#i wonder if it plays into the blood thing
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The Devil is Real (Part 1)
Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?
Word Count: 4.2k
Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]
A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.
I hope you guys like thrill rides :3
The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail
April 22, 2008
Sis,
I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!
With all my love,
Vince
You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.
This letter, however, says otherwise.
“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned.
You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.
“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.
Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”
“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!”
You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.
Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other.
There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?
“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”
“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”
You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone.
“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen.
Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.
“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”
“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.
“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food.
“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.
“And who’s going to watch André?”
André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.
“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.
The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.
May 15, 2008
Vince,
First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.
Sis
May 31, 2008
Sis,
I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!
Vince
You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.
The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.
Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”
Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”
You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”
You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”
“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”
“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”
You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”
You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”
You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on.
“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.
You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.
“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”
“If you say so…” you reply softly.
You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.
“Hey Sis, we’re here!”
After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.
“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”
“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.
You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.
“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it.
Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.
“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”
Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”
Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.
“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.
“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”
You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.
“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.
“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”
“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”
You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.
“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.
“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”
“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”
“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.
“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.
“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.
“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”
While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.
“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”
Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”
“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”
Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”
“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”
You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.
“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up.
“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”
Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.
“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building.
Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.
“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”
There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.
You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.
Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.
“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”
Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”
The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you.
As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.
Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.
“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”
For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief.
Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”
“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.
Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…
Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.
“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”
The man nods, “sí, claro.”
Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”
“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.
You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.
“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”
“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”
“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.
“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”
“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”
“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”
Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”
“Thank you, Father.”
She is perfect.
Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.
Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.
His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#plagas!leon kennedy#leon kennedy smut#dead dove do not eat#dead dove#gigabyte writes
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A Dwindling, Mercurial High
Part Two of Time, Wondrous Time
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3
Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.
Chapter summary: You have another encounter with Cooper in his trailer, proving that this is more than just a fluke.
Word count: 2.8k
Warnings: unspecified age gap, infidelity, reader is able-bodied, workplace romance, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, begging, praising, pet names (sweetheart), sir kink, mentions of food, no use of y/n
You don’t remember much of the drive home. It felt like you were having an out-of-body experience, watching yourself cruising down the highway. Just when you think the disbelief has left you, something reminds you of him again. Whether it be the wetness leaking out of you, his scent lingering on your skin, or the dull pain of where he nipped your neck. His scent only goes away once you take a hot shower, letting the physical remnants of your affair wash down the drain. But one thing remains; the shame.
That night your dreams are filled with him.
You’re not so sure if that’s a good thing.
-
You head to the studio in the morning with a pit in your stomach. You wonder how your work relationship with Cooper will change. Will you continue to eat lunches together? Will he talk to you? Will he even look in your direction?
Your daily routine starts like it always does– getting people’s coffee. Emil was right, you don’t need to write the orders down anymore. You leave for the cafe without talking to anyone, anxious for the moment you’ll see Cooper today.
When you return with the coffee, you save his for last, passing them out as the anxiety swirls through you; and then you lock eyes with him, blood running cold and your heart sinking to your knees. There’s recognition on his face but it’s different than before, it reads darker like a sworn secret. A language only the two of you speak. But then his face softens and he treats you as normal, accepting the coffee with his gracious smile.
Normal. Uneventful. Business as usual.
And then it’s time to shoot. You view his acting differently now.
-
At lunch you linger by the table of catered food, hoping he’ll ask you to eat lunch together again. But to your dismay, his wife shows up, waiting around by the table for him. You can’t bring yourself to introduce yourself; let alone even look in her direction.
But then Cooper appears out of nowhere, walking over to his wife first, of course. He pulls her in close by her waist, giving you flashbacks of last night when you were sitting in his lap. You can’t stand to be around the two of them anymore so you start to walk away.
Until he calls your name.
You look over your shoulder and he beckons you to come to him, same dazzling smile as always. Reluctantly, you walk over to them, standing awkwardly by them as Cooper says, “I never introduced you to my wife the other day. This is Barb.”
She smiles and holds out her hand but her smile is like she can see right through you. But there’s no way she knows… Right?
You introduce yourself and Cooper says, “She’s one of Emil’s new production assistants.”
“Congratulations,” she says. She leans into Cooper again and kisses him before saying, “I have to get back to work. See you later tonight.”
She bids you goodbye and leaves. It isn’t until she’s out of sight that you can start to relax a little.
“Why would you do that?” you ask.
“Do what?”
“Introduce me to her after what happened-”
“Shh,” he says, putting his hand on the small of your back and ushering you away. He takes you behind his trailer and says, “To pretend like everything is normal. She knows almost everyone on set.”
“So now what? Are we just supposed to carry on like nothing happened?”
“Right now, yes.” He takes a step closer to you and whispers, “But the second I get you alone, you’re mine.”
“Cooper!” you gasp. “Not now.”
“I know,” he groans. “I don’t think I can swing another late night tonight but maybe on Monday.”
“That long?”
“Believe me. If I had it my way, you’d be bent over in my trailer begging for me to fuck you.”
Fuck.
“But I suppose we should get back to set.”
“We should,” you nod, poking your head around the corner to make sure no one’s watching. You walk back to the soundstage, more flustered than ever with excitement brewing between your legs.
That man’s going to be the death of you.
-
As the workweek wraps up, you find yourself craving him. But not just sexually. You want to be held by him. You want to listen to his life stories. You want to just be with him.
And yet he spends his nights with his wife while you’re left feeling more jealous of her than ever.
-
On Saturday morning, you get a phone call, ripping you out of your pining. You pick it up and hear your friend Reina’s voice on the line, excited about something.
“Are you free this afternoon?!”
“I am. What’s up?”
“Let’s get lunch!”
“Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up in about an hour. I have something to tell you!!”
“Oooh, I’m excited. See you then!”
-
After getting ready for an hour, Reina picks you up, giddy and smiling like a kid. You’re barely sitting in her car before she says, “So I thought we’d get together to celebrate.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Well for one, we’re celebrating you and your new job.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“But I wanted to tell you in person that… I got a new job!!”
“Congratulations!! Where?”
“Vault-Tec.”
“Shit, really?? That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you!”
“I’ll be working in one of their labs. I start on Monday. I can’t wait.”
“Look at us, movin’ on up in the world,” you say as she pulls away from your place.
You go to a cafe in your neighborhood, spend a few hours doing some much-needed catching up. She asks you all sorts of questions about working on a movie set. A tempting feeling tells you to bring up Cooper but it’s against your better judgment.
Once you’re home alone again, the lonely feeling returns. You think about Cooper and what he’s doing. Maybe he’s spending time with his daughter. Maybe he’s at dinner with his wife.
…Maybe he’s fucking his wife.
God, the thought makes you sick. Isn’t that fucked up?
Whatever. All you know is that for once, you can’t wait for Monday.
-
Monday morning. Wake up. Drive to work. Grab everyone’s coffee at the cafe. It’s muscle memory at this point.
You hand Cooper his coffee and smoke innocently, asking, “Hey Cooper. How was your weekend?”
“It was alright. How was yours?”
“Not too bad. I’m excited for work today.”
It’s an innocent statement to the wandering ear. But he’ll catch your drift.
“You and me both, swee-”
He cuts himself off and your eyes go wide. He almost called you sweetheart in public. You playfully slap him on the bicep and say, “Watch it, Coop,” before walking away with a sway in your hips. You feel his stare practically burn a hole into you. You glance over your shoulder and look at his flustered stare; cheeks flushed and wearing a dumbfounded expression. You giggle and give him a playful wave, somehow even more excited for tonight than you already were.
-
You expect to eat lunch together like you normally do. But when it’s time to break he comes up to you and says, “Hey, I was thinking…”
And for some reason the cadence in his voice has you set up for disappointment.
“Yeah?”
He lowers his voice and continues, “If we’re going to continue this… thing we have going. I think it’s better if we stop eating lunch together. You know… to avoid any suspicion.”
What he’s saying makes perfect sense but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. You try your best to mask your disappointment, telling him, “I get it.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Don’t worry, you’ll have me all to yourself later tonight.”
“I know,” you nod. “I’ll catch you later.”
You force a smile and turn to walk to the parking lot. You’ll let your disappointment show there. Once you’re alone, you let the tears flow and feel fucking stupid about it. What he’s asking for is logically sound. You’re having a fucking affair with him for crying out loud. And not only that, he’s your coworker. This type of relationship is not one that he can flaunt proudly. And yet… You find yourself wanting that. But for that, you feel crazy. You’ve barely been seeing him for a week and you’re already developing the desire to be exclusive no matter how unrealistic and unattainable it is.
If anything, it’s a testament to your attraction to him, that it far surpasses just a physical connection.
-
Once shooting is wrapped up for the day, you hang back at the studio for a while, waiting for people to leave. Finally what you’ve been aching for for days is here. And you couldn’t be happier.
You meet him at this trailer where he quickly pulls you inside. He locks the door and immediately pushes you up against it, kissing you passionately.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmurs against your lips.
“Really?” you ask, followed by another quick kiss.
“You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about this all weekend.”
“I’m honored,” you joke. But you quickly drop the smug facade and add, “I feel the same way.”
Inhaling his scent reminds you how much you missed over the past few days. He pulls you over to the couch, sitting with his thighs spread in a wide, inviting stance. He pats his lap and beckons for you to come over to him. You take it a step further. Unlike last time when you just slipped off your underwear, this time you shed all your clothes.
His jaw falls to the floor as he takes in your form. Every beauty mark, scar, freckle, birthmark– you name it, he’s admiring it. The cool air in the trailer makes your nipples form into stiff peaks. You straddle one of his thighs, resting your hands on his shoulders. One of his hands holds your waist while the other caresses your cheek, brushing his thumb against your face. His calloused hand is a stark contrast to your soft skin. You close your eyes and revel in the feeling of just being here with him.
“My pretty girl,” he says softly, hand migrating to your chin. Your lips curve into a gentle smile as you open your eyes. You meet his gaze and notice his pupils are blown wide, just like last time.
“You’re heaven-sent. You know that?”
“You don’t mean that,” you say, turning your head and looking away from him.
He grabs your chin and directs your head back towards him, telling you sternly, “Swear on my heart.”
You lean in and kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as his hand on your chin joins his hand on your waist. You roll your hips into him, your cunt rubbing against his thigh and creating a wet spot on his pants.
“So needy,” he teases, hovering over your lips.
“I’ve been waiting so long,” you whine.
“Poor thing,” he tuts, pulling back and looking at you with a smirk. He brings his pointer and middle fingers to your mouth and says, “Open.”
You oblige and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them like a good girl. But once you’ve done enough he pulls his hand away and teases your cunt. When he finally sinks his fingers inside you he caresses the outline of your breast with his other hand. Both hands work to build up your pleasure, one curling his fingers against your walls and the other taking your nipple in between his fingertips. You grip his shoulders harder, using them as leverage while you rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his fingers.
He silently watches you, in awe of you and your beauty. He doesn’t speak until you cum, letting out a strained “Oh fuck,” as your wetness runs down his hand. You cum with a string of soft moans and whimpers, aching for his cock to be inside you already. He pulls his fingers out of you and gives you a swift slap on the ass, “Alright, now get up. I meant it when I said I wanted you bent over.”
You move off his lap and bend yourself over the couch. He stands up and takes the opportunity to get undressed. He takes his belt and slaps it against your ass. Your nerves sting as the leather collides with your skin. He tosses the belt beside you on the couch, leans forward, and whispers, “And I meant it when I said I wanted you to beg.”
“Please fuck me,” you whine.
“You can do better than that.”
“I need you to fuck me, sir.”
“Sir??” he says, sounding taken aback.
Your stomach sinks, fearing that you said something to turn him off. Instead, he gathers the remnants of your spend with his hand, leans forward, and says, “Good girl.”
You feel his lubricated cock enter you, splitting you apart as your knees buckle underneath you. He holds your hips as he slams into you repeatedly, his cock hitting the most perfect angles inside you. Moans force their way out of your throat, filling up his trailer with your choked-up sobs. He slaps your ass and showers you with praise, telling you how you’re such a good girl for taking his cock like this. You hold onto the back of the couch for dear life, feeling your orgasm threatening to break loose.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whine.
He leans forward and whispers in the shell of your ear, “Do it. Let me feel it.”
With one last thrust inside you, you come undone around his cock, wetness running down your thighs. He wards off his own orgasm, letting you ride out your high before pulling out and coming on your ass. You collapse against the couch, feeling the aftershocks of your eventful night. He grabs a tissue and wipes off the beds on your back. He lies down on the couch and pulls you into him, limbs intertwined and bodies slick with sweat. You rest your head on his chest and feel his wild heartbeat. He sighs, prompting you to poke your head up and ask, “Everything alright?”
“I just… I needed this.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been so stressed lately.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Barb works for Vault-Tec and I don’t… I don’t particularly care for them.”
“No? My friend works for them, too.”
“Oh yeah? What department?”
“She works in the labs. What about Barb?”
“I’m not even sure. Every day she tells me less and less about what she actually does there.”
“I see.”
“I just can’t shake the feeling there’s something more sinister going on.”
“With Barb? Or Vault-Tec?”
“Maybe both? I’m not sure. She wants me to shoot a campaign ad for them in a few weeks and I feel like I can’t say no.”
“An ad for what?”
“To advertise the vaults, I guess.”
“I just don’t get it… Do you really think we’ll have to live in these vaults one day?”
“I sure hope not, sweetheart.”
The uneasiness on his face is undeniable so you change the subject.
“Let’s focus on something else… We’re almost done shooting!”
“Thank God. This shoot’s gone on for too fuckin’ long…” he trails off. His face softens into a smile. “But at least Emil’s poor time management led me to you.”
“I did think it was weird when he hired me so late into the shoot.”
“Well, the rumor is the last production assistant got fired because he was a Commie.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
You rest on his chest again, staring up at the ceiling of his trailer.
“Everything’s so uncertain lately… I hate it.”
“At least we have this moment together, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.
“You’re right,” you whisper back, feeling yourself drift off to sleep.
-
You wake up with a gentle shake from Cooper. You open your eyes to meet his, expecting him to be frantic. But instead, he’s unusually calm.
“What time is it?!”
“About three in the morning.”
“Oh my God?! What are you gonna tell-”
“I’ll just tell her I fell asleep in my trailer.”
“Is she gonna-”
“Yes, she’ll buy it. I’ve done it before.”
You stretch and sit up while he gets up and grabs your clothes. The both of you get dressed before leaving his trailer. You’re still shocked you fell asleep for that long and you’re paranoid Barb won’t buy his excuse. He walks to your car, kissing you on the cheek before hastily walking to his own car. Part of you feels guilty for putting him in this situation. But it takes two to have an affair.
You go home and crash into bed, dreaming about him like always.
End note: I originally planned for this story to be three parts but it’s grown to four!! If you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment or shoot me an ask!! And thank you to @clawdee for beta reading!
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His Student: Demon!Yeosang x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Incubus!Yeosang x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairing: demonline x reader
Word Count: 11k
Genre: smut (lots), angst MINORS DNI
Summary: YN's animosity with Yeosang reaches a head after a cruel prank. Will the teacher be taught new things by his insolent student?
Tags: enemies to FWB, master/salve dynamic, enslavement, mentions of domestic abuse, sex fighting, sex wrestling, degradation, name calling, nipple play, breast play, breast slapping, spanking, humiliation, light cock and ball pain, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough oral sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, slight blood play, tickling, tickling feet, self-lubrication, tit fucking, thigh fucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, gangbang, cream pie (massive), belly bulging (slight), hate fucking, fight fucking,
@pirateeznet
Previously on Pretty Pet | > Next
***
Sunrises. Chittering birds. The warmth of a lover. The smell of a hot breakfast or dark coffee. There were many things you’d rather wake up to aside from the pallid, stern face of your handler, Yeosang. Blinking your eyes open, you let out a soft groan seeing him on the side of the bed. You wondered how long the weirdo had been watching you, since he said nothing to you. It unnerved you. You rolled on your side to turn your back on him. Could he not see you're recovering from San?
Two months of living with your new masters was exhausting, if nothing else. Being San’s housewife proved more difficult than expected. Lots of travels into the city, buying ingredients for dinners you don't make, having clothes he tore apart mended, and pretending to tidy up a house that is already clean was a lot. Hongjoong remained undecided about his “schedule”, so it changed regularly: you’d either be enduring sex training by him or one of the servants, sitting in a cage with kitten ears waiting for him, or whatever he felt like assigning for the day. Interchange that with lessons with Yeosang, who was not the most understanding or gentle of teachers. He was critical, bossy, and demanding. If you missed a note, he made you play the piece again. If your voice cracked on a high pitch, he rolled his eyes and told you to sing again. According to him, musical talents should come easily to someone, and you kept proving him wrong.
“You’ve been in bed long enough,” you heard him say. “Time to get up. You’re going to miss your lessons.”
You’d never, ever, ever tell anyone how much you’d enjoyed taunting him that first day. Seeing the strict, austere demon crumble in your hand gave you a sense of triumph. It felt good getting back at him in the best way.
“Boo-hoo,” you grumbled into your pillow. The toll the previous night took on your body showed in your sore muscles. Thankfully, the creams helped with the tender areas. “I’m sick.”
“You’re not sick.”
“Yes I am,” you gave several coughs, “See?”
“You can’t get sick in Hell, idiot,” he scolded. “You’re already dead. You only get sick if someone curses you with pestilence, which you’re tempting me with if you don’t get up right now.”
“Do it, Demon Boy,” you challenged. “Then you can tell Master Seonghwa why he can’t have sex with me tonight.”
Brown eyes rimmed with crimson glared at you. For a second, you saw him considering it before his loyalty to Seonghwa won over.
“You were permitted to miss breakfast with Master Seonghwa, but you aren’t missing your lessons. The Masters are at work, Jongho is on his way to start your morning routine, and I have to prepare us for the day. Get up.”
“What if I don’t?” you shot at him.
“I’ll have Mingi throw cold water on you and drag you out of that bed,” he threatened. “Then, you can walk around cold, naked and wet.”
“Bet you’d love that, huh?”
He didn’t answer you, but instead turned on his heel and left. Rolling onto your back again, you soaked yourself in San’s bed. The youngest brother worked you particularly hard the previous night. He’d gotten particularly worked up from his day at the arena, so in usual fashion, he came home half naked and harder than a rock. It started in the living room, where he tore at your dress and panties before taking you in the hallway towards the bedroom. Heated passion drove the both of you last night. You simply couldn't get enough of one another. You knew you'd have a similar night with Seonghwa, if he wished.
“Morning, sunshine!” Jongho poofed into existence as you slipped off the bed, holding the thin chemise he always put over you. “How’re you feeling? I heard Master San was pretty wild last night.”
“It was nothing unexpected,” you answered, sliding on the chemise. “That cream you made helped with the bruises.”
“Master San can get a bit rough when he’s in the heat of things,” he said, “So I knew you’d need it. I’ll bring you some tea while you’re bathing.”
“Thanks, Jongho.”
He let you walk into the bathroom alone while he disappeared to the kitchen. It took several minutes of convincing and reassuring your handlers that you can bathe yourself. You told them you weren’t a baby who couldn’t wash herself. Not that you hadn’t minded the extra-close attention, but the bathtub seemed the only place nobody disturbed you. Sliding into the water, you added a few drops of bath bubbles and watched them form in your hands. The calming scents wafted up from the surface, which you inhaled deeply. Bath time was always the best time. Wiping the cloth over your skin, you let yourself soak in the relaxing warmth.
You’d grown to enjoy your life in the Black Keep. It was extremely more preferable than the House of Kisses. During San’s days, walking through the streets in your casual dresses and heels, you’d pass the brothel district to see the other slaves. You pitied their situation, even if Mingi insisted they deserved and chose this fate. He didn’t understand the reality of the circles. It’d been one of the realizations you made about the high-borns: they don’t visit the circles. Those places are for the damned to endure, not the demons. The farthest they’d gone, you’ve assumed, was to their different workplaces. You’d explained to Mingi that a life of servitude was more appealing than suffering a brutal punishment. Yes, they lived in poverty, subjected to vile sexual acts every night, and abused by their “owners”, but better than the circles. Much better. You in particular were especially lucky.
“Fucking pet…”
She’d been a skinny, unwashed thing. You’d walked back through the district from the merchants’ street when you came across her. Her body wrapped in a sheet of muslin fabric, the young woman stood outside a brothel peddling herself to passersby. You knew from experience that being put out was a form of punishment. They’d work, eat and sleep outside the brothel rather than in the comfort of the inside. She’d seen your fancy dress and lace collar, and glared at you. You couldn’t help glaring back. It’s not as if you asked to become their pet. It was fate. You don’t even know if they bought you legally. San only slit Rufus’s throat and they took you as theirs.
“Are you planning on marinating in there like a chicken or are you going to get out? We’re on a schedule that you’re already late for.”
Where you’d expected Jongho, you received Yeosang instead. You huffed in annoyance, “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, preparing for the lesson? You know, tuning the piano or the cello or finding the right books to put my nose into?”
“I already did,” he said stone-faced. He walked over to the shelf of toiletries and towels, grabbing one of them for you. “Sorry that I don’t dawdle. Unlike you, I understand schedules and adhere to them.”
“It’s not the end of the world if I don’t show up on time.”
He came to the tub, extending the towel to embrace you. “Out. Now.”
You grumbled, standing from the comforting water into the cold air. He wrapped you in the towel, and began drying your body. “I can dry myself, you know.”
“I do,” he said, starting at your feet and working to your knees, then your hips. “But I have a job to do and I do it.”
As he dried you, you noticed he caressed certain spots. At first, you thought he was being careful with the areas San spanked in his heated moment. Yet, you couldn’t help seeing the heavy lidded eyes and longing stares. You rolled your eyes. He lingered over marks San left on parts of your body. Absent-mindedly, he traced the light bruising he found with delicate fingers regardless of location. His cold digits left goosebumps on your skin.
“I thought we were on a tight schedule, Yeosang,” you interrupted his admiration.
He coughed awkwardly, “Yes, we are.”
He hurriedly dried the rest of you, put you in your chemise again, then took you to your dressing room. Wooyoung stood there waiting with a Seonghwa-approved dress: a wrap-around pale pink dress with flowers painted onto the hems. Your hair done into a braid, he tied a matching ribbon to the end of it. In the mirror, you saw the angelic, innocent virgin Seonghwa wanted. You also spotted Yeosang looking at you in the mirror. The same lust-filled stare gazed over your body, no doubt undressing you piece-by-piece again. You ignored him, and walked out of the room first.
“Morning, Mingi,” you said to your bodyguard who stood outside your doors.
“Morning, YN,” he replied, nodding as you passed by him. “Have fun last night?”
“Loads,” you grinned. “Have fun listening to it?”
“You know I did.” You sensed him watching the ends of your dress swishing in each stride, and stifled a laugh. “You’re a demon’s weakness, you know that?”
“It’s becoming more obvious by the day.”
Yeosang came into step with you, then walked ahead. You shook your head at him. Seeing his straight strides, his proper posture and head tilt, Yeosang showed his superiority even while walking. Even with his status as a “servant”, he thought himself above everyone around him. Mingi claimed they are half-brothers, sons of Satan, the Prince of Wrath. It explained Yeosang’s quickness of anger, even if subdued by his sophisticated manner. If he is so important, why was he content with servitude and not having his own lands?
“You’re a son of Satan, right?” you asked him from behind.
“A grandson.”
“Then how come you don’t have your own lands like The Masters?”
“I’m not part of the direct bloodline,” he said stiffly. “I am a son-of-son. Only those with direct relation get the finer things.”
“That still makes you his blood though. You’re his grandson.”
“And not directly from him. Direct bloodline implies it is someone right after him like Master Seonghwa, Asmodeus’s son from the 18th generation.”
“19th?”
“Those demons born between 1701 to 1800 obviously,” he said over his shoulder. “We won’t be covering the 18th generation for a while. We're still covering the 12th generation.”
“The medieval period, I know.”
“The High Middle Ages, YN.”
“Well, what generation are you, Mr. Know-It-All?”
“20th,” he said. “I was born in 1904. My mother was a demon of wrath and my father, Satan, took a liking to her. She was his mistress for many years. Same for Mingi’s mother. The Princes don’t take ‘wives’, if you couldn’t tell on your own.”
“What generations are Masters Hongjoong and San?”
“Master Hongjoong is from the 18th generation as well; he was born in 1755, while Master Seonghwa was born in 1754,” he said. “Master San is the youngest in the 20th generation, being born in 1910”
“I guess I’d be a 20th generation, if I was a demon?”
“Yes.”
“Which would make you older than me?”
“Psh, I’m much, much older than you, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you. You’re generally disagreeable and insolent to anyone regardless of age.”
“No, Yeosang, I’m only disagreeable to you.”
He opened the doors to Seonghwa’s apartment without retort. You liked shutting him up even if briefly. Mingi stayed by the doors while you followed Yeosang into the music room. You’d missed the cello lesson according to the clock on the wall, so he took you over to the piano next. Sitting beside him on the bench, you watched him open the music book on the stand for you to read.
“Let’s start with Chopin today,” he said, turning the page to one of the compositions. “He truly is one of the greats. Small children are able to play this, so let’s see just how much better a seven-year-old would be compared to your mediocrity.”
You wanted to kick him under the bench. It made you want to prove him wrong. You paid close attention to each note he played and repeated them back. He kept a distasteful expression every time you matched his notes. You remembered bits and pieces from those piano lessons your mother’s friend gave you. Mama hoped you’d become a famous musician one day; she said you had the talent if you practiced hard enough. Eight-year-old YN wanted to make her happy, and playing the piano and singing did that. That is, until He broke the small electric piano she’d saved up for your birthday.
‘Nobody wants to listen to that shit!’ he’d shout, kicking it aside before sitting down.
You never played again.
“Well, I suppose you aren’t entirely useless after all,” Yeosang said when the lesson ended. You’d played the song perfectly, and you knew it bothered him. “Master Seonghwa will be pleased when he hears you after dinner. Try to remember it between now and then.”
He stood up from the bench, and you stayed behind. You heard him gathering books in the next room, but you let your fingers trace the black keys. A melody came to you in particular. ‘Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel, Johnny Angel…You’re an angel to me.’ She always sang while she cleaned, even if under her breath. Her voice became your welcoming jingle. It was how you knew she was home. You'd learned how to play it by listening to the tune enough and working on it secretly in your room. Her face had lit up when you played it for her on her birthday.
You missed her smile.
“What song is that?” Yeosang’s voice cut through your memory. It irritated you. Are you not allowed even a few minutes to yourself? “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a song from home,” you answered. “You wouldn’t care.”
‘You’ve got natural born talent, baby girl.’
“Ugh, you humans are so sentimental. It’s-”
“-Fuck you, demon-boy,” you snapped over your shoulder, fingers slamming down the keys in emphasis. “Not everyone had parents who didn’t give a shit about them.”
“I’d rather have no parents than one who smacked me around,” he remarked. “Come on, Master Seonghwa will be here soon and he’ll be cross if he sees you all weepy like that.”
You heard him leave, and anger boiled in your veins. It angered you because he was right. You would’ve rather not had a father than the one you lived with.
“YN!”
Leaving the bench, you walked through the apartment to the dining room. They’d already put down the fine china and utensils for lunch. You pushed your father from your head as you sat down. Putting the cloth napkin on your lap, you wondered what you’d be having for lunch. Mama used to make peanut butter and jelly, with fruit and juice on the side. She’d put a cookie and a note inside for you. She loved you, and you treated her so terribly. You remembered purposefully leaving the bag in your locker so your friends didn’t ridicule you. Having loving parents amongst your friends was embarrassing, even though now you wished you hadn’t cared.
“YN? Yeosang?”
Yunho appeared in a puff of smoke, in his usual servant attire. “Morning, Yunho,” you said politely.
“Sir,” Yeosang bowed. “What can I help you with?”
“I’ve come to inform YN that Master Seonghwa won’t be coming home for lunch,” he said. “He has a lunch meeting with his superiors, so he can’t stop by. You’ll be dining alone today. He sends his deepest apologies and hopes you enjoy lunch.”
“That’s fine,” you said. “I understand. Thank you, Yunho.”
He nodded, disappearing once again. You sighed softly to yourself. Finally, a moment of peace. When the servant brought the first course, you thought you might scream.
‘Sorry, Kitten. I hope you enjoy your day. I’ll see you tonight.’
The pink post-it note was attached to the tray cover. Inside, you found apple slices and a cup of caramel sauce. Mama added caramel because she knew how much you liked it with the apples. It was cruel. It was a sick joke. Seonghwa must have read your mind or learned or guessed and thought it’d be funny to taunt you. To spite your master, you ate them. He likely expected you to storm out and not eat for the day. You'd prove him wrong. You'd show him. You can be strong. You've been strong and tough your whole life.
Main course hurt equally: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with barbecue chips. Your favorite brand specifically. Tears blurred your vision, but you held them back. You could feel Yeosang a few feet away; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You ate the sandwich with a dry mouth.
“You must be thirsty,” said Yeosang. “Here.”
A juice box. The cartoon apple beamed at you delightfully, the brand name over their head and another apple in their hands. Yeosang stuck the tiny plastic straw in the box for you and put it where your wine glass usually sat. It became apparent whose idea this had been.
“You’re a dick, you know that?”
He only laughed, walking away and back to his corner. You drank it anyway. It reminded you of the time fourteen-year-old YN brought lunch on her first day of high school. The kids, dressed in the popular fashion of the time, laughed when they saw the ham and cheese sandwich and loving note. You’d never felt more embarrassed than that moment. Was that when you stopped loving her? Or was it when she called you ‘sugar bear’ in front of your friends? Or when she wore a t-shirt with your face on it for your birthday? Your throat clogged up with sadness, and you stopped eating. She loved you and you were embarrassed by her.
Dessert? Chocolate chip cookies. Her chocolate chip cookies. You knew by the texture and misshapen outlines. In a fit of rage, you grabbed the plate and tossed it across the table. The expensive plate bounced off the edge and shattered on the wooden floors. You glared at Yeosang, who’d gotten a kick out of your reaction.
“What’s the matter, YN? You don’t like cookies?”
The juice box in hand, you hurled it at him. The distance was quite impressive, and the stain it’d leave pleased you. Yeosang gave you a shocked expression that turned sour quickly. You threw your napkin onto the ground and stormed towards the doors. They slammed closed the second you reached the threshold. They might have hit you if you’d taken another step.
“Where do you think you’re going, slut?” Yeosang growled, fire in his voice.
Anger normally burns like hot coals in one's belly. It scorches everything in its path through the blinding red rage. Yet, that rarely happened to you. Your rage stung. A real, hateful, borderline murderous rage pinched your nerves, and flowed through your chest like a bad heartburn. A biting pain started in your chest and rushed to your hands and your feet. This wrath never daunted your anger. It seemed to add it.
“Away from you!”
The doors suddenly burst back open again, wood cracking the edges and a door knob flying off. You breathed deeply, fighting back the caustic acid in your throat. You charged through to the front doors, pushing them open with force. The sudden burst startled a quiet Mingi, who sprung into action right away.
“YN, what’s going on?”
You didn’t answer him. Immediately, the Black Keep felt suffocating. The elegant white walls and carpeted floors smothered any air in your body. The sun glowing through the tall windows felt hotter on your skin. For the first time since you arrived, you resented this stupid house. This pretentious, obnoxiously wealthy home for horny demons. It sickened you. Mingi’s deep voice called after you, echoing in the high ceilings, but you kept moving. You never explored the mansion yourself because you’re so confined to your “schedules”. Fuck schedules. Fuck rules. Fuck everything. Fuck your snobby, self-serving bastard masters.
You found your way outside after several turns and staircases. Glass doors led to a grand staircase down into the vast gardens of the Black Keep. Outside, you finally found a refuge to make your own. The faint sweet scent of flowers and fresh air filled your lungs and cooled your hot skin. Everything felt electric. A growl came through your throat that you didn’t think possible. In the seclusion of a maze, the scathing pains cooled down with each breath. Hot tears finally spilled from your eyes. You wished they’d killed you that night or sent you back to your brothel. That way you wouldn’t be wishing to see her again.
Finally, you found yourself in an enclosed space. Gravel covered the walkway in and around the fountain and benches. The fountain, you saw, was three tiers of water and flowers spiraling and blooming from the top. Flowers in various shades of pink and white grew from the green leaves and vines. You plopped down on one of the benches and stared at it. Briefly, you thought about her again. She loved flowers. She claimed your father once liked them too; he owned a florist shop in town, but you found that hard to swallow. Flowers are delicate; he was anything but that. Your masters are exactly the same. They hide behind their pretty belongings and silly aesthetics. They dazzled you with good sex and pretty things to pacify you. Just like your bosses. Just like every other man in your life.
But you turned their games back on them. You used them like how they used you. You stepped on them to reach the top. You’d been a college drop-out with no references or experience in anything. Jobs weren’t hard to find, but good paying ones were. A pretty girl working in an office full of men, you knew what you had to do. You destroyed long-standing careers, marriages, familial relationships and friendships to get what you wanted. No man or woman could say no to you. Your beauty rendered them powerless. A flash of a smile, a touch of a hand and a suggestion pulled them into you like fish on hooks. You heard the whispers around the office. You knew what people said behind your back.
“YN’s a maneater.”
“She’s a snake in the grass.”
“A viper with pretty teeth.”
“Who exactly do you think you are?” Yeosang came into the space, and you didn’t look at him. “Hello? Answer me, slut.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You lost that-”
“-I said leave me alone, slave,” you let the insult drip from your voice.
“You don’t get to be alone anymore. You lost that-”
“-And I’m taking it back!” You fisted a few pebbles from the ground and launched them at his shiny, black shoes. “Go away! Now!”
Yeosang growled deep in his chest and charged at you. The moment he gripped your wrist, you slammed your fist into the center of his face. Your knuckles burned, but it felt worth it to see his nose bleed. The two of you scowled and snarled at one another. Like two animals in a cage, you clashed at once. Yeosang punched your cheek hard, bringing a stinging you’d grown used to right away. You wrestled him to the ground, something you didn’t know how to do but did it anyway. Dirt and gravel shifted as the two of you slapped, punched and kicked one another. You saw the red in Yeosang’s eyes fill them completely, dark and angry as he bared sharp fangs. The brief second let you slam your fist into his jaw. His body felt hard and hot against yours even under all the layers. You could tell he had a similar build to Mingi, albeit smaller and shorter. Grabbing at his arms, the hard muscles flexed under your hands. When your body collided with his, you took in the slight, strong frame. He'd be fuckable if you didn't hate him. The two of you paused for a moment, both of you panting heavily and bleeding. You stared up into his face, seeing his wide eyes and soft lips. He gazed down your own face as if really taking you in. Then Yeosang ripped the ties keeping your dress closed.
“Fucking slum slut,” he grunted through his teeth, tearing the fabric with his sharp nails, “You think you have power here? You think you’re something special? Think again.”
“Like you’re any better!” you hit his kidney area, and rolled him over. You tore at his clean, white shirt. The buttons popped off when you opened it to reveal his smooth, chiseled chest and abdomen. Grinding your hips, you pinched and rubbed his nipples. “Look at you,” you growled, rolling his nipples while moving your hips, “You’re just as slutty as me. All of you are.”
“Fuck you!”
He slashed at your cheek and pushed you off him. Falling onto your back, you knelt upright as he went for you. His body flung in reverse, he pushed you onto your back and grabbed at your panties. You kicked your legs and bucked your hips as the arousal built up in your lower region. The sound of tearing fabric, and the cool air brushing your sex made it clear. He'd torn them off. You grabbed at his black hair, pulling at it while he resisted. Burying his face in your crotch, he wildly licked and sucked your clit. You didn’t dare let out the noises in your throat. His tongue slipped and slid over your hard clit. Two could play that game. Roughly removing his belt and unzipping him, you spat on his semi-hardon and stuck it in your mouth. The two of you laid on your sides, each one trying to coax a single moan from the other and resisting.
“Fucking whore,” he seethed, rapidly rubbing your clit, “You never say no to dick, do you?”
You nearly ripped off his pants when you broke out of his grip. Dick hard and red, it pulsed in your hand as you grabbed his balls underneath. “And you don’t say no to my mouth,” you shot back, spitting on him more and wetting his delicious cock. “You act like you’re better than me, but I see how you look at me. You want to fuck the shit out of me every minute of the day.” You tugged at his ballsack, earning a loud hiss, “My pussy dripping in your mouth…My ass gripping your tiny cock.”
“It’s not tiny!”
It really wasn’t, but you’d never tell him that. He rolled you onto the ground, straddling your hips and roughly tugging on your bra. Your tits filling his hands, he squeezed them as he placed harsh kisses on your neck. His dick, throbbing and wet, pressed right to your sex. You reached down to him, and continued stroking him while he bit and sucked your nipples. Heavy breathing, grunting and groaning came between you. You hungered for him. You hated that your body betrayed you so easily; it gave him a power you never gave up to anyone. His expert tongue teased the tips of your nipples, sucking the pebbles until they grew harder. His large cock leaking into your hand, so close to your sex, you thought you might go insane with need.
You shoved him off you and started humping him. Focusing on your pussy rubbing the head, you smirked in pleasure at his whimpering. Yet, he refused to show any arousal. Yeosang kept squeezing your tits, which sent you into a new whirl of pleasure.
“Slut,” he slapped your breast hard, “Slut, slut, slut.”
He emphasized each word with a slap to your tits, which had you pinning down his knees. You saw his dick standing straight up, and you smacked it hard. It wagged in the air, and you heard Yeosang give a painful hiss.
“Slave, slave, slave,” you mocked him, slapping his dick and balls. You knew he liked it by how he grew even harder. “You’re a bigger whore than me. Each of you,” you lifted his dick to slap his testicles and make him jerk. “All of you are a bunch of whores. I only have to flash you and you all drool like fucking dogs.” You stroked him while smacking his balls, the combination of pleasure and pain making him leak in your hand.
“Don’t make me laugh!”
He grabbed your hair and pulled you over again. His dick slipped into your throat, choking your airway with his girth. “We only have to touch you a little bit, and you get soaked! Look at you now,” he shoved himself in and out of your mouth, “Taking my dick like a champ as your little cunt gets wet for me. You slum sluts love cock. You crave dick all day.”
You started sucking him earnestly, humming around him in your throat and grabbing his pert ass cheeks. Yeosang groaned when you forced a finger into his asshole, the move making him fuck your throat faster. Snug walls sucked your finger further inside him, pulsing at this new intrusion. You felt his hole growing wetter, but not with what you expected. What appeared to be a thin, clear cum worked as a lube. Self-lubricating. You never found anything hotter. Yeosang grew louder, moaning against your pussy and pushing into your throat.
“Going to make you my cum dump,” he said, eyes closed, “I’m going to make you swallow my whole load. You’d fucking love that.”
Sinking two fingers into you, you grabbed his arm and pushed him onto the ground. You continued sucking him off, straddling his head, and forcing his knees apart. Yeosang groaned and panted loudly as you fingered and sucked him. He hooked his arms around your thighs, and pulled your pussy onto his mouth. Neither of you spat any more insults. You’d make Yeosang cum like that whore he truly is. You’d get one over on him with your throat and fingers. Reaching deep inside, you found the spongy parts of his prostate. He moaned loudly on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub and sucking on it obscenely. His walls tightened around your fingers, and you matched your fingers' pace with your mouth. You grinded against his tongue, whimpering when it slipped inside you. He slapped your ass much harder than San ever could. You dug your nails into the fleshy part of his inner thigh before dragging them down. He bit the inside of your thigh. You smacked his balls hard. A primal hunger came out of each of you. Your body wished to give in, but your mind didn't let you. You tasted him leaking into your mouth, which you used to spit into your hand and shove back into his ass.
“Too bad I don’t have a dildo to fill this pretty hole,” you taunted him, “Whores like being fucked in their ass.”
“You would know,” he said, mouth full of pussy. He grabbed your hair, holding you in place as he pushed up into your mouth. “You’d fucking know, wouldn’t you, bitch?”
You kept his legs open as you fingered him faster, spit making it easier to slide in and out. He was practically riding your hand after a time, and you started riding his long tongue. You wouldn’t cum first, even if the sensation started building behind your clit. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Cum for me, bitch,” he smacked your ass with both hands, “Cum like the fucking whore you are.”
“You first, asshole,” you used your hand to smack his balls while you throated him again.
His tongue reached up to your g-spot, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. You heard his moans grow louder, much like when you’d given him the handjob. The slick sounds of his wet cock and hole being used nearly sent you over the edge. The moment you taste thick salty cum, you begin sucking him harder and fingering him deeper. Once your thighs trembled, Yeosang kept the same pace and forced you to his face. It was too close to tell, but you both came. His cock stifled your feral groans and your pussy muffled his high moans. You hated to admit he tasted so damn good. You stroked and sucked each drop, loving the slightly sweet taste in the process.
When you both finally came down, you moved away from him and wiped your mouth and fingers on the end of his coat. He did the same with your dress, the wetness clear against the cotton fabric.
“Just couldn’t get through lunch without some dick, huh?” he spat with a smirk. “You slum sluts are unbelievable.”
“You didn’t complain when I was finger fucking your ass.”
“And you didn’t when I came down your throat. Cock-hungry, cum-eating skank.”
“Not as bad as being a desperate, small-dicked prick.”
He spat in your direction, and stood up. “Get cleaned up and come to the library. We’re not done with your lessons today.”
You didn’t dare flop down into the ground. On jelly-legs, you used the fountain water to clean your hands and mouth before following him through the garden. Neither of you said anything on the way back to the library. Mingi spotted your limping and torn dress, and glared at Yeosang.
“What did you do?” he said, hands clenching at his sides. “The Masters will whip you for this.”
“I didn’t put it in her,” Yeosang said, walking past him without stopping. “I know her cunt is theirs even though it should be everyone’s with how horny she is all the time.”
Mingi’s glare diminished when he saw you. Removing his jacket, he put it over your shoulders and buttoned it to cover your body. “Are you okay?” he touched your tender cheek, pulling away when you winced. “They’ll put him on the whipping post for this.”
“I’m fine, Mingi,” you assured him. “It was just a bit…rough, that’s all.” He tried hiding the intrigue in his eyes, but you caught it and stepped closer to him. “You know I like things a bit rough,” you said in a whisper, “Especially rough enough to make me cry.”
“I should’ve gone with you then,” he said, wiping underneath your lip. “I’d give you something to really cry about.”
“Sounds like fun.”
You brushed yourself against his crotch as you turned in his arms and walked into the room. They make it so easy. It was amusing. Finding Yeosang in the library, you saw he’d pulled out several leather books. By their worn out spines and the corners, you guessed they must be several centuries old. The one scroll he’d taken out seemed delicate and frail as he carefully unrolled it on the table.
“Lose the jacket,” Yeosang ordered, “If you insist on acting like a whore, Master Seonghwa should see it when he returns home.”
Rather than argue, you removed the jacket.
And the dress.
And your bra.
In nothing but your heels, you sat in front of him and took one of the copies on the table. “What’s first in the curriculum?” you asked, pretending as if you sitting naked was entirely normal.
“Oh, so you do know words with more than two syllables,” he said, acting surprised. “Look at you, little scholar.” He took his own copy of a book titled ‘Literature of the Kings: A Collection of the Middle Ages. “We’ll start today with writings from the high middle ages. Master Seonghwa likes to talk about them, so try and keep up. Maybe you'll actually remember the time period.”
“The middle ages are all the same to me.”
While you both went over the first collection of old writing, you knew Yeosang kept looking at your body. You liked the attention and obvious struggle he faced. As he told you about something called The Cranberry Tales or whatever, you stretched to show off your chest to him. He’d finished with you in the garden, but here he was struggling to focus on his lesson plan. You wanted him to admit he was hornier than you and his masters combined. The men you used in the previous life liked to think themselves superior to everyone; they acted like the titans in their fields. You knocked them down a few notches with your pussy. It felt particularly good with men who acted above you, the secretary or office manager. Once you sat on them, they crumbled like broken cookies.
Yeosang made it through the literature lesson, and you moved to History and Geography of Inferno. The map on the table detailed the various circles, inner and outer rims. Each part in different colors, it depicted which territory belonged to which prince. You'd seen the map before, since he brought it out every lesson. Seonghwa and Yeosang believed if you lived in Inferno, or Hell as other people know it, you should know its lands. You decided to stand on his side of the table, hands on the edge as you moved in front of him.
“Where are we on here?” you asked, rolling your hips into his groin casually.
“In Prince Asmodeus’s domain, as I've told you before,” he pushed right back into you, arms going through yours to point to the light red space on the map. One hand casually grabbing your breast, he continued, “Everything from this end of the circle to this end is his. The whirling winds where you came from are on this side away from the main city. I understand why you were put there now…” he pressed his lips to your ear as he pinched your nipple, “You just had dick and now you want more. I guess you like my ‘tiny dick’.”
“I don’t know what you mean. You’re the one pushing your dick into my ass.”
“Because you make it so readily available to me.”
“Like you wouldn’t take it if I didn’t dangle it in front of you like a dog wanting a treat.”
“I’d fuck you like the bitch you are.”
“The only bitch is you.”
You squeaked when a hand smacked across your ass again. He went back to explaining the areas of the map, where the inner cities were and which families lived in them. When he demanded you repeat the information back to him, he cupped both your breasts and squeezed them. It only mildly distracted you. As you described every prince and their heirs, Yeosang nibbled at your neck and slipped his hand between your legs. Your pussy, still wet from the garden, felt sensitive to his touches.
“-And this is our family,” you pointed to the serpents around the thorny rose, “Master Seonghwa is the heir to the land, with Master Hongjoong and Master San right after him-”
“-Yes, I am the heir of this land.”
Yeosang and you jumped apart when Seonghwa stood in the doorway. Removing his tie, his dark eyes glinting with interest. “And the heir wishes to know why his Kitten is naked and grinding into his loyal servant?”
“I was hot,” you said, standing straight and killing the desires inside you.
“Very,” Seonghwa said, eyes gazing up your body. He stopped and gasped when he saw your split bottom lip. “Kitten, what happened?” He went straight to you, cupping your face to see it more closely. “Oh, Kitten…Yeosang, what-Wait, what happened to your face?”
The redness on the bridge of his nose stood out against his porcelain skin, and so did the welt on his cheek. Even though he'd tried fixing himself up, he hadn't done a supreme job.
“Did you two have a fist fight?” he asked him.
“Yes, Master,” Yeosang admitted. “She was being disobedient and having a temper tantrum.”
“After you pulled a mean prank on me at lunch.”
“You humans are so damn sensitive,” he remarked. “It was only a joke. It's not my fault you can’t take a joke.”
“Nobody was laughing but you-”
“-Enough,” Seonghwa intervened, “You two argue like children.” He straightened his jacket as he said, “And you decided to fight? Where? In the dining room?”
“No,” you answered.
“Then who blew the dining room doors?”
“Yeosang!”
“What?! It wasn’t me! It was you!”
“I’m a human. I couldn’t have.”
“You did it somehow!” He snapped. “You slammed them open or pushed them hard to frame me.”
“Shut it,” Seonghwa snapped. “Where did you do it?”
“In the garden,” you said.
“She’d stormed away from me when I told her not to,” Yeosang explained quickly. “I only followed her to bring her back into the house.”
“And instead of bringing her back you decided to hate fuck her again?” he asked, hands on hips. “Yeah, I can smell it on both of you. What did you do?”
“Hit each other,” you answered.
“I mean sex-wise,” he elaborated, “What did you do to one another?” Not getting an immediate response, he said, “Oh, now you’re both suddenly ashamed?”
“I finger fucked him,” you answered, “While I sucked him and slapped his balls.”
“And I…” Yeosang hesitated. “I tongue fucked her pussy and fucked her throat.”
“Oh yeah?” The small descriptions intrigued your master, a smirk spreading on his face. He lifted your chin and examined your other injuries. You winced at the thumb touching your jaw, and he placed a soft kiss on it. “How many times did you both cum?” he asked, licking the caked blood on your broken lip.
“Only once,” you replied, your body warming to his hot tongue.
“A quick one then?” a low rumble came from his chest, and you knew what ran through his mind.
“Yes,” you answered in unison.
He looked between the two of you, then said, “Come with me.”
Nervousness killed the arousal Yeosang started up again. There’d been no specific rules against sex with the other servants. They only said nobody could have vaginal sex with you. Is he punishing you for the door? It was Yeosang, not you. Maybe for fighting him? You can imagine that. Seonghwa likely believed fighting wasn’t lady-like. Reaching Seonghwa’s bedroom, you took in the tall canopy bed with its white floral curtains and white bed covers. The sunlight dimming outside left the room in a golden glow, bringing out the bright colors in the room. Seonghwa removed his jacket, putting it behind a chair he brought closer to the bed.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered, taking a seat and relaxing in his chair. On a table beside him, he poured himself a brandy. “And finish what you two started in the library.”
“Sir, really,” Yeosang huffed a laugh, “This isn’t necessary-”
“-Do you both need to be fighting for the sex to happen? Is that your foreplay?”
“It’s not my fault he gets hard berating me all the time,” you said, shooting him a glance. “He’s always calling me names and insulting my intelligence.”
“I’m not saying anything untrue,” he replied. “You’re a cock-starved slum slut. Is that not true?”
“And you’re an uptight, snobby small-dicked bitch boy,” you spat. “That sounds pretty accurate to me.”
Seonghwa laughed, sipping his brandy, “You two really can go at it, huh? Keep going. This is fun.”
“If my dick is so small, how could you gagged on it when I fucked your mouth?” he challenged, stepping to you.
“Psh, you call what you did ‘gagging’? The only thing that made me gag is your gross tasting cum. I wouldn’t eat it even if it was the last edible source in the world.”
“Look who’s talking. Master Seonghwa says your pussy tastes like honey, but I think it tastes like rotten fruit.”
You pushed him, and he pushed back. That sharp feeling in your chest returned, pooling like saliva in your mouth. You swallowed it back even if it hurt. Showing any sign of desire would mean Yeosang won. You wouldn’t let him.
“Slap her,” Seonghwa said, eyes trained on both of you. “You’re going to let a slum slut talk to you like that? She’s a filthy human, and you’re a grandson of Satan. How dare she disrespect you that way.”
Yeosang took his words to heart and smacked you again. “Ooh, that was hard,” Seonghwa laughed, “Kitten, don’t just stand there. Hit him back.”
So you did. Yeosang blocked the hit and slapped you. When he reached for you, you turned him onto his back on the bed. Once more, you tore at Yeosang’s clothes much more harshly this time. The broken buttons made it much easier, and it came off with his coat as well. Yeosang squirmed when you took his nipple between your teeth. As you teased his nipples, he reached down to your own to pinch them hard.
“Come on,” Seonghwa drawled, “You two can do better than nipple stuff. Bite each-Haha, yes! Like that!”
Yeosang sunk his canines into your shoulder, making you yelp in pain as he drew blood. You did the same back, and the taste of his blood stirred your hunger. It tasted like a good rare steak. You supposed demon blood tasted that way. You’d started grinding into Yeosang as you bit across his collarbone. The sting of pain didn’t stop him from pushing you onto your back. He straddled your stomach and started slapping your tits again, using wide swings to add extra pain. You cried out as he did it to them at the same time, enjoying the stings of pain with your arousal. Trying to wriggle out from under him, you undid his pants to pull his cock out again. You held his hands on your tits as you slipped his length between them.
“Oooh a nice tit fuck,” Seonghwa said, “How delightful. You’re not going to give in that easily, are you, Yeosang? I didn’t think the sons of Satan could be so weak.”
“He is weak,” you confirmed, glaring at him as you pumped him with your breasts. “He’s already dripping on my tits. He loves my tits, don't you? Huh? My soft tits and hard nipples?”
“You fucking bitch,” Yeosang growled.
You laughed mockingly at him, and he slapped your face. Still laughing, you grappled with him as he tried getting you onto your front.
“Pin her down,” Seonghwa cheered, “Get her ass in the air.”
“What’s going on here?” a curious voice came from the door. San appeared, fresh from work, and he stopped next to Seonghwa when he saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Are they wrestling?”
“Hate fucking. Care to watch?”
“Absolutely. I love a good hate fuck.”
Forced onto your front, you tried lifting Yeosang off your back. Laying on your horizontally, he held you down while he began landing hard slaps to your ass. Your kicking and jerking amused the three demons.
“Finger her,” Seonghwa called out, “Make her cum first.”
“Darling, just grab his dick. It’s right there.”
You curved your body as much as possible to reach Yeosang’s hardening cock. Yeosang in return slipped two fingers into your aching pussy. Seonghwa cheered for Yeosang when he spotted the butler listening to his instructions. Yeosang spread your legs further, putting one hand under you and another over you and he fingered your pussy and rubbed your ass hole. Whining and whimpering, you spat on your hand and worked him up and down. You felt him pulse with each stroke. With a hard squeeze of his shaft, the brief pain distracted him enough to lose his grip on you. Sitting on his chest, you spat on his dick and stroked him with both hands. Yeosang’s fingers tickle the tops of your feet until you become ticklish. You kept jerking him off even as you fought the tickling sensation in your feet. He went further up your feet until he reached the center of your sole, which had you kicking to escape them.
“Ticklish much, slut?” Yeosang teased before grabbing both ankles.
He rolled you onto your front, pinning you down with his body and continuing to tickle your feet. Laughing from the tingling feeling, you tried moving your feet from him but when he turned around against you, using the empty space like a chair, it was over. Strong arms wrapped around your legs, he kept tickling your feet and backs of your legs.
“Is it weird that I’m kind of into this?” San asked his brother.
“Hongjoong’s into it, so let that be your answer.”
“Tickling isn’t that weird…”
You eventually kicked a foot out, and scrambled away from Yeosang. On the other side of the bed, you stood ready to tackle him.
“Uh-oh, she got away, Yeosang,” Seonghwa jeered. “Just grab her!”
Yeosang lunged for you, managing to yank you onto the bed by the hair. Bent over, he brought you into the middle by an arm around your thighs. You struggled in his grasp. Your lower half in his lap, Yeosang resumed tickling your feet with one hand while holding your face into the bed with the other. Shimming your hips around, your pussy pressed to his cock easily. Yeosang let out a soft moan when you slipped him between your thighs. Grinding up and down, you fucked Yeosang with your thighs.
“She’s thigh fucking him even in that weird position,” San chuckled. Finally seeing him, you saw he’d pulled up his own chair and drank from a brandy glass. “God, that’s hot.”
The door opened again when you rolled off Yeosang. “Ah, so this is where everyone is!” Hongjoong walked into the room, and saw you and Yeosang on the bed. “Well, well, what is going on here?”
“Fight fuck,” San answered, “Pull up a chair.”
All three men groaned and laughed when you slammed a fist into Yeosang’s face. “Pet can really throw a punch!” Hongjoong laughed, shocked by the blood dripping from Yeosang’s mouth.
“Put him inside you, Darling,” San suggested. “Milk him with that delicious pussy of yours.”
“And he’d love it,” you growled at Yeosang, not hesitating to slide him inside you. Bouncing fast and hard, you pinned him by his shoulders and fucked him. “Who’s the fucking whore now, hm? Who’s the whore now?”
“It’s still you, bitch!”
Yeosang punched you this time. Teeth cutting into your cheek, he used the moment to force you onto your back. Blood tinged your mouth, which you gathered and spat on him. This only angered him more.
“Fuck her, Yeosangie,” Hongjoong called, “Fuck her!”
The three brothers hooted when Yeosang curled you and shoved his dick into you hard. The bed bounced in every thrust. You refrained from moaning in each blissful push. Stars exploded in front of you whenever his dick went particularly deep. You swore the man was drawing out your sanity bit by bit. You clawed at his arms, his hands and back to distract him but he kept on going. The stabs of pain did not stop him at all. Even as blood peeked out of the hard scratches, Yeosang seemed unfazed.
“You can tap out any time, Kitten,” Seonghwa said, “You can give in and let him fuck your pretty holes.”
“N-No,” you grunted, trying to slide out from under Yeosang even if his cock hit your g-spot perfectly. “Oh fuck, no. No, no, no, fuck you, no!”
Sensing your orgasm, Yeosang started pushing deeper. The brothers having a perfect view of Yeosang inside you, they started counting his thrusts.
“Bet she cