#she just. she just wanted to be better. wails

[tteokdoroki]

hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!

as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up. 

he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored. 

it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside. 

as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him. 

“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.

“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.

katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.

you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…

…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.

everything is always for you.

katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.

you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?” 

you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.” 

to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.

the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.

you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years. 

nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again. 

katsuki abandons the tea completely.

however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.” 

“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?

me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.

he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend. 

not to you. 

never to you.

and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.

“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time. 

pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next. 

“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”

the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.

like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.

“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.

“what?” 

“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.” 

people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today. 

the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?” 

“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”

he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.

“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.”  for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.

you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.

“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.” 

those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.

“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.” 

it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.

you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else. 

someone that wasn’t him. 

words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.

bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive. 

“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“ 

you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always. 

not this time though.

katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.

that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you. 

you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you. 

except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed. 

you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.

and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[skyward-floored]

Please oh please some Four and Wind hanging out or doing hero stuff? <3

How about both? (Set when they’re both a little older, early teens-ish)

————————————————————

“Why is this guy robbing a fast food place? Why does everyone rob fast food places?” Wind huffed, face annoyed as he peered up over his seat at the guy pointing a gun at the cashier. “Wouldn’t a bank be better? These places can’t have that much money. The cashier just looks like he’s about to faint, that guy will be lucky if he gets anything. Sheesh. All I wanted was a burger...”

“Wind shh, I’m trying to think of a plan,” Four hissed, pulling him back behind the seat. “Get down here.”

Wind ducked under the table where Four was sheltering, avoiding a sticky puddle of dried soda as he scooted in next to him. They could still hear the robber at the counter talking, and Wind glared as a pair of boots wandered past their table.

One guy they could have just handled, but the robber had brought two others, and neither Wind or Four wanted to see how itchy his trigger finger was. Wind was pretty sure they were just some low-rate kind of criminals, but his Dad always reminded them not to underestimate people.

So he’d let Four make a plan. Even if he would’ve just jumped out there and made something up on the spot.

“Okay, whatcha got?” Wind whispered, and Four motioned to the abandoned fries he’d set up on the ground.

“Okay, so this fry is you, and this one is me. I was figuring we’d do that thing we did when—”

“I’m not that short,” Wind interrupted, and swapped the fry with one that was much longer. “There. Continue.”

Four rolled his eyes. “Right. So we don’t have space to change into our suits, so we can’t just charge out there, but if you go out and— Wind don’t eat that.”

Wind was eating the new fry he’d designated as himself. “What, this one wasn’t even fuzzy! And I’m hungry, they haven’t filled our order yet.”

Four swiped the probably months-old fry from his brother, then shook his head in exasperation.

“Wind focus. Look, just do that thing we did when we stopped that one mall robbery,” he said, and Wind perked up.

“Right, gotcha! I distract, you go thwack,” he said with a grin, and Four gave him a flat look.

“That doesn’t make any more sense then it did the first time you said it.”

“Well I like it.”

Four shook his head, then motioned Wind out, giving his arm a quick squeeze before he went. Be careful.

Wind squeezed back. I will.

Then he slipped out from under the table, quickly squishing a bunch of ketchup packets into his hand. The handful of other people in the restaurant watched him nervously, and Wind winked at a frightened-looking girl.

Then he squished the ketchup over his eye.

She giggled, and Wind turned to the counter, then let out a blood-curdling yell, collapsing dramatically to a knee.

All three robbers turned, their eyes going wide behind their masks when they saw the ‘blood’ all over his face, and Wind forcibly held back a grin.

“My eye!” he wailed, squishing another ketchup pouch in his hand. “I can’t see, I can’t see! It hurts!”

“Oh my gods, what happened?” one of the robbers whispered in a horrified voice, and no one noticed Four slip out of his booth and slowly work his way around to the counter.

Wind for once was glad for his baby-face as he began to cry, faking a coughing fit into his hand. He made sure that the ketchup in his hand was visible as he finished coughing, and one of the robbers made a gagging noise.

“I want my mom!” he wailed, and the three of them continued to stare in horror at him, looking unsure of what to do.

Four meanwhile, edged behind the counter, ducking beside the cowering cashier, who was almost certainly not being paid enough for this. He put a finger to his lips, then cautiously looked over the counter at where the robbers stood.

“Look, kid, calm down, I’m sure your mom is here somewhere,” one of the robbers finally said, sounding panicked as he looked at Wind. “I’m sure she can help you with your uh... eye.”

His face turned a little green from behind his mask, but it was then that the robber with the gun stepped a little closer, beginning to look suspicious.

“Wait a second. Guys, does that blood seem a little—”

Four cut him off by jumping up onto the counter, and then onto his back.

He quickly knocked the gun from his hand, and the man stumbled, obviously not expecting the weight of a teenager. He fell to the ground with a yelp, and Wind ran forward and kicked the legs out from under one of the robbers, surreptitiously using his winds to throw the other one to the floor.

He quickly grabbed their weapons as well, and Four gave him a fist bump as he hopped off the back of the one, the crooks all looking dazed at their sudden takedown.

“Nice going,” Wind said, and Four smiled back.

“You too.”

The cashier peeked over the counter from where he’d taken shelter, and visibly relaxed at the sight of the crooks on the ground. The other customers came out of hiding, and a few cheers went up from the small crowd, Wind rubbing his eye as he waved at them.

“...you good?” Four asked Wind, and Wind nodded, wincing as he blinked his eye a few times.

“Yeah. I just got ketchup in my eye. It stings too, what do they put in this stuff?!”

“Tomatoes. Which are acidic,” Four said with a little grin, and Wind sighed as people began to thank them, the restaurant manager looking especially relieved.

“Great. And I think I lost my appetite for burgers,” he grumbled, and Four chuckled as the manager walked up to them.

“I can’t thank you two enough, you’ve done quite a service for us here,” she smiled. “It’s not much, but can I offer you anything on the menu? It’s on the house.”

Wind quit his complaining instantly, and gave her a wide smile. “You know what? I was just thinking a burger would be delicious.”

Four hid his laugh, and he and Wind spent the rest of the afternoon eating way too many French fries.

[izfrogzy]

Soft and Innocent Part II 18+ Aemond x Sister Reader(OC.)

Warnings: 18+ content eventually, this part is a bit angsty and a lot of pinning and longing, a bit sexism and such as what is expected of a woman and girl of the time period and world like Westeros and there's mentions of foot fetish (Due to Larys mention.)

A/N: .Mostly soft fluffy and angst at this part, for the most part a bit Angsty and such lots of hugging and seeking comfort from the Broody Brother. New to writing these sort of things for readers to read I am down for good criticism I try my best and never intend to offend or upset anyone with my writing with that being said enjoy...sorry for any bad grammar and punctuation :) I do apologize for any inaccuracies for certain characters just think of it as AUs scenarios.

Aemond was returning from the training yard. Sweat and dirt covered his clothing. His hair was sticking to his face with sweat and sweat also glistened off his skin. The only thing he wanted to do was have a bath and rest. He let out a tired huff. But as he walked past his sister's room. He heard crying which seemed to peak his curiosity. He raised his head and began to walk towards her room which his walking turned into a sprint.

Seanna glared as Alicent, Their mother, sighed trying to appease upset Seanna. “It is your duty Seanna to marry." Alicent said and Seanna sobbed and threw things at her mother. “But it had to be him of all people!” She cried out and sobbed.

Seanna inhales and exhales glaring at Alicent, though the queen, She was more then willing to defy her mother, Aemond entered the room upon the middle of this argument between his mother and little sister.

“I don’t want to marry him, he's old and he walks funny and he’s he’s.” Sobbed Seanna 

His gaze went to his sister as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. His expression went from cold and hard to a slightly concerned and sympathetic one as he saw her in tears. He knew how she felt. Having to be married off to someone who she does not like. It wasn't fair to her. She didn't deserve that. Aemond's expression darkened slightly as he turned his head back to his mother. Who seemed so uncaring and cold to her own daughter.

“Larys Strong is the Lord of Harrenhal and he has acquired a mass fortune after his….” Alicent tries to make the situation sound better but Seanna speaks up. “You think I care about any of that Mother?!” She sobbed and sat up scowling at Her mother, Queen Alicent.

Aemond's hand tightly clenched into a fist at his side when he heard the name of the man who he sister was betrothed to. His whole body tensed....a wave of anger, sympathy and protectiveness filled his entire being. Larys Strong was not a good man. He was a perverted old man who only cared about wealth and power. Not love or family. Which made Aemond's expression darkened even more and his jaw clenched at the thought of the pervert being near his little sister.

Seanna says more to her mother trying to reason with her, “Plus I heard he has a foot thing mother would you really subject me to such a man and how he acquired his inheritance is no secret either…Hells I'd rather marry some Greyjoy or Bolton then the likes of that decrepit man.” Seanna said frustratedly from the top of bed clearly very worked up by the whole situation.

The thought of her being married off to a Greyjoy or a Bolton did not ease Aemond's darkening anger. It still would not be a happy ending. But it was slightly better than Larys Strong. Aemond's jaw clenched again at the word foot. Knowing what his little sister meant by that....it made his stomach do twists and turns in anger that his sister had to be tied to such a man. He was a pervert and a murderer.

Alicent sighs. “It has already been arranged." She said and Seanna started sobbing. “No! I won’t marry that man, Mother! I won’t!” Seanna wailed and threw her last pillow at her mother.

Aemond's hands slowly curled into a tight fist as more anger filled his being. The way his so-called loving mother was making his sister cry and treating her like she was some commodity to trade. He gritted his teeth and then grumbled out. “Isn’t there a better match mother ...or can't such a match be held off for a while? mother?” Aemond's tone hardened at his mother which made her turn her head to look at him..

