." His eyes gleamed with malice as he continued, "Although, you are a fortunate one... After all, you will avoid having to see the tragic future that awaits your general."

Jiaoqiu's heart sank at the mention of Feixiao. His gaze flickered with unease, but he stood firm, unwilling to let Hoolay's words sink in.

"I'm sure she understands her fate far better than you ever will," Hoolay continued, a cruel smile curling on his lips. "One day on the battlefield, she will be overpowered by her ever-intensifying Moon Rage and finally be torn apart by her fury and transformation. Not even your GodLan, The Hunt, can save her from this fate... Although, *they* can lead her to liberation."

Jiaoqiu's eyes narrowed. "And the only way to save her is in your hands?"

Hoolay's smile turned more sinister. "Yes. And you know it too, foxian. Deep down, you know I speak the truth. But no matter how much you fight it, no matter how hard you struggle, the end will come."

"Are you the healer or am I!?" Jiaoqiu spat, desperation creeping into his voice. "Are you really that certain of your own judgment?"

Hoolay tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Certain enough. But before I go, you know what I must do, don't you?"

Jiaoqiu steeled himself, trembling yet refusing to break. "Drink bloodwine... I hear it is a borisin custom to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness."

Hoolay chuckled, his grip tightening around the hilt of his blood-stained blade. "You really did put hard work into researching us... It is a shame that this is where your journey ends."

He took a step forward, his smile widening into a sinister grin. "But, before I leave you to your fate, do you know how I killed her? How your beloved *died*?"

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened in horror, dread settling deep in his chest.

Hoolay's voice was dripping with malice now, each word designed to tear at the foxian's very soul. "I beheaded her. Watched her body, still full of fight, stumble and crawl toward you, as if she had any hope left. Her eyes—so desperate, so filled with terror. And do you know what the last thing she saw was?"

Jiaoqiu stood frozen, heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

Hoolay grinned, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "The last thing she saw was *your* tearful face."

Jiaoqiu's legs almost gave way, his vision blurred with rage and sorrow. Hoolay's laughter rang out, cruel and merciless, filling the air like a death knell.

"And now, Jiaoqiu, the last thing *you* will see is *her* face," Hoolay said, gesturing to the bloody head he had kept by his side. "Her lifeless, tear-streaked face as you draw your last breath."

In the stillness of the aftermath, a dark figure lay sprawled amidst the wreckage of violence and bloodshed. The room, now quiet, bore the aftermath of a brutal confrontation, the walls stained with the marks of struggle.

As Hoolay's footsteps faded into the distance, Jiaoqiu remained alone in the dark, blood-slicked room. The silence was thick, filled only with the echoes of Hoolay's cruel words and Jiaoqiu's labored breaths.

Jiaoqiu's gaze was fixed on the cold, unfeeling floor, his body numb but his mind racing. "Those who have no secrets... are no more than prey... cut open and waiting for death..." he muttered, his voice a hoarse whisper.

He took a deep breath, struggling against the pain and the growing numbness spreading through his limbs. "Enjoy the taste of my fresh blood, Hoolay. Unfortunately, I am not a man without secrets. I still have one little secret hidden up my sleeve."

His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial of dark liquid. His fingers trembled slightly, but his resolve was unyielding. "Tumbledust," he whispered, looking at the vial with a faint, sad smile. "I drank it a while ago, and the poison is already flowing through my veins. Sooner or later... you will begin to feel the effects."

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened with determination, despite the creeping paralysis. "If the most lethal poison known to this world... is able to save innocent lives... then it can also be called a great medicine."

He cast one last glance at the bloodstained floor, his thoughts drifting to Feixiao. "I will do my best to cure you... Feixiao. At the cost of this insignificant life..."

Jiaoqiu's voice grew softer, tinged with regret. "I'm sorry... I couldn't even give you the death you wished for. Perhaps in another life... we could have been together."

With the last of his strength, Jiaoqiu's head drooped as he mumbled one final promise, his words barely audible. "In another life, let's get married... and live free of this suffering."

In the stillness of the aftermath, a dark figure lay sprawled amidst the wreckage of violence and bloodshed. The room, now quiet, bore the aftermath of a brutal confrontation, the walls stained with the marks of struggle.

You stirred, coming to consciousness in the dim, blood-slicked environment. Pain and exhaustion weighed heavily on your limbs, but you found yourself grappling with a profound sense of realization. A question echoed within you, a haunting whisper amidst the chaos.

"Do I still want to live?"

The question seemed almost absurd given the state you were in. The brutality of Hoolay's actions and the loss of so much—Jiaoqiu's last moments, the hopelessness of the situation—cast a shadow over your thoughts. Your heart pounded heavily, and every movement felt like a monumental effort, yet a sliver of consciousness remained.

You could feel the remnants of Hoolay's cruel taunts and the weight of Jiaoqiu's sacrifice pressing down upon you. His words, his final act of defiance, and his sorrowful promises were etched into your mind.

"I'm still here..." you murmured to yourself, struggling to push through the fog of pain and despair. "Despite everything, I'm still alive."

The blood on your skin seemed to pulse with a dark rhythm, and as you lay there, the choice of whether to cling to life or succumb to the darkness lingered in your mind. Your breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a reminder of the choice you had to make.

A flicker of determination kindled within you. "Is this all there is?" you questioned, staring at the ceiling. "Is my fate to be defined by this endless cycle of pain and violence?"

Mei...

Promise, Don't give on anything. Drag your life if you have to. If you still have someone you love. 

Live with them..

You saw yourself in a hollow place, Black and white and Nihility..?

The woman approached you, she has silver hair with a straight, smooth texture that reaches all the way to her thighs. Her skin is pale white and her eyes are red with white pupils. Most of her outfit is now colored in red, white and black. Red, tattoo-like markings are visible on her neck, midriff, and thighs. A few Adenium Obesum flowers are found on her arms, chest and shoulder guard.

No, You saw something else.  she wore a traditional white kimono with a red obi around her waist and traditional okobo sandals. She also had two red horns on her head with the right horn longer than the left horn.

Mei! Mei...?!

Choose your answer.

I.....

Into the depths of the promised day,

She carves the shape of love on her crimson fingertips.

Vanishing into the void, disappearing, all alone.

Her head and his eyes—

"If we unite in the shadows, It will bring an end to her suffering."

Reveal yourself, the one who vanished from my sight,

Why did you bear the agony for the man you sought to destroy?

Two bodies entwined, bound by the secret of the cure.

Captivating eyes,

The head of a woman,

You and I—soon to be erased.

Forget it all, and let us become one.

Into my depths, into the promised day,

I carve the shape of love upon my red fingertips.

The headless one will stitch herself back together,

For the future he promised her.

A faint voice echoes through the shadows. *"You still have to live... if not for yourself, then at least be useful for him... for his life."*

The darkness around you hums, and in that stillness, a strange warmth spreads through your cold body. Your fingers twitch.

*"Live..."* The voice urges again, commanding, relentless.

With trembling hands, you feel the jagged edges where your neck had once connected to your body. Pain sears through you, but your mind is strangely clear, focused.

*"At least be useful..."*

A desperate, broken breath escapes you as you reach for the needle. Slowly, you begin to sew, stitching the ragged flesh, pulling thread through skin with precision. Blood drips down your fingertips, yet your movements are steady, purposeful.

*Into my depths, into the promised day,*

*I carve the shape of love on my red fingertips...*

Each stitch draws you closer to life. Closer to him.

The world blurs as you fight to stay conscious, your heartbeat growing stronger with each pass of the needle. You are no longer just sewing your body together—you are weaving the threads of fate.

With the final stitch, you open your eyes, the cold light of survival flickering within them.

At the battle,

Feixiao's voice remains cold, resolute. "You think this is about power? About the choices you've given me? You have no idea what I truly desire, Hoolay."

Her eyes narrow, flickering with a fierce determination. "When I was just a child, I stained my hands with blood for the first time, to escape the whips and chains of the wolf masters. But now... there's someone else who desires your end far more than I ever could."

Hoolay's smug expression falters slightly as he notices the sound of dragging footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching from behind. The air thickens with tension, and a twisted laugh echoes through the stillness.

Slowly, you step into the light, the weight of your blood-drenched kimono dragging behind you. Your head, barely stitched back to your body, still leaks crimson, and your blood-filled eyes are locked onto Hoolay's, unblinking, as they cry red tears of fury. In your hands, a massive sword scrapes against the ground, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Hoolay turns to face you, and his eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him.

"You took everything from me," you whisper, your voice broken yet laced with unhinged laughter. "You killed me, made me a monster... But now, I've come back to return the favor."

Your gaze, hollow and wild, pierces through him. "Look at me, Hoolay. Do you see what you've created? The very thing you tried to kill, now stands before you."

Hoolay opens his mouth, but before he can speak, your manic laughter cuts through the silence. You raise the sword high, dragging it through the air with the strength of madness.

You shriek as the blade comes down with brutal force.

Hoolay barely has time to react as you sever his head clean from his body. It rolls across the blood-soaked ground as your laughter continues to echo through the empty space.

You stand there, blood dripping from your neck, your body swaying with exhaustion but refusing to fall.

Feixiao watches in stunned silence as you drop the blade to the ground and turn toward her, blood still streaming from your eyes.

"It's over," you whisper, a ghostly smile tugging at your lips. "Finally... it's over. For me, Feixiao..Listen to me...Don't let him control you!"

'Y/N, But....."

You held her and hugged her, "Jiaoqiu, trusted you to bring victory to Yaoqing.... I'll try my best to aid you....Too..Please let's finish this. After I'll leave him...Please..."

Feixiao gasps as her eyes snap open, the remnants of a terrible nightmare dissolving in the cold morning air. She stares at the ceiling of the tent, her heartbeat slowing. Her breath is shallow as she whispers to herself, "Our little hunting game ends here."

Her eyes flicker with renewed determination as she raises her hand to the sky. "Might of the heavens, wolf in my heart... come to me... We shall conquer as one."

She sits up, clutching the sheets, her eyes fierce. "My only enemy... has always been myself."

A familiar voice interrupts her thoughts. "General?"

Feixiao turns, her gaze landing on Yanqing, who kneels beside her, eyes wide with concern. "General, you're awake!"

Feixiao lets out a shaky breath, her mind still racing, but her focus sharpens as she looks at him. "Yanqing..."

But then, she turns her gaze beyond him, to you. You stand nearby, still covered in the remnants of battle, your hands held up in surrender. Your face, smeared with blood and grief, carries the weight of your request. "I killed him... Hoolay. He tried to control you, Feixiao. I stopped him. But now... arrest me. Kill me. I know you don't understand... I—"

Feixiao's gaze softens. She rises to her feet, stepping toward you, her movements slow and deliberate. You flinch, expecting harsh judgment, but what happens next catches you completely off guard.

Feixiao wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You freeze, unable to comprehend her warmth, her acceptance.

"I know what happened," Feixiao whispers against your ear. "I heard the letter you gave to Jing Yuan. I know everything."

You tremble in her arms, your voice weak. "You... you know? But... I thought..."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes with a gentleness you hadn't expected. "I know you did what you had to... Y/n, Thank you...."

[nickeverdeen]

Can I ask for an imagine since there's almost none here pls?🙏🏻

So, in this one, gn!reader has beefs with their dad because he is very rude to them and a very mentally unstable man. Usually they spend a lot of time with joel because they like his company a lot and he's so good to them, they kind of wishes he was their dad. One time, they go to joel's house very sad, saying something happened home. Joel is not surprised, he knows the dick of a father this kid has. But now is different, reader says their father threatened them, and now joel knows the shit is getting real here. He asks, just by confirmation, what reader wanted to change the situation. Reader says all they wanted was their dad out of their life so they could have peace in jackson. Joel remembers he has patrol next morning with this man, and now he knows he has to do...something about it. Kiddo isn't asking much, after all.

Home, sweet home | Joel Miller x gn!kid!reader

Warnings: Cussing, neglectation, abuse, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood

Summary: You’re seeking support from Joel, whom you view as a father figure, after your mentally unstable father threatens you. Joel decides to take action during his patrol with your father to ensure your safety and peace in Jackson

————————————————————

The tension in the air was palpable as you entered your father's house, the familiar scent of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey assaulting your senses. You knew what awaited you – another confrontation, another argument with the man who was supposed to be your dad.

Your relationship with your father had always been strained, marred by years of bitter arguments and hurtful words. You longed for a father who would offer guidance and support, someone like Joel.

But as you stepped into the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere shifted from tense to volatile. Your father's eyes bore into you with a mixture of anger and resentment, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. "Where the hell have you been?" Your father growled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Your heart sank as you braced yourself for yet another confrontation. You had spent the night at Joel’s house, seeking refuge from the toxic environment of your father’s home.

“I was out” you replied tersely, your voice tinged with defiance

Your father's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you can just come and go as you please? You think you can disrespect me like that? Why can’t you be more like Tommy or Maria? They’re a responsible and useful people who unlike you don’t waste the oxygen on this Earth. You’re nothing, but a waste of time and energy!" You felt a surge of frustration and fear coursing through you as you locked eyes with your father. "Then why the fuck did you even have me, you asshole?!" you shot back, your voice rising in anger. Without warning, your father lunged forward, his hand snaking out to grab a nearby glass. Your heart pounded in your chest as you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

"You ungrateful little brat" your father spat, his voice laced with venom. "You think you can talk back to me? You think you can defy me in my own fucking house?" Your pulse quickened as your father's anger escalated, the air thick with tension and fear. You knew you had pushed him too far, that your words had ignited a firestorm of rage. With a sudden, violent motion, your father hurled the glass against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. You flinched instinctively, your heart racing as you stared at the shattered remnants of your father's anger.

"Get the fuck out, you worthless piece of shit!" their father growled, his voice low and menacing. "Get out before I’ll beat the shit out of you, you stupid ass fuck!" Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at your father, your mind reeling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. You knew you had to leave, to escape the toxic environment of your father's house before it consumed you whole.

Without a word, you quickly got up and fled from the house, your heart heavy with sorrow and regret. You knew you could never change your father, could never mend the broken relationship that lay shattered at your feet.

As you made your way to Joel’s house, a heavy weight settled in your chest, dragging you down with each step. The events of the evening replayed in your mind like a broken record, the echoes of your father’s anger still ringing in your ears.

When you finally reached Joel’s doorstep, your heart felt heavy with sorrow and despair. You knew you could always count on Joel for comfort and support, but tonight, your burden felt too heavy to bear alone. Joel opened the door, his expression softening as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently inviting you inside.

You stepped into the warmth of Joel’s house, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and leather enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as tears threatened to spill over.

Joel sat down beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions raging inside your heart. He didn’t need to ask what had happened – he could see the pain etched in every line of your face.

“Hey kid,” Joel said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “You wanna talk about it?” You shook your head, unable to find the words to articulate the turmoil churning inside you. All you could think about was the look of hatred in your father’s eyes, the sharp sting of his words cutting you to the core.

Joel didn’t press for answers, sensing that you needed time to process your emotions. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity and support before wrapping you in a blanket and getting you a hot cocoa.

For hours, you both sat in silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire burning in the hearth. You found solace in Joel’s presence, his steady presence a comforting reminder that you were not alone in your pain so you decided to bring him into what happened, telling him about the glass accident, hurtful words and the threatening from your father. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as Joel listened, his jaw clenched with simmering anger. He had known that your father was trouble, the whole town did, but the gravity of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut

“So, what do you want to do about it?” Joel asked, his voice low and measured. He had to tread carefully – he didn’t want to scare you off with talk of your father, but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing either, you hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands folded in your lap. “I just… I want him out of my life,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to feel safe, Joel.” The raw vulnerability in your voice tugged at Joel’s heartstrings, igniting a fierce protectiveness deep within him. He wanted nothing more than to make things right for you, to rid your life of the toxic influence of your father once and for all.

As the night wore on, your exhaustion finally caught up with you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep. With a gentle nudge, Joel led you to the guest room, tucking you in with a warm blanket and a soft pillow. “Get some rest, kid,” Joel murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby, but his mind was already running wild as he remembered that tommorow morning he has a patrol with this shit called your ‘father’ and Joel knows damn well that he’ll do anything to protect his family, even if you’re not blood related, he doesn’t give a fuck he’ll protect you and make sure you won’t have to go through this hell again. You are his family since the first day of when Ellie brought you here when you were younger and he saw how your father behaves towards you, he already felt protective of you back then and now with that old man threatening you? Hell nah, the least he’ll do is have a conversation with him.

You drifted off to sleep, your dreams haunted by memories of your father’s anger and your own sense of helplessness. But in the warmth and safety of Joel’s house, you found sanctuary from the storm raging outside. “I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.” Joel whispered knowing you’re asleep as he gave you a small fatherly kiss on the cheek.

The next morning, Joel’s footsteps echoed through the quiet streets of Jackson as he made his way to the rendezvous point for his patrol with your father. His mind raced with thoughts of what he was about to do, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.

As he approached the designated meeting spot, your father came into view, his presence casting a dark shadow over the sunny morning. Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, a surge of anger coursing through his veins as he remembered the fear in your eyes. “Morning” your father greeted him with a sneer, his tone dripping with contempt. “Ready to patrol, old man?” Joel forced a tight smile, his stomach churning with revulsion at the sight of the man standing before him. “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” he replied through gritted teeth.

For hours, they walked the perimeter of Jackson in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Your father made small talk, but Joel barely registered his words, his mind consumed with other thoughts.

Finally, as they reached the outskirts of town, Joel’s patience reached its breaking point. He turned to face your father, his expression steely with determination. “We need to talk,” Joel said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. Your father raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from amusement to suspicion. “What’s this about, old man?” he asked, his tone tinged with arrogance. Joel took a step forward, his gaze boring into your father with unwavering intensity. “You need to leave,” he said firmly. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Your father scoffed, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “And who’s gonna make me, huh? Are you trying to scare me away ‘cause that bitch of mine told you to? They’re mine property, old man. I get to do whatever I want with them” he taunted, taking a step closer to Joel. “Whatever I want” he repeated.

Without hesitation, Joel lunged forward, his fist connecting with your father’s jaw with a satisfying thud. The force of the blow sent your father stumbling backwards, his eyes widening in shock. Joel despite being older is advanced at fighting, his movements fluid and controlled as he unleashed a flurry of punches, each one landing with deadly accuracy. Your father fought back, but Joel was relentless, his rage fueling his every move.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your father lay crumpled on the ground, blood oozing from a split lip and more blood covering his face. Joel stood over him, his chest heaving with exertion as he glared down at the man who had terrorized you for far too long. “You’re done here,” Joel growled, his voice low and menacing. “You hear me? If I ever see you near Y/N again, I won’t hold back. Not again” With that, Joel kicked him in the stomach and walked away, leaving your father lying battered and broken on the ground. As he made his way back to Jackson, Joel felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him – he had done what needed to be done to protect the ones he cared about.

As dawn broke on a new day, you awoke to the sound of birdsong filtering through the window. You rose from bed, your heart heavy with the weight of the previous night’s events unaware that Joel made sure this won’t ever happen again.

But as you made your way to the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Joel’s quiet humming greeted you like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of Joel’s presence filling you with a sense of hope and renewal.

“Morning, kid,” Joel greeted you with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. “You sleep okay?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, thanks to you,” you replied softly, your voice filled with gratitude as you saw a letter that Tommy and Maria signed that gives Joel the right to legally take you under his wing if you’d want to.

Joel poured you a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air with warmth and comfort. As you sat down at the kitchen table, you felt a sense of peace settling over you like a blanket. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your makeshift family, you knew that you would find the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And with Joel by your side, you knew you would never have to face them alone.

[blakeswritingimagines]

That's All I Need

Summary: Meeting up with the past brings pleasure into your future.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: Reader could be good or bad, Toxic Al and reader, mentions of past relationship and reader using Al, Mention of murder but not in detail, Public sex, Dom Al x Sub reader, Marking

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Al Simmons/Hellspawn character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

With a growl, his crimson eyes flash dangerously. "I'm not your plaything." He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles rippling beneath his skin-tight black suit. His gaze is intense, piercing through you with an almost palpable force. "You think you can just summon me here whenever you want? That's a fucking mistake." His voice is low, filled with simmering rage and a hint of something else - a dangerous allure that seems to draw people closer despite their better judgment. The air around him crackles with barely contained energy, the very atmosphere charged with his presence. He takes a step towards you, closing the distance between you both, his boots thudding against the ground. "And what do you want from me now, huh? Another one of your little games?" You stand your ground, unflinching under Al's intense gaze. Your own eyes, a striking twinkle passing them, meet his with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "Games, Al? I wouldn't call it that." You pause for a moment, studying his face, taking in the harsh lines and the dark aura surrounding him. It's clear that he's not the same man you once knew, but there's still something there, a glimmer of the person he used to be. "I've got a problem on my hands," you continue, your voice steady. "Your… unique skills might be just what I need to get things under control." You hold his gaze, challenging him to refuse your request.

A scoff escapes his lips, his eyebrows furrowing at your words. "My 'unique' skills?" He repeats, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Is that what you're calling it now? Last time I checked, you didn't seem too keen on my… abilities." Despite his words, there's a subtle shift in his stance, an indication that he's considering your proposal. His eyes flicker down to your body, lingering on the curves hidden beneath your clothing before returning to your face. "What kind of problem could possibly require the services of a demon like me?" You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Let's just say it involves someone who thinks they can push me around." Your gaze drifts off, lost in thought for a moment before refocusing on Al. "It's a powerful individual, one who doesn't take kindly to being challenged." You step closer to him, your voice lowering to a teasing whisper. "I need someone who can handle themselves in a fight, someone who won't back down when faced with danger. And let's be honest, Al, you're the only one who fits that bill." Your eyes lock onto his, a silent challenge hanging in the air between you. "So, what do you say?"

A slow, menacing grin spreads across his face, revealing sharp fangs. "Oh, I see how this works now. You want me to be your enforcer, your muscle, so to speak." He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Well, I suppose it's been a while since I had a decent fight. And I must admit, the idea of taking down some arrogant prick who thinks he can bully you… it has its appeal." He takes another step closer, invading your personal space, his height and imposing presence making you feel small. "But don't get any wrong ideas. I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I have my own reasons for wanting to hurt people like that. So we understand each other?" You nod slowly, your breath catching slightly as Al invades your space. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the raw power emanating from him. "We understand each other perfectly, Al." Your voice is steady, but there's a hint of excitement beneath the surface. "I'll provide you with the information you need, and you'll take care of the problem. Simple as that." You reached out, your hand brushing against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his suit. "And who knows, maybe we can explore other… arrangements after this." Your eyes sparkle with mischief, a daring proposition hanging in the air. "After all, I've always found demons quite… entertaining."

A low rumble echoes in his chest, a sound that's part laughter, part growl. "You always did know how to push my buttons." His hand wraps around yours, trapping it against his chest, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "But let's make one thing clear - I'm not some toy for you to play with. I'm a weapon, a dangerous one. And if you're not careful, you might just find yourself caught in the crossfire." He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But if you're willing to take that risk, then fine. We have a deal. But remember sweetheart - you wanted to dance with the devil. Don't complain when you get burned." He pulls back, releasing your wrist, his eyes burning into yours. A soft gasp escapes your lips as his hot breath tickles your ear. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, causing your knees to weaken slightly. "Burn me all you want, Al." You replied, your voice thick with desire. "As long as it's worth it." You bite your lower lip, your eyes locked onto his, filled with a fiery determination. You smirk, unfazed by Al's warning. "I never said I wasn't willing to get my hands dirty, Al."

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze head-on. "And I've dealt with worse than you. Besides, I've always enjoyed a good challenge." You stepped back, putting some distance between you both, your expression turning serious. "The target's name is Victor Kane. He's a wealthy businessman with connections to some very influential people. He's been causing trouble for me and my organization, and I want him taken care of. Permanently." You hold out your hand, waiting for Al to shake it. "Do we have a deal?" A wicked smile curls his lips, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Victor Kane, huh?" He muses aloud, his mind already plotting the demon's demise. "Sounds like a perfect opportunity to vent some frustration." He extends his hand, clasping yours firmly, sealing their agreement. "Consider it done." His voice is a low growl, filled with promise. "I'll enjoy every second of it." You watched as he shook your hand, your grip firm and confident. A thrill runs through you at the prospect of Al exacting revenge on Kane. "Good." You say, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I intend to watch every second of it." You release his hand, stepping back again, your eyes scanning his form appreciatively. "Just make sure you save some of that energy for me afterwards." Your smirk widens, a playful glint in your eyes.

Al materializes in the dimly lit alleyway, his eyes adjusting to the shadows. He's dressed in a black leather jacket and pants, his boots making barely a sound as he moves towards the entrance of the upscale nightclub. He can hear the thumping bass music and the distant sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. This is it – the moment he's been waiting for. With a final glance around to ensure no one is watching, he pushes open the door and slips inside. The club is a whirlwind of color and noise, the strobe lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. Al makes his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Victor Kane. In the VIP section of the club, you sit at a table surrounded by your entourage. Your eyes are glued to the dance floor, your lips curled into a satisfied smirk. You are dressed in a tight, black dress that hugs your curves, your long legs crossed casually underneath the table. You sip on a glass of champagne, the bubbles fizzling against your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Al moving through the crowd. A thrill runs through you at the sight of him, his presence commanding attention even amongst the chaos of the club. You raise your glass in a silent toast, your lips curving into a sly smile.

He weaves his way through the sea of bodies, his gaze never leaving the VIP section. As he approaches, he can see you clearly now, your beauty undiminished by the years. His heart pounds in his chest, a strange mix of emotions swirling within him. Anger, yes, but also a flicker of something else – an attraction that surprises even him. He stops at the edge of the VIP area, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you simply stare at each other, unspoken words passing between you two. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pushes his way through the velvet rope and strides toward your table. You watched as Al approached, your eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. You set down your glass, standing up to meet him halfway. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, your touch sending a jolt of electricity through his body. "Well, aren't you just full of surprises," you purr, your voice low and sultry. "I didn't think you'd be able to resist the temptation of this place."

He looks down at your hand on his arm, his expression unreadable. Yet, beneath the surface, a storm is brewing. "Resist? No, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a dark whisper. "Never that. But I had to make sure you were here first." His eyes drift over your body, taking in every curve outlined by the fabric of your dress. "This isn't exactly my scene, but for you… I'll make an exception." He looks back up at your face, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Temptation has its uses." He murmurs, his voice barely audible above the din of the club. "But tonight, it's not what brought me here." He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "I found our friend, Kane. He won't be bothering you anymore." He pulls back, his gaze challenging. "Shall we go somewhere more… private, to discuss the details?" A surge of excitement rushes through you at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. You nod, your lips curling into a triumphant grin. "Lead the way," you whisper back, your voice laced with desire and a hint of danger. "I've got a feeling tonight is going to be unforgettable." You take his hand, leading him away from the table and towards the bathrooms.

He allows himself to be led, his hand enveloping yours tightly. The heat of your skin sears through him, igniting a fire within his veins. As you approach the bathroom, he pulls you into a darkened alcove, pressing you against the wall. His free hand finds your hip, gripping it possessively. "Unforgettable, huh?" he growls, his face inches from yours. "Let's make that happen." With a swift motion, he claims your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you. The world around you both fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a maelstrom of lust and retribution. You moan into the kiss, your body melting against Al's hard frame. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your tongues dance together in a passionate duel. The roughness of his stubble scrapes against your cheek, adding to the intensity of the moment. When you finally break apart for air, you gaze up at him with hooded eyes, your chest heaving with exertion. "Fuck, Al…" you breathe, your voice husky with desire. "You always knew how to make an entrance." You nip at his bottom lip playfully before capturing it once more in another searing kiss.

Al responds to your kiss with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that cannot be satiated. He breaks the kiss briefly to trail his lips down your neck, biting gently at the sensitive skin there. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you harder against him as he grinds his arousal against you. "You have no idea," he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "But tonight, I'm not just making an entrance… I'm taking control." With that, he spins you around, pushing you against the wall once more. He tears at your dress, the fabric ripping easily beneath his strength as he exposes your body to his hungry gaze. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the cool air hit your exposed skin. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, causing your nipples to harden instantly. You look back at Al over your shoulder, your eyes burning with desire. "Is that so?" you taunt, your voice dripping with seduction. "And what exactly do you plan to do with your newfound control?"Even as you speak, the sight of your bare flesh seems to fuel his aggression, driving him to new heights of lust. You know exactly what you're doing – teasing him, provoking him until he loses all restraint.

A predatory grin spreads across Al's face as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. His hands roam freely over your curves, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He leans in, taking a hardened nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. "Oh, I'm going to make you scream my name," he promises, his voice a low growl. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't remember anyone else's touch." Al grunts in response, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. He traces the curve of your waist, then up to cup your breast as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple. His fingers dig into your flesh, claiming you as his own. His free hand snakes down between your thighs, finding you already wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit roughly, relishing the way your body quakes with pleasure. "Tell me you want it," he commands, his voice filled with raw desire. A sharp cry slips past your lips as Al teases your nipple, the pain mingling with pleasure to create an intoxicating blend. You nod, unable to form coherent words, your mind clouded by lust. "Yes," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible above the thumping music outside the alcove. "I want it."

Your hips grind against his hand instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction he provides. You push yourself back against him, desperate for him to fill you. But you want more than just physical release – you crave the power exchange, the dominance and submission that comes with being taken by Al. A wicked smile curls Al's lips as he hears your whispered plea. With a swift motion, he rips off his own clothes, revealing his chiseled physique and the impressive bulge straining against his boxers. He steps back just enough to shed the remaining garments, then grips your hips firmly, positioning himself at your entrance. "I'm going to give you everything you crave," he vows, his voice heavy with promise. "And you're going to beg for more." With that, he thrusts deep inside you, claiming you with a single, powerful stroke. He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon as he fills you completely. Each snap of his hips drives him impossibly deeper, hitting spots within you that make you see stars.

A loud, keening wail echoes through the deserted hallway as Al claims you. Your walls clench around him instinctively, trying to hold onto him as he moves within you. You throw your head back, exposing the long column of your throat, a silent invitation for him to mark you. "Oh God, yes!" you cry out, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "Just like that! Fuck me, Al!" The sensation of being filled so completely overwhelms your senses, rendering you speechless. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, each wave building upon the last until you are on the brink of something truly spectacular. Al revels in the sound of your pleas, his name falling from your lips like a sacred mantra. He leans forward, his teeth grazing your exposed throat, marking you as his own same as in the past. The sensation of your tight walls gripping him sends sparks shooting up his spine, fueling his need even further. "Mine," he growls, the word rumbling from deep within his chest. "Say it. Tell me you're mine." His movements become even more frenzied, his thrusts becoming erratic but no less powerful. He can feel your climax building, your inner muscles fluttering around him in preparation. And he intends to draw every ounce of pleasure from this encounter, to leave you spent and satisfied.

Your nails dig into Al's shoulders as you feel the pressure building within you. The words tumble from your lips, spoken in a desperate, pleading tone. "Yours, Al. I'm yours. Please, don't stop!" The tension coiling within you reaches its breaking point, and you scream his name as your orgasm crashes over you. Waves of intense pleasure ripple through your body, your inner walls clamping down on him as you ride out the ecstasy. "More!" you demand, your voice hoarse with passion. "Give me everything you've got!" You're lost in the throes of your climax, your mind blank except for the feeling of Al's body moving within yours, the sound of his harsh breathing, and the primal urge to be claimed by him completely. Al roars as he feels you tighten around him, your orgasm triggering his own. He buries himself deep within you, his hips grinding against yours as he releases deep inside you. His seed spills into you, filling you completely as he rides out the aftershocks of his climax. "Fuck," he groans, his body trembling with exertion. "That was…" He trails off, struggling to find the right words to describe the intensity of the connection. But words fail him, and instead, he pulls you close, holding you tightly against him as you both come down from your highs. "That was incredible," he finally manages to say, nuzzling the side of your neck affectionately. "And we're just getting started."

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 14

"This is really deep in the mountains! Is this actually Tokyo?" Yuuji exclaimed, marveling at the surroundings as you walked alongside him and Satoru.

"Even Tokyo has its outskirts like this," Satoru replied casually, his tone betraying his familiarity with the area.

"Where's Fushiguro?" Yuuji asked, his curiosity piqued.

"He's been treated by a sorcerer and now he's fast asleep," Satoru explained. "Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School. It's one of two jujutsu educational facilities. On the surface, it's known as a private religious school. Many jujutsu sorcerers use it as a base after graduation, so it's not just an educational institution but also a pillar of the jujutsu community for support, mediation, and missions."

As the three of you climbed the stairs, Satoru's attention turned to the upcoming interview. "Anyway, the two of you are about to have an interview with the principal."

"The Principal?" you interjected, seeking clarification.

"Screw it up and he might reject both of you, so give it your all," Satoru warned with his usual nonchalant demeanor. Yuuji couldn't hide his shock at the severity of the consequence.

"Huh!? And then what? Immediate execution?!" Yuuji blurted out, pointing at himself in disbelief.

"What? So you're not the boss?" a voice interjected abruptly, startling everyone. Glancing over at Yuuji, you noticed a mouth forming on his cheek—a sign that Sukuna, the powerful curse residing within him, was attempting to speak.

You shot a glare at the mouth. "Any hierarchy other than strength is worthless," Sukuna declared arrogantly.

"Said by a disgusting four-armed curse who couldn't even gain control," you retorted sharply, your disdain for Sukuna evident in your voice. Before the curse could respond, Yuuji swiftly slapped his own cheek, silencing Sukuna.

"Sorry, sensei. N/n... Sometimes he just pops out," Yuuji apologized, addressing both Satoru and you.

"What an amusing body you have now," Satoru mused, unfazed by the interaction.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched you react with an unsettling calmness to his threats. His aura of menace intensified, the air crackling with his malicious intent. Yet, despite his attempts to intimidate, you remained poised, almost amused by his futile attempts to provoke fear.

"Shut up, brat!" Sukuna's voice hissed, another grotesque mouth forming on the back of Yuuji's hand, echoing his frustration. "After I gain control of this brat's body, you're the first one I'm gonna dissect," he snarled, the threat dripping with venom.

Your response, however, was unexpected. Instead of cowering or showing signs of distress, you rolled your eyes dismissively at Sukuna's words. With a slight tilt of your head, you transformed your initial look of disgust into a polite smile, a glint of defiance in your eyes.

"Really? I'm glad," you remarked casually, your voice carrying a playful edge that contrasted sharply with the tense atmosphere. "You'd be a really nice snack for Pochita~"

Sukuna's expression twisted into a mixture of astonishment and annoyance. He hadn't expected such audacity from a mere human facing his wrath. The fact that you could jest about your impending doom both intrigued and irked him.

"You dare mock me, mortal?" Sukuna's voice rumbled dangerously, the earth trembling slightly under his rage.

You shrugged nonchalantly, maintaining your calm demeanor despite the looming threat. "Mocking? Oh no, I just know how this ends," you replied cryptically, a smirk playing on your lips.

Sukuna's control on Yuuji's body tightened— desperate to gain control, his gaze boring into you with a mix of curiosity and growing irritation. He was used to fear, to submission, but your fearless attitude was something he hadn't encountered in a long time. It unsettled him, challenging his dominance.

"Come to think of it," you continued, your tone light as if discussing the weather, "my old teacher mentioned something about me possibly being able to control the Queen of Curses." You said, making Satoru quiet as he observed you. "But he ditched me, so... maybe the King of Curses might be a better fit," you mused aloud, your words laced with a subtle hint of mockery.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed dangerously as he processed your words, his mind racing with possibilities. He recognized defiance when he saw it, and a part of him relished the challenge you presented. But another part seethed with indignation at your insolence.

"You play a dangerous game, human," Sukuna finally replied, his voice a low growl filled with thinly veiled threat. "I will enjoy breaking you."

You glanced back at the mouth, the playful glint in your eyes not diminishing. "I look forward to seeing you try."

The tension was palpable as Sukuna's rage boiled over. He slapped his own hand again, trying to silence the relentless taunting. But Sukuna was persistent, another grotesque mouth forming on his other hand, spewing more threats.

"After you, I'm gonna kill that white-haired sorcerer next!" Sukuna's voice dripped with malice, his anger spilling over.

"It's an honor to be targeted by Sukuna~," Satoru Gojo's voice cut through the tension, a playful lilt masking the undercurrent of seriousness in his eyes. He observed the scene with a kind of detached amusement, his demeanor almost mocking in its calmness.

“This guy’s really famous?” Yuuji asked, eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and fear as he slapped his hand again, trying to silence the mouth that kept appearing. The absurdity of the situation didn't escape him, but neither did the gravity.

“Ryoumen Sukuna is a fierce imaginary god with four arms and two faces. But he's actually a human that really existed, though it was over a thousand years ago,” Satoru began, his tone shifting to one of reverence and caution. "In the golden age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered their might and challenged him, and failed. Crowned with the title of Sukuna, we couldn't even destroy his grave wax as he traversed the ages as a cursed object.” Satoru paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Without a doubt, he is the king of curses.”

“Who's stronger, you or him?” Yuuji's question hung in the air, filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Well…” Satoru paused, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he began to walk forward, motioning for both of you to follow. “If Sukuna regained all of his power, it might be a little draining.”

“Would you lose?” you asked, your voice cutting through the air with a challenge that Gojo met with his trademark confidence.

“Nah, I'd win.” Satoru's arrogance was palpable, a smirk tugging at his lips. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, mentally noting the almost theatrical confidence he exuded.

As the three of you stepped into the traditional building, the soft glow of candlelight greeted you, casting long shadows and bathing the room in a warm, flickering light.

“You're late, Satoru.” A deep voice resonated through the room, drawing your attention to a man sitting at a table, meticulously knitting plushies. The scene was almost surreal, this imposing figure engaged in such a gentle craft. “Eight minutes late.”

Yuuji gasped, clearly caught off guard by the incongruity of the sight. You couldn't help but chuckle, finding amusement in the unexpected juxtaposition. The man’s focus remained unbroken as he continued knitting, his fingers deftly working the yarn.

“Not enough to chastise you for, but I know I told you to fix your habit of being late.” The man's tone was firm, yet there was a sense of resigned acceptance in his words.

“If it's not enough to chastise me, then don't chastise me for it,” Satoru responded with a bored drawl, waving his hand dismissively. “You're just making dolls, anyway. What's a measly eight minutes?”

You watched as Satoru turned his attention to Yuuji, then to you, his expression unchanging. “That’s Principal Masamichi Yaga,” he introduced, gesturing to the man.

"That's them?" Yaga’s gaze shifted to you and Yuuji, scrutinizing you with a critical eye.

Yuuji was the first to step forward, bowing deeply in a show of respect. “My name’s Yuuji Itadori. I'm into girls like Jennifer Lawrence! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” His introduction was as enthusiastic as it was baffling, causing you to mentally roll your eyes. It was classic Yuuji, blending sincerity with his unique brand of awkward charm.

Sensing it was your turn, you prepared to introduce yourself, but before you could speak, Yaga cut you off. You bit your tongue, suppressing your annoyance at the interruption.

“Both of you should step outside for a bit.” Yaga’s tone was dismissive, and before you could react, Satoru was already nudging you towards the door, enthusiastically wishing Yuuji good luck as he led you out.

Outside, the crisp air was a welcome relief from the stifling tension of the room. You opted to sit on the steps, your gaze drifting to the scenery before you. Birds fluttered and played in the courtyard, their carefree movements a stark contrast to the weight of the conversations inside.

Satoru broke the silence, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “So, you used to have someone teach you about Jujutsu?” He asked casually, but there was an underlying curiosity in his tone.

You glanced at him briefly, then returned your focus to the lively dance of the birds. “Who's asking?” you replied, your tone cool and guarded. It wasn’t a question you felt like answering, not to him.

Satoru studied you for a moment, sensing the walls you kept up, his cerulean eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just making conversation," he said lightly, but you knew better. In a world where power and trust were commodities, questions were rarely just for conversation. Each query was a subtle probe, a way to peel back layers and uncover truths hidden beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice deliberately detached, masking the undercurrent of emotion that mentioning your past always stirred. You bit your tongue, holding back the urge to say more, to speak of the betrayal that still lingered like a festering wound. “Though, he’s gone,” you added, your tone carefully neutral.

Satoru’s curiosity sharpened at your words, his playful facade slipping just enough to reveal genuine interest. “Like dead gone?” he asked, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of concern despite its playful tone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the confession leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. A polite smile formed on your lips, but it was a mask, concealing the simmering annoyance you felt at the intrusion into such a personal topic. The truth was more complicated, wrapped in layers of abandonment and unresolved questions.

“How was he as a teacher?” Satoru inquired, his gaze unwavering. There was a subtle shift in his demeanor, a careful balancing act between casual curiosity and something deeper.

You turned to look at him, letting the polite smile linger on your face, a practiced facade that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Why are you asking?” Your voice was soft, but there was a steely edge to your words, a warning that you were not one to be easily pried open.

Satoru met your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a playful grin. “I just wanna make sure I'm the better teacher,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes watched you intently, gauging your reaction. He chose his words carefully, balancing his inherent arrogance with a hint of genuine interest.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Satoru’s ego, a small chuckle escaping your lips despite yourself. “Honestly, he reminds me of you. Playful, childish,” you said, a touch of fondness creeping into your voice as you spoke of your past mentor. The memories were bittersweet, tinged with both warmth and the sting of betrayal. “But fear not, because he’ll always be better than you,” you added, the challenge clear in your words.

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, his expression a mix of mock outrage and genuine amusement. “I haven’t taught you anything yet,” he protested, the childish pout on his face almost comical. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, his demeanor a blend of exaggerated sulkiness and playful banter.

As you turned your gaze back to the bustling courtyard, watching the birds flit and dance in the morning light, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. For all his arrogance and probing questions, Satoru's presence was oddly comforting. It was as if, in his own infuriating way, he understood the weight of the secrets you carried. And maybe, just maybe, he was offering a different kind of safety, one built not on control, but on the chaotic balance of shared strength and mutual respect.

“Your old teacher…” Satoru’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. His tone had shifted, losing its playful edge, becoming more serious. “Getou, was it? Suguru Getou?”

You stiffened at the name, the polite smile freezing on your face. “Yes,” you replied cautiously, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. The name carried a weight, a complicated blend of admiration and resentment.

Satoru’s gaze softened slightly, a rare flicker of empathy crossing his features. “He didn’t abandon you, you know. It’s not as simple as that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion mingling with the guardedness in your expression. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but edged with an unspoken demand for answers.

“He died,” Satoru said gently, his words deliberate. “Last December 24th, Getou attacked Jujutsu Tech and unleashed over a thousand curses across Tokyo and Kyoto.”

You felt a chill run through you at his words, your detachment faltering. The sting of abandonment you had clung to was suddenly overshadowed by a new, more complex emotion. “He’s dead?” you repeated, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, as if they belonged to someone else.

Satoru nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yes. He was a powerful sorcerer, but he made some very dangerous choices. In the end, he paid the price for them.”

You swallowed hard, a storm of emotions churning within you. The man who had once been your mentor, who had taught you and guided you, was gone. Not because he had abandoned you, but because he died.

“Who… who killed him?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. There was an unfamiliar tightness in your chest, a sensation you couldn’t quite place.

Satoru studied you for a moment before responding. “It doesn’t matter who. What matters is that he’s gone, and the choices he made led to his end.”

You bit your lip, struggling to process the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. Anger, grief, confusion—all intertwined in a chaotic tangle. You had always prided yourself on your detachment, your ability to remain above the fray, but now you felt unmoored, uncertain of how to navigate this new reality.

Satoru watched you with a mixture of understanding and caution, as if sensing the turmoil beneath your composed exterior. “It’s okay to feel conflicted,” he said softly, his voice gentle in a way you hadn’t heard before. “He was your teacher. It’s only natural.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers clenching and unclenching as you tried to steady yourself. The turmoil inside you was almost overwhelming, a maelstrom of feelings that you couldn't quite name. “Death is a natural part of life.” You said, but now it sounds like a reassurance to yourself rather than a statement of a fact. “This does not bother me… that much.”

Both you and Satoru fell into a heavy silence, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. You stared into the distance, your thoughts a tangled mess. For someone who thrived on control, this lack of clarity was unsettling, almost terrifying.

“Did he say anything before he died?” you finally asked, your voice tinged with a hesitant calmness. Despite your effort to sound indifferent, there was a slight tremor in your words, a subtle hint of the vulnerability you were trying so hard to suppress.

Satoru's eyes softened, his usual playful smirk replaced with a somber expression. He seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking. "He did," Satoru replied quietly. "In his final moments, Getou had one major regret."

“What did he regret?” you pressed, unable to keep the edge of curiosity from creeping into your voice. You needed to understand, to piece together the fragments of a man who had once been a pivotal figure in your life.

Satoru sighed softly, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory. "He regretted not being able to see his daughters grow up. The three of them were his world, and he knew that his choices meant he wouldn't be there to guide them, to see them become the people he hoped they would be."

The admission hit you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat. Did he not think of you at his very last moment? "His daughters?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. “He only has two.” You corrected.

Satoru nodded, his expression unreadable. "He has three.” He insisted. “He mentioned them in his last moments. Despite everything, they were his anchor, his reason for fighting. And losing the chance to be with them… it broke him."

Before you and Satoru could continue the conversation, Yuuji walked out, looking tired and a bit disheveled. His usual energetic spark was dimmed, his hair slightly mussed, and his expression showed he had been through something intense.

“N/n-chan, Yaga-sensei said it’s your turn,” he said, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere between you and Satoru.

You nodded, giving Satoru a brief glance, searching for any last bit of guidance in his eyes. With a deep breath, you turned and walked back inside the building, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into the background as you focused on the immediate challenge ahead.

-

𝓙𝓾𝓳𝓾 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓹𝓸:

yn: *on the verge of crying again because Getou abandoned her.*

Gojo: Oh yeah, he did not abandon you, he died.

yn: *the urge to cry increased ten-fold.*

-

yn: You're wrong, Getou only has two daughters.

Meanwhile, Getou in hell: is she denying me as her father?

-

Gojo: You know, I'm a bit jealous that Getou would travel all up to Sendai just to visit you but he does not to me. I don't know what's so special about you.

yn: Getou used to tell me stories about a bitchy bitch white haired guy that he broke you with, was it you?

-

Gojo: Come to think of it, you have special eyes and power that awfully reminds me of Getou. You're even slightly strong enough to slightly injure me. Are you perhaps our secret love child?

yn: please kill me

-

SPOILER:

yn: t-teacher?

k*njaku: no I am your mother.

yn: what!? So that means I am your and gojo’s secret love child!?

-

Gojo: alright children! Our lesson for today is the effects of having grandfather issues.

1st and 2nd years: *nodding*

Nobara: hold on, what the fuck is that.

Gojo: Very smart question! yn stand up.

Kape?

[phantom-hunter-calcharo]

Casette pls

Dusty alleys twisted like snake paths between crumbling buildings, their walls tagged with graffiti as the only form of identity in this forgotten place. At just seven years old, Calcharo knew this world intimately, its dangers etched into his wary gaze.

His small frame, clad in tattered clothes, betrayed his hunger and weariness. He clutched a handful of shell credits tightly in his fist, his only means to secure a meager meal for the day.

As he rounded a corner, three men boys emerged from the darkness, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of hunger and menace. They were street-hardened, their faces marked with scars of past battles in this unforgiving place.

"Hey, kid, whatcha got there?" sneered the tallest one, his voice a grating echo in the narrow alley.

Calcharo froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew these streets were ruthless, survival often hinging on a knife's edge. With a defiant glint in his eyes, he tightened his grip on the credits and took a step back. "None of your business," he muttered, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The men exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. In an instant, they lunged forward, aiming to overwhelm the smaller boy. Calcharo fought back with a raw ferocity born of desperation. He swung wildly, landing a few desperate blows, but the odds were stacked against him.

A sharp pain exploded in his side as a boot connected with his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He staggered, gasping for breath, but they closed in mercilessly. One of them wrestled the credits from his hand, while another pinned him roughly against the cold, graffiti-covered wall.

"You think you can take us on, runt?" the leader hissed, pressing a knife blade dangerously close to Calcharo's throat. "This is our turf. Learn your place."

Calcharo's eyes burned with a mixture of fear and defiance. He refused to cry out, refused to give them the satisfaction of his fear. But deep inside, a primal scream of rage and helplessness threatened to escape. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. Just as quickly as they had attacked, the men dispersed, leaving Calcharo crumpled on the ground, clutching his bruised ribs. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sting of defeat mixing with the bitter taste of his own blood.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his body. His eyes hardened, a resolve settling deep within him. In this lawless zone, survival meant more than just evading physical danger; it meant navigating the treacherous currents of human cruelty and despair.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 23-Greater than Yourself

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 23-Big World

Greater than Yourself

Samantha sprinted down the street, running desperately for Nicole's place. Behind her, she heard the jaguar-like growl of the thing behind her.

She risked looking and saw it leap out from behind the corner, its frames bending and arching like a jungle cat. It was a sports car...or had once been in the 30s. Now it was a twisted creature of hate and metal.

She swore and pushed herself faster, cursing that Nicole's apartment was so far from any rail lines.

She heard the animalistic growl of the car's engine grow louder as it approached, the streetlights flickering out as it raced down the street after her.

She saw Nicole glance out her window, drawn by the noise before racing to the door.

Samantha finally reached the stairs to the apartment, scrambling up them as she heard Nicole unlocking the door. 

She slammed into the door, Nicole pulling from the other side...but it didn't move.

The car slowed, stalking forward, its engine revving in a harsh mockery of a laugh.

Nicole beat on the door, attempting to batter it down, but her attacks bounced off. The car reached the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Samantha could see Nicole's neighbors had been drawn by the noises, and all were struggling to open their doors, but like Nicole's their doors refused to move.

The car laughed again. Samantha closed her eyes, they were too far from any rail lines, she would never make it to the Ffarquhar sheds, but she had to try

"Nicole, I'm sorry"

Her firewoman stopped beating at her door to glare at her, "Samantha don't you dar..."

Samantha dove over the car, hitting the ground with a roll and coming up running.

She heard the car growl almost approvingly as it spun its tires, whirling around to pursue her. As she heard it approach she dove to the side, its bumper barely missing her as it swerved trying to hit her, frost spreading across her skin from the proximity. She rolled as the car turned towards her. She made the mistake of glancing towards Nicole, who was screaming as she beat at her door. The car took advantage of her distraction and lunged. Samantha rolled desperately...

SLAM! Crunch.

The street was suddenly bathed in golden light and the car yowled in pain.

Samantha looked up to see the impossible sight of her engine shaking the car like a dog with a rat, its rear fender caught in his jaws. She scrambled for the safety of Thomas's cab as the fender ripped free of the car with a screech, turning to golden dust between his teeth.

"Don't you dare touch my driver." 

Caomhnóir's voice shook with rage. Gold light shone from his lamps with burning intensity.

The car flinched back from the light, its metal melting in its heat, before roaring in defiance, shaking the stones of the street loose.

Caomhnóir let out a screaming whistle in return. But it wasn't his whistle. This whistle was much higher and shriller. The car's roar had shaken the street, the whistle shook the sky.

The car was sent flying back from the force, tumbling fender over hood.

Across the island and beyond engines awoke, shaken from their sleep by Caomhnóir's battlecry.

Samantha couldn't prevent the shudder that ripped through her when she realized Thomas had called upon the Lady's whistle, and she had answered.

The creature was struggling back to its wheels when the tank engine spoke.

"I would run if I were you."  He said, menace dripping from every word. "If I catch you, there won't be enough left of you to die."

The car locked its gaze with the golden eyes of the tank engine before giving a sharp nod, preparing to pounce.

Samantha felt Thomas tense beneath her, ready to meet the foe head-on. Golden light spilled from his cab, melting the frost from her shoulders.

The creature leaped...only to be caught.

The creature shrieked in surprise, twisting to see what had caught it.

From the ground, shadows stretched in long sinuous tendrils, cutting through Caomhnóir's golden light to wrap crushingly around the sports car's frame.

Slowly, but surely, the tendrils dragged the car towards where they reached, a puddle of shadow darker than the darkest night. The car twisted, shrieked, and bit at the tendrils, but to no avail.

Finally, as its rear wheels began to dip into the shadow as if it was liquid, it looked towards its foe.

Thomas glared, "Be grateful."  He said, "They will be more merciful than I would have been."

The car was dragged under with one last screech of defiance.

***

Far away on the Uman and Din Railway

The car broke through the ground, spitting out shadows as the tendrils withdrew. It rose to its wheels growling, only to freeze at the sight before it.

A Great Western 47xx towered above it, shadow tendrils drifting in the air around it like a mane of shadowfire. While they would have been enough to make such a beast pause, the car could see the truth.

For once something could see the truth of the beast towering before them, towering with the mountains behind it, a thousand thousand tendrils whipping around it, some thin and sharp enough to cut paint from metal without scratching it, others larger around than the engines alongside it. More teeth than those of every creature to ever live grinned at the car in predatory hunger. Eyes, countless eyes watched their prey from every angle.

"Well little beast," the being uttered, "did you truly think Caomhnóir so powerless?"

Its voice rang from a thousand angles, threatening to rip the car from the ground on which it stood from the meer force of its voice alone. 

"Did you think there were none greater than yourself that would answer his call?"

The car trembled under the presence of the being before it.

The titan leaned forward, grinning eagerly, "Know this little beast. I was not the only one to answer his call, merely the swiftest. Be grateful I was the one to reach you instead of the Lady."

The car whimpered under the onslaught of her attention.

The former 47xx's grin sharped, and she lunged.

***

Samantha was slow to leave the safety of Thomas's cab. Even when she heard Nicole nearly rip her door from its hinges in opening it when the creature's grip disappeared, she could only sit and try to control her panicked breathing. Nicole scrambled up into the cab, wrapping her arms around Samantha even before she stopped moving. 

"Don't you dare do that again."

Samantha clung to her firewoman, "I told you that your apartment was too far from the tracks," she tried to joke weakly, but Nicole just nodded, "First thing this weekend I'm finding a place by the line. I can't go through that again."

"Agreed," Thomas chimed in.

Samatha's eyes widened as she realized no one had checked on him, she scrambled down from the cab and began examining him.

Thomas huffed fondly, "I'm fine driver, physically. It'll be a while before I can sleep though."

"You're telling me," Nicole grumbled, but her hand was rubbing Thomas's side as she said it.

As other people began coming out of their houses, Samantha remembered the elephant in the room, or rather, the tank engine on the street.

Thomas stood in the middle of the street, when she looked down she saw the stone pavers had been pushed aside, revealing worn rails underneath.

"How are you here?" Nicole asked from beside her.

"The tramway used to run through here to reach the quarries," Thomas said, glancing down at the street. "The line was closed in favor of the new route in the fifties."

Nicole gave him an unimpressed look, "I know that. I also know those rails were pulled up, and multiple buildings stand where the line used to go. How did you get here."

"The land remembers the line," Thomas said defensively, "I asked the Lady for her aid in reaching you."

Samatha was the first to realize what her engine wasn't saying.

"You have no idea how to get back do you?"

The tank engine sagged embarrassedly, "No...I didn't think about it till after I had reached you."

Taking pity on her engine, she kissed his cheek, "Thank you. I have no idea how we’ll get you out, but thanks for saving me."

"I'd happily do it again." He said softly.

***

The next morning on the Uman and Din...

Freda and Gwyn were having a pleasant morning until they came within earshot of the sheds. A horrendous screeching and crunching could be heard. Freda sighed and increased her pace, wondering what her engine had gotten into this time.

She walked around the corner to find Screech happily chewing on a mangled Mercedes. Causing it to squeal horribly. The car was pinned with her tendrils, leaving the eldritch engine free to peel off pieces of metal at her leisure.

Freda glanced over to Abbey, the star class watching with vindictive enjoyment.

"Just what did the car do?"

"It tried to attack Caomhnóir's driver." The express engine said grimly.

Freda turned to glare at the car. Screech politely pausing so the car could focus on the glare.

"You've missed the trunk," Freda said flatly.

Riiiipppppp