#there is not one muscle left in my body that has an ounce of energy to write an essay about the constitution and american democracy

[aropride]

i have so much work to do and i am so exhausted

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)

summary:

the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

wc: 4k.

tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.

you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince. 

you fail. 

your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.

you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.

you bare your teeth.

“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”

careful. 

plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.

“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”

an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.

the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.

“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”

pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.

“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”

“how would you know?”

“dreams.”

the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are. 

one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.

“dreams?”

the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.

“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.” 

“ah, lady jessica.” 

keep her name out of your mouth. 

he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.

(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.) 

nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.

“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”

bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered. 

“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”

now that catches his attention.

“go on.”

careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.

“he’s recognized me in the arena."

the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.

you fought well, atreides.

behind your back, your nails dig into your palms. 

“he’ll ruin you.”

“is that so?”

skepticism. amusement.

“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”

silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you. 

your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.

you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.

“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”

oh, right on a silver platter.

your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.

“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”

a beat.

he’s smiling.

“you’ll be of use, atreides.” 

a wave of his hand.

the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.

there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death. 

shit.

your vision is darkening in the corners.

“i ought to drown you in that tub.”

feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.

the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating. 

“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”

a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you. 

one step, two, until he’s facing you. 

he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms. 

he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust. 

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-

you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul. 

“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”

you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.

“what about rabban?”

“he has failed to protect the spice production.”

paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.  

“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”

you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.

“how?”

“use me.”

they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.

“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”

“a weapon, huh?”

feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.

the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.

“will you side with us, atreides?” 

you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.

“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”

the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.

“this must not leave this room.”

feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.

bodies fall. 

carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek. 

the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.

you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there. 

he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake. 

“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.” 

his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth. 

your breath stutters.

oh.

“catch me, feyd.”

you fall. 

.

.

.

fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib. 

lead them to paradise.

you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.

you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.

warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one. 

desert sands slips from your fingers.

you just want your family back. 

**

feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.

who would possibly dare to cross him? 

warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.

it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion. 

the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here. 

he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat. 

he cannot let you die. 

he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition. 

you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back. 

he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch. 

there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back. 

he almost wanted you to do it.

(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)

he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that? 

his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.

retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.

then why is he so soft around you?

you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back. 

his steps slow. 

there’s something.

you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.

you will not perceive me as i am.

he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar. 

a bene gesserit trick.

“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”

a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch. 

he remains silent. 

“what will you do with lady atreides?”

his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:

“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”

he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him. 

plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.

“it was.”

**

none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-

you rise in your bed - information flashes.

a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing. 

feyd rautha.

you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.

his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.

“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”

a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.

“will you have me, my wife?”

you blink.

“we’re not-”

his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm. 

“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”

generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.

you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.

“have me, feyd-rautha.”

he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh. 

his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.

you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.

his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs. 

you scream.

his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.

your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket. 

closer.

he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet. 

your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter. 

you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.

“feyd-”

he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.

“more,” you beg.

“where?”

you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt. 

you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.

he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until- 

until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.

something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.

he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood. 

it’s all too much.

the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer. 

his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire. 

you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you. 

his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.

he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.

“will you have me?”

“yes.”

as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.

him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.

“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”

you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.

his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.

his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours. 

your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.

you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.

that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.

“mine,” you mutter.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[mm-lurking]

Why do you care? - Blade

Perhaps you should have thought twice before deciding to take on a powerful enemy at night or perhaps you shouldn’t have, if it means you get a certain someone to care about you.

I wrote this at 11 pm sleep deprived and out of my mind for like many nights straight please forgive me in advance for the grammar etc English is like my 4th language thank you WC: 3440 words Warnings: none just angst, fluff, some description of blood and wounds and me being a simp —

Your blade clashes with the Antimatter Legion creature’s weapon continuously leaving no room for you to think or even plan an escape. With each strike you find yourself feeling weaker and wobbly, as if the enemy were quite literally taking your strength away. The large wound on your back stings and burns and you can feel blood dripping down your ripped shirt, soaking into your pants and splattering on the floor. If it weren’t for the stupid enemy ambushing you and leaving you with a slash on your back, you would have already beaten the crap out of it and gone home for a good night’s sleep.

But no, here you were struggling even to cause reasonable damage that allowed you to deliver the final blow or at least escape. Your movements were getting more fast-paced and aggressive out of frustration which caught the enemy off guard. When will this end?!? With one last ounce of energy you had left in you, you gritted your teeth and struck the creature in the chest, delivering a reasonable blow and causing it to retreat.

“Ha…huff…”

The adrenaline from the fight started to wear out and it didn’t take long before you fell on your hands and knees, clutching your shirt and trying to breathe. You did not have the energy to sit upright, let alone walk back to your residence. Unfortunately for you, the loss of blood caught on quickly. Before you could even formulate a plan your body gave way and you went crashing on the stone pavement head first, with the wound on your back feeling more uncomfortable as the cold winds of the night caressed your back. That’s all you remembered before everything turned black.

- How tardy, Blade tsked as he leaned against the front wall of your residence, waiting impatiently by the door. He had checked the time thrice already in the past ten minutes. As requested by Kafka, you were supposed to meet him at your residence to discuss some business. Why the hell did Kafka choose me for this? he thought to himself, what a waste of my time to associate with someone like her. Yet, despite his annoyance he still waited and waited until his frustration got the better of him.

Glaring at your front door, he walked off. He would let Kafka know later that you weren’t there for whatever reason and ask her to stop sending him to you every time. For some reason no matter how many times he told Kafka he didn’t want to see you, she would still find a way to send him to you. Was it because of some sort of mutual agreement between you and Kafka? Who knows. He didn’t care and nor did he want to. He just wanted to be left alone.

The path he took back home required him to cross the very street you were unconscious on. Of course, he didn’t know that. Blade was walking at his usual pace when he spotted a figure in the distance in the middle of the street, one that looked awfully similar to yours. He tsked again and shook his head. I must be seeing things. Yet as he continued walking, this lingering feeling he had about you continued to pester him and fully manifested when he approached the figure and realised-

“…!”

-it was you. His eyes widened momentarily and his breath hitched as he examined your state, trying to make sense of what had happened to you. There was blood everywhere around you; pools of it that were semi-dried and half-fresh. Your hair was all over the place with most of it soaked in blood from your injuries. And that gash on your back; the way your flesh was practically visible all the way down to the innermost layers of your muscle, the bruises that had started to form around your wound, the scratches and marks on your hands and arms, all of it, every single inch of your injury caused unfamiliar emotions to stir in his heart. It made his blood boil stronger and stronger. In a split second, he knelt by your side, uncaring how your blood soaked into his pants or how he was dirtying his clothes from the pavement dirt.

He gently flipped you over and the sight of your pale face made his heart drop for a moment. There was no sign of life on your face, you looked concerningly peaceful and your forehead had bruised from crashing into the pavement. If it weren't for more fresh blood gushing down his fingers from holding your back, he would have thought he lost you. Blade was no stranger to injuries and wounds. Blood and bruises were a normal day occurrence to him, they were his companion through this cursed immortal life of his. Yet, when it came to you, seeing you in such a state scared him, an emotion he seldom felt. He didn’t care if he was the one to get hurt but if it was you, he couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stand it.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he carefully put his arms behind your knees and neck to avoid touching your back before picking you up and walking hastily to the hideout the Stelleron hunters were residing in. Was he a wanted criminal? Yes, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was you and your well-being. The door opened with a loud bang and he walked in holding your limp body, his eyes searching everywhere to find a suitable location to tend to your injuries.

“Bladie there you are. How was-”

Kafka stopped talking mid-speech as she noticed Blade and the distressed condition he was in. She stared at the familiar body he was holding and remained speechless before running off to get medical supplies they had lying around for Blade’s mara-struck symptoms. He quickly laid you on your side in his lap and proceeded to build a makeshift bed using blankets and pillows so he could finally tend to your injuries. Kafka returned with supplies in her hands, still confused and flabbergasted at what had occurred and why Blade cared in the first place.

“What happened to her?”

“...”

He said nothing and immediately started to perform first-aid, first gently pushing the torn shirt off your back and brushing your hair aside. Despite his hands being gloved and bandaged, he felt tingles in his fingers as he grazed your skin. Destruction was what he was skilled at yet the way he handled you was gentle and soft, afraid that he would hurt you, as if you were made out of porcelain. He worked skillfully and swiftly on your gash, cleaning and stitching it all up to the best of his abilities before turning to the smaller injuries you had on your arms. By the time he was done with just your back, the moon shone at the highest point of the sky, indicating how long it had taken for him.

But he didn’t care as he looked out the window and then back at you. The moonlight basked your figure in a gentle glow and he found his heart oddly skipping a beat as he stared. Your weak breathing was enough to console him, enough to let him know you were at least alive. Subconsciously he found himself reaching out to caress your cheek, softly tracing over your skin as he watched you for a moment. What was it about you that he couldn’t get enough of? Why was he so persistent in pushing you away while simultaneously wanting your company? Why did he-

“I will call one of her friends over tomorrow to take her to the nearest infirmary.”

Kafka voiced out breaking his line of thoughts. He quickly retracted his fingers and cleared his throat as he worked on your forehead bruise. The woman chuckled and shook her head, smiling slightly. Was this all part of Elio’s plan? Who knows.

“She should be awake in the morning.”

He stated calmly but the burning gaze in his eyes betrayed him. Judging by the severity of your wounds, he wasn’t even sure if you would make it out the night. Kafka said nothing and silence fell once again.

“You should rest Bladie.”

“No need.”

“I can look after her.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The woman smiled once again and shook her head.

“Alright if you say so. If you need me I will be in the other room. Silverwolf has brought back some interesting information for me to sift through.”

She waved her hand around and left the room leaving Blade alone with you. As he finished putting the last bandage on you, he pulled you closer on his lap, gently placing an arm on your waist to keep you from slipping before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

The image of you lying in your own blood flashed through his head again and his eyebrows furrowed. What if he had never come to save you? What if he had left through some other street and never saw you? The idea of him not seeing you alive again tomorrow, the idea of you no longer coming to meet with Kafka, the idea of you no longer looking in his direction…all of it caused a pang in his heart. It was a strange sensation that he didn’t understand and a feeling he couldn’t quite fathom. The grip on your waist tightened as opened his eyes to look at you. You looked so peaceful and content, almost like you hadn’t been gravely injured at all, like you hadn’t nearly bled to death.

As much as he wanted to remain in this position and watch over you, he had to get medicine for your injuries. He reluctantly placed you on the makeshift bed and placed pillows around to prop you up before getting up to go find some.

—

A wave of sharp pain surges through your body prompting your consciousness to start awakening. The pain combined with your tired body creates an uncomfortable feeling in you and with each ripple of pain, you find yourself awakening slowly but surely, like a diver trying to reach the water’s surface to break out. 

“Hngh…”

A groan slips out from your mouth as you slowly open your eyes. As you adjust to your surroundings in confusion, the pain of your back wound comes back in full effect causing you to cry out loud. It burns, stings and aches all at once and the threshold is way beyond your bearable pain level. You try to move around but no position eases your suffering and so ultimately you try to sit upright, struggling as tears run down your face. Footsteps quickly approach you and before you can wrap your head around who it is, the figure hurriedly sits down with a bottle in his hand, concern written all over his face as he tries to get you to lie down.

“Bl-blade?”

You say through your tears, choking as you struggle to breathe. You refuse to lay down and uncomfortably shuffle around trying to even get an ounce of relief. Your mind is blurry and confused as you attempt to recall what had happened and what is currently going on.

“You’re hurt.”

He watches as you stare at him through the tears in your eyes and something about that causes those unfamiliar emotions from earlier to stir in his heart again. You shake your head groaning and seething in pain as you attempt to talk.

“Why are you- what-“

“Drink.”

He doesn’t give you an answer and instead supports your neck with one hand as he brings the bottle closer to your face with his other one. You scrunch your face and move away which causes him to frown.

“Foolish. You’re injured. Drink it unless you want to continue withering in pain.”

His voice is sharp and low which causes you to flinch and agree to his request. He brings the bottle up to your lips and you look at him as you take sips. To his surprise, you don’t hesitate to drink down the bitter herbal medicine and finish it in one go. The concoction seems to take immediate effect and you sigh from having temporary relief.

You look back at the man who's holding you up. The tears on your cheeks have dried and you notice he’s still looking at you. There is no emotion on his face yet somehow you can tell he’s concerned and watching out for anything that might happen.

“Blade…why…why do you care?”

There is a small smile on your weary face as you speak. You’re delirious, he notes, seeing how your eyes keep shutting close and how your body seems unable to support itself up. He doesn’t reply to you as usual and stares at you silently.

“I know you hate me…you don’t even like being around me, I know you hate meeting me, if it weren’t for Kafka you wouldn’t even look in my direction…”

You close your eyes and look down as you feel the tears starting to form and run down your face again. At this rate you weren’t sure what was hurting more, the gash on your back or the pain in your heart. You were spilling everything that had been on your mind since the beginning of it all when you first started falling for him. On a normal day, you would never speak your thoughts out like this but nothing about today was normal, was it? What you don’t notice is the tiny frown that has formed on Blade’s face as you speak. You draw a shaky breath as you continue.

“Why did you save me…? You should have left me alone…at least that way you would never see me again and that would make you happy I know-“

“I suggest you shut it.”

You look up as he cuts you off. There is a strange expression on his face consisting of annoyance and anger. He grits his teeth as he holds himself back from saying more. But you being you, you shake your head and continue, the tears now splattering on the blankets lying on the floor as your emotions come out in full force.

“Where are we? Is Kafka here...? I can let her know that she no longer needs to send you to meet me…I’m sure she will understand-“

“I said shut it.”

His voice drops down an octave and you feel fear creep up your spine. Afraid, you drop your head again but you can guess that his crimson eyes are probably aflame right now based on your previous observations. Do you listen? No.

“You don’t have to do this…if Kafka is making you do this you can go now it’s ok-“

“Have you always been this insufferable?!”

The sharpness in his voice and the tightening grip on your neck make you flinch in fear. He quickly lets go when he realises he’s hurting you and exhales. You remain staring at the ground, afraid to look up at his face. Unfortunately, before you can reply to him, the gash on your back starts to hurt again and you tremble, frowning as the pain sharpens.

“What’s wrong?”

There is a hint of panic in his voice as you squirm. Your knuckles turn white from the way you hold onto the blanket and your arms feel weak. Everything turns hazy again and nausea kicks in. A dull throb starts to pound in your head causing a groan to slip from your mouth.

“Y/N.”

He calls your name out as he gently lifts your chin. His frown deepens seeing the pain all over your face. Beads of cold sweat form on the side of your forehead and he notices you’re struggling to breathe again.

“It hurts Blade…it hurts…”

You say softly as your eyes blur again. The endless tears you have shed today in front of him shatter his heart. With each tear that streams down your face, he finds himself in agony, wishing it was him that was hurting instead, wishing that the pain you were dealing with were his to bear. But no, there is nothing he can do except watch you wither from your wounds. He reaches out to cup your face, slowly wiping the tears away with one hand while the other supports your shoulder. You shiver a little from the contact nevertheless welcome it. His touch is unfamiliar yet so soothing on your bare skin.

“Did the medicine wear off?”

You slowly nod yes and he sighs. Your injuries are severe after all, no wonder the concoction didn’t last long. It is a miracle that you are still breathing and conscious after such an event. He looks behind you at the faint glimmers of moonlight. Judging by the dimming rays, it should be dawn soon, he notes.

“Bear it for a little longer, Kafka will have a friend of yours escort you to a nearby infirmary soon.”

To his surprise, you shake your head and lean into the palm of his hand. He freezes momentarily but doesn’t push you away.

“I..remain with me..a little longer..please..?”

Your voice is shaky and barely audible as you make your request. Your puffy eyes flutter close preventing you from seeing how his expression softens a bit and the small smile that forms on his face. He gently pushes you towards him, causing you to lean into his body. You don’t deny the silent invitation and rest your head in the crook of his neck, a tiny smile forming on your face as you inhale his sweet metallic scent. His heartbeat is irregular and louder than usual from how your breath tickles his neck but you are too lightheaded to notice. His hand now rests at the base of your head while the other one lies loosely on your waist, gently caressing you in an attempt to ease your pain. You still squirm and twitch every now and then but it does not bother him, for right now all he cares about making you feel as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t hate you.”