“Aemond, you know we all must do our duty and it is about time your little sister did her part for this family….as you know alliances have to be made in case…” Alicent said to him and she looked at Seanna. “You will grow accustomed to Lord Strong ... .children become the greatest comfort.” She said trying to assure Seanna who shook her head and sobbed. “Is that all I am mother?” Seanna said and hopped off the bed and stormed up to Alicent. “Like my Beloved sister Helaena I too must be one of your broodmares to offer up to the highest bidder?” She said angrily in tears and Alicent's eyes widened and grabbed her daughter. “Enough of your childish tantrum Seanna! You will marry Lord Strong and that is final!” She snapped and Seanna sobs and yanks herself away pushing Alicent out of her way and storms past Aemond without a second glance, as she runs out of her bedchambers in tears and Alicent sighs and looks at Aemond. “Duty always requires sacrifice Aemond even you know that.” She said in a serious tone to her beloved son and she sighed “It’s about time Seanna learns as well.” Alicent said a bit coldly trying to be stoic in this decision.

Aemond's jaw tensed as he began gritting his teeth once more. The anger burned furiously in his body as he listened to his mother speak in such a cold and uncaring manner. He watched as his sister tried to argue and cry only to be treated like a child by their mother. He saw the push and he watched her run out of the room crying. He let out a slow and harsh breath through his nose to stop himself from screaming at his mother's seemingly cruel decision.

“I understand the demands of duty, Mother.” Aemond said with gritted teeth as he crossed his arms. His gaze was hard and cold as he stared at his mother. “However you don't seem to understand the concept of love and care.” Aemond said in an accusing tone as he continued to look at his cold hearted mother. “My sister is still a young lady who has her whole life ahead of her. And you treat her like a pig to be sent to slaughter.” Aemond said as his jaw tightened more.

“Aemond…..Larys Strong is lord of the Strongest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms ... ..as you know. plans are being made in case your father dies and we must solidify our household…..in case.” She said approaching him. “I don’t like it anymore than you do but Marrying her off is for the greater good….to strengthen the crown and house Targaryen.” Alicent said in a lowered tone of voice.

“I know all of that.” Aemond said, slightly agitated as he let out a slow breath through his nose. “But why him?” He asked in a hard and cold tone. “Why must you marry her off to such a creature as that. Why can she not marry someone else? Someone who would love and care for her. Why, someone like him?” He questioned as his jaw clenched and he began gritting his teeth again.

“You Mean Someone like you?” Alicent asked outright as if she knew what he tried so hard to keep hidden. “Aegon and Helaena are already wedded we must form alliances not just keep our bloodline to ourselves Aemond….I see how you feel obligated to her….how you wish to keep her safe….I am no fool at what I see…..But….Duty comes first Aemond.” Alicent said calmly and she placed her hand on his shoulder as if to give him assurance.

Aemond's jaw clenched further and his breathing became much more labored as he stared at his mother. How was she so good at reading him? He was always good at hiding his emotions. But with her it was different. She always managed to figure him out. Aemond stayed quiet...he almost felt as if he had been exposed of his secret feelings.

“If I had it my way it would have been you and her who were married instead of Aegon and Helaena but it was not Aemond.” Alicent said to her son.

Aemond's eyes widened slightly at the sentence his mother had spoken. So she has figured his secret out long before he even realized it himself. He would have been better fit to marry his sister. 

“That would not have pleased father right?” Aemond asked as he looked away from his mother. His expression became cold and stoic

“Your father could care less.” She admitted, looking away. “But for the realm arranging proper and good alliances and marriages for his remaining children is ideal.”

Aemond's face remained cold and stoic but inside he was feeling a mix of different emotions. He understood the concept of duty and loyalty, and why they had to arrange marriages...but the thought of his sister being sent off to such a vile person had his blood boiling. “And this is the best you came up with.” Aemond hissed out as he turned to look at her again. “Larys Strong. That creature…” He said bitterly to his mother, the Queen.

Alicent sighs and averted her eyes and nodded, “He asked for her and I owe him…our family owes him for his loyalty.” She admitted.

Aemond let out a huff and looked away again. He clenched his jaw yet again as the anger filled his body. She not only arranged his sister's marriage to a disgusting man but because the crown owed him. It was almost as if they didn't care about her being sent off to a perverted man who had a foot fetish. In Aemond's mind....it made her seem like she didn't care at all for her daughter.

Alicent approaches Aemond as she knew he was filled with anger at this decision, and she rubbed his shoulder and sighs before speaking, “Larys promised to be kind and gentle with her, that is all I can hope for your sister's future.” Alicent said to Aemond but her son gave her an agitated look. 

Aemond's hands slowly curled into tight fists as he listened. He didn't believe that at all. “And you believe such an empty promise from a lecherous man like him?” Aemond asked as he looked at his mother in anger and disbelief.

Alicent showed some hesitation to answer when he asked and she sighed and swallowed her motherly instincts and spoke “We must for the greater good Aemond.” She said simply looking at her son.

“The greater good?” Aemond's expression was full of anger as he looked at her. What greater good was there for marrying off his sweet sister to such a perverted man. “Why not another Lord? A good man who can give her a happy life. Surely that would be better for the realm than selling her like a pig to be slaughtered?” He asked and Alicent grabbed his arms so he would look at her “It has been final Aemond…..if I was to withdrawal there would be drastic consequences for our family.” Alicent said, trying to convince her son to accept the decisions made.

Aemond's hands clenched even more. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself before speaking again. “If you will not change the betrothal. I will.” Aemond said his voice was hardened and cold. As he walked past his mother and opened the door to step out to where he knew his sister had run off to. Leaving his mother to stew in the room behind him.

Aemond knew exactly where to find his sister. He walked quickly down to the Godswoods. He began to hear sobbing. He followed the sobbing and finally stopped as he found his sister sitting on the ground sobbing. Aemond slowly walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Hoping to give her some comfort. “Seanna....sister.” Aemond said softly as knelt down and looked at her. “Shhh.”

Seanna looked at him and sniffled. “Oh Aemond I don’t want to do it.” She cried.

Aemond gently wrapped her in his strong arms and gave her a soft warm embrace. “Shhh.....shh...I know sister. I know…” His heart shattered as he saw how distraught and upset she was. He wanted to see her happy and cheerful. Not sobbing on the ground in tears.

“Why does it have to be him?” She sobbed. “How could mother do this to me?” She asked emotionally. 

Aemond continued to hold her in the embrace as he gently patted her back in a soothing manner. Trying not to think about how he would have treated her if they were married nor if he was to have her in his arms. He gently moved one of his arms to the back of her head and gently cradled her.

“I don't know...but....I promise to you. Once the time is right I won't let you be married to such a horrid man. No matter the consequences.” Aemond said his voice was soft yet filled with so much promise and conviction.

Seanna whimpers and clings to him. “I won’t marry him, I don't care what mother says or does to me.” she sobbed nuzzling into his clothed body.

Aemond holds her close as she clings to him. He rested his chin slightly atop her soft hair. He felt a sense of protective affection and love for his sister. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to see her smile. And he knew there was no way in the seven hells that he would allow her to be married to such a horrible man. “No you won't. I promise you that.” He said as Aemond nuzzled his face into her hair.

Seanna sniffled and turned her face up and looked up at him with her pouty face and tear filled eyes. “You really promise?” She asked gently, her voice trembling.

He looked down at her. Seeing her tear filled eyes and pouty face made him want to kiss her...but no. That was not, be allowed this time. He gently placed a hand on her cheek and softly held it. A small yet warm smile spread across his face as he looked at her. “I promise my little sister. With my whole heart. I will not allow that creature to take you. No matter what.” He said though it sounded more like a vow and oath to her which made her smile slightly though still feeling upset.

 Seanna looked at him with her large eyes and rosy cheeks she sniffled. “Really?” she asked, tearing up again.

Aemond gazed back into her large eyes. He felt an overwhelming sense of love and adoration for her as he gently held her small face tenderly in his hand. He gently rubbed her chubby tear stained pink cheek. “Really. I promise. There is no need to cry or be scared. I will be by your side and I will protect you. You are my little sister. It is my duty to do so.”

She nodded. “I love you Lēkia.” She said Lēkia meaning older brother in Old Valyrian in a soft light innocent voice looking at him with her violet doe eyes.

And I love you, sweet sister. Aemond replied, still looking at those wide eyes of hers which he loved looking at so much. He gently cradled her face in his hand and then gently leaned in and placed a gentle, yet loving kiss on her forehead. The love he had for her was far more than what a brother should feel for his sister.

She clung to him and sighed totally content with her Lēkia.

A/N: Part III is a bit more saucy and will be short but.....the small series will get steamy I promise Also named the OCSister I will do Reader or Y/N eventually but y'all can still imagine yourselves in OCs shoes obviously.

[heartslobbf]

thinking about how much grace and simon needed each other when they met and how desperately they enabled one another to just stay the same and get worse, and the moment one of them learns a little self-respect and wants to change for the better it ruins everything that ‘we had’.. grace needed someone to look at her and simon was so willing to look at her until he saw things that he didn’t like, things that threatened the incidental and flimsy mistruth grace came up with when they were kids, out of fear, out of a need to be looked at, a need to be loved; and grace cannot conceptualise being loved without being the best. you… saved me. oh, yeah.. i did. i’m, like, really good at the train. two insecure and self-loathing kids who needed to be loved and could not fathom being loved without doing something or being something or having something, having someone. their entire relationship is just like.. it’s so tragic. makes me sick in my little baby tummy like what the hell. mfw the tragedy book is a tragedy

[lovecolibri]

.

[silversupremacy]

Waaaa I’m sick again

[yoharrysaidshe]

.

[eilidh-eternal]

“Single mom x Johnny” this, “single mom x Simon” that.

I want single dad Johnny/Simon and the single reader next door who is helplessly in love with them and their kid.

18+ MDNI

You never wanted kids. You’re convinced you would turn out to be just like your parents. That’s probably why you don’t have a ring on your finger or any sort of boyfriend or partner to speak of.

You never wanted kids.

Until Johnny goddamn MacTavish.

You’re in love with the man who always walks his little girl to school every morning, crooked pigtails flouncing with each too-big step she takes to keep stride with his long legs.

Madly in love with the way he smiles down at the tiny girl, even tinier hand held firmly in his as she dodges cracks in the pavement, and the shriek of her laughter when he lifts her by the arm, swinging her through the air to the next chunk of concrete.

Hopelessly in love with the broad shoulders he hoists her up on, little legs swinging with arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head, blowing stray hairs of an overgrown mohawk out of her face.

Dangerously in love with the way he lets her cling to his front when it rains, like a little koala wrapped around this tree of a man who holds an umbrella in one hand and has a firm hold on her with the other.

Happy. He looks so happy with her. Like she’s the sun he orbits; the star that lights up his world.

You’re just a comet who occasionally passes them by.

——

Johnny never thought he would be doing this alone.

He’s so far out of his depth. Never even had the chance to dip his toe in the water before he was shoved into the churning ocean.

He still remembers every life-altering detail of that day. The phone call after the 16 hour flight back to base. The frantic drive to the hospital. The impossibly tiny, wailing little girl, all alone in the social workers office.

She’s all he has left of her. Of them.

His best friend. His partner in crime, for more years than he can remember. The person who understood better than anyone who he is, saw him through his darkest moments, and loved him with her whole heart.

Gone.

But he smiles for her. Because of her. Isobel is the light in the abysmal darkness that he’s drowning in. The buoy he clings to when he can no longer hold his head above the surface. She’s everything. His past, his present, and his future. And she’s sitting at the table refusing to eat her dinner.

“’s not right.” Her little nose scrunches, turns up at the meal, and she pushes the bright green plastic away, matching miniature fork sent skittering across the table by the force of it

Johnny lowers his own fork and swallows his frustration with a sigh. “‘s yer favorite. Wha’s wrong with it? ”

Her brows knit together as she studies the tray, little creases forming between them and she slumps in her booster seat. “Mommy didn’t make it.”

No. She didn’t.

Johnny was never the cook in the family. That was all her. She’d chased him out of the kitchen after he’d burnt one of her expensive pans and he was thus forth relegated to chopping, and occasionally peeling, duties.

“I know.” His chair scrapes against the floor when he pushes back from the table, moving to crouch down where she sits beside him so that he’s at eye level with her, and he pulls the fork and tray back towards her. “But mommy wouldnae want ye to go to bed hungry, aye?”

“I wan’ somethin’ else.” He watches her little bottom lip jut out, brows still pinched and face twisting into a stubborn pout.

“Wha’d’ye want?”

“Quesadilla.” She drags out the ‘ee’ sound, emphasizing her clumsy command of the foreign language in her already thick Scot’s accent.

He enjoys Mexican food. Loved the tacos Alejandro and Rudy shared with him and his team during his time in Mexico. She’d learned how to make them for his birthday.

Nowhere in Glasgow made anything like it. Not then, and not now.

“I cannae make a quesadilla, leannan.” Her little lip wobbles, eyes turn glassy, tears already welling up in the corners and threatening to spill down chubby cheeks. She sniffles, drags the backs of her hands across her eyes, and Johnny feels what’s left of his heart splinter, another little piece of it withering away to nothing with each fat tear that rolls down and collects at her chin. He unbuckles her from the booster and gathers her into his arms as he stands up, taking her with him to sit in his own chair at the table.

Her little shoulders shake, hiccuping with each muffled sob against his shoulder and tiny fingers fist the material of his shirt. “Miss ‘er,” she warbles, and his arms tighten around her small frame.

“Ah know, leannan.” More hiccups. More tears that seep through his shirt and brand his skin.

You should be here. You’re supposed to be here. With her. With him. With them.

“How ‘bout we go down to the shops? Ye can pick whatever ye want for dinner. Dinnae think they’ll have quesadillas, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ ye like.” She lifts her head from his shoulder, tips it back to peer up at him with bleary eyes and sniffles. Wipes her hand across her eyes again.

“Cheesy noodles?” It’s thin and reedy, poor little throat still tight and full of grief that he knows feels impossible to speak around.

“Aye, we can get cheesy noodles.” He brushes an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking the unruly curl behind an ear where it probably won’t stay. Just like her mum’s. So much like her mum. She considers him, his offer, and toys with his shirt.

“And sticky pudding?”

“Whatever ye want, leannan.” She really shouldn’t have something so sugary right before bed but he doesn’t have it in him to deny her. Is just glad the tears have stopped. That she’s willing to eat, even if he has to bribe her with junk food and sweets. He sends her to put her shoes on while he cleans up in the kitchen and grabs his own shoes and keys.

——

He’s there.

He’s standing in the pasta aisle with his little girl in the buggy, smiling at the way she makes grabby hands at the dismal selection of boxed macaroni, and he pulls one down from the shelf to hand to her. She inspects it, turning it this way and that way, pointing to something on the packaging and saying something that makes him laugh.

You’re frozen in place, jar of pasta sauce halfway to the basket in your other hand, and you can’t move because the sound of his laughter causes something in your brain to misfire. Causes the electrical signals between neurons and synapses to jumble together and sets your nerves alight. You think you might really be frozen, body unwilling to move an inch away from where you stand now, by your beautiful neighbor in the middle of a goddamned Tesco, until a little voice is addressing you.

“Hi miss neighbor!” Johnny’s head whips around and when his gaze lands on you it feels like your stomach’s turned to lead. “We’re havin’ cheesy noodles f’r dinner!” She holds up the box in her hand and kicks her feet excitedly.

You’re currently kicking yourself for making what you’re sure is an expression closely resembling that of a fish out of water. Mouth agape, brows raised and eyes slightly widened in surprise. When your mouth finally remembers how to move you smile at the little girl waving her box of noodles and powdered cheese in the air. “Hello, Isobel. That sounds like a lovely dinner.”

His brows knit together, one of them quirked at a curious angle. “And how d’ the two of ye know each other?”

Isobel’s foot connects with his thigh and his head jerks back around. “She’s our neighbor. She gave me the tablet,” she whispers a little too loud, cupping a small hand in front of her mouth. He turns back to you with the same jaunty brows and a quirk to his lips.

“So ye’re the one responsible for the wee heathens late night sugar-induced marathon.”

“M-marathon?”

“Aye, she was bouncin’ round the house all night, the little devil.” He ruffles her hair and she swats at his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” You don’t really know what you’d been thinking when you’d given her the Tupperware full of sugary confections to take home after she’d spent the morning helping you root around in the flowerbeds in front of your home. She’d been watching out the window for hours until she was suddenly right next to you, asking what you were digging for.

“‘s alright. Ye’ll just have to make up f’r it.”

It’s your turn to pinch your brows and tilt your head in confusion. “Make up for it?”

His lips part in a full, genuine smile, like the ones he gives Isobel, and your leaden stomach suddenly feels like it’s lodged in your chest, full of butterflies and other fluttering things you don’t dare to name.

“Oh aye. Reckon ye owe us a dinner since ye’ve skipped right to dessert.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[jpitha]

Vocal Mimicry and Ear Worms

Every time the drink machine finished, it played a little song.

It was pretty simple, less than 10 notes, but it was the same song, every time.

It wasn't even that it played the same song every time. It wasn't even that everyone on the ship - except the humans - got a drink from the machine.

The song was catchy.

Peg started it. She just found her self whistling the "drink finished" song one day. "beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep." She couldn't help it.

Then, Kelly picked it up. The song worked its way into her head too. She'd be working at her station and suddenly she'd be struck by an intense need to sing the song.

After about three cycles, every single human on the ship was singing it. Normally, this would be chalked up by the rest of the crew as "just another strange Human thing" but the problem was that it was the 'drink finished' song. Everyone onboard was conditioned to want to go get their drink when the song was done.

The humans could mimic is perfectly.

"beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep."

Captain Flowing River Rapid's feathers fluffed in irritation. Two people on the Command Deck got three quarters of the way out of their seats before they realized what they were doing and sat back down, sheepish. "Desmond! What have I said about mimicing the drink finished melody?"

Desmond ducked his head at the reproach. "Sorry Captain River, I couldn't help it. It's just so catchy."

Captain River clacked his beak. "It wouldn't be so bad if not for the fact that you can all mimic the sound so well."

Desmond turned and looked at the Captain. "What? We are? We're singing it, but it doesn't sound exactly like the drink machine."

The Captain pointed at Desmond accusingly. "Don't deny it! You're all singing the song at all times of the cycle! You know that everyone thinks a drink is ready when you do it. You sound exactly like the machine!"

One of the Sefigans who got partially up from their station nods quickly, their antenna bobbing. "Captain River is correct, Des. You all really sound a lot like the drink machine. How are you doing it?"

Desmond shrugged. "I mean, we heard the song, and it gets like, stuck in our heads. Singing it feels like one way to get it out. Plus, it's fun to sing Kel. Fun to make sounds."

Kel's wing covers clack. "Can you mimic other things?"