He mutters under his breath. You’re barely conscious so he can say whatever he wants right? Not that you will really remember any of this.

“Hate…is not a word I would use on you.”

He glances at you. Your back rises and falls slowly from your breathing. He takes a look at your injured back once again and clenches his jaw. The bandages he had wrapped around you were starting to become bloody again.

“You perplex me. Yet your outlandish behaviour is so amusing. I cannot stay away from you.”

The fingers around your waist tighten as his grip becomes more firm. You shudder a bit at his action but say nothing. Not that you are in your right mind anyway, everything he says feels like a fever dream, a faraway voice talking to you.

“I prefer having you around. Your company delights me.”

He continues on as he strokes the back of your neck and you hum in content. You fit so perfectly against the palm of his hands and the crook of his neck, almost as if you were meant to be his. Meant to be his companion.

“You asked why I care…I care because I want you around.”

He leans into your head making sure to avoid the bruise on your forehead. Your hair tickles his face and the faint scent of your shampoo pleasantly occupies his senses. You’ve managed to fall asleep now from the low rumbling of his voice and the warmth his body radiates. A quiet chuckle leaves his lips as he realises this and the unyielding grip he has on you doubles.

“If you were to get hurt again…”

He murmurs inaudibly as he gazes in the distance. No, he would never allow you to be hurt again. He wouldn’t let such an opportunity arise in the first place. And if some lowly fool even dared to lay their hands on you…they would be a dead man walking. Once you got better and your wounds healed completely, he would make sure to protect you from any harm to the best of his abilities. But for now…

He looks at you again, his eyes burning with concern and a tinge of malevolence. No one could take you away from him. When the time was right and he was certain, he would make you his. For now, you resting contently in his arms, breathing softly in the safety of his protection should suffice. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[skiiyoomin]

Hey I just saw that your requests are open and the haikyuu brainrot is hitting me once more. Could I request some content energetic bbs Noya, Bokuto, and Hinata (separate) and the reader taking care of them when all that energy finally runs out and they crash? I'm in desperate need of fluff lmao

yes ma´am 🫡 some fluffy energetic bbys brainrot coming right up

am i procrastinating my exams to do this? yes, yes i am

warnings: nothing, just tooth rotting fluff

RULES !! DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK PLEASE

⤑Back to navigation

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Taking care of them when they run out of energy

Nishinoya Yuu

Noya is like a literal babyyy. He loves loves lovesss when you pamper him and baby him. Especially during those moments where all he needs is a little silence and your comfort cause he doesn´t have one single ounce of energy left. He loves crashing down on the sofa, his head on your lap and your fingers through his ginger hair.

"Long day?"

Your soft honey like voice drifts to his ears, and all he can manage to respond is a small low hum.

He feels like he absolutely won in life when you not only move away to prepare a warm bath for him, but you also slip inside the tub behind him and wrap your arms around his torso. He melts like puddy when your soft hands begin to massage his scalp while you make sure the shampoo reaches his roots, and in his mind, he questions if that was what heaven felt like.

You had to coax him into getting out of the tub after a long while passed, your skin pruned and the bath no longer as warm. Though honestly, Noya could´ve stayed like that forever, however, the image of you cuddled up under the safety and warmth of the bedsheets sounded far more tempting. So, with groggy movements, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He may be small, but he was not light, and in his dazed like state, he didn´t seem to remember as he all but plops down right on top of you. Were it any other day, you would´ve shoved him off, but the way his eyelids fluttered close and his lips seemed to be in a permanent pout were too cute. So, adjusting your position so you could at least breathe, you run your hand up and down his back, your other playing with his soft locks. And just like that, he was out like a light.

Bokuto Koutarou

You knew the second you started dating Bokuto, that you´d be in for a rollercoaster of emotions. You had become accostumed to his wide range of emtions that seemed to appear at the most sudden times. Nevertheless, there were days where his energy seemed to be on a constant low. He moved in slow sluggish motions and not a single thought seemed to pass through his mind.

You found out that one of his favorite things that you do at times like this is giving him a looong massage. His body would be flopped face down on the comfort of your bed while you oiled up his bare back. He´d expressed to you many times that he was convinced your hands were made by the very gods, because when they slowly massaged the tense muscled of his back, he felt like he was on cloud 9.

You´d make your way up until you reached his broad shoulders and neck. Small muffled groans would be heard from him every once in a while, but he´d mostly remain uncharacteristically quiet.

If he didn´t pass out from your massage, because trust me, he has passed out many times before, then you´d watch a random movie while he nuzzled into your warm body. His soft breaths tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and his buff arms wrapped around your body, like a bear engulfing you in a hug.

Every once in a while you´d press your soft lips to his forehead, or you´d run your fingers through his bicolored strands. And I can assure you that with a couple more sweet kisses, he´d be out like a light, his soft snores filling the silence of the room.

"I love you"

You whisper, pressing one last kiss to the crown of his head before you too, fall into deep slumber with your big baby in your arms.

Hinata Shoyo

If there´s one thing Shoyo loves more than anything in this world, it´s your cooking. And there´s nothing like your homemade food on a day where he can´t give his fullest.

He had spent the entire day jumping around, his energy at it´s peak. But the more it had dragged on the more he wished he could speed off back home and rest in your loving arms.

He was sprawled across the couch, his tired half lidded eyes boring into whatever was playing on the TV, he couldn´t even process anything. He feels the couch dip beside him, and when he turns his head, he finds you with a bowl of your homemade ramen in your hands. The steam wafted into the air and to his nostrils. He could already taste it in his toungue, making his stomach rumble.

However, he´s slightly surprised when you move the bowl away when he tries to reach out for it.

"Let me take care of you"

Is all you mutter. That´s how he finds himself curled up on the couch while you feed him the ramen, making sure to blow on the food each time you picked up a portion of it.

His heart fluttered when you pampered him this way. Or when you put away the bowl after he eats it all up and when you pepper slow kisses around his entire face. They werent rushed or overwhelming like they normally were. No, these were precise, like you were deliberately making sure to kiss every inch of his skin.

During these times, he absolutely needs to be the little spoon. He likes the feeling of being taken care of. The way your arms would wrap around his torso, your warm breath tickling the nape of his neck and making his spine shudder ever so slightly.

It´s in these moments where, as he´s drifting off to sleep with, he really feels an overwhelming sense of love and adoration for you

[chazzielynx]

Milo and Sweetheart Angst Time

Ever since the Sweetheart-heals-Milo-after-his-hike audio, I can't stop thinking about the possible angst that their new healing skills can lead to.

(I apologise if this has been done before)

Something happens, Milo gets heavily insured, and I mean heavily, Sweetheart has already been using some of their magic on whatever did that to him but now they're running over to him.

CW: blood, injuries, character(s) near death, implied death? (meant as an open end)

"Oh god Milo, no, no, no, no."

Their usually so feisty shifter is lying in front of them with his hands on his side as they kneel down next to him. The smell of blood is everywhere. Milo's eyes are vaguely open but his mouth curls into a pain-twisted smile when he sees his mate's face above him.

"There's my sweetheart." He barely manages to get the words out.

"shhhh, Milo, don't speak" Sweetheart's adrenaline kicks into gear as they gently put their hands on his. Their core is already reaching out to his warmth when Milo coughs, small specks of blood landing on his cheeks.

"Sweetheart, no." There's pain in his voice. They can't make out whether it's because of his wounds or because he's worrying about them. "It's too much." He whines as he feels his mate's magic trying to pull his muscles back together. "Too deep - your magic - can't-"

He is trying with all that is left in him to tell them that their powers have limits. That his wounds need more. He doesn't even think about the oh so obvious fact that his partner has no intention of giving up. No intention of only using their powers in a reasonable way. No intention of letting him bleed. And absolutely no intention of staying alive if it meant that he died.

They close their eyes, knowing that their next move will hurt him more before the pain is gone. They move his almost lifeless hands away from the deep wound, blood already flowing as they press their hands on it.

Milo cries out in pain. Black fog overpowering every thought in his mind. His eyes are shut, his body uses the last energy it has left to impulsively jerk his upper body up before falling back onto the ground, making him whine from the impact.

But then he can feel it. The warmth that he is so familiar with. The warmth he reaches out for when he bridges with his mate. It travels from muscle to muscle, cut to cut, bruise to bruise. Like a wave of sunlight.

His brain is barely able to comprehend what is happening, covered in the haze that healing magic leaves behind.

Warm. So warm. Feels good. Are they bridging with me? What is- oh that feels good. Less pain. Can feel my legs again.

The cause of this warmth is panting now. They are pouring all that is in them into their partner, their love, their mate.

They are already kneeling, but their knees, their upper body and their arms are losing their strength rapidly, barely able to hold themselves up now.

They can feel it. Their core is not just dying, it is rotting from the inside. A black hole growing where their powers used to be.

"I love you" they whisper. "So much."

With one last grunt, one last push, one last attempt to save him, they move every ounce of magic they have left into his skin. Their vision blurrs as they collapse next to the shifter.

A few seconds pass. Both of them panting. But Milo's breath gets deeper and more steady. His partner's gets quieter.

Milo's eyes snap open when his mind finally catches up with the situation. He is still on his back, so the face that he saw before is now gone from his vision.

"Sweetheart?!" He sits up, looking to his left and only then to his right where he sees them. He gasps, his hands reaching for his partner on the ground. Their eyes closed, mouth slightly open, barely breathing.

If they didn't look so fragile, he would shake them. "Sweetheart!!" he doesn't even notice his own voice shaking with held back tears.

"no no no no no, NO" now the shifter is trying to reach out to them with his magic. But the healing magic haze is still strong. His powers barely starting to recover. And truthfully, his mother might have taught him how to heal, but this is no case for basic healing magic anymore.

Still, the desperation overpowers every reasonable thought he has. He tries to reach their core. But he almost throws up when all he finds is a strange, rotten feeling.

The tears are streaming down his face. His cries for help reaching far, yet no one is able to hear them.

A shifter holding onto a stealth. One heartbeat quickening from fear. One slowing down more and more.

His forever gave their warmth to him and is now getting cold.

[tavyliasin]

Web of Lust - Short Fic

AO3 Link Here Anyone want Haarlep/Raphael/Kar'niss? Well you're in luck because someone else requested it as a drabble so here's a short for you~ CW - Bondage, Spider/Drider, implied but not malicious manipulation

I tried to post the whole thing here but I got errors...not as short as I thought, then. Oh and if anyone wants more? I'll add it to my main fic request list. ---- Web of Lust ----

The incubus grinned, they hadn’t imagined this outcome when Raphael had brought in a mortally wounded Drider a week ago. “Heal him.” He had commanded, his servants carrying the almost motionless body of the former drow into his bedchamber. “If he can be restored, a contract can be made. A most useful agreement for a servant as loyal as this one. But only if he lives.” He left almost immediately, Haarlep still sat on the edge of the bed watching the servants manhandle the huge man into the healing waters. They let out a long suffering sigh and stood up, flexing their wings and tail with obvious irritation as they stalked across the room. “Leave him.” They shooed away the servants, who scurried to get out of their reach as quickly as they could. The drider’s lower body was in the water, but their torso was collapsed on the floor over the edge of the bath, back barely moving with the effort to breathe. Haarlep stooped down and turned them over gently, gazing upon the strange face. White hair in messy strands clung to the sweat and blood on his grey-tinted skin. “Strange…” They mused, as they got to work swiftly, cleaning down the well-defined muscles, soothing deep wounds with powerful balms, tending to them with a level of care most would not expect from the incubus. But an order was an order, and they could sense their own plans beginning to form. Eventually, the myriad of eyelids began to twitch, lips barely moving. Remembering a little of drow culture, Haarlep changed their body to mimic the Archduchess’s feminine form. “Drink.” The incubus commanded, holding the open potion bottle to his lips, carefully tilting it until he had consumed it all. “Good, now your name.” “Ka-” He licked dry lips, finding his voice again. “Kar’niss.” He rasped, with effort. “Where am I?” “It is your lucky day, Sweet Spider, you have found yourself in the very heart of Hope.” They grinned at their own humour, helping the drider’s upper body to straighten as they sat beside him. “And I,” they stretched their wings to look more grandiose, “am Haarlep. Or as far as you are concerned, your new mistress.” “A mistress? Then I have a home? A purpose?” Dark eyes widened, partially in fear that this was all some dread illusion about to be cruelly torn away, just like the voice in his mind that had disappeared when the tadpole succumbed to the death that should have claimed him just before he was brought back from the brink. “Oh I have many a purpose for you, if you swear your full devotion to me, right here, and right now.” They leaned closer, holding his cheek tenderly yet firmly. “Can you do that, my Sweet Spider? Will you swear yourself to me, the one who has saved your miserable life and restored your beautiful body?” Kar’niss’s mouth moved in an attempt to talk, but truthfully he was left almost speechless by the effortless seduction, the quiet power in the voice of the “woman” in front of him. “Come now, you can do better than that. You’re so close.” They leaned in close next to his ear. “Swear it to me, Kar’niss, that you are mine.” “I…am yours, mistress. Body and soul, I am yours to command. You have taken my worthless life into your loving hands, you may do with it as you wish.” The drider used every last ounce of his strength to speak, to declare fealty, before he slumped forwards into Haarlep’s arms. The incubus stroked his back softly, soothing the unconscious man. “You did well, now rest. You will need your energy.” --- Continued on AO3 ---

[catbreedstips]

Can Cats Eat Onions? 9 All Facts You Must Know

 Can cats safely eat onions?

No, it's not okay for cats to eat onions. Onions have chemicals in them that can hurt a cat's red blood cells and cause anemia and other health problems. Even a small amount of onion can be dangerous for cats to eat. It's best not to give your cat onions or foods with onions in them.

Why are onions bad for cats?

Onions are bad for cats because they have chemicals in them called N-propyl disulfide and thiosulphate, which can hurt their red blood cells if they eat them. This can cause a condition called hemolytic anemia, which can make you feel tired, weak, and have pale gums.

It can even be fatal in the worst cases. Keep garlic, onions, and other allium plants like shallots and garlic away from cats so they don't eat them by accident.

If a cat eats onions, what will happen?

If a cat eats onions, it can hurt their red blood cells, which can lead to hemolytic anemia. If a cat eats too many onions, it can get sick and have symptoms like vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, pale gums, and even collapse. How bad the cat's symptoms are will depend on how many onions the cat ate. If you think your cat has eaten onions, you should call a vet right away so they can give your cat the right treatment.

What should I do if my cat ate some onions?

If you think your cat ate onions, you should call your vet right away. Onions can be poisonous to cats and cause serious health problems like anemia, stomach upset, and damage to organs.

Your vet will be able to tell you what the best course of action is for your cat, which may include making it throw up, giving it medicine, or doing something else. If you think your cat has eaten onions, you should go to the vet as soon as possible.

How much onion makes cats sick?

Onions are bad for cats because they have chemicals in them that can hurt their red blood cells and cause them to get anemia. How much onion a cat can eat before it gets sick depends on things like the cat's size, age, and health. But a cat can get sick from as little as 5 grams (0.2 ounces) of onion per kilogram (2.2 pounds) of body weight.

Because of this, it's best not to give your cat any onion or foods with onion in them. If you think your cat has eaten onions or foods with onions in them, you should call your vet right away for help.

What happens when cats eat onions?

When cats eat too many onions, it can make them sick to their stomachs (vomiting and diarrhea), sleepy, lose their appetite, have pale gums, and have trouble breathing. The destruction of red blood cells can also cause anemia, urine that looks different, and jaundice, which is when the skin and whites of the eyes turn yellow.

If your cat has eaten onions or is showing any of these signs, you should take it to the vet right away. If left untreated, onion poisoning can be serious and even life-threatening.

What can I do so my cat doesn't eat onions?

As a member of the Allium family, onions, garlic, chives, and leeks can be harmful to cats. To stop your cat from eating onions, keep all food with onions out of reach and make sure your cat can't get to any ingredients or scraps that have onions in them.

Before giving your cat any human food or treats, you should also read the labels carefully to make sure they don't have onions in them. If you think your cat has eaten onions, you should call your vet right away.

Other foods cats shouldn't eat?

Yes, cats can get sick from a number of other foods. Some of the most common ones are:

Onions and garlic have chemicals in them that can hurt a cat's red blood cells and cause anemia.

Chocolate has theobromine in it, which can make cats throw up, have diarrhea, shake, have seizures, or even die.

Grapes and raisins can make a cat's kidneys fail.

Caffeine is found in coffee, tea, and energy drinks. It can cause restlessness, fast breathing, heart palpitations, muscle tremors, and even death.

Alcohol: Even a small amount of alcohol is bad for cats. It can make them throw up, have diarrhea, have trouble breathing, or even go into a coma or die.

It's important to keep these foods out of your cat's reach, and you should call your vet right away if you think your cat has eaten any of them.

How about onions? Can kittens eat them?

Onions are poisonous to cats, so you should never feed them onions. Even small amounts can cause health problems like anemia.

Summary:

Onions are poisonous to cats, so you should never feed them onions.

FAQ: Questions People Ask Most Often

Are people foods safe for cats?

Cooked meat, fish, and eggs, as well as small amounts of fruits and vegetables like bananas, blueberries, and carrots, are safe for cats to eat.

But you shouldn't feed your cat foods that are bad for them, like onions, garlic, chocolate, avocado, and grapes or raisins. Also, some human foods might not have the right balance of nutrients for cats, so it's best to talk to a vet before adding new foods to their diet.

What vegetables can cats eat without getting sick?

Yes, cats can eat some vegetables without getting sick. Some examples are asparagus that has been cooked, broccoli that has been steamed, carrots, green beans, and sweet potatoes. But it's important to remember that cats must eat meat and that most of the protein in their diet should come from meat. Also, adding a new food to a cat's diet should be done slowly and in small amounts, since sudden changes in diet can cause stomach problems.

What else can I give my cat besides onions?

Onions are poisonous to cats and can cause serious anemia, so you should never give them to your cat. Instead, you can give your cat a balanced diet of high-quality commercial cat food that meets their nutritional needs.

You can also give your cat cooked, lean meats like chicken or fish in small amounts as a treat. Garlic, chocolate, grapes, and raisins are all bad for cats, so you should never give them those. If you are worried about what your cat is eating, talk to your vet to get specific advice.

What Kinds of Fruit Can Cats Eat?

Some fruits, like sliced apples, bananas, blueberries, and cantaloupe, are good sources of vitamins and fiber that cats can safely eat in small amounts. But it's important to remember that cats are "obligate carnivores," which means that meat is the main part of their diet. Because of this, fruits shouldn't be a big part of their diet.

Also, cats shouldn't eat grapes or raisins because they can be poisonous to them. Before giving your cat any new foods, it's best to talk to a vet first.

[lowlyroach]

313) Would you think that’d be really sexy?

Y’know

Out of the few who found out about

This situation

How it unfolded

What happened

Or the extent of it

There was only one person who

Told me he would’ve done the same

To grip you with both hands

To never let that love fade or leave

Without doing every damn thing possible

The rest called me awful

Said I was a bad person

Or that I did an awful thing

But one person understood

“Love like that is rare, I’ve only found it one time. I would’ve done the same.”

I don’t regret it.

This is it.

Once I DIE, it’s darkness.

Curtains closed.

TIME IS COMING FOR US ALL.

THE YEARS PASS AND WE HAVE SUCH LITTLE LEFT, ALWAYS

WE KNOW NOT WHEN THE END IS

ONLY THAT IT IS CERTAIN

THE REAPER IS WAITING FOR US

FOR THE VERY MOMENT WE ARE TO DIE

AND NOT ONE MOMENT LATER

I will DIE

There is no eulogy

There is a pocket where I was

That will be filled with what consumes me

With wherever my energy goes

The atoms of this body will decompose

I will DIE

I want to grab onto you with both hands

I have ONE LIFE

WE have ONE LIFE

EVERYONE WILL DIE

This IS IT

I want to spend it with YOU

I WILL DIE

I WILL DIE

I WILL DIE

WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME

NOT DOING EVERYTHING I COULD

I do not want to look back and think

“I let that feeling slip through my apathetic fingers”

My regrets piled to fucking Pluto and back

Raving like some lost lunatic

No

I care so fucking much about you.

This is it.

Curtains.

I will claw tooth and nail to hold you

Until my body has not a cell left to fight

Fuck off.

Everyone else can fuck off.

This is it.

I want to hold onto this feeling

I do not CARE about perceptions

If I did something wrong, LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT IT

FEEL HER TOUCH AND SHAKE IN FEAR

THAT YOU WILL NEVER FEEL IT AGAIN

THAT YOU WILL NEVER MELT BENEATH SMALL AND DELICATE FINGER TIPS

FEEL POWERLESS FROM SUCH HANDS

REDUCED TO PUDDLES OF WANT AND LOVE

NOTHING BUT PURE LOVE AND GREAT ECSTACY

THAT YOU AND HER ARE THE ONLY TWO THAT MATTER

THE ONLY TWO BEINGS IN THIS WORLD

YOU AND HER ARE GOD, HERE

HAVE YOU NOT FOUND THIS BEFORE?

YOU WOULD LET THIS SLIP AWAY WITHOUT EFFORT?

I care about YOU

YOU ARE THE CATALYST

YOU AND ALL THAT YOU ARE

EVERY WORD I’VE WRIT OF YOU

I WILL BE A GRAVE

A SKELETON

A CORPSE

DECEASED

SOONER OR LATER

CAR CRASH

ELECTRICAL ACCIDENT

SLIPPING IN THE SHOWER

FALLING OVER DRUNK

HOUSE FIRE

CANCER

SUICIDE

OLD AGE

DISEASE

OVERDOSE

I WILL DIE

I WILL DIE

So why the fuck would I waste time

Not spending it with you at any chance I could

Why the ever-living ever-loving fuck

Would I care about what they think

Why would I stop trying

Stop listening to your voice

See your smile

Your laughter

Your eyes

GODS! YOUR EYES!

Holding your hips!

Your hand in the seam of my pants

YOUR HANDS! HOLDING YOUR HANDS!

GODS! GODS! GODS!

THERE IS NO GREATER FEELING THAN YOU!

YOU ARE AN INFINITY!

YOUR EXISTENCE IS UNRIVALED!

LOOK AT THE CLOCK TICKING!

THERE IS NOT ENOUGH LEFT!

SO GRIP ME WITH YOUR SMOLDERING EMBRACE!

COUNT THE SECONDS!

DEATH is coming!

Mortality

As much as I would love to live

I will DIE!

I will not have done nothing

You shouldn't either

I want to hold onto this with grit and fury

With all of the tenacity I can muster

Every single fucking ounce of strength in this-

STUPID

DELUSIONAL

MORTAL

WEAK

APE FRAME

I AM JUST SOME GREAT APE!

I want to hold onto this

Until you tell me to leave

FOREVER!

UNTIL YOU TELL ME TO LEAVE FOREVER!

UNTIL YOU TELL ME YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH

ENOUGH OF MY LOVE

MY PASSION

UNTIL YOU TIRE OF THIS

OF ME

I will spend every moment you let me with you

Whenever you let me

Whenever you want to

I want to hold onto this sensation

With enough passion to burn the sun

With every cell in my body screaming

With the force to lift a mountain

To hurl Mercury into Neptune

As if to stop a speeding freight train

God, I wish I could stop a fucking freight train

That’d be pretty cool, right?

Would you think that’d be really sexy?

I could do it, probably.

I have muscles, y’know.

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[darthkruge]

Hello! Could you do an Anakin x reader where the reader is jealous of Padmé so goes on a walk through the night, and leaves a little trinket of hers so Ani doesn’t worry. She runs into a bounty hunter and Ani senses her danger through the force and saves her? Thanks 🥰

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Jealousy and Rescues

Summary: Jedi!Reader gets themself in some trouble after going on a walk during the night and Anakin comes to their aid

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, torture (knives), blood, kidnapping, ends w/ fluff I promise

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Yess!! I loved writing this so much and I’m sorry it took me longer than I expected to get out. I think I went a bit angstier than your request implied but that’s where my brain was at today slfksjd! I am also rushing to post this so if there are some grammatical errors whoops

gif credit

After a few threats to the Senate, your boyfriend was assigned as Padme’s bodyguard. You knew, rationally, their relationship was strictly professional. He’d never be disloyal towards you and you did trust him. There was nothing for you to worry about. Or, at least, that’s what you repeatedly told yourself as you saw them walking and laughing together. 

Being in a secret relationship is difficult, you wouldn’t deny. Especially when your boyfriend was one of the most attractive and charming men in the entire galaxy. You would see people flirt with him constantly and there was nothing you could do without jeopardizing both of your careers as Jedi. 

You played with the necklace he had given you when you spent your first Life Day together all those years ago. Your home planet on one side, Coruscant on the other, symbolizing your past and your future -- your future with Anakin. It always calmed you; it was something you could hold and feel in public, a reminder of the realness of your hidden romance. 

You let out a sigh, dropping the pendant as you tried to shake off the unease you felt as you watched them interact. It mostly worked, too. When you remembered all Anakin had done for you, the intense moments of happiness and love you’d shared, you never felt more secure. But for some reason, as you saw Anakin lean down so Padme could whisper something in his ear, that anxious and guilty warmth ran through your veins.

You hated feeling jealous. It didn’t matter that you logically knew you had nothing to fear, the emotion remained. It embarrassed you, making you feel childish and small. It made you want to crawl out of your skin and hide away, yet simultaneously run up to Anakin and beg him for reassurance. It made you hate Padme, a woman so kind you cursed yourself for feeling that way. It made your mind run wild, conconting torturous scenarios that made your insecurities flair. 

Even though it brought you pain to watch, you had to expend great energy to tear your eyes away from them. You returned to your apartment, waiting for Anakin’s shift to be over. All you wanted was some time alone with him, to hear him tell you how much he loved you, to feel his arms around you and lips against yours. To hear him gently laugh as he picks up on your jealousy and mumble reassurances into your ear. You awaited his beautiful words that would evidently overtake your thoughts and leave you feeling secure and peaceful. 

Letting your brain run for a while, you felt yourself unconsciously picking at your fingernails and playing with your hair, doing anything to keep yourself busy. You jumped as C3PO entered your room, too lost in thought to register anyone’s presence. 

“I apologize Master L/N, but Master Skywalker instructed me to inform you that he will be working late this evening.”

You felt your heart start to pound as your eyes grew heavy with tears. “Threepio, what do you mean? Did he tell you why?”

“Senator Padme has to go to a special dinner this evening to meet with the leaders of some other planets and he must accompany her.”

“Oh.”

C3PO walked closer to you. “Are you alright, Master L/N? Should I call for Master Anakin?”

You shook your head, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.” You said, trying to keep your voice as even and happy as you possibly could. 

The droid exited your apartment as you walked onto the balcony, the cold air hitting your cheeks and quelling the hot embarrassment that flowed through you. There is nothing to worry about, you rationalized. These dinners are formalities, Padme goes to them all the time! And Anakin is just her bodyguard, he would never cheat on you! 

Even as you thought the words, you felt frustratingly unconvinced. You decided to go for a walk, the silence in the apartment that your boyfriend was supposed to be back at driving you mad. Even so, you didn’t want him to worry on the off chance he returned home before you. Sighing, you slid the necklace off and placed it on the nightstand, quickly scribbling a note that read “on a walk, be home soon.”

You pulled your Jedi robes closer around you as you walked the Coruscant streets. You had no particular destination in mind, nor did you know how long you intended to be gone for. You let your body drive you, walking around as if in a haze while using all your energy to expel the thoughts from your mind. You made random turns, walking in various directions until you felt yourself calm. 

You looked up and to your left and smiled as you saw your apartment. Anakin. You smiled to yourself and shook your head at your foolishness. You didn’t know why you’d gotten so worked up over his and Padme’s relationship; at the end of the day, he would always return home. 

 Perhaps this was why you weren’t paying attention. Or maybe it was the way you were focussed on  Anakin’s force signature, honing in on him and letting the rest of the world fade away. It could have been your exhaustion, emotionally drained for the day. Whatever the reason, you were unprepared when a dark figure jumped out of the shadows and stunned you. All you knew was that one minute you were on your way home to him and the next you were surrounded by darkness as the ground quickly caught up to you.

Anakin rushed out of dinner, feeling quite guilty for leaving you alone all day. He hated working late, especially during the few times you and him were both on Coruscant. Frequently, your missions kept you apart and, thus, the days where you were home together were sacred. He reached out to you, surprised to not feel your force signature in the apartment. 

He opened the door and was met with a darkness and stillness that immediately set him off. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it just yet. He looked around and came upon your note and necklace and relief flowed through him. However, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. The words in your note felt clipped and cold and he knew you must not have been happy to hear he was running late. 

He walked to the balcony, trying to see you but quickly realizing the futility of the plan. He paced in the apartment, reaching out farther with the Force. Although he hadn’t completely found you, Anakin’s blood ran cold as he sensed with overwhelming clarity that you were in danger. You wouldn’t have lied to him about your whereabouts so he knew you were on foot and, thus, couldn’t have gone too far. All he hoped was that he found you quickly and wasn't too late. 

You groaned, already knowing what had happened. The Council already briefed the Jedi that there was an uptick in bounty hunters throughout the galaxy, specifically those targeting the Jedi order. You couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to walk around, unnattentive, through alleyways, at night. The bounty hunter came into your cell and pulled off her mask. Her features were sharp, her face hardened. You looked into her eyes and were met with a predatory gaze. 

“What are you going to do with me?” You almost didn’t want her to answer. 

The woman simply laughed. “Kill you, of course. But why not have a little fun first? I bet you’d look so nice begging for mercy.”

“I’ll die before I beg for anything from you.” You spat.

“I’m sure I can accommodate both of those things, sweetheart.” With that, she grabbed a knife and plunged it into your foot, anchoring it to the floor. 

You bit your lip, tasting blood as you tried not to scream. You clenched your fists, your hands shackled above your head. Your foot felt hot, the crimson blood running down its sides. Just as the pain began to numb, the woman pulled out another blade and slowly cut the bottom of your other foot. 

You screwed your eyes shut, desperately trying not to give in. She laughed at your feeble attempts before bringing the knife down. The force she used pierced through both muscle and bone and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out an involuntary cry.

Your brain was a muddled mess, tears leaking down your face as you willed your pained whimpers to die in your throat. She cut through your pants and into your thighs. With each line she carved, you felt more and more helpless. She made her incisions deep and languidly, as if pulling every ounce of blood from your body. You tried to squirm away from the blade but the twisting movements made the knives dig even deeper into your feet. 

You tried to reach for Anakin, for some reminder that there was peace waiting for you if you could only hold out through this. You faintly felt his force signature. He’s still out there. He’ll come for me, I know he will.

“Ready to beg yet, Jedi?” She cooed, the tip of her knife under your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. 

Your gaze hardened as you thought of him. She would never take you from him, nothing could tear you and Anakin apart. Your determination remained. She’s not going to break me.

“Never.” Even as the tears ran down your cheeks, even as you felt your grip on the world weakening, you’d never meant a word more than that. 

“We’ll see about that.”

You cried out as her knife cut across your cheek. The sharp sting from the newer and shallower cuts  combined with the throbbing ache in your legs and feet. The sensation and blood loss made you dizzy. Even so, you forced yourself to remain conscious. You’d get through this, you had to. 

Anakin drove his speeder through Coruscant, following a combination of his instincts and the Force to track you down. Every minute, he felt your fear and pain intensify through your Force bond and he grew more and more desperate. By now, he knew you must have been taken by a bounty hunter, there was no other explanation. However, he was occasionally met with a spark of determination and defiance.

He smiled. Whoever had you might be causing you pain, but you definitely weren’t an easy capture. Pride filled him as he thought of your strength. You’d get through this, you had to. Hang on, Y/N, just a little while longer.

The bounty hunter had left the room a few minutes ago, probably frustrated of waiting for you to give in. She’d moved onto cutting through your shirt, your stomach and chest now littered with deep, red, lines. It hurt to breathe, every movement tugging at one of the gashes and causing more blood to ooze out. You were honestly surprised there was still blood left in you to give, as your head felt light and body heavy.

You were so weak, so dizzy that you couldn’t support your own weight anymore, even sitting down. Your head hung down, lolling unimpressively as your neck refused to cooperate. Your mind was swimming and you were delirious, half-convinced you were already dead. 

“Y/N!” 

You used all your energy to lift your head, meeting a pair of beautiful blue eyes that you would recognize anywhere. 

“Anakin,” You breathed out. “Anakin please, help me.” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He knelt down beside you and you looked at him, immeasurable relief coursing through you. 

He put his hand gently to your cheek, careful to avoid your cuts. “Hold on, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

“Hold on.” The whisper of Anakin’s voice remained in the air as his figure melted away. You screamed in agony, despair clutching at your soul. You desperately looked around, willing the hallucination back to you. Even if it was a cruel trick your fatigued, weak, blood-loss ridden mind created, you wanted him back. 

“Please, Anakin, please come back to me!” You cried. You sobbed, the pain of losing him in any form impossible for you to bear. 

You begged and begged and begged, trying to will him back to you. You screamed and thrashed until your hands wore raw against your restraints, until your cuts had reopened, until your throat was sore and your eyes burned from crying. 

You whimpered out one final plea before your eyes fluttered shut, the fight completely drained from your soul.

Anakin’s heart pounded. He could feel you slipping away, your determination slowly fizzing out. He couldn’t blame you; these bounty hunters were notorious for their torture, for leaving their victims as broken shells before they were killed. He forced the image out of his mind, refusing to think of you in that position. 

Finally, he made it to an abandoned building on the edge of Coruscant. The Force had guided him here and he felt you strongly, or as strongly as he could given your broken state. He jumped out of the speeder and saw a woman twirling a knife, leaning against a wall. 

Igniting the lightsaber, he walked up to her.

“Anakin, I presume?” 

He froze but quickly regained his composure, eyeing her and trying to figure out what her motives were. 

“Don’t fret, young Jedi. They were just calling for you. Quite pathetic if you ask me.”

“If you hurt them I swear-”

The bounty hunter’s lips curled into a bone chilling smile, giving Anakin all the answers he needed. He swung his lightsaber, deflecting her blaster shots with ease. She pulled out two knives and threw one at his middle, making Anakin jump to the side to escape the blade. 

Anakin twirled the saber, once again trying to get traction. She was quick, swinging herself up onto the room of the building by flipping backwards from the balcony. He, however, was quicker. Anakin jumped up gracefully, continuing to spin his weapon and stalk her in this intense, choreographed dance they were engaged in. 

The woman sent her other knife flying at Anakin’s neck and he used his trained reflexes to catch the hilt right before it cut through his skin. Now, it was his turn to smile. He watched as her expression faltered, paying attention to her footing to sense her next move. He followed her, catching up quickly before running the blade through her, barely waiting for her body to drop before bounding off the roof and into the building to find you.

His breath caught as he took you in. Your unconscious body was limp and blood was seeping out of you. He grimaced, seeing the blades running through your feet. As much as he didn’t want you to lose more blood, he needed to remove the knives in order to carry you out of here. Your flesh squelched as he pulled the blade out as evenly as he could and a low whimper escaped your throat. 

“Y/N, Y/N can you hear me?”

“No, no, no, no, no, please, not again!”

“Angel it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Anakin said, moving to meet your eyes.

“You’re not- this isn’t- no!” You tried to pull yourself away from him, unable to watch this hallucination falter. 

“Y/N, please, let me help you. I need to get you out of here before you lose any more blood.”

“This isn’t real!” You screamed. “Please, stop, this isn’t real! You’re not here, you’re not here, you’re gone, I’m gone, it’s not-” You continued to spew unintelligible words, tears already bubbling up in your throat. 

Anakin caught on to what was happening. “Angel, look at me. I promise I’m here. I’m real, okay? Please believe me.”

“I can’t!” You sobbed. “I can’t let myself hope again!”

“Y/N, okay, okay. Remember that necklace I gave you? It had your home on one side and ours on the other. You left it for me, a token to prove that you were safe when you went for a walk. I think you were angry with me; I was working late because I was guarding Padme, remember? It’s me, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Despite yourself, you believed him. “Ani.” You said softly, tears coming to your eyes as you allowed yourself to have faith that you would be alright. 

“Yes, my love, it’s Anakin. I need you to be still for me, okay? It’s going to hurt but I need to get us home.”

You nodded, cries escaping you as he pulled the second knife from your foot. Your vision went white, the pain profound. Anakin gently hushed you, hand smoothing down your thigh to comfort you as he worked. He went to your restraints next, releasing your hands and watching as they fell heavily. He caught your body as it wrenched forward, making you gasp as the cuts on your chest came in contact with him.

Anakin apologized quickly, pulling off his robe and wrapping it around your body, your cut clothing offering almost no protection from the cold, nighttime air. He also wanted to help you as your body was clearly going into shock from the trauma.

Anakin placed you in his lap, holding you to him with one hand and driving with the other. For anyone less talented at riding a speeder it would have been precarious. You weakly wrapped your arms around him, too, as best as you could. 

You were in and out of consciousness the whole way back, barely registering how Anakin pulled you up and into his arms, the sway of his walking faster and more desperate than usual. He went into medbay, placing you gingerly on a bed and calling over a medical droid to determine the extent of your injuries.

Noting how empty it was, Anakin took the risk and held your hand. He knew it was dangerous, the fear of getting caught weighing constantly on both your minds. But after he almost lost you, nothing else mattered. 

The droids informed him that you had lost a severe amount of blood, but the cuts themself should heal with time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized you would be fine. Anakin begged them to let him take you back to your room, saying that the trauma from the torture would only grow worse if you woke up in an unknown environment. 

They allowed, so long as he made sure you were supervised and rested for at least the next week. He agreed hurriedly before scooping you back up. You groaned at the movement and he whispered a quick apology, trying to get you into your bed as soon as possible. 

He set you down, resting your back against the pillows just as you liked. You were all bandaged up and looked so fragile in your current state, a far cry from what he was used to. He hated it. You were such a skilled Jedi, he sometimes forgot that you were vulnerable, too, and this reality check was immensely painful. 

He watched over you as you slept, refusing to move for hours. Finally, your eyes opened and  you  looked at him blearily. 

“Hi.” You croaked out. 

Anakin’s eyes snapped up to yours, gently laughing from the relief of hearing your voice and its gravelly tone. He floated the cup of water by your nightstand to your mouth while using his other hand to brace your neck, coaxing you into a sitting position so you could easily swallow the liquid.

You hummed your thanks as he slowly set you against the pillows. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, I should have told the Council I couldn’t do the extra meeting and just come home.”

“No, Anakin, it was your job, I shouldn’t have been upset. I was just jealous, I guess. I saw you and Padme together and,” You trailed off. It felt so unbelievably stupid now. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

Anakin’s eyes were understanding. “It’s okay, my love. But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. The only reason I was with Padme for dinner was because the Council assigned me to. No one could make me willingly skip dinner or anything else with you.”

“I know” You said sheepishly.

“I love you, angel. No one even comes close. I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“I love you too, Ani.” 

He carefully connected his lips with yours, hyper aware of your injuries and not wanting to cause you  any more pain than you’ve already been through. 

“Lie with me?”

Anakin nods as you scoot over. He climbs into bed and allows you to situate yourself. You eventually find a position that doesn’t put strain on your cuts and bruises and you smile, leaning your head against his chest. He gingerly puts his flesh hand around your back, looking at you to see if it’s okay. You nod reassuringly and Anakin lets his arm rest there, fingers gently running through your hair.

“I was so scared, Anakin. I thought I’d never see you again.” You say, breaking the silence.

He looks at you, silently encouraging you to go on, if you so wanted.

“I hallucinated you, you know? I thought you’d come for me. But you told me to hold on and then you disappeared.” Your voice was barely a whisper at the end, tears leaking onto his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” Those words were all he could give. He spoke them with such meaning and love that you melted. None of this was his fault.

“I love you.” You replied, your words carrying the same intensity as his. 

Anakin brought his metal arm around, too, to further hold you to him. 

“You’re never going to lose me, okay? I will always come for you, I will always protect you. With everything I am, I will always love you.” 

“I know.” Your voice was loving and soft, exhaustion once again pulling at you.

He kissed the top of your head. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll need a lot of it.”

“Hmm?” You questioned tiredly

“They assigned you to at least a week of complete rest.”

“What?!”

“Shhhh, go to sleep, angel.” Anakin chuckled. 

You huffed but nuzzled closer to him. You were too drained to fight it and too happy to finally be back in his arms. Nothing could ruin the moment.

----

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[allthingsarmin]

fratboy/stoner armin!! in love with how you write asshole! armin ❤

Thank you for your request! I feel I didn’t do a good job with this one, so I will probably go back later and rewrite it. (And I really appreciate your feedback <3 I hope this dose of asshole!armin will satisfy your needs haha)~

MINORS DNI! Ft. NSFW TOPICS (weed, one mention of vomit, and sex (groping, drunk noncon), mentions of religion, one mention of sexaul assault).

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who dresses like a gentleman - wearing white shorts and a white button-up collared shirt under a cerulean sweater that compliments his mesmerizing blue eyes as well as a dainty silver watch on his left wrist and always comes to class with a freshly shaven face and cologne that is just a little too “manly” for him - but acts like a complete hooligan, making inappropriate jokes in class, pranking innocent passersby on campus, and getting black-out drunk at frat parties every Friday night.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who looks so poised and has such a refined posture, having enough manners (like holding the door open) to swoon enough girls but is such a menace when it comes to anything serious… like being harshly shushed in the library because he was being too loud or skipping finals to go on a spontaneous road trip with his frat buddies then sending an email to his professor saying he was sick, even printing out a fake doctor’s note, or pranking the sorority across the street by TPing their house or even how he can’t seem to care less when the police ruthlessly question him because there have been so many reports of sexual assault done by his frat friends.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who thinks he is so smart because he’s a business major and genuinely believes he is better than everyone else because he gets out of class to go to all these events even though he is undoubtedly one of the most irresponsible and reckless people on campus… having unprotected sex with countless unfortunate women who have fallen for his false compliments, throwing parties that become too big for him to handle - so loud the police become involved, so messy with red cups littering the floor and vomit being found in every trashcan in the house - and failing nearly every class he’s in because “it’s too easy for me, my advisor put me in the wrong class, and the teacher is an old hag.”

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin whose backpack is filled with anything but college textbooks and notebooks, like a chewed pencil, three packs of condoms, some headphones, and an energy drink.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who swears he’s being a good boy when his rich parents who are on their abroad trip ask him how he’s doing over the phone but is actually spending most of his weekly allowance buying weed and smoking it with his frat buddies, who often gets into intense fights with them because he “knows he had two ounces left, but now he only has one,” and who shows up to class high the few times he does actually decide to go - eyes red, a constant small smirk, can’t stop rambling about useless things.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who walks together with his big group of frat friends, taking up large amounts of room on the sidewalk and in restaurants, cat-calling girls they think look fuckable and loudly mocking those who look prude.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who has a main Instagram where he looks so well-mannered, posting pictures with his family or his frat buddies when they go on a trip together but also has a secret Instagram where he posts thirst traps, follows barely clothed women, and stalks accounts of girls who go the same college as him, even DMing the men at your college to see if they have your nudes.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who knows how handsome he is, who knows how easy it is to make your knees weak and your heart flutter when he looks at you from across the campus soccer field with such intent, biting his lip, maliciously smiling because yet another girl has fallen for his seemingly innocent aura as you excitedly wave at him.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who revels in the fact that he can convince you to do anything. When he’s whining so pathetically in the driver’s seat and pressuring you to just hit the blunt one time while he locks you in his car that’s parked on the far end of the campus parking lot. And you, so submissive and selfless sitting in the passenger seat, not wanting to disappoint him because his frown harshly tugs at your heart, take a hit, choking on the fumes and heart pounding at the unfamiliarity as a warm buzz sets in.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who pressures you to skip class with him so that you both can go to the campus cafeteria and buy an unholy amount of cookies and chips because he’s high and he’s hungry… and now you know why his bedsheets at the frat house reek of weed and why his crusty floor is littered with food wrappers.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who so easily persuaded you to play those type of sexually suggestive games at the weekend frat party where everyone is drunk, breath seething with vodka, and sweatily rubbing up against each other, so horny for a release, and so desperate to feel something besides the headache from the loud music… who you somehow wind up in the closet with, his right arm holding you close against his body as his left hand slithers into your panties and forces itself into your cunt because he wanted you to play ‘seven minutes in heaven.’

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who promises that there’s nothing to be afraid of because he’s ‘secretly a sweetheart’ but calls you his “bitch” and pats his thigh, signaling that he wants you to come sit in his lap so that he can feel you up in front of his friends at the frat party when drinking cheap, shitty beer.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who swears he won’t bite but gets you so drunk at parties that you can’t even tell him no when he takes you upstairs, locks the door, and practically forces his hard, throbbing cock into you while holding you into a mating press, covering your mouth to suppress your cries as his tongue trails your jawline and neck.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who prays before every dinner, keeps a bible in the lowest drawer of his nightstand, and goes to church promptly at 10am every Sunday with his frat buddies despite being hungover. Sitting in the front pews, he listens intently to the preacher, letting the word of God spill into his heart even though he was rigorously fisting his cock the night before to your pictures on Instagram, cumming four times but his balls still swollen and cock still desperate for your messy cunt, having to hold back his needy whimpers each time his slender fingers brisk past his sensitive tip as he imagines your warm, wet tongue licking off the pre-cum.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who invites you to a Sunday lunch with his frat. Of course, he looks so polished: a clean, white button-up with a baby blue sweater hanging around his shoulders and a pair of new Sperrys. When you show him what you’re wearing, he tells you that you could do better as he convinces you to wear something a little low-cut but not too much because he doesn’t want his frat buddies to think he’s dating a slut.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin whose friends look at you like starving dogs when you both finally get to the restaurant, never including you in the conversation except for when they comment on your body and how irresistible it is.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who doesn’t defend you and instead soaks up all of this appraisal.

“Yeah, she’s a good toy to play with,” he proudly smiles while gripping your thigh in his strong, pale hands.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who makes you order a small salad and only allows you to drink water because “you need to watch your figure.”

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who’s the perfect predator, the perfect manipulator. He can do whatever he wants without ever getting caught, howling at the fact that you try to tell advisors or teachers how Armin violated and manipulated you, but they just never believe you. “You’re talking about Armin? Armin Arlert? He would never do anything like that,” they chuckle… because everyone knows Armin’s an angel; he’s part of the frat, so that makes him a good boy, right?

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who you can’t possibly ever escape from because he’s done such a good job at manipulating you to be his little slutty girlfriend, his heaven-like appearance making it impossible for others to believe what a devil he is, isolating you as he convinced all of your friends that you’re just some cock-hungry whore.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who has done such a good job at defiling you, successfully taking your virginity and eagerly pressuring you to do things for him, letting him so easily enter your sloppy cunt as he takes in the sight of your tender breasts, contorted face, and bright red hand imprints on your thighs.

ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who despite all the manipulation and sexist comments, you don’t want to leave because he smells so sweet thanks to all the treats he eats; because his arm muscles look so good when he plays golf with his rude friends; because he makes your high from weed more fun as you two cuddle and talk about nonsense; because he is able to bury your shy side and awaken your submissive side as he slowly degrades the human being in you and raises a filthy slut whose pussy he makes so wet, so needy, and so pathetically sloppy.

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 1

Hey Guys!

This is the first chapter of a mini Elriel fanfiction that I'm working on. You can also read it on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 1,847

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony has long since been over, but Elain couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. No, Elain had too much restless energy to even attempt to fall asleep tonight, and instead of tossing and turning in her bed all night, she decided she may as well be useful and start to clean up. It took only ten minutes of laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, before silently walking downstairs to the ballroom. Nuala and Cerridwen offered to help her, and Elain knew that they wouldn’t have minded staying up all night to clean with her, but she really just wanted to be alone. So, the twins like everyone else went to bed, and Elain stayed in the ballroom of Feyre and Rhysand’s River House putting herself to use.

There was something about being alone in the middle of the night that just seemed right to Elain, when everyone else was sleeping, she didn’t have to worry about putting on a face for everyone to see. She didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face while her heart was cracking in her chest. It was a test of her resolve today, Elain thought, as she pretended, yet again, that everything was alright. It took everything in Elain, every ounce of will power and restraint, to not break down and cry in the middle of the ballroom as she saw a familiar rose necklace around somebody else's neck.

Elain wanted to cry, scream, and cry some more whenever she looked at Gwyn, or Azriel, or even Mor. Especially Mor, when Elain saw her dancing and smiling with Azriel. It just felt so wrong. It should be Elain wearing his necklace, and it should be Elain in his arms as they spun around the room completely oblivious to everyone else.

After seeing Gwyn wearing her necklace, Elain immediately turned to leave the room because all she wanted was to be alone with her feelings and not worry about someone seeing through her fake smile, but as soon as she turned she caught a glimpse of the sun and a shadow dancing across the floor.

Elain had never seen Mor and Azriel dance together, and she never wanted to, especially when watching them smile at each other ruined whatever was left of her heart. They looked so incredibly beautiful together, and Azriel was smiling down at Mor with a warmth Elain hadn’t seen since the last solstice when she made him laugh. And Mor was smiling up at Azriel with an ease Elain had never noticed between them.

Confusion danced in her chest with every other emotion she was feeling.

Elain was only forced out of her staring from a heavy arm that fell across her shoulders. She blinked and a drunk Cassian appeared in front of her face, a stupid grin strectched across his face that was the result of unadulterated love and copious amounts of wine.

“Dance with me!” Cassian pulled her onto the dance floor, snapping her out of her imminent depression and into a crowded dance floor.

Elain let out a sign and continued sweeping the surprisingly messy floor. It seemed like most of the cake she and the twins had baked for the party ended up on the marble floor somehow, but she supposed that drunken fae couldn’t be expected to be tidy. The full moon illuminated most of the room, but there were still some faelights along the wall that added just enough light for her work. After sweeping, and picking up a surprising amount of glasses from the floor, Elain collected the bouquets from the tables.

It took her months to craft five bouquets for the ceremony, one for Nesta, and four for the women standing beside her. The core of Nesta’s bouquet were red carnations, pink roses, with bursting dahlias. Every bouquet held pink acacia’s - the flower of friendship. Feyre’s bouquet consisted of blooming magnolia’s and eye-catching violets. Her own was made from magnolias, nightshade, and a sprinkle of periwinkles. Emorie’s held vibrant hyacinths with white jasmine, and Gwyn’s bouquet was crafted from lavender, morning glories, oleanders. All the flowers were grown and cultivated by Elain herself, and she felt a shimmer of pride as she looked upon them.

Elain was getting ready to move the bouquets and their vases from the ballroom into the dining room, thinking they would look nice in a room where her family spends most of their time, when a familiar shiver floated down her spine. She didn’t look up as she said, “Hello, Azriel.” She knew he would reveal himself to her.

“It’s late. You should be sleeping.” His deep voice blended in with the night, causing her knees to weaken slightly and her eyelids to relax. What she wouldn’t give to fall asleep with that voice whispering in her ear while his fingers slid against her skin. What she wouldn’t give to stay awake all night with his voice in her ears and his fingers on her skin. Elain lost count of how many times she lost herself in thought as she tried to imagine what his lips would feel like against her throat.

“So should you,” Elain said, turning her body slightly to see him walk further into the room from where he leaned against the doorway. “I thought everyone was asleep. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Do you normally spend your nights cleaning up after drunken fae?” Azriel asked as he approached her. He stood maybe two feet away, but Elain could still feel the warmth radiating off his body. Another shiver made its way down her spine. Her skin felt so sensitive in his presence that it was hard to focus on anything besides him.

“Normally just Cassian,” Elain attempted to joke. Her chest felt slightly lighter as she noticed the twitch of his lips. It was a mistake looking at his lips. Her tongue brushed against her own that suddenly felt dry. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Azriel nodded. No words, no explanation, no attempt at conversation.

“You’re a lovely dancer.” Elain said, unable to stop herself, but she wanted him to know that she noticed him. She wanted him to know that she wished it was her in his arms dancing in front of everyone else.

“Thank you. You didn’t dance much at all.” Azriel noted and Elain felt the warmth of a blush on cheeks.

She gave a small shrug and said, “I was only asked by Cass, Rhys, and Lucien.”

Rhys was the first to offer her a dance, and she loved her brother-in-law too much to say no. Rhys was a lovely dancer, and she fought to keep a smile on her face under his prying eyes. Her dance with Cassian involved mostly her propping him up so that he didn’t collapse on the floor. Her dance was Lucien was non-existent.

“Why didn’t you dance with him?” Azriel asked softly. If it wasn’t the dead of night she wouldn’t have heard it.

“I don’t want to give him false hope,” Elain said, taking a fortifying breath before she continued, “It’s wretched to think you have a chance, a connection, to someone when you don’t.” She prayed to the Mother that Azriel didn’t notice her shaky breath, her racing heart, or how it took all of her bravery to say that.

In the soft glow of the faelights Elain saw a flinch run across Azriels face. It took him a moment longer than usual to school his features into their usual mask, but he couldn’t hide the pain that shimmered in his eyes.

The similarities weren’t lost on Elain. How this night resembled that of the solstice. Azriel and Elain being the only two people awake in the house. Her mate sleeping upstairs. The same crackling excitement rushing through her. The hope that maybe she would finally feel the brush of his lips against hers, and she wouldn’t have to speculate about what he tasted like anymore.

“Elain.” Azriel said her name as if it pained him.

“Why did you do it?” She whispered hotly. “Why did you give my necklace away? Why did you dance with Mor and look at her as if she were the only female in the room?” Before her bravery completely ran out she took a step forward, grabbed his hand, and placed it against her heart. “Did you feel this break tonight?”

His hand was hot against the thin cotton of her nightgown. She could just barely feel the traces of his scars. Elain wished there was nothing between them.

“Because it did,” Elain continued. “It broke every time I looked at you. It broke when I saw the necklace, and it broke when I saw how beautiful you and Mor looked.”

“Elain,” Azriel said, his voice harsh, his hand pressed further into her as if he too wished there was no nightgown separating them. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Elain stared at his churning hazel eyes. She couldn’t help the lonesome tear that slid down her face. She was about to wipe it away when he beat her to it. His large, warm, wonderful hand brushed away her tear before cupping her cheek. Despite the pain that was growing in her chest, she would feel it all again if it meant his skin on hers. She would withstand any pain if it kept them together. “Make me understand.”

“I want to kiss you,” Azriel said. Elain felt each word as it brushed against her face. “I want to rip this nightgown from your body, lay you on the table, spread your legs open and feast until I’m drunk off the taste of you. I want to slide into you until I’m the only thing on your mind, and then I want to bring you so much pleasure you’ll never want to be away from me. And once you found your pleasure, I’d take you upstairs and do it all again. If I ever got a hold on myself I would make love to you the way you deserve.”

Elain, loving the warmth and wetness that flooded her core, felt as if she was about to combust. One tiny spark and she would erupt into flame.

“And why can’t we do that?” Elain asked quietly, as if she were afraid of ruining the moment. As if she were afraid he would slip away from her yet again.

“Rhy’s pulled rank on me.” Azriel replied. The only sign of tension was the muscle that contracted in his jaw. Elain ignored the urge to run her tongue over it.

“Huh?” Elains brain was too hazed with desire to form a proper sentence.

“He forbid it.” Azriel replied, tilting his head forward slightly, and brushing his nose against hers. The breath that floated across her face threatened to knock her over.

“Forbid what?” Elain managed to get out - too absorbed in him to think clearly.

“Us.”

Elain didn’t have time to think about what Azriel said as his lips descended on hers.

[bimswritings]

Savage Opress x Reader

Request: Open

Warnings:Yandere Themes, canon-typical violence

Summary: On their conquest of the universe, Savage finds himself drawn to one of the newest captives in their spread of power.

A/n: The next chapter of ‘This is our way’ is up on my Ao3. It will be posted here after I finish and upload my current Armorer x reader fic.

__________________________________________________

Your planet wasn’t anything special. Located out in the outer rim, it was little more than a moon compared to its neighbors. Its land was barren and cold, an almost ever present frost covering the ground.

Yet you and your people had made it your home, learning how to grow a small amount of crops and mine the rare metals underneath. A job you had yourself, providing enough money for you and your younger brother to live on until he was old enough to work as well. What was produced was enough to give your people an economy, yet remain under the radar and out of the war that ravaged the rest of the planet. The Republic and Separatist had limited interactions this far out at best, and you were able to enjoy a peaceful life, if not a bit exhausting.

Unfortunately, it was this isolation that had been your saving grace for so long that also proved your downfall.

Their ships arrived in numbers you had never seen before, landing on the grey dirt and unloading copious amounts of armored men and women. Your village didn’t even have time to put up a fight, overpower and subdued before you could even think of a weapon to protect yourself.

Soon you were corralled into the town center, separated into groups seemingly at random. Families were torn apart, mother from child and husband from wife. The entire time your brother clung to your leg, hiding as the armed guards shoved you along through the crowds. You tried to stay out of sight the best you could in an attempt to draw the least amount of attention to yourself, hoping, praying, that you could go unnoticed enough to keep him with you.

Above it all, standing out against the dull sky with their vibrant colors, were two Zabraks. Creatures you had only ever heard about in stories from the occasional trader that passed through, and had been just that, stories, until now. Their horns alone were enough to send shivers down your spine, each one protruding from the crown of theirs heads like a twisted version of a crown. Unlike a crown, you knew they weren’t for decoration. The damage they could undoubtedly do if provoked only solidified their threatening presence.

Now they stood above you all, tattoos illuminated in the light of the setting sun. The shorter red one stood in front, chin raised and chest puffed with pride as he looked over your people with another armored man, this one clearly human. He seemed to not even notice the cold, bare chest on full display for anyone to see the unique markings that marred his skin. Just beyond him stood the second Zabrak. His yellow markings stood out even more than his companions, only emphasized by his large size. None of the others even came close to his height, let alone the bulk you could tell he possessed under his armor. Even from here you could tell he could wrap a single hand around your neck and snap it easily with his strong fingers.

His gaze was just as impassionate, if not more so, seeming more bored than anything as he watched the proceedings.

“Come on! Move it!” One of the guards yelled, catching your shoulder as he pushed you forward, reminding you bitterly of Telik being led to slaughter. You kept Jay close, keeping your head down as you passed more guards, pace increasing. Just a few more yards and you would be with the others. Whatever the future had in store for you, at least you would still have each other.

“Hey, you!” A voice called, clearly directed your way, though you pretended not to hear. A cold sweat broke out across your skin as footsteps closed in, hand reaching out and stopping you in your tracks.

“Children don’t go in this area.” He growled, prying Jay from where he hid, ignoring his cries and your screams as he was pulled away. A guard stepped forward to hold you back, another coming to his aide as you fought to get to your brother, who was making it just as difficult for his own captor to drag him away. Even with the muscle gained from the mines you struggled against them, putting up your own desperate fight.

“Stop moving you little- fuck!” He yelped, pulling his arm away and out of Jay’s mouth, which had latched on to the only unarmored part of the hand holding him.

Immediately he turned and was running back towards you, tears streaming down his face and blue eyes wide with fear. In his panic to get back, his childish coordination caught up to him and his feet caught on one another, throwing him to the ground as he was left to scramble. All the while the guard he had bitten approached. 

“You little brat!” He snarled. His hand moved to his hip, producing a whip from its depths. The long weapon crackled to life, sparking with energy as it extended to full length.

Your own stomach dropped in fear as you watched. 

Jay, the one light in your life, the only person you had left, was in danger. You were his older sister. You were supposed to protect him, guide him into adulthood in place of your parents. Be there to kiss away every injury, wipe away the tears after every nightmare.

A new burst of energy flooded your system, giving you the strength needed to push past the guards, leaving them stumbling as you flew towards Jay.

The man brought his arm down, whip swinging in a wide arc aimed at the defenseless boy on the ground. 

It didn’t even have the chance to hit him. You slid the last few feet on the rough terrain, body covering his at the last second and jolting as the electric weapon met your clothed back, ripping through the material like a stone through water. A pained scream tore itself from your lips. Not even when you had gotten a burn from a small explosion in the mines had it hurt this much. In fact, you would take a dozen burns before this. This was just pure agony, the pain not even limited to a single area as the electricity coursed through every part of your body, invading every nerve.

The man was far from done though, and he repeated the action again and again, turning your skin into a bloody mess as Jay continued to cry underneath you, struggling in your protective grip. Still you held tightly, biting your lip to muffle your cries with every lash.

No one lifts a finger to help, not even looking in your direction in fear of the same treatment as they continue to shuffle along. You don’t even have it in your heart to blame them, knowing your reaction would be much the same if the situation was reversed.

Unbeknownst to you, your little altercation has caught the eye of the golden Zabrak, a small twinge in his heart at the deja-vu feeling he gets from the scene. From your age, he can only assume that the boy is your brother. You look too young for him to be your son.

He has flashbacks to his own brother, giving himself to the cursed Nightsisters in exchange for his life, only to be forced to kill him in a cruel show of power.

Before he realizes it, his hand has fallen to his lightsaber, already taking a step to where you are. He only gets a step before Maul calls to him, pulling him away to the ships and leaving him to look back over his shoulder at you crumpled form.

“Come. We must set up camp. The prisoners will be dealt with later.” Maul chuckles. “Those that survive anyways.”

And so he follows, leaving your fate to the Mandalorian who has yet to relent in his cruelty. But out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind, and the memory of your form curled on the ground, taking every lash with little more than a jolt and muffled cry, sticks in the front of his mind and prevents him from having a single moment of rest.

It's hours before he’s able to slip away. Between his brother and Death Watch, it’s nearly impossible for him to make his way to where the captives are being held. They’re all gathered in one of the far corners of the camp, held in place by the ropes around the wrist and looking miserable as they huddle for warmth against the lightly falling snow. He feels no guilt for what their eventual fate will be. They’re nothing to him, mere insects in his brothers plans. Animals to the slaughter. All for the greater good.

The fear he can feel radiating off them feeds a twisted sense of pride within him. The Sith side of him. They know who he is. They know he could easily kill them with no consequence should he choose. 

He’s not here for them though.

A dozen yards away, your body is still laying in the same spot as before, more lifeless than when he last saw you. This time there’s no Mandalorian enforcer above you. Instead, he’s replaced with the small boy from earlier. What remains of your shirt is peeled back from the skin and even Savage, who’s used to many grisly sights, grimaces at your wound. The skin that isn’t lacerated is red and swollen, and he now notices that the young boy has shed his own shirt, using ripped strips to clean the blood away and form a crude version of bandages. He’s busy fumbling over himself, fingers clumsy and stiff from the cold as he does his best to care for the wound with no medical supplies.

So focused on your wounds, he doesn’t even hear the large Zabrak approaching, not until it’s far too late. To his credit, and Savage’s amusement, the boy refuses to leave you, placing his body in front of yours. His bare chest is rapidly moving up and down with fear, thin body on full display. Not an ounce of muscle on him, Savage muses, moving closer to your body. If he doesn’t get you proper medical attention soon the wounds will undoubtedly become infected and kill you, if the blood loss hasn’t already damned your fate.

When he goes to pick up your limp body however, he’s stopped by your brother. Well, stopped is being rather generous. It’s more like he’s latched himself onto Savage’s waist, small fist beating at him with the strength one would expect of a child. He might not have even known he was hitting him if he wasn’t watching it happen.

It’s times like this that he’s most grateful for his cursed strength, easily detaching the boy from him and holding him by the back of his neck, tucking him under one arm as the other reaches for you. It's almost concerning how cold your body is against his own skin, and he’s more careful as he lifts you over his shoulder. His brother would surely find it laughable if he saw how gentle he was being with you.

Without hesitance, he turns back to the main camp, ignoring the looks the others cast his way as he carries your unconscious and broken body over his shoulder, your brother still fighting under his other.

Let them gossip. There’s none that will stand against him.

____________________________________

The first thing you’re aware of is warmth. Surrounding and enveloping your form, begging you to stay as it threatens to drag you back into the land of dreams. That in itself is enough to alarm you. The heating was always turned off at night to save energy, replaced in favor of thick blankets made from the local TekTek wool.

That’s your second red flag. TekTek wool is warm, yet coarse and scratchy. The fabric currently piled on top of and under you is significantly softer, having a slight musk to it.

Finally managing to drag your eyes open, the sight that greets you is not one you were expecting. 

Dark fabric makes up the majority of the tent you find yourself in. It’s clearly worn, yet does a surprising job of keeping the wind outside from entering, slight ripples waving across the fabric yet never entering. A fire sits in the very center, smoke curling up and through a hole in the ceiling. It’s glow provides the only source of light in the space, illuminating the few objects scattered around, including the cot you currently find yourself residing on. Buried under layers of blankets, your hands travel to the bandages wrapped around your chest, the only thing covering your upper body and providing little warmth in comparison to the blankets you were previously under.

How did you get here? Where was Jay? The last thing you remember was the invaders arriving, then nothing. So the question was, how had you gotten from there to here? Alone in an unfamiliar tent.

Your questions are soon answered, a shuffling from the front of the tent drawing your attention. From between the flaps emerges a large figure, his horns nearly catching the fabric as he enters.

You both freeze, eyes locking on one another, equally surprised. There’s a moment of pause, each of you trying to determine your next move. It’s only broken when he takes a step forward, cautiously, but still sending you into a panic. Ignoring the nearly debilitating pain coming from your back, you scramble to the edge of the cot, pressing your back against the fabric and you can feel it straining against your weight. Trying your best to look intimidating, you send a glare his way.

“Where’s my brother?”

He says nothing for a moment, and you almost repeat yourself, cut off as he begins approaching. He’s there before you know it, long legs easily eating the space as his arms reach for you, forcably turning you around despite your resistance. He lets out a grumble as he inspects your back, scoffing about how you’ve ‘reopened them’.

The next thing you know, his hands are worming their way under the wrappings, loosening them as he goes to remove them.

The panic you had felt before was nothing compared to now, knowing where this scenario was going all to well. The stories of what you had heard from other village girls filling your mind, darkening your thoughts as you could only imagine what this monster was about to do to you.

“No! Stop!” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was nothing you could actually do against his strength. The bandages become looser, only held up by your hand as you wildly swing out with the other. All the while you try to distance yourself from him. 

“Please!”

To your surprise, he pauses. His first sign of even showing he heard you since entering. His gaze never leaves you, and you can see the debate going on within his eyes. About what, your guess was as good as any. All that you cared was that he had stopped for the moment, allowing you to cover yourself with one of the many blankets in an attempt to preserve any decency you had left.

Growling, her turns and storms out the way he came, a wisp of freezing wind invading the tent as you're given a glance at the dark night sky outside before you’re once again left on your own. Not for long though, and you think he’s returned once again when the flaps open, only to reveal a young woman in similar armor that you had seen earlier. Not the person you trusted the most right now, but you still preferred her over the large Zabrak from earlier.

She approaches slowly, setting a medkit down on the bed as she smiles your way. “I’m here to change your bandages.” She extends a hand your way, which you only look at, neglecting to come out of your little corner. 

“Please. You’ve opened your wounds again. If you don’t come out now, I’ll just wait for you to pass out and change them then.” she sounds a bit exhausted, and it takes a few more minutes of coaxing before you allow her access to your back, keeping your back towards her as she slowly unwraps the bindings. She deposits them into the fire, leaving you to watch them burn to ash as she retrieves a small container from the medkit. 

Inside is a blue gel, surprisingly warm as it touches your skin and leaves a pleasant numbness. You can almost feel her gaze burning into your skin as she applies the gel, eyes skittering across old scars, fingers even tracing them when visible underneath the new wounds. Seeming to sense your unease, she rushes through the rest, quickly wrapping new bindings around your torso, apologizing with every small grunt of pain you let out. 

Far too quick for your liking she’s done, packing up her things as she prepares to head out. If she’s leaving, then that means there’s more of a chance that he’ll come back. In fact, you have no doubt that she’ll go and tell him once she’s out of here.

Snapping the case closed, she turns back to you and hesitates for a moment.

“I don’t know what you did to gain Savage’s attention, but believe me,” her green eyes lock onto yours, holding a sense of severity that chills you to the bone. 

“, he’s your best chance of surviving.”

With that you’re alone once again, left to your own thoughts and the crackling of the fire, which has gone down a significant amount since you first woke.

What did she mean by that? Gained his attention? And he was one of the ones who lead the attack on your home. Why would he be your saving grace? If anything, he would be the most likely to kill you.

Once again the flap opens, and you almost want to groan about the number of people going in and out, letting the heat out of the tent.

It’s the Zabarak. Savage, you remember the woman from before calling him. This time he has some additions. A cloak draped over one arm and a plate in hand. He moves slower than before, almost cautiously approaching you as he sets the items on the far end of the bed.

“Eat.” His voice is a deep baritone, rich yet monotone as he speaks, nodding towards the plate before moving towards the fire. Your eyes never leave his form as he tosses more wood onto the flame, moving them about without a fear of burning himself. Despite the fear still gripping your nerves, the food is tempting and only now do you realize how empty your stomach is, almost turning in on itself as it lets out a low rumble.

You grab the plate cautiously, picking at its contents as the man continues to poke at the fire. When you do finish, you find yourself wishing you had taken more time with it, no longer having the small distraction from your current situation. Despite the desire to throw on the warm looking cloak, you don’t. While he had directed you to eat, he had said nothing about the cloak. The last thing you wanted to do was make him angry, especially after he had shown how easily he could manhandle you earlier.

“You’re going to travel with me from now on.” He spoke, his back still towards you, yet it still carried loudly through the air, leaving no room for you to mistake his words. “If you have any objections, your fate will be the same as the rest of your village.”

You have no idea why he’s saying this, not when he could just direct you without any information. There’s only one thing on your mind though, present from the very beginning and still burning on your tongue.

“Where’s my brother.” You ask once again, praying to the maker you’ll get an answer this time. “What about him?”

His shoulders tense for a moment. The first emotion he’s shown besides anger.

“He will be allowed to come along given that he trains as a Mandalorian warrior. This is the best option for him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. While being forced to train with the ones who captured him wasn’t an ideal situation, you could only be thankful that he wasn’t fated for something more unfortunate. The only thing that worried you was his size. He was never much of a fighter, too kind to want to cause others pain. You would need to be there for him.

“I...I can still see him.”

“Yes.”

You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should ask another question. He already seemed to be wearing thin with his patience, but you had to know. You would never get a moment's rest until you knew.

“Why am I here.”

He doesn’t answer right away, throwing a few more logs onto the fire before turning to face you. His face was nothing but shadows, eyes standing out in startling contrast. His footsteps were slow and heavy as he made his way over to your form, unable to back away any further as you already find yourself in a corner. He grabs the cloak as he passes, the article almost ridiculously small in his hands.

As soon as he’s close enough, he lifts his arms and you flinch, expecting him to strike you out of annoyance and anger. It never comes though. The only feeling was that of heavy fabric settling on your shoulders, only there a moment before it’s clasped and you feel yourself being pulled forward. 

Savage’s hands are wound tightly into the fabric, forcing your face to nearly touch his. This close you can see every detail of the markings splashed across his skin, the black only making his amber eyes burn even brighter, nearly suffocating with the intensity with which they stare. Almost like molten gold themselves.

His breath fans across your skin, lips nearly brushing yours as his forehead grazes your own, making you whimper as his horns roughly scrap the skin.

“You’re mine now. You will never leave my side, there at my every beck and call no matter what I may need. If you even think about trying to leave or betray me,” he pushed further, forcing you to lean back onto the bed. His weight pushed down enough to keep you in place without being crushing, one hand releasing the fabric of the collar to travel up your face. It brushes the hair away, catching the tear you hadn’t even realized had escaped.

“I’ll force you to watch as I kill your brother in the most painful way imaginable.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans forward, baritone voice speaking lowly in your ear as his lips tickle the skin.

“You’ll wish, beg, that I had killed you as well instead of what will happen to you after.”

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter two

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: torture, nightmares, angst, let me know if there's anything else :) 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: honestly I have no clue where I’m going but I’m hoping you’re all still following. There’s still soooo much to go into readers past and yep, it’s gonna take a while but I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to give feedback, like and repost it would mean a lot! :)

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

1943

Your head felt groggy, as you woke up. Not enough energy from an ounce of your body to open your eyes for the time being. The more your body woke up from the darkness of slumber the more the pounding of aches and pains became less subtle and started to fill each and every muscle. You weren’t sure where you were or what had happened, but you suddenly became aware that your surroundings weren’t familiar. The air was too cool and there was an eeriness from lack of noise.

Finally, you were able to pry your eyes open. The colours swirled around you into one, until they became to create recognisable shapes. Although this wasn’t somewhere you recognised, just as your mind had thought even before getting to look around.

You were laid down on a metal ‘bed’ if you could even call it a bed. The coolness of the metal began to get to you a shiver running down your spine and you attempted to get up. Only to be restricted. It was now when you noticed you had straps holding your ankles, down, but not only this; there was a limpness to your form. In fact, you didn’t have any real connection to your muscles. As if a switch had been turned on in your head you realised, this wasn’t a bed. It was a table.

Suddenly your anxiety rose. In an ill attempt to do something you turned you head groggily to the left, only to be met with machines, and hospital devices. You took in a sharp breath. This definitely wasn’t a hospital so why the machines? Rolling your head to the right with just as much difficultly as last time you were met with darkness. The faint sound of feet shuffling in the distance, and the whirring of more machines.

Almost as if whoever it was had realised you were awake, a bright white light turned on above you causing you to groan from the sudden contrast to the previous darkness. The footsteps became louder, as whoever it was approached you from their hiding spot.

“Ah you’re awake,” the voice started, “you know you gave our men quite a difficult time back there. Are you going to behave this time?”

Your voice barely was able to respond, only a hushed whisper came out, “Who are you? Where am I?” This worked to rejog your memory as you saw flashes of men running after you, as you had leapt from this same table. You had gotten pretty far and fought back fairly well but this place… whatever it was; was a maze. Realising now that amongst being kidnapped and knocked unconscious. Your first attempt to escape was probably why you were in pain all over. A vision of a few men jumping on top of you and beating you unconscious. Again. That must have been why you were tied down this time.

“I think you know the answer to that.” the small man with glasses responded appearing finally out of the darkness. “…We’re HYDRA, and you y/n...” He spoke reaching under your chin in a condescending manner. “…Were firstly going to be a pawn against your stupid Captain America. But you’ve shown promise, something our other soldiers don’t have.  Neither your American ones. My guess is it comes from your ballet training.” He shrugged as he moved away from you, turning and looking for something. Suddenly his hand was on a switch and machines began to rumble.

“Please,” you responded choking on your own words, “please just kill me!” You knew something was coming, otherwise why would be so aloof.

He chuckled at your words as he stood behind you. “The red skull doesn’t want me to do that, he needs more soldiers, and that’s exactly what we’re going to make you.” And with that you saw a metal machine slowly being dropped down over your left eye, and below your right jaw, causing your panic to rise. As quick as the unbearable pain started, so did darkness.

Present day ; 2017

You woke up screaming as the pain of what had happened almost a century ago shot through your entire body. You fumbled out of bed in a sweat like you did most nights. Heading towards your small kitchen in your small apartment. It was filled with greys, no life within in, you felt there was no need, why celebrate a life with no life?

Your life had changed in so many ways after 1943. You were one of HYDRA’S many toys, the many men that surrounded you called you tiny dancer, but not in a kind way, in a misogynistic arrogant way. Most people at that time though saw you as a weapon, something to be feared of, and they should have.

After you had stumbled upon the Winter Soldier on a mission in 2014 working as a freelance agent having cut your ties with HYDRA mere months before hand, it was only a few months when so had Captain America. From what you had heard amongst assassins under the radar living in Madripoor like you, it hadn’t gone well for HYDRA and now the Winter Soldier was nowhere to be found, invoking fear within many who had made themselves enemies to him. But you were sure his best friend would be looking for him. Whilst you had decided to go against helping him, Steve was not that kind of person.

Time had not been kind to you, you were no longer the frail girl who could fall in love in a week. In fact, you weren’t sure if you actually could feel love anymore. HYDRA had to make sure there was no collateral. Still once you saw him that night you wondered how amongst your many years with HYDRA, how you had never run into Bucky: The Winter Soldier. You had heard of the winter soldier, but you never knew it was Bucky behind the ghost of a person. Probably on purpose, HYDRA had been in your mind. Tthere was no doubt they knew who he was to you back then.

Not only did it invoke these thoughts, but it had led to your retirement. Well not your retirement, you were still about 25 years old on the outside, and though nor Steve or Bucky knew you were alive you knew how it felt to be in their position.

Hiding out in your small apartment in Madripoor was where you had spent most of your life since 2014, staying on the down low in case HYDRA somehow re-emerged, looking for revenge on a project they had wasted so much time on. You.  

You weren’t sure why they were so surprised people like you hated them with so much anger. They had taken your life, Bucky’s life and made you weapons against your will. You didn’t hold their values, it was forced upon you.

You shook yourself from your thoughts again. You only got sentimental after nightmares, and the nightmares had been pretty continuous after seeing Bucky those few years ago, so really you were sentimental most mornings. You think it had something to do with seeing him and how it brought back memories you didn’t even know you had.

Reaching for a bottle of water, you took a sip looking over at the clock that read 3am. You groaned, knowing that you’d probably never have a good night’s sleep again. Terrible payback for a terrible past. No sleep for the wicked.

You shuffled yourself back to your room getting into bed and turning on the tv as a way to mindlessly distract yourself until you actually had to do stuff.

A few hours past until it was 7am, and you decided you could at least go for a shower before your day at work. Working at a bar that opened at 9am wasn’t exactly high class living; especially when you had to deal with drunks so early in the day, so it definitely required more motivation than most jobs. You couldn’t do what you were originally good at, dance. And you’d decided you probably shouldn’t be doing what you were trained for. Killing people.

Turning on the shower to allow it to warm up, you rid yourself of your clothes, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles were after another bad dream. Stepping in you let the water try and wash it away, and though it did help you knew it would only reappear tonight in another form of a nightmare. You closed your eyes sighing in content, and it did last for a brief moment until you heard banging on your front door.

At first you tried to ignore it, but it got louder and more aggravated and suddenly your heart had fell to your stomach, resorting to thinking of the worst that could be behind that door. Getting out you threw some clothes back on. You reached under your bed grabbing your shot gun, holding it close to yourself as you slowly walked towards the door that had started banging again. Times like this you wished you had a peep hole to look through.

You turned on your best poker face and opened the door abruptly to be more hostile. Only you were met with someone you didn’t know, though for some reason you felt you recognised. On the other side of the door stood a woman all in black, her hair was in a blonde bob and for a brief second you thought you saw a reaction flash across her face like she knew you too.

“Is this y/n?” she spoke firmly and with poise.

You raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Is it?” she returned her poker face staying on her face.

“Yes.” You huffed, the half-amused face falling from your face, returning back to the glare you constantly wore. “Who are you?”

She raised her hand for you to shake her face accompanying it with a small smile, which you hesitantly took.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

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Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ 

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 13

Thing promised, thing due ! It’s not your daily maana but chapter 13 of I am not your enemy which is available !

Happy reading 😉

(there's a joke that unfortunately doesn't work in English, don't be too mad on this handsome vampire please)

Chapter 13 : You always trusted him

Realizing immediately that something was wrong, the dragon eyed me worriedly, totally hypnotizing me with his icy gaze. My heart raced far more than it should at the feel of his fingers on my skin and his scent against me, the images from last night starting to loop in my head as the vampire's words still made my throat tight.

Feeling unable to answer for the moment, I quickly walked around his large stature that blocked me in order to enter the room, divided between several contradictory emotions.

That night I had let Lance see me fully and it terrified me. I wasn't just talking about my nudity. He had seen my wounds, my limits, my deepest fears, and despite the shame it caused in me, I let him do it, urging him to enter my head, my heart. Meeting him here made my hands sweaty, I didn't know how to react. I felt both euphoric and anxious to find myself in his presence. Besides, my exchange with Nevra had once again proved disastrous, which made my stomach bitter.

I definitely didn't know how to react.

Trying to ignore the footsteps that followed mine, I made my way with some haste to the back of the forge. Once in front of the weapon wall, I raised my hand to grab a sword haphazardly, except I didn't even have time to wrap my fingers around its pommel as a tanned hand grabbed mine. Like last time, I found myself trapped between Lance's body and the shelves in front of me.

- You know that it’s not because you are part of the Obsidian that you can take a weapon without authorization ? he said close to my ear.

The sudden hoarse tone of his voice made me shiver. I was aware of his every gesture, of his every breath that lifted his chest against my shoulders. He knew perfectly well where not to touch me on the level of the back so as not to hurt me and that troubled me.

- What's more, this one is way too dangerous for you.

His palm gently pulled mine away from the handle, slowly dropping our arms together along my side. He didn't let go of me though. I took a deep breath in an attempt to ignore his touch.

- Is there anything I can take here ? I tried then, injecting as much confidence and humor as possible into my intonation.

- So, you plan to train on your own and with a real blade ?

His tone, bordering on condescending, irritated me instantly. Damn, I needed to externalize everything that was swarming inside me, what the hell was he not getting in there ?

- I especially need to let off steam for a moment, do I still have the right or you will also prevent me ?

Anger, which began to grip my heart again like a vice, suddenly made a source of heat rise in the palm of my hands. It didn't take long for the dragon to realize this and suddenly squeezed me much tighter, locking my fingers against each other.

- Andraste, calm down. Now is not the time to do that here and you know it just as well as I do.

- If you let me get out of here with what I came to get, I will indeed have plenty of time to go and calm down elsewhere. Except that in the meantime, you're hurting me, Lance.

Visibly surprised by my last words, he eased the pressure on my knuckles, relieving me somewhat even though he still hugged me tightly.

- Make your light disappear and I'll let go, he chided me.

More annoyed than before crossing him, I clenched and clenched my fists to order my powers to dissipate, which didn't work as much as I wanted. Several pairs of eyes began to rest on us without discretion.

- I would like, but I must say that your touch doesn’t help me, I say defensively.

My Chief of Guard slowly unrolled his fingers from my skin, finally letting me move my wrist as I heard it. Closing my eyes for a moment, I instinctively visualized the path of my energy along my flesh, causing it to flow back to my epicenter, level with my stomach. With amazement, I discovered as I opened my eyelids that no trace of magic left my palms.

Lance pulled away from me to give me a questioning look.

- Since when do you know how to do that ? he asked me, an eyebrow raised.

- It was a first, I said with a shrug, as I myself was shocked at the outcome of my attempt. You see, I am good. So I’ve the right to train a little.

- You are incorrigible... but you’ll have to show me that in more detail.

A proud smile dawned on my lips as he blew loudly, letting out air so cold that I saw ice crystals crystallize on a blade close to him.

- Well, I think we both know how it ends when I show you things "in more detail"... is that really a good idea ? I asked him lower, almost timidly.

He looked at me for a long time, much calmer and more serene than a moment earlier. The atmosphere had changed. More intimate, more personal. As if, in this noisy and bustling room, we were suddenly alone.

- If you want us to stop our private interviews, I will comply without objection. This is your choice, not mine. But we know very well that what happened that night has nothing to do with it and that it would have ended up happening at one point or another.

The dragon approached me dangerously, a smirk so similar to that of the Ashkore era that it disturbed me.

- Know that it wasn’t the first time that I wanted to kiss your cute little mouth, he confided to me with a certain childish malice. And then, as you have already said so well, it is you who threw yourself on me. If you don't want this to happen again, just say it and for my part, I'll be able to stay perfectly docile.

I was obsessed with his words, with what they implied. Any relationship between us could only be unhealthy, totally abject. But then, why did I no longer know what I wanted or not ? Logic would have wanted us to stick to what was decently expected of us. Anger, contempt, that should have been our only fuel.

- What if that's not what I want ? I whispered so low that I was afraid he hadn't heard it. What if, for once, I had the right to listen to myself and not give a damn about the convenience of our relationships ?

Lance had never looked at me so deeply, which made me blush with stress at what I argued. Deep down, I knew the young man had fully understood what I was talking about.

- That night, when I dreamed that I was falling from the cliff... it wasn’t the first time that I had this dream. Before I fell, I still see the draflayels flying around me, but not only. I have the impression of constantly remembering that moment in Memoria, that moment when it was just you and me, I concluded hesitantly.

Never did he cut my tirade, realizing every piece of information I offered him.

- So, is that a good idea ? Probably not, no, I answered my own question a moment earlier. But I want to and for once, I want to have the right to listen to myself.

A new smile, this time much sweeter, appeared on his face before he spoke again.

- Your wishes are orders, my angel. On the other hand, only these, so do me the pleasure of getting you away from this wall of swords once and for all. Don't forget who's in charge here, he winked at me.

Lance pushed me towards the exit, I had obviously lost the battle for my weapon for a long time. Stopping in front of the exit door, the dragon seemed to hesitate for a moment, pulling one of its locks of hair back.

- I have obligations tonight, but I'll come see you tomorrow night in your room, if you want.

Without another ounce of ceremony, he turned on his heel and left me on the doorstep.

*

After literally being kicked out of the forge, I wandered aimlessly through the HQ gardens. I realized a little more every day that besides Lance, I didn't really have any relationships that I felt like myself anymore. When he wasn't there, I often walked in circles, desperately trying to find a way to make myself useful despite my poor physical condition.

No longer able to bear to see the same landscape, I decided to leave the enclosure of these walls that I knew only too well.

My steps guided me in the direction of the burrow, a place that had definitely changed in recent years. A tree with a bent shape had grown just above the crevice, which provided a corner of considerable shade in the great plain. I decided to lie there for a moment, enjoying the calm that reigned around me. Surprisingly, my back was not as painful as I would have thought, the cream of Eweleïn probably having something to do with it.

Stretched out at full length, I watched the clouds move with the light wind blowing between the branches above me. Raising a hand above my face, I lazily imagined my energy flowing through my veins to the muscles of my palm, my fingers. Several fine and luminous lines then began to run over my skin, creating a labyrinthine path on every inch that covered me. I felt good. Soothed, even.

Looking up at the blue sky, I thought I felt something brush against my whole when my eyes rested on a cloud of singular shape. My heart warmed when, in that white and vaporous cotton, I recognized the features of a fire dragon. I might not have been as lonely as I thought. A weary smile appeared on my lips, it was as if his aura had wrapped around my heart.

I knew now that he was watching over me.

- You always trusted him... I whispered. Valkyon, are you relieved of what you find in my heart ?

A new breeze lifted my hair, as if to answer my question. Savoring this moment, I closed my eyelids for a few minutes.

A hand was shaking my shoulder more and more vigorously when I finally came to reality. Slowly opening my eyelids, it took me a while to emerge from my heavy sleep. A scarred gaze plunged into mine.

But what was he doing there ?

- Did you sleep well, Steeping Beauty ?

I couldn't help but giggle at my interlocutor's attempt to quote a tale from my world.

- It's Sleeping Beauty, Nevra.

A wonderfully soft smile appeared on his usually closed face.

- You really have some odd-named stories, that's all I can remember, he said with a weak laugh.

I awkwardly straightened up to sit facing him, when a grimace of surprise and pain distorted my features as my back skin suddenly burned. The vampire immediately leaned over me in concern, one hand holding my shoulder to keep me from rocking.

- Andraste, is everything okay ?

Seriously, I've been asked this question too much lately.

(Chapter 14)

[ratmonky]

The Wolf Within A Puppy

word count: 5.9k

warnings: gaslighting, noncon, violence, fingering, oral

AO3 link

A wolf was meant to be wild, untamed, and carefree. It was simply impossible to tame an animal born into the wild, it had already had a taste of freedom, and forcing it to be in a cage in shackles wouldn’t work but if the wolf was put in a cage, it would do anything until it was free. Even if it meant pretending to be a dog.

Humans were like animals.

They followed their instincts to live their life, that was what created them had intended. Humans were supposed to be following unwritten rules instead of the written ones, just like animals.

Animals lived without guilt, pain, or worry.

You wished you could live freely like animals.

~~~

Your teacher had told you specifically not to leave the campus, you lacked cursed energy and fighting spirit to be able to face any curse without the help of your younger classmen.

Yet, you desperately wanted to prove them wrong, you were more than your healing powers, you weren’t just a damsel in distress, you were the person who was going to save others. You were the main character.

Being able to sense cursed spells and energy from far away gave you the advantage of sniffing out low-level curses and exorcising them with the cursed tools you had stolen from the school.

Unless you did all of this, you wouldn’t be a sorcerer, being a sorcerer meant fighting curses and exorcising them, if you didn’t do any of that, it would be meaningless. Your existence was meaningless.

Today was supposed to be like any other day, you were following the low leveled curse energies to exorcise them and try to build your own cursed energy. Although Gojo had told you that you were a special case and didn’t have any, you refused to believe him and wanted to prove him wrong.

“It was coming from here,” you chirped, tightening your grip around the dagger’s handle. You stood in front of the sewer gate, some cursed energy was leaking out from inside, something that could be a grade four or even maybe just a fly head.

If you were lucky, it could be a third-level curse and you would have the chance to practice fighting with a higher grade curse than you’re used to.

Kneeling down, you crawled inside the sewers to find and exorcise the curse. Using your phone’s flashlight, you navigated your way through the larger gates and pipes. The foul smell was disturbing but you managed to ignore it with your willpower only.

You walked for minutes, trying to find the curse but failed. The energy had withdrawn itself, perhaps it actually was a fly head and it had run away for its life.

With a click of your tongue, you kicked a small pebble and it hit the water.

This was useless, you were useless. Why did you come here anyway? There was no way you could succeed at anything yet you kept trying as if that was going to do something.

Your eyes were glossy with tears, you were a failure. You hated this feeling, you hated the jujutsu school and your younger classmen. You knew they were looking down at you, even though you knew they cared about you, they were babying you. You were nothing, absolutely nothing compared to them.

Even thinking about becoming a fourth-grade sorcerer was an insult to your teacher. He had told you that you didn’t possess anything. You were just lucky to be born with the awareness of the curses and the ability to heal others.

You wouldn’t last a minute fighting with a cursed spirit.

No, no, no.

You had exorcised many spirits and curses with the help of the cursed tools. You were capable of certain things, you were being harsh on yourself, come on now…

Your hands went to your hair and you ruffled it with a groan. Maybe, if you told Gojo about the things you had done until now, he could give you a chance. You could train with others and maybe even possess an ounce of cursed energy.

Yes, Gojo would understand. You could return the cursed dagger and ask for Maki’s help to build your stamina, you could learn to use larger weapons. Maybe then you could become a worthy opponent to your lower classmen.

It was time to head back, you knew what to do.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting any visitors!”

From the corner of your eye, you saw it. You were about to turn around and run out of the sewers but your body refused to move. Your mouth opened in pure terror but you couldn’t scream out of pure shock.

The cursed energy you had thought to be faint was overflowing your senses, your head hurt, your eyes felt like they were about to pop out of your head.

This couldn’t be happening.

Whatever it was, you knew it was something that was about to kill you.

You had to run. If you didn’t run, you were going to die.

This was a special grade cursed spirit. It could even talk.

Run.

Quick, legs, move!

Your legs refused to register what your brain was telling them, although all of your instincts were screaming for you to run, you stood exactly where you were, paralyzed from head to toe.

“Hmm, weird, I thought you sorcerers were a lot more… livid but you’re just like a statue.”

Footsteps came closer, you felt its hand on your shoulder and a whimper left your lips as it walked around you until it was facing you.

It happened in the blink of an eye. You tightened your grip on the dagger and lifted it, ready to stab the cursed spirit.

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” it chirped in a sing-song tone, then cocked its head to the side and smiled.

You dropped your dagger, fear coursed through your entire body before you felt your lips tremble.

“I don’t sense any cursed energy from you, how come you were confident enough to come after me?”

You bit your lip in frustration until you tasted the bitter copper. Nobody knew you were here, you had thought you would be able to handle this by yourself.

You didn’t have any cursed energy or special abilities, you were just a healer. You were nothing, you were nothing against this cursed spirit.

It must have noticed your despair because it had a nightmarish smile on its face, its skin snagging on its stitches as the skin crinkled around the corners of its mouth.

“I haven’t met you before,” it said, grabbing a chunk of your hair and pulling it back until your head lifted from the ground to meet its gaze. “Are you one of the new first years?”

“I’m a third-year,” you replied, your hand weakly grasped on its wrist. It was futile though, you were weak. You wouldn’t be able to fight. “Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone.”

It laughed as if you told it the funniest joke it had ever heard.

“My name’s Mahito, what about you, little lost puppy?” He ignored your cries.

You sniffled, your throat ached and clenched as if you had been screaming nonstop. Your body hurt from fear. “Please, I won’t tell anyone about your presence to anyone, please… just let me go. I- I don’t… I don’t wanna die-” By the time you finished your meaningless sentence, you were sobbing uncontrollably.

Mahito pulled your hair back and forced you to look at his mocking face. “I-I-I won’t k-k-kill you.” His eyes squinted, his cursed energy had lessened but you were still drowning in it. “I’ll maybe even let you go,” he said, pausing a moment longer to watch your face muscles relax and listen to you stuttering empty promises and gratitude. “I’ll let you go after I’ve made an example out of you.”

“No- Please!” An audible whimper left your lips, your tears were streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t see straight, you could only make out the blurry outline of Mahito and his eerie smile. “I’ll do anything, please…”

He raised a brow at your promise.

His fingers loosened their grip on your hair and he instead carded his fingers through your hair slowly, like petting a scared animal.

His free hand landed on your shoulder before sliding down your spine and to the small of your back, he placed his hand steadily and pulled you towards him to close the gap between the two of you.

“Humans try so hard to leave an imprint of their lives. Are you one of them?” he asked curiously, “Is that why you became a sorcerer? Do you want to be remembered by others even after you die?”

You stayed quiet.

“When you die, nobody will remember you. From the moment you stepped inside here, I knew how insignificant your soul was. It’s not vibrant nor has any specialties. If I were to kill you, nobody would know, right? Your only legacy would be a framed picture of you... if you let others take your picture at some point that is.”

His words were like razor-sharp blades. It hurt you even more because he was right.

“It’s boring when you don’t fight or react, you know.” He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers. Leaving your hair alone, he took your bag from you, unzipping and turning it upside down to empty it out. Once he was done, he threw your bag into the sewer water. “You’re supposed to fight with tooth and nails, or was it… fighting with all your might… is that what they say? Whatever, you understand what I'm trying to say, right?”

You nodded without paying any real attention to his words or what laid beneath them. You were only desperately trying to get this over with. If he was going to kill you, so be it.

This was your fault for coming here.

Mahito crouched to look closer at the items on the concrete, there were makeup, a hand mirror, books, pens, and a small good luck charm you had gotten when you had first started the jujutsu school.

A bittersweet memory invaded your mind, how excited you were about entering the school and how hard you had been trying to improve. But that excitement died quickly as you watched Gojo search for more students, hoping to gather around powerful sorcerers with a promising future.

You remembered the jealousy you felt of others. The way they all treated you like fragile porcelain, ready to break at any given time. The way they always looked at you with pity.

“(name) should never leave alone, it’s dangerous.”

“Making (name) participate in the sister school event is cruel, she can’t protect herself.”

If you were to die here, you would never be able to prove them wrong. If you exorcised this spirit right here, you would be free from the shackles of the expectations and opinions of others.

Mahito smirked at the way your eyes sparkled with determination. He put the sketchbook with your name on it down to instead watch you crouch and reach your hand to retrieve the dagger you had dropped with a smile.

It happened all too quickly, you were about to grab the dagger but found yourself tackled to the concrete. You let out a pained yelp as Mahito’s entire weight pressed on your back.

“What a magnificent fighting spirit!” he barked, pressing your cheek down onto the concrete and laughing hysterically.

You struggled to breathe but you kept squirming. Ready to fight this cursed spirit with everything you got.

His hand reached for your face and you jerked away from his hand, “Don’t touch me!” you screamed, your eyes finally meeting his, they were sparkling with vicious intent.

You shrieked upon seeing his stitched-up face up close, he was hideous. Him being this close to you made you panic even more. “Stay away from me!” Your body automatically tried twisting around from where you were trapped under his weight.

You started to scream as you struggled in his hold. It was barely evening, someone would hear your screams for help.

Mahito grabbed a chunk of your hair and pulled your head back before abruptly smashing your face into the concrete with tremendous strength.

The moment your face hit the cold concrete your nerves struck your entire body. The pain quickly hit you and your head bounced off from the ground like a ball, only to crash to the ground with a loud thud once again. You hit your head hard, the second impact left you dumbfounded, you could taste copper in your mouth. Your hand went to your mouth, only to discover the wetness… You looked at your hand in horror, you were bleeding.

The fear came rushing back.

Mahito looked down at you with a sinister smile, he was entertained by your pain. A low chuckle coming from him made you scream for help again.

It was no use though. On your way here, you hadn’t seen a single soul out in the streets. You were left to his mercy, you could only hope he didn’t kill you.

You were completely vulnerable and defenseless. All you could do was scream for help or beg for this merciless cursed spirit to stop. You had no idea what he wanted but if he actually wanted to hurt you, there was nothing you could do to stop him, especially not when you were bleeding and were in unbearable pain.

“You have no idea,” He suddenly said, startling you out of your frantic thoughts. “How much I'm going to enjoy this.”

He shrugged out of his shirt, the clothing fell next to your head and you found yourself sobbing in horror, “Please, please don’t hurt me,” your voice echoed in the sewers.

Nobody was going to save you.

You kept holding onto that small hint of hope that someone would come running into the sewers any second now, you were desperately trying to deny the realness of the situation.

“Calm down, puppy,” he spoke softly, you suddenly realized that he was crouched next to you now. You tried to see him through your tears, -God when did you start crying again?

You tried to move, crawl away from him. “Please,” you said, “I don’t wanna die.”

He laughed lowly and grabbed you by your ankle, pulling you towards him, “They all get talkative before their fate.” Mahito grabbed a chunk of your hair again and turned you to face him. “Ah, how pretty.” He pouted his lips, “You look gorgeous with all the blood coming out from you.”

He paused, noticing how your wounds were closing.

“You can heal yourself?” He laughed to himself, amazed by your ability. “You get more interesting each passing second!”

You still tried to hold onto that brim of hope that someone would come to save you.

You inhaled as much air as you could to start screaming again but the cold metal against your cheek forced you to keep quiet.

“Now, keep still,” he pressed the dagger down to your cheek, “I’m gonna make this quick.”

Terrified, you watched him move between your legs.

With a sudden rush of adrenaline being released into your body, you blindly kicked at him but fail miserably as he violently pounded your head to the concrete twice with a laugh at your attempt of kicking him.

The first blow stabbed a sharp pain into the side of your face, your vision went blank for a brief moment and you bit your tongue in the process.

The second hit on the concrete made you whimper helplessly.

Your hands fell to your sides in defeat.

When Mahito let his grip on your head loosen, you couldn’t move anymore, you laid on the concrete entirely motionless, blood emerged from the large cut on your temple and your nose. “Wait,” he smiled and lifted the skirt of your uniform, peeking under the fabric with a giggle. “Is that all the fight you had in you?”

He had noticed how you were still saving energy instead of healing yourself. He knew what your useless plan was.

Your eyes watered and you felt even more warm liquid gushing out from your nose and mouth. Your skin warmed and throbbed as you writhed in pain, gritting your teeth while the taste of copper spread in your mouth.

Your cheek laid flat on the cold concrete, your skin must have been burning hot because it relieved some of your pain you had on your face.

He placed the dagger next to your head, it was so close yet so far away.

“Don’t you think it’s funny how some humans follow the rules blindly until they take their last breath?” Mahito placed his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs and pulling you towards his hips. “I think it’s interesting, I wonder if their last thoughts before dying are about how they should’ve done something exciting in their miserable lives?”

You squirmed in an attempt to push yourself up or away from him but he effectively had pinned you down, using a single hand on the small of your back.

“Do you have any regrets? Were you a goody two shoes in your life? You came here to exorcise me, right? You wanted to be praised, didn’t you?” He pressed his chest on your back, nosing some of your hair out of the way to whisper into your ear. He kept sluggishly pressing his stomach against your back until you felt his lips brush against your earlobe. His warm breath tickled the side of your face. “Aren’t you the type of person who would be too stuck up to hang out with their friends and study instead?”

You mumbled.

“Hmm?”

Silence.

Mahito pouted his lips. You were getting boring. “What can I say to get to you, huh?”

He started thinking, the makeup stuff you had earlier meant you had to be the organized type, he had seen a keychain and a sketchbook with your name on it but it was nothing useful. But… your books about improvement could mean that you felt you weren’t enough at some academic level and then there was this good luck charm that had gotten you in a feisty mood…

Hmm.

An imaginary lightbulb popped over his head.

“Ahh, I see.” He took a staggering whiff of your hair. “Your life is already miserable enough.”

Your breath hitched, giving Mahito the reaction he had been looking for.

“I think,” he breathed, his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. “It's finally time you and I had some fun, hmm?”

Your pulse went absolutely berserk with the threat of his words, the dark promise that loomed within his words.

“W-wait-”

Mahito flipped you over like a sack of potatoes. Once again, you were facing him. You stared at his patchwork of a face, loudly gulping at the disgusting sight. Before you could even comprehend what he was doing, you felt his cold hands go under your skirt.

With wide eyes, you struggled with renewed vigor as you tried to close your legs shut. But he was so much stronger than you. He only chuckled as you made a useless effort to stop him.

You were left to his mercy, once you realized that, you looked away from him.

“Ahh,” he smirked as he lifted the skirt of your uniform, “Such a naughty girl, you’re wearing these to school?” You felt his fingers gently feeling the fabric of your panties.

You squirmed uncomfortably on the cold concrete, knowing that he was staring down at your clothed cunt. You refused to give in to him, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of you.

He snickered and the sound of the clinking of his belt buckle startled you enough to yelp. You quickly closed your eyes.

“Eyes on me, (name),” he uttered as one of his hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh.

Your eyes widened at your name. How did he-

“You should enjoy doing bad things, (name),” he said. “Listen to your soul, be free as the shape of your soul.”

Mahito’s hand squeezed your cheeks together until your lips puckered and he leaned to press his lips against yours. At the same time, you felt a fabric being pulled down, it took a staggeringly long moment before you realized it was your panties.

“If you keep living your life to please others, you won’t be able to please yourself.”

A loud sore tore out of you and disappeared into Mahito’s mouth as he let his tongue loll out before licking your lips. His saliva left a wet feeling and the breeze from the sewers chilled your skin.

“How cute.”

Mahito lifted your legs and you laid there completely motionless as he palmed his cock through his boxers. You looked away from him, refusing to watch him violate your body.

Although you weren’t watching him, you could feel his fingers moving along your folds. He lifted his hand and held it between your faces, smiling widely. “You’re sopping wet, (name).”

He forced his digits into your mouth, swirling them until you cleaned his fingers with your tongue. He watched you with an amusing smile.

Finally satisfied, he took his fingers out from your mouth and slipped them inside your slick heat.

You jolted and a noise closer to a moan came out from your mouth.

Mahito’s thumb rested on your clit, rubbing sluggish circles over the muscle as his digits went in and out of you.

“Don’t close your legs,” he said, curling his fingers inside your pussy and started making a scissoring motion.

You squirmed, one of your hands found his shoulder and you held onto him to ignore your legs shaking in pleasure.

“Ahh, I can feel it throbbing,” Mahito chuckled, “You’re sucking my fingers in, (name), how naughty.”

“I’m not,” you whined, lifting your hips subconsciously to feel more of his fingers. His fingers reached much deeper inside your pussy than your own fingers ever could.

“Really?” he hummed, he leaned over to your face until his lips brushed against yours. “But you’re moving your hips so cutely.”

When you opened your mouth to deny he took the momentary opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat. His lips moved roughly against your unresponsive ones. He frowned into the kiss and pulled himself away from your face.

His fingers scooped your juices and left the warmth of your pussy. Mahito lifted his fingers up to his lips and he opened his mouth. You watched as he placed his fingers on his tongue before closing his mouth agonizingly slowly with a smile. His lips curled upwards, you heard him moan while licking his own fingers clean.

Funny enough, his voice made more juices leak out from your pussy.

“What a sweet taste,” he said, gazing down at you and licking his lips. “Makes me wonder if it’d taste more vibrant from the source.” Mahito moved between your legs.

Your cheeks flushed red, “Wait, it’s-”

He used his thumbs to spread your folds and chuckled at the sight of wet strands connecting your folds together breaking out slowly. “You’re going to be a good little puppy, right?”

You let out a hot breath, nodding rapidly.

He lapped at your pussy menacingly slowly, savoring your taste greedily.

Your legs shook around his head, your hands immediately went to his hair, gripping tightly while Mahito’s tongue moved between your folds. Lifting your hips up, you pulled his hair when he laid his tongue flat against your clit.

His hands that were spreading your folds slid to your inner thighs and he pinned them down. He pressed his lips on your clit, sluggishly lapping at the muscle and sucking it in his mouth gently.

Your fingers in his hair pushed him towards your cunt, begging for more. You turned your face away as you bit back a moan. Then your eyes landed on the dagger, something was clinging to the back of your mind, you heard your own voice screaming at you to get yourself together but they all disappeared when Mahito inserted his digits inside of you.

His fingers thrust inside, his lips sucked on your clit while his tongue lapped at the muscle one last time before he pulled himself back, leaving you needy.

“Just as I thought, it tastes much better straight from the source.”

He licked his fingers without breaking eye contact.

“You’ve become so much more obedient, (name).” Mahito crawled on top of you, your hands in his hair slid down to his neck, and rested there. “You’re a good little obedient puppy, aren’t you?”

A dreamingly sick smile spread across your face, nodding approvingly.

He matched your smile, amazed by your reaction.

Mahito leaned in for a kiss and this time you kissed him back, you tasted yourself in his mouth. Using your hands, you pulled him closer. His shoulders lowered and rose slightly as he tugged down his pants along with his underwear. He kicked his pants off from his ankles and only a couple of seconds later you felt him drag the tip of his cock between your folds.

He pulled back from the kiss and the second your eyes met his, he shoved the entire length of his cock inside of you. You tensed and yelped as he watched you with dark amusement while his cock stretched your tight virgin walls.

You opened your mouth in a silent scream, his girth was too much, he was filling you up with no gaps. The gummy flesh of your walls pulsated around him, warm blood trickled from the length of his cock and pooled under your bodies, on the concrete.

“You probably didn’t know but our souls are one, only for this moment, (name)!” He cackled, his voice filled with mischief. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yes,” you hissed as he moved. His hips slammed into yours with a disgustingly wet sound.

“Can you feel it?” he asked, pulling back and thrusting in your pussy, growling lowly. “Can you feel how free your soul is?”

You could feel it.

You felt all of your guilts and worries wash away each time he thrust inside.

“This is how animals feel,” he groaned audibly, your walls were squeezing the girth of his cock from tip to the base. You were such a perfect match, you were made for him, your cunt fit him like a glove. This was the only purpose of your existence. “Animals are always free, (name).”

You kept nodding even though his words seemed to go over your head, you were only focused at the firm length moving inside you.

“Do you know why?” he hit a significant spot that made your walls clench around his cock. “It’s because animals don’t know sin, (name).”

He was right.

“I’m taking your innocence, doesn’t that make you happy?”

“Yes!”

He laughed, placing his hands to the back of your knees and pushing them towards your chest. He mercilessly humped your pussy which made you scream in pleasure. His cock was reaching so far deep in this position, it was hitting all the good spots now. You couldn’t help but curl your toes and move your hips to feel more of his cock.

“I won’t allow you to show this face to others.” His grip behind your knees softened, he held you more gently before leaning onto you to whisper his next words, “I’m the only one who can make you feel this free. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, placing a hand on your stomach and you felt his cock grow bigger inside of you. Your hand pressed against the bulge that had formed from what was moving inside you.

The bulging on your stomach made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He laughed lowly, you were quite amusing. He snapped his hips forward, you moaned louder this time. Your voice echoed along with his laughter in the sewers.

“Mahito,” you begged, the waves of pleasure from his cock hitting your sweet spot made your voice tremble, “E-enough, please-”

He watched you with his half-lidded eyes intently, ignoring your words as your legs started to shake with each brutal thrust, you were close. He started pulling out from you until only the tip was in your entrance and slamming inside you with his entire length. His pace was like an animal in heat, his balls slapped against your ass each time he thrust inside.

Mahito quickened his pace, his large cock stretched out your virgin walls until they took the shape of his cock. He pushed your legs to your chest and buried his cock even deeper inside of you.

“You’re mine.”

You nodded frantically, his thrusts were punishing. Eventually, your pussy started spasming around his twitching cock. Unable to resist your virgin walls clamping on him any longer, Mahito spilled his thick and hot seed inside your womb.

He growled loudly and continued fucking his cum deep inside of your pussy until the squelching sounds of his cum mixed with yours gushing out from your abused hole started echoing in the sewers.

It was like music to his ears, he was humming to himself, rocking back and forward.

Your body relaxed and fell back on the concrete after he pulled his dick out from you. His cum spilled out from your slick heat and down to the cold concrete to mix with your blood from earlier.

You heard Mahito getting dressed but you were unable to move, your body was exhausted. Your wounds had healed themselves, but the thin layer of dried blood was making your skin itchy.

The last thing you were aware of was the soft tune of your cell phone and it grew more distant as you drifted into slumber, feeling free.

~~~

The next time you opened your eyes, you were staring at the morning sky. The soft sound of trees shaking and birds chirping filled your ears.

You sat up abruptly and looked around in confusion. You were under a bridge, your bag was under your head, your cell phone by your side and you were clutching onto your dagger.

Hastily, you took out your hand mirror from your bag and checked your face. You didn’t look anything out of the ordinary other than your clumped lashes. Your hair was matted from laying on the concrete.

Suddenly, your hand went under your skirt but you couldn’t feel any difference.

What had happened?

Had that happened?

You stood up, clutching your bag and putting the dagger inside. The walk back to the city wasn’t too long as you checked the missed calls on your phone and the worrying amount of messages you had gotten from your lower classmen along with your teachers.

You weren’t sure what had happened. You remembered everything so faintly, each memory was a blur.

Unable to let them suffer like this, you replied to each text by saying that you were back at your own apartment because of a family issue.

The lower classmen believed you but Gojo had texted you to come back to the campus as soon as possible, saying that he would lend an ear and whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on, you had to trust him, he clearly was worried. Yet your mind was a whirlwind of different thoughts, you ignored him.

Back at your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and threw your bag onto the couch before crashing on the couch yourself.

There was something deeply wrong, the stench that lingered on your uniform was unbearable.

So, you stripped yourself from the uniform and filled the bathtub. While your clothes were washing in the machine, you soaked in the bath, letting your muscles relax.

The apartment was empty and quiet, which disturbed you deeply solely because you were forced to be alone with your thoughts until you found the courage to go back to the campus.

You got scolded for leaving without notice and they found out you had stolen a cursed tool. Although you tried to explain how you were using it to improve yourself, you still got detention.

In the end, Gojo didn’t react the way you thought. He didn’t let you practice with others or tried to find a way to build up your cursed energy.

Days passed, you found yourself back in the shadow of everyone else.

Today, you found yourself under the same bridge you woke up a week ago. The night sky was beautiful, the stars sparkled brightly. None of it helped ease your nerves, your stomach churned and the feeling of uneasiness surrounded you.

You hadn’t brought anything with you. Your phone, bag, and good luck charm were back at the campus, in your room.

Not sure what to do, you simply stood there, staring.

The large gate was inviting, the darkness promised to swallow you whole and the stench… was welcoming.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward and then another until you disappeared into the dark sewers.

You walked for hours. Each right you took led to dead ends and each left you took led you back outside. It was like you were going in circles.

Perhaps, you thought, you had imagined that whole thing.

You pressed a hand between your thighs at the memory, your legs were trembling. The trembling turned into violent shaking and your legs gave up from under you.

Planting your hand on the cold concrete, you tried pushing yourself to get back up on your feet but it was futile.

Your eyes were glossy with tears, you couldn’t comprehend why you were crying.

“Ahh,” a familiar voice cooed. “The obedient little puppy came back to its owner.”

Almost immediately you lifted your head. Tears streamed down your face as you stood up and stared at Mahito welcoming you with open arms.

Your lips parted, conflicted if they should curl up to a smile or down to a frown. The feeling that surrounded you wasn’t something you could explain with words.

You rushed to him and crashed into Mahito’s arms and lips. You were fiercely moving your lips against his, your desperation made him laugh into the kiss.

When he finally decided to kiss you back, you were trembling from head to toe, holding onto Mahito. The kiss was wet and tasted salty from your tears but none of you paid any mind.

“(name).” Mahito broke the kiss to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Why did you come back?”

He looked amused, not confused enough to ask you that question but that same question was something you had to ask yourself.

“Mahito,” you sobbed, clutching on his shirt, your lower lip wouldn’t stop trembling as you were unable to answer his question.

Were you only obsessed with the idea to live freely without sins or did you want something more than that?

“Nevermind.” Mahito pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, leaving his lips there for a moment. After you stopped crying, he led you deeper inside the sewers until the darkness consumed the two of you. Your heart was shuddering in your chest, you couldn’t believe how much power he held over you.

It was just Mahito had said, animals lived without guilt, pain, or worry because animals didn’t know sin.

But that statement didn’t matter, you weren’t an animal.

You were a human and your sins would follow you to your death.

And he was a cursed spirit, he didn’t know any sin.

Oh… it was him who was the animal.

A wolf couldn’t be tamed, you remembered. You weren’t the wolf. You were a domestic wolf tasting the sweet freedom for the first time. No… you were only a puppy.

A small puppy following after the big bad wolf.