"I don't know Kel, I don't really think of myself as a mimic. There are others who can do it much better than me. Some humans made a whole career out of it."

"That sounds like a thing I human would do, yes. But what about your Des? Let's see...." Kel looks down at their station. "What about this?"

Kes runs a test for the collision alarm. It's a warbling rising and falling tone."

Des thinks for a second and sings - for him - a pretty close approximation.

Captain River gasps and leans back in his chair. "How do you do that?"

Desmond wails. "It wasn't even that good! I just heard the tones and repeated them."

Kelly entered the Command Deck just then. She was carrying a pad and her overalls looked stained. "Captain River, I've just come to report tha-"

"Kelly! Mimic the collision alarm"

"What? Um.." Kelly makes the same noise."

Now, everyone on the Command Desk gasps. Kelly is taken aback and looks at Desmond. "What's going on Des?"

Desmond sighs. "They say we're all mimics. It started with the drink machine."

"Oh that. I still can't get it out of my head! 'beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep.'"

Kes starts to rise from his seat again and catches himself, and sits back down swearing.

[mellowsadistic]

“That’s it, baby, let it all out,” I cooed. “Have a big cry. Daddy's here, little girl." I stroked my wife's hair gently while she bawled her eyes out like a two-year-old, sat on the floor of our bedroom wearing nothing but her sopping wet diaper.

She gasped in big lungfuls of air, her bare chest heaving with every shaky breath. “You… did something… to me!” she said between hiccups, batting my hand away and glaring at me accusingly. It seemed that I'd finally been found out.

"What did I do to you, sweetheart?" I asked softly.

"You... turned me... into... a cry... baby!" she sobbed, almost hyperventilating now, her words barely intelligible. "You... want me... like this!"

“That's right, darling," I said, and I saw her tear-filled eyes widen in surprise at my ready confession. "I want to be your Daddy. I want to take care of you. But you've always been so strong and independent. I knew I had to do something to change that, so I used some special hypnosis files, hidden in that night-time background music you like to listen to, to erode your emotional control. It's the same technique I used to take away your potty training.”

She looked at me in horror, but I just chuckled and reached out to stroke her tear-stained cheek lovingly with the back of my fingers. “It’s so sweet that you can’t control when you go pee-pee or poo-poo anymore." I patted the front of her soggy diaper. “And you look so pretty in your princess nappy!”

“You did this to me?” my wife whispered, so shocked that her wracking sobs had come to a halt. Her hand drifted down to the huge disposable diaper bulging between her thighs. "You made me need these?"

"Yes, baby," I said. "I thought making you incontinent would be enough, but even then you were still trying to be self-sufficient; insisting on changing your own nappies, refusing to let me comfort you after an accident. So now you're going to be emotionally incontinent as well, sweetie. No more bottling things up. No more self-control. When you get even the slightest bit upset about something, you'll be in tears."

“But whyyy?!” she wailed, her sobbing returning in full force. "Why did you... do this... to me?!"

“It’s not good for girls to hold in their feelings,” I said, running my fingers through her hair again. She seemed too appalled by what I was saying to even notice. “It’s so much cuter, so much more feminine, when you lose control and have a little meltdown instead.”

“But I don’t… want to be… like this!” she cried.

“I know, darling,” I said soothingly, “but this is how I want you. Daddy knows best. Being a tearful toddler suits you much better than being an adult woman. In any case, there's no undoing the effects of the hypnosis now, little one. I made sure it was completely permanent."

“No!” she wailed, bouncing on her wet bottom and beating her fists impotently against the floor. “It's not fair! I wanna be a grown-up! I wanna use the toilet! I don't wanna be a stupid crybaby! I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" Her words trailed off into incoherent blubbering as she devolved into a massive temper tantrum.

I couldn't help but smile. She looked so adorable! "Hush now, princess," I cooed, shoving a large pink pacifier between my wife's lips. Her mewling was cut off abruptly, and she started sucking on it at once - another product of the hypnosis files. She was left sniffling and whimpering quietly, her dummy bobbing rhythmically in her mouth. "Now I know you're very upset because Daddy turned you into a big baby," I said, pushing her back gently onto the floor, "but I'm sure a nice dry diaper will have you feeling better in no time. Legs up, baby! It's time for you to let Daddy take care of everything."

[diejager]

I never thought I would like a stepdad!konig so much, I just don't. But here I am.Soo I saw the need to do this

I felt 'jealous' of f!reader's mother.Simply the fact of reading how she becomes unconscious (with good reason, it's könig!) After a while with him.... And that they are practically husband and wife. It's a strange feeling,You know. like a delusion (I feel so stupid right now)

How would stepdad!konig react if he found out about it? (I feel a little better with the comfort of dbf! Horangi, scary, I know)

You are incredible, thank you for your writings 🌻

Oh, that sunflower at the end is cuteee Cw: unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, sex marathon?, stepcest, DUB-CON?NON-CON, degrading, tell me If I missed any.

"Oh, is the what you want?" König cooed, smirk cruel and smug as he watched you wail beneath Horangi.

He recently came out of his room, baggy pants hanging low on his angular hips, dropping on one side and showing off the sharp dip on his navel and happy trail, a salacious way to walk into a room smelling of sweat and sex. He cleaned up, brushing his ginger hair with hints of silver to the side, messy and slightly damp from his session with your mom. Chest clean and body fluids wiped off, he always came to you clean and ruggedly handsome. Much like his friend who, until a few minutes ago, had the monopoly in your attention and silent cries, who drove his cock into you with strong and purposeful thrusts while he kissed your mewls away, swallowing them down with the harsh press of his scarred lips.

"You should have told me, Schatz," könig pushed on, pulling his waistband down enough for his engorged cock to spring upwards, slapping his deep V with a wet sound.

Horangi chuckled, hoisting you up on his lap, hands guiding your hips up and down his cum-coated thighs. You clung to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into his sculpted back (for someone of their age, they still had an enviable physique, back, arms and thighs ripped with thick and strong muscles while having a soft but equally sculpted abdomen.) With every buck of his hips skyward. You hid your face in his neck, damping it with your tears and open-mouthed mewls by biting down on his shoulder, muffling any keens and cries that would echo too loudly in your room.

"Use your big girl words, ja?" Your stepdad went on, pumping his pre down his uncut head, pulling down the foreskin to show his red and angry tip.

Feeling quite smug about your disheveled look, being the one responsible for it after your stepdad took too long fucking your mom to sleep, Horangi pressed kisses up your neck, behind your ear and teasing you with his teeth, playfully nipping at you while he looked at König. He peered over your bouncing shoulders, brown eyes seeming pitch black in your dark room, illuminated by a small lamp, the dim yellow light giving a golden tint to his eyes. He was goading König in a way, narrowed eyes and cheeks pulled by scars when he smirked at your stepdad, flashing his teeth as he bit down, reveling in the whimper he pulled from you.

"We shouldn't disappoint, huh, König?" Horangi chuckled, ramming you down his cock, feeling your walls clamp down on him while your legs shook, toes curling as you come, painting a pretty ring around his shaft.

The only reply he got back was a vindictive laugh, deep and rumbling, a bigger hand wrapping around your nape, scuffing you. König yanked your head back, blurry and teary eyes staring up at him, he held you there until Horangi finished, until Horangi painted your cunt white, until he got a turn to stuff you full of his cock and cum, and until he could fuck you unconscious like you wanted to.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[wegc]

perv!channie and reader finally fucking but she teases him the whole time until he has had enough. “you’re such a fucking pervert” and “you’re so disgusting” all while she’s grinning at him and riding him like her life depends on it. he’s literally a second away from cumming as soon as he’s inside her. “you really think you deserve to cum? after fantasizing about fucking your best friend’s sister?” she denies him to cum for so long that he finally snaps and flips her over, pounding into her like a madman. “such a tease, you whore” and “don’t have much to say now, huh?” she cums so hard but he’s not done. even after he cums, he aint done either…

OK IM DONE AHHHHHH (please feel free to finish or add on or write more to it bc i would v much appreciate it)

i’m ascending. something about cocky!reader paired with a perpetually flustered, perv!chan is such a mouthwatering combination.

perv!chan whose cock twitches inside you every time you humiliate him with yet another reminder of how repulsive and depraved he is; he can’t bite back immediately because you’re right. he’s nothing but a disgusting pervert and he’s fortunate that you aren’t completely appalled by him.

when you grip the base of his cock and guide him inside your dripping cunt, chan feels like he could pass away beneath you. every delusion of his, whether it emerged in his bedroom or your washroom—a mere room away from you—was coming true and it was far better than he had ever imagined.

all he can do is pant and whine under you, taking in the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the cute flush of your face, which scrunched up in pleasure. most importantly, the feeling of your cunt—the warmest thing in the world—took his breath away; his cunt, all his—he’d make sure of it.

the overwhelming feeling of being inside you, the epiphany and high of all his dreams and desires coming true right before him has his poor cock pulsing inside you, seconds away from cumming. each flutter of your cunt, each moment your fingers teased his nipples or when your hot, wet mouth whined against his had him feeling lightheaded—he knew he wouldn’t last long.

and your teasing—while it did turn him on, it also infuriated him. god, you were such a fucking brat—a mouthy little handful. did you frankly know what he thought of every time he stroked his cock to the image of you? you wouldn’t be behaving so pretentiously if you knew all the things he yearned to do to you, all the positions he’d bend you in, all the fondling and groping he had dreamt of, all the mean and obscene remarks he’d taunt you with, all the ways in which he would make you beg for more. you had no fucking clue.

before you even realize it, you’re pulled off his cock and manhandled to your hands and knees, where the drilling of chan’s cock seizes your breath. he’s suddenly so deep inside your cunt—you swear the tip of his cock might kiss your cervix—and you can scarcely catch some air every time he snaps his hips to go harder.

chan would grin, smacking your ass, laughing shakily at the sounds of your yelps and wailing with each drag of his length. your face is buried in his pillow, but even that hardly muffles your loud sobs and pleas.

“god, you don’t ever shut up do you?”

“fuckin’ brat, you want more?”

“dirty little thing, you’re just as gross as me.”

“you feel like a whore, don’t you? doesn’t it make you feel dirty, knowing everything i’ve done? you hate that you like it, don’t you?”

chan, who fucks until dawn, cumming continually inside you and pulling out periodically to observe and engrave the way his cum oozes out of your gaping hole. he feels so pleased as he takes in the bruises and marks he’s littered on your body, marking you as his. or even better, the way your eyes gloss over, looking at him desperately with tearful eyes. your hair is dishevelled, draped messily across his ruined sheets, and your lips are bruised with his kisses and nibbles, lipgloss pathetically smudged away.

“so fucking pretty—my pretty girl, yeah? you wanna go again? can’t go without me, hm? need me so bad to stop all that fussing, right?”

“you’re all mine now, you know that? can’t fuck you just once—can’t have you looking at other people.”

[kurogxrix]

Stomach Empty, Heart Full

Viking!Bucky x Wife!reader

IN WHICH you’re sick and refuse to eat, but it’s nothing that your beefy husband Bucky can’t help with.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: vague mentions of smut, mentions of puke, beefy!bucky, INACCURATE VIKING UNITS, pregnancy(?).

A/N: my mom is the BIGGEST viking fan and yet idk anything abt em so…yes everything about this is inaccurate. From their beds to their huts but it’s fiction so who CARES.

A huge campfire was bustling outside your hut, that you knew. The sounds of men and women alongside their noisy children made the headache currently gnawing at your head just about 10 times worse. You’d been lying sick since this morning and if you were being honest with yourself, all you craved was for a good sip of water alongside the company of your dear husband. 

Talking of, Bucky had been gone for far too long now. Even though he’d just gone on his regular routine as a fellow warrior, it helped that they’d only gone out to hunt that morning. 

You suddenly winced as the high pitched wail of a kid adventuring far too close to your hut breached your ear drums, and from the thud that you’d heard a split second before, he’d taken a nasty fall to himself. It didn’t help that his father had chosen the front of your hut opening to reprimand his son, the headache feeling like it would burst out from your head and carve a hole through your skin at any moment now. 

You couldn’t tell what sort of sickness you’d picked up on, but hell if you wouldn’t give up anything in your possession in that instant for an ounce of relief. Your stomach yelled at you for food, but the ache in your head only increased the growing nausea that came with your illness. You were sure that once you’d be healed and back on your feet, you’d kill whichever scum had passed on their bug to you. 

Comfort only came as you curled over yourself, soft blankets warming you, the stitches and patches of soft furs from all sorts of animals that Bucky had hunted and skinned for you. You missed your husband so, so much more in your sick haze. Your eyes finally started to droop as you felt your body giving in to slumber, which was hard prior to the insane pounding at the far back of your head.  

It didn’t take long for your vision to darken, your rumbling stomach being the furthest of your worries as a faint smile overtook your features as you felt the headache begin to dissipate as sleep pulled you in its arms. You could almost taste it, the sweet and victorious taste of relief, when- 

“You are not joining us tonight?” And there it was, the pounding in your head almost immediately punched back to life at the loud sound of whoever that was that had breached your hut. You groaned in dismay, turning around reluctantly to find your sister looking at you in confusion. It didn’t help with the fact that she was your sibling, but at that instant you wanted nothing more than to rip her hairs straight from the root and craft yourself a rag doll with them out of spite. 

“Get out.” you mumbled before rolling back, not missing the way her eyebrows furrowed at your rudeness. You’d treat her a little better if you felt a little better, but you didn’t, and to add to that the only person that you wanted with you right now was probably fighting off whatever beast was hiding in the forest. 

She did, however, listen to you for what felt like the first time in your entire life as sisters. A content sigh left your lips at the newfound silence, as silent as it could be with a meal in preparation happening outside. Finally, you felt the warm arms of slumber welcoming you again in the embrace that you seeked so much, and it felt a little too good to be true. Maybe because you had a knack for jinxing yourself, but the sound of the hut door creaking again had you close to tears. 

The sound of metal colliding against the floor however, gave you a brief idea that it was in fact not your sister. You didn’t have it in you to greet your husband, instead choosing to wallow in your pain as you held yourself like a dying child. You didn’t hear much from Bucky but the rustling of something that sounded big and meaty, probably a catch that he’d brought home to skin later. 

On his side, Bucky was confused as to why you weren’t outside with the other people. It wasn’t that you didn’t know that the feast had arrived, and if you’d fallen asleep, the doubling in noise would’ve surely awakened even the deafest foe. He contemplated waking you up before his blue eyes fell upon the bucket of water by the door, as full as it was before he’d left home that morning.

With his eyebrow furrowed, Bucky kneeled beside you in all of his silence. You could hear the trinkets attached to his belt clanking against one another, his booted feet causing a heavy thud against the floor. 

“You haven’t drunk, you haven’t eaten.” he stated as a matter of fact, and your undying silence threw him off. He’d been your husband long enough to know that you weren’t sleeping, eyelids shut as a decoy more than anything. The beefy brunette sighed at your actions, eyes flickering between the  abandoned wooden plate that harboured his food, waiting for him in all of its loneliness. The cut of meat had his mouth salivating for a taste, after all he had been gone all day to bring back food for his people, why shouldn’t he enjoy it? 

Yet, he just couldn’t get himself to as he eyed your curled figure. There must’ve been a reason why you hadn’t bothered to take care of yourself today, of course there must’ve been one, and as your husband - it was all the more his duty to care for you. There was no resentment or obligations in his actions, only love. 

One of Bucky’s palms slid under your cheek, disconnecting your face from its warm place upon the layers of furs. You whined in dismay, but Bucky didn’t falter. His huge palm covered half of your face, his thumb rubbing at your cheek with inclination. You felt your body relax once more as he slowly let go, as much as you’d normally complain, this time you felt happy as your cheek made contact with the blanket once more. 

Your peace didn't last long, not when you had a burly husband who had enough force to take down a 300 pound beast on his own. You gasped suddenly as you felt his arms wrapping themselves around you, before pulling you into the warmth of a familiar torso. You wasted no time getting comfortable, you head pushing impossibly further into the firm flesh of his chest to serve as a pillow. It didn’t faze Bucky, blue iris simply gazing down at your slithering form. 

“You haven’t eaten today,” he states again, and this time you’d actually taken the courage to look up at him, eyelids pushing away from each other painfully slowly as you tried to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps burning by the side of the hut. You could feel his warm palm slowly inching itself into caressing your back through the material of your dress, the beaded necklace that you wore squished between the both your bodies. 

Bucky didn’t ask, he could tell that you were ill and you had no intentions of talking if you didn’t feel well. So he did what he could, a hand digging into the meat in his plate to rip a fat piece off. You watched in dismay as his hands dragged to your mouth, pausing before you closed lips as you refused him access. 

“You’ll be even more ill if you don’t eat, come on.” his gruffly voice sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the ends of his long, auburn hair tickling your cheeks as the wind whistled past the cracks of your shared hut. Your nose involuntarily scrunched at the smell of the meat before you, which you normally loved like all people in your village. Bucky took notice of your discomfort, lowering his hand slightly to prevent you from puking all over him and the place. 

You made a sound of frustration, sick and tired of being sick and tired. You simply wanted to eat and all the more drink but your body just wouldn’t let you do any of it. So sick that tears pricked at your waterline again, resurfacing the throbbing headache that'd been killing you since this morning. 

You couldn’t even have told when the sob had burst through your mouth, but it had apparently and it didn’t fail to startle the hulk of a man you were lucky to call your husband. In a split second, the food was dropped back in the discarded plate, and his hands were quick to carelessly wipe clean against his cloak with little to no care for it. 

Bucky’s heart was hardened from the series of events that’d turmoiled his life from his birth, being a viking was anything but easy. He’d bathed in blood, his own like not, he was scarred mentally just as physically. Yet, he was fierce with a shell as hard as rock to carry his sorrows in. Despite all, nothing hurt Bucky like seeing you upset, or even worse in this scenario, hurt. 

Cradling your head to his chest, he tilted your head softly towards his own as you cried upon his chest. It was weird seeing a woman such as yourself cry over something that couldn’t be seen, yet enough described because your words wouldn’t even allow you to. So to say that Bucky was worried was an understatement, you’d never cried over something so minor, best to deduct that it wasn’t.

“I’ll go and fetch the lach, better hope that Thyra has the herbs to fix you a remedy.” he spoke more to himself than to you, referring to the village healer. You didn’t want him to go though, you’d spent enough time on this miserable day away from the only man you’d wish to see, so you weren’t about to let him go. 

“No, I can handle it until daytime. I just want to eat…I’ll try the meat again.” Bucky looked down at you in hesitance, remembering the way you looked so sick at the approach of his food. Nevertheless, he brought the food back up to your mouth, and you had to fight the inner battle to not throw up now and then. He could see your struggles, yet he only focused on your determination. 

You chewed slowly so as to not upset your stomach further, giving Bucky the time he needed for him to get a taste of his own meal as well. Sure, the cut was barely enough for a man of his size but at least he’d get you to eat, he could always go out and get some more once you were satiated. His hand that wasn’t busy feeding the both of you was still glued to your back, keeping you flushed against his chest as he sat legs crossed amongst the many blankets. 

You couldn’t help with the way your heart soared at his worry, at his care, and at his love. Sure he wasn’t the most verbally expressive man, but his actions meant more to you than any I-Love-Yous. The way his fingers curled against your side as a measure of extreme protection had you weak in the knees, and that said a lot considering you weren’t even standing. 

By the time you’d both exhausted whatever food was on his plate, Bucky’s skilled hand worked for water. Grabbing a cup from the side, he sought water from the bucket by your front door. He took a drink first, draining the cup in two quick gulps. You watched as he served himself another cup, a drop of water dribbling past his beardy chin and onto the defined curve of his Adam's apple. 

Fuck and if he didn’t just look so hot, you’d really gotten the finest pick of all men in your village. You lifted an unsuspecting hand up to his cheek, the prickly feeling of his beard against your palm made a shiver run down your spine. So much for all the days he’d spent buried between your legs, you felt a ghost of the burn you’d feel on your inner thighs at the friction everytime. 

The sounds of water sloshing around brought you out of your daydreams, finally receiving the end of the cup as he lifted the edge to your lips. You liked everything about this, getting pampered while laying in your husband's arms. You couldn’t possibly have gotten two sips down your throat before-

“Maybe I should call the midwife to check on you tomorrow.” Bucky randomly blurted out, and you swore you’d never accidently taken a gulp of water this big before. The choking came first, then the excessive coughing fits before the headache resurfaced again. Now maybe you’d rethought everything, maybe you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with Bucky anymore. 

His hands quickly abandoned the cup to rub at your back, some silent apology of some sorts for surprising you, and eventually causing you to choke. 

“You don’t think…” you looked up at your husband after you had calmed down, expectant baby blue iris staring right back at yours. Your lips were slightly parted in the confoundment of his words, you found yourself unable to speak past your sentence. You didn’t know any contraceptives further than a remedy of herbs, spells and whatnot the untrustworthy pull-out method. Yet even if  Bucky had been very obedient when it came to following that way, there were some days where he just couldn’t help himself.

His silence made you sigh to yourself, but you didn’t feel like speaking further yourself. The hut fell into a peaceful silence as you both wallowed in the other's presence, soaking each other's affection through soft touches and occasional prayers.You closed your eyes once more for the night, allowing yourself to fully sink into your husband’s burly arms.

Bucky didn’t complain, waiting for your shoulders to fall limp in indication that you’d finally submitted to the slumber you so craved. Now that you were sleeping, tucked and fed, he could finally go out and reach for a serving more appropriate for a man of his size. Though he staggered for a second, kneeling besides your sleeping form along the blankets that he’d arranged over you. 

He moved the blanket properly after noticing that you’d already managed to mess up the ‘bed’ despite being dreams deep into your sleep. Bucky allowed his hand to hover over your stomach, before providing extra heat to the area that crossed his palm. He watched as your lips twitched into a smile in your sleep, his thumb uncontrollably caressing at the clothed area at the sight of your delight. 

A rare smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips, something that only you and his family had gotten to experience more often. His hand left your stomach as he rose to his feet, a distant dream of an infant swaddled by green cloth burning by the back of his mind. He didn’t turn back as he left the tent, stomach empty but heart full. 

-

i’m working on 2 requests rn but i’ll be busy all weekend so expect a fic by next friday‼️

[koemiexists]

Fallen In Love | Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

summary: you get casted out by sera but it isn't all that bad word count: 3.8k tags: smut, light blood mention, mentioned adam x reader, cream pie, praise kink, fluff, vaginal sex

“(Name), you are hereby banished from Heaven, and will be casted out-”

Your mind was spinning, and you felt ready to wretch, yet a small part of you were eager to get this over with and make your way down to Hell.

“ Your wings will be cut off-”

Sera’s voice was so loud in your ears, even though she was high up, standing next to Emily who had an apologetic expression on her face. You knew Emily didn’t want this to happen, but she couldn’t stop Sera.

“-You will be sent to Hell for treason, for speaking against the Holy Council. Do not question our methods. Your very opinion is what will be your downfall. This goes for the rest of the Council. If any of you dare to speak against Heaven’s rules-”

Her words became muddled as you saw Lute, the new general of the Exorcists, walk over to you with her sword in hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, bitch. You never should have been courted by Adam.” She hissed in your ear as she cut your wings from your back.

Your blood curdling screams echoed throughout the room, anguished wails bordering on shrieking. “Fuck you, (Name).” Lute growled, a smirk on her face as golden blood leaked from your backside. You felt yourself grow faint as the ground underneath you opened up, the hiss of Hell swallowing you.

The pain was absolutely excruciating, and you let out a pitiful sob as you fell down fast .

A part of you was ready to accept your fate, the ground approaching rapidly. You let out another cry as you grasped at the building you were near, doing anything to slow your fall down. You choked as your torso hit a sign, blood spilling from your lips. Thankfully, it slowed down your descent, and you fell to the ground with a small thud, groaning.

With great difficulty, you stood up, shaking. You were in Hell now. Blinking, you look around, nose curling up at the mass amount of sins being committed. It was horrifying, and you felt disgusted at just looking at the mess of the Pride ring. Shaking your head, you dragged yourself towards a small opening. Peeking through, you saw there wasn’t anything there, it was just a partially closed alleyway. 

Perfect for sleeping in. And if no one else found it, you’ll be able to heal enough to find somewhere else to stay. Mind made up, you crawled through the opening, wincing as your back grazed the wall. Once you fit yourself in, you laid down on the hard floor, groaning quietly as your eyes fluttered, and sleep took you.

You twisted, grunting as you pulled yourself up. You felt groggy, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Running a hand against your face, you huffed, the pain only slight now. 

The memories began to flood back while you got your bearings. You surveyed your surroundings, wincing at the small pool of blood you were laying on. Guess the pain was too much, you thought as you crawled out of the tiny space. Your back was feeling much better than before, and you were delighted that you weren't bothered by any sinners while your body caught up on the injuries.

Now what you needed was somewhere to stay. You thought back to what occurred prior to your casting out. Some hellborn named Charlie, and a hotel she owned. You remember Emily talking to you excitedly about it, and how she truly believed in the woman’s idea. 

You ran a hand through your hair, blearily looked around, before you noticed a large building in the distance. 

Humming, you walked down the streets, nose wrinkling at the amount of violence occurring. It was horrific, and you knew if Emily witnessed this, she would probably retch. You felt the urge to do that, but swallowed back the bile, quickening the pace.

You stumbled across the building soon enough, and without a second thought, you knocked.

“Hello- Oh!” You watched as Charlie jolted back a little at your ragged state, before glancing back inside. “Come in!” She spoke, gently leading you inside the hotel.

The lights were almost too blinding for you, making you close your eyes tight. It was alleviated soon enough though, and you opened your eyes cautiously as Charlie smiled in front of you, her hand resting on your forehead. You glanced to the side, noting how the lights dimmed considerably, before she removed her hand. 

You saw someone approach you, eyes widening as Vaggie came into view. Your breath hitched, and your back burned as you instinctively sought your wings that were no longer there. 

Vaggie frowned, and stopped, before her expression flashed with recognition. “Oh shit. (Name)!” 

“Don’t-” You didn’t recognize you were speaking until your throat burned from the disuse. “ Do not approach me- You and Adam and Lute-!”

Charlie immediately reached out, holding your hands as she soothed you before you got a panic attack. “It’s okay! Vaggie isn’t apart of them anymore.”

You blinked, and realized that Vaggie truly wasn’t with them anymore, and she was just like you. You winced when you saw the x over her eye. 

Glancing away from the two women, you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you saw there were quite a few people who witnessed just how pitiful you were at the moment. One of them being Lucifer, the Ruler of Hell.

You frowned, coughing as you rested against the wall. “Apologies,” You rasped, running a hand through your disheveled hair. “I only just woke up a few hours ago.” 

“Hey, don’t worry too much about it, toots. I think most of us saw one another at their worst.” A spider looking demon spoke, and you squinted. “You can call me Angel.”

Nodding, you hurried over to the couch in the centre of the room, wincing as your back landed against it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Angel.”

You watched as Charlie and Vaggie introduced everyone, before Charlie took a seat next to you, expression filled with concern. “So, what’s your name?”

You cringed. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner- especially with the way I just burst into your hotel!” You apologized, as Charlie shook her head, smiling.

“You don’t need to worry about it! It’s fine.”

Tensing up as a new voice spoke up, you turned as Lucifer grinned at you, toothy and bright. “If Char says it’s fine, then it’s more than likely okay! Besides, you just recently came from Heaven, right?” He probed, and you groaned.

“Fuck. Yeah, yeah I did.” You growled in irritation, noting how they gathered around slightly to hear what just occurred. “Well, firstly, if you’re okay with it Ms. Morningstar-”

“Charlie!” She butted in, smiling. “Just call me Charlie, there’s no need for formalities.”

You nodded, smiling gently. “Well, Charlie, if you allow me, I can probably help you with the hotel.”

She grinned, and gave you a small nod, allowing you to continue. “Considering this hotel is for... rehabilitating sinners? So they can get into Heaven? I can help with a few things at least, like teaching sinners on the mannerisms of angels.”

Vaggie grimaced. “I would have done so myself, but all I remember is just how Lute and Adam acted...”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Adam? He was horrible! And how he treated you, Vaggie, was just disgusting.”

The two of you smiled at one another, before you sighed, continuing. “Well, I guess I should tell you how I fell huh?”

Clearing your throat, you adjusted your position. “I spoke out against Sera, basically. The most recent extermination left Adam dead, along with a good chunk of exorcists. Lute wanted to go to war, but Sera shot the idea down pretty quickly.

“When I found out about this, I couldn’t help myself. I told Sera, in front of the entire Holy Council, how everyone here was no better than sinners in Hell if they allowed this to continue, the deaths of innocent souls.”

Lucifer nodded softly, and you felt your hands grow clammy as you continued. “She didn’t like that. She said I committed treason, and threatened the rest of the Council that if they speak out like I did, she’ll cast them out as well. She ordered Lute to cut my wings.” You sighed. “That was... one of the worst pains I ever experienced in all my years.”

Vaggie winced in sympathy. “I understand... It was bad for me too.”

You jumped when Angel sat on the head of the couch, looking down at you. “You think you can tell us about Heaven some more, (Name)?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Smiling, you launched into a spiel, talking about what you heard from others, and your own experiences. 

In the lull of your monologue, you remembered something. “Oh yeah, Emily told me that apparently someone from Hell made it to Heaven? Uh, I think his name was Sir Pentend? Pentious?”

“ WHAT!?” You winced as Charlie grasped your shoulders, her eyes wide with disbelief and excitement. “Really? You sure that’s what you heard? (Name)! Are you sure!?”

You let out an awkward laugh, nodding. “Yeah, apparently some guy named Sir Pentious made it to Heaven.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds before a burst of commotion rang out. 

“Charlie, your hotel actually has a chance then!”

“You doubted it?!”

“Well toots, I won’t say I doubted it-”

“Angel you literally said you’re here only for free rent-”

“Charlie! My little girl, I always believed in you!”

“Well! This is an interesting development, wouldn’t you say the same Niffty?”

You flinched at the loud noises. “OKAY! Okay, guys, uh...” You ran a hand through your hair again. “Okay. I think I'll just go into my room? Let you guys deal with the news? Charlie?”

She grinned, and gently tugged at your hand, leading you up a few stairs. “Okay, so I decided maybe you should be on the same floor as Vaggie, dad, and me! Just in case something happens, Vaggie and dad are also fallen angels, so they’ll be able to help.” Charlie smiled brightly, as she opened the door.

“Look! It’s fully furnished! I hope you like it, (Name).”

You beamed at Charlie, giving her a tight hug. “Thank you, for letting me stay here.”

“Of course!” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and gave you one last squeeze, before letting you go to bed.

Smiling softly, you sat down on the bed, noting how soft the sheets were, and everything was dusted. Not a speck of dirt. 

Just as you were about to go to sleep, you heard a knock at your door. “Come in!” You called, sighing quietly as you glanced longingly at the perfectly fluffed up pillow.

Lucifer entered, a grin on his face. “I came to check up on you,” He said simply, sitting next to you.

Flushing, you gave him a soft look, before glancing away. “I’m doing pretty alright,” You spoke softly, resting your chin on your palm. “Maybe I'm still tired.”

“I expect you to be,” He started, turning to you. “You went through some pretty bad trauma, huh?”

You let out a giggle, because that was quite the understatement. Being cast out literally left you feeling almost empty.

“Hey,” He crooned, placing his hand on your upper back. “Don’t worry too much. Your wings will grow back. They did so with Charlie’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, Vaggie?” You hummed. “I guess it isn’t too bad here. It’s actually a bit better than Heaven.”

Lucifer snorted. “You can say that again. Gosh, you know how bad it was? I remember I literally couldn’t slouch when I walked.”

You laughed softly. “Thankfully that’s gone now. And trust me, you’re the talk of Heaven like, 24/7. You’d think they were in love with you. If I’m not hearing about why Heaven is so great, it’s about how awful you apparently are!”

“They miss me that much, huh?” He batted his eyelashes. “They knew they made a mistake I guess!”

Smiling wryly, you rolled your eyes in mock exasperation. “Oh yeah, I mean, Sera hates when we even say your name in the Council room. Said it was unfitting for such a holy environment. Then as soon as we leave- everyone starts talking!” You sigh. “Heaven was just so... oppressing! I felt like I couldn’t breathe, if I said anything they’d just shut me down!”

“That’s exactly what happened to me!” Lucifer spoke quickly, a distant look on his face. “They casted me out because of my ideas, because I was a dreamer! They didn’t like how I dreamt big, that I had my own way of thinking-”

“Yeah I remember! Lucifer, the dreamer!”

“Yes!” He nods, beaming at you. “It’s been so long, I never thought I’d find someone who understands exactly what I’ve been through.”

You frowned, cocking your head. “What about Vaggie?”

He shook his head, expression filled with longing. “I wish. Vaggie is centuries upon centuries younger than me. You’re closer in age. Plus, she was an exorcist, she lived a different style than me and you did.”

You let out a soft noise, nodding. “I guess that makes sense.”

Lucifer gave you a look, something akin to admiration in his eyes as he grasped your hands softly. “(Name)...”

“Yeah?” You stuttered out, eyes slightly wide as he just gave you another longing look. 

“Even though you went through the horrible act of getting your wings ripped away from you... I’m glad you fell.”

You let out a laugh that sounded almost like a sob, eyes tearing up a bit. “I’m... I’m glad I fell too.” You shifted, before you reached over, pressing a light kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks gained an even redder hue, and he blinked slowly, trying to gain his bearings. “(Name),” He started, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve just... always wanted to do that.” You said lightly, pulling your hands away to gently press your fingers against the spot you kissed. Smiling, you let your hand fall, and lean back on your haunches, grinning. “So, what happened during the last extermination?”

Lucifer let out a quiet groan, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how expressive and over the top he was. “My little girl apparently got some sinners to help her? I think she said they were from Cannibal Town...”

You smiled. “I’ve walked past that town. It’s... interesting. They only eat dead bodies, thankfully.”

Grinning, Lucifer continued. “So this sinner demon, Algastor-”

“Alastor,” You interrupted, smirking at his purposeful mispronunciation of the Radio Demon’s name.

“ Algastor. ” He repeated, scowling with mock annoyance. “Began to fight Adam, or so I heard. Apparently Adam messed him up? And he retreated. The others told me that Adam was also acting really smug...”

You made a noise of disgust. “Ugh. I despise Adam, and he even had the audacity to date me...! Man, I broke off that relationship as soon as his true self began to show.”

Lucifer blinked. “You dated Adam?”

Wincing, you nodded. “Yeah, I decided, why not? He seemed nice enough to me anyway, and it was a spur of the moment decision anyways. But he was such a dick to me after a few months! Like, you can’t even last a year without your assholeness showing?”

The fallen angel laughed. “Well,” He said, in a cocky tone. “You’d be glad to hear that I defeated him! Even though that sinner named Niffty killed him.... I wanted to do that. ” 

You giggled at the last part. “Hope you’re better than Adam in a lot of ways. He was such a bad lover, I mean, can you even believe he had two wives?”

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I actually never went to bed with the man. He refused to go down on me, so I refused to do the same. We never copulated due to how selfish he was.”

Lucifer was silent for a bit, and you felt the energy around you two shift a little. “He never went down on you?” He asked, and you slowly shook your head.

You let out a quiet noise when Lucifer loomed over you, and like this, you can clearly see the desire in his eyes. “Do you want me to do so?” He asked, and you nodded quickly.

The room’s air swiftly became heated as he gave you a cocky grin, pulling your bottom layers off. “Since that asshole,” He started, pausing to kiss at your exposed abdomen and thighs. “Didn’t go down on you like a gentleman should-” Your breath hitched as Lucifer tugged your underwear from your cunt with his sharp teeth. “I’ll be doing it for him. If he was alive, he should thank me.”

Biting your lip, you trembled as Lucifer began to kiss right over your mound, his eyes on you as he did so. You let out a warbly moan when his tongue slithered out, forked like a snake’s, and licked the expanse of your lower stomach before pressing light kisses. 

Huffing, you gently pushed his head down, trying to get him to get on with it, and with a low chuckle, he gently lapped at your soaked cunt.

Once you moaned in pleasure, his gentle movements instantly gained more confidence, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. “You taste absolutely divine,” He growled, pressing two fingers against your wet slit.

“Fuck,” You panted, your hand instantly going to his hair as you squeezed your thighs together. “Ah- Lucifer!”

He smirked. “That’s right, say my name.” He spoke, voice low and sultry as he began to pump two fingers inside you, your arousal making an embarrassing squelch sound.

Crying out softly, you bucked your hips, huffing at the waves of pleasure rolling through you. Lucifer may be prideful, but he wouldn’t have so much pride if he didn’t know what he was doing, and fuck was he good at eating you out like his life depended on it.

You let out a shameful whine when he pulled away, only to yelp when instead of his fingers, it was his tongue reaching deep inside you, flickering at and then past your g-spot, and you couldn’t help the absolutely debauched moan that came out of you.

In a swift fashion, his fingers were rubbing circles on your clit, and you seized, thighs shaking against either side of his head as you felt the blood rush from your head to your clit, your orgasm causing you to cry out loudly.

“Awh... look at how well you took that.” You felt heat flood your cheeks as Lucifer praised you softly, his red eyes on you. “Are you ready for the main course?”

“Yes,” You managed to whisper, voice shaking. As he lifted himself fully from your thighs, you felt yourself blush even harder at the sight. His eyeshadow was smeared, and you had no doubt some of it was smeared on your thighs; his mouth was shiny with your slick, and he was licking his fingers, a smirk present on his face.

Lucifer gently maneuvered your body, spreading your legs wide as he began to strip slowly, taking in his reactions, and how sexy you looked underneath him, waiting to be ruined, waiting to experience sin.

“Fuck, Lucifer, just take it off!” You complained, gripping at his pants. He laughed softly, kissing you gently. 

Once he was full bare, he ripped your top off, causing you to squeak. Lucifer kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, pressing into you slowly.

Your breath hitched as your walls fluttered, eyes closing at the intrusion. “Wait,” You panted, trying to relax. “Give me a minute.”

The King of Hell stopped, running a hand through your hair as he kissed your nose. “Just tell me when I can continue, darling.”

Flushing at the nickname, you nodded, hooking your legs around his waist. “You can continue, Luci.” You whispered, face heating up as you used the nickname.

He blinked, before grinning, toothy and sharp. He began to roll his hips into yours, letting out a groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

“Shit,” You whimpered, biting at your thumb. “You’re so big- ah! Shit!”

Lucifer laughed, smug as he quickened his pace, strings of your arousal dripping onto the sheets and clinging onto his pelvic bone which each thrust. “Damn, you needed this, didn’t you, (Name)?” He moaned out.

You let out a soft laugh, freezing when Lucifer’s breath hitched. “Sorry,” You instantly apologized, eyeing him carefully. “Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t apologize, you... You just tightened up around me, that’s all.” He struggled to speak coherently, and you noted how he pulsed inside you.

Taking a deep breath, his pace began to wane from the even and deep thrusts to sloppier and faster thrusts. You couldn’t help the little moans and whines that left you from just how full you felt, the pressure in your gut increasing. It felt different, somehow, then your earlier orgasm.

Lucifer kissed you again, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly into his mouth, as you gushed over him, reflexively tightening around him again.

“You feel so fucking good, (Name). Better than I ever had.” He praised you, before sucking a dark mark right above your collarbone. “Shit, I’m about to cum, darling.”

You grasped either side of his face, kissing him deeply. “Cum inside me.” You whispered against his lips.

His face flushed a pretty shade of red as he came deep inside you, groaning as he rutted into you. Your breath hitched as your orgasm flowed, causing you to squirt all over him, soaking the sheets underneath your body. You let out a shuddering gasp as Lucifer rubbed your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

“Okay!” You yelped, gently pushing his hand away. “Sorry,” You whispered, shaking. “It began to get too much.”

Lucifer smiled, kissing you softly. “Don’t apologize. I understand.” Nuzzling close, he snapped his fingers, the wet spot underneath you disappearing. You felt slightly sticky and gross, but Lucifer was cuddling you, and he felt so warm. You just sighed, nuzzling closer to him.

The day after, Charlie pulled you off to the side, smiling at you gently. “Take care of my dad, okay?”

You furrow your brows, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

She bit her lip, messing with the end of her braid. “I mean, sometimes he gets into these really bad slumps! Like, it lasts for years sometimes. And... I don’t want that to happen again. You and him obviously got really close last night-”

“Sorry!” You intervened, flushing. “I didn’t realize you could probably hear it!”

Charlie laughed awkwardly. “Nevermind that! Just, take care of him, (Name).”

You smiled gently. “Alright.”

Charlie embraced you, laughing. “Thanks! And uh, maybe I’ll ask Alastor to make the rooms soundproof.” 

[theirnamesarekiklo]

Cold

Tired and damp, the sweet sweet girl could only hold herself

pairing: !Twin Sister! Reader x Sully Family

a/n: this is kinda like at the end of the movies where the whole battle takes place also this was not corrected at all I literally js pulled this out of my ass 😭 (LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LIKES I CANT BELIEVE THIS)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: a lil talk abt suicide, very faint injury desc

⋆★⋆★⋆

Deep pants all around, the only thing on their mind was that they were safe and together. But something deep and churning kept place in Lo’ak’s stomach.

The most common thing between twins in Na’vi culture was that they were more connected than most. They had this special bond that most siblings didn’t obtain. Ever since Lo’ak and his twin sister had been born under the same light, they could feel one-another. They felt each other’s losses, wins, and they especially felt eachother’s heart. So imagine how his heart dropped as soon as he felt alone.

So utterly alone and cold, he felt.

“Dad, where’s y/n?” and everyone’s breath hitched.

— ⋆⋆ —

Gasping for air, she had managed to drag herself on the rough rock, but she couldn’t care less now that she had bigger wounds to tend to. Wheezing out raspy breaths, her shaking hand rested softly on the edge of the blade, the same blade that had pierced her heart. The wound was the biggest one there, despite the bullet hole lodged into her skin.

She wasn’t sure how she felt exactly. Her legs were numb, one of them clearly in no condition to walk with, her face had been covered in dried gore that not even the water could wash off, and her arms were covered in several deep gashes, bruises, and burns. Swallowing the rising blood, she took one more deep breath before her hand gripped the knife, obviously not being enough as the removal was simply worse than the actual wound.

The gruesome scene was surely something, and she was sure that the other guy (who she hadn’t bothered to even learn the name of) had looked worse when she was done with him, but that didn’t stop her from meeting the same fate as he did.

Letting out a scream that truly screamed bloody murder, the girl could only sob and heave and clutch her torn skin that she was sure would get infected if she had even managed to get out of here. What would take her first? Dying of blood loss or dying of infection? Taking a peek at the sky, Her vision was already clouding over. Wincing as she tried getting just a tad bit comfortable on the rock, blood started pooling at the edges of her lips.

Was her older brother okay? She was sure the bullet only grazed him, she took the bullet for him before getting dragged back by the same guy she killed. Most importantly, was her twin brother okay? Was he breathing better than her? Did he carry the same feeling she did at this moment? At this moment, she could recall all the sweet memories she and him shared. They were born together, and she sure was hell glad they didn’t leave the same way, although she wished more than anything that they were right there with her.

Choking out a sob, the girl felt a chill of acceptance run through her. She wouldn’t make it out of this. Even though she was still young and hadn’t completed her Rite of Passage, she knew she was going to die. Curling up into a ball, she felt cold and as if all the thoughts in her head were simply vanishing, the only thing repeating itself were comforting nothings. Clutching at her chest, her slightly parted lips were releasing slow, tiny gasps. Taking one more look at the looming eclipse, she choked back a cry and whispered one last promise to ewya, leaving the world the same way she came into it.

— ⋆⋆ —

“No No No Y/N!”

As the wailing begun, Jake couldn’t help but want to simply shoot himself in the head right now.

Taking one look at her daughter once more, he turned around and crouched down. Taking some shaky gulps of air, he felt as if his world was suddenly closing in on himself. He’s been through this before, only he wasn’t experiencing it directly. Turning his head to take a look at Lo’ak, his heart broke into a million pieces right then and there.

Bringing her hand to his heart, his hands were already covered in her drying blood, trying to gain that silly warmth that everyone felt cover them if they had ever been around her. Whimpering tiny delusions to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sick joke or some type of revenge for all the wrong doings he’s caused in his life. Meeting the eyes of his father, he could tell this was taking somewhat of the same toll on him too.

Trying to let out a few words, only a squeak could be heard before he ran his hand over his face and his his face away from the rest of the grieving children. He had let her die cold and alone.

He had let the sweetest person he had possibly ever met, the one who could do no bad, die stuck in her head and fighting. He wasn’t there to comfort her, caress her face as a distraction from the pain, nothing. If only he had been there sooner, if only he hadn’t betrayed Miles, if only he decided to follow the rules. His babygirl was gone, and the only thing he could do was cower and cry into his hand.

Kiri, who was simply sobbing to herself, truly not even there at the moment, held spider’s hand so tight that he was sure she would break it, but he wasn’t paying attention to that as he shed a wave of tears himself. She was one of the first people to truly accept him into their family and made him feel as if he belonged. Tuk, that poor child, tried laying her head on her older sister’s chest, trying to find a heartbeat, something, to prove that she wasnt really gone forever.

Neytiri, at this point blubbering thing to herself, only calmed down as she took in the peaceful expression on her daughter’s features. She had always been calm, but sometimes the way shadows hit her face showed nothing but a mask. Her eyebrows were always a little tense, but now they rested easily. Her baby, My baby, she thought, was gone. Bringing her face closer to hers, she laid her other hand right onto her cheek. They’ve held each-other like this many times, and to believe that this would be the last was a punch to the gut.

Tsireya, who was weeping right next to Lo’ak, couldn’t help but remember how sweet she was. She had a heart for many, even her brother, who had gone to extreme measures to simply make sure that they hadn’t felt welcome. She recalled the funny and heartwarming, sometimes sad memories that her twin had shared with her, and that only brought more tears to her eyes.

— ⋆⋆ —

The clan was silent.

Both y/n’s ilu and ikran had gone wild, suddenly scurrying off but not without a tiny fight with a few of the men, trying to keep them stable.

Ao’nung, who had seen the whole thing go down, was sure of his reason as to why these things were happening, but he didn’t want to believe himself. He was cruel, desperate to relive himself of these feelings he felt around the doe-eyed girl. Now, as he stood there, rigid and hardly breathing, let out a gasp as he could see a group in the distance.

As people started whispering, they were cut short as his mother let out a tiny noise at the sight of them. Peeking around a shoulder, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. She was there, only not in the condition he hoped and prayed for. She was limp, pale, and completely rid of life as her father carried her in his arms, obviously not ready to accept the fact that she was dead.

Huffing out a “no”, he ran off, shoving people out of his way as his parents focused more on the sobbing daughter that was shown possibly the first heartbreak she had ever experienced. Her oldest brother didn’t know. How would he possibly react to the news that the girl he promised to protect since the moment she was born, was gone?

—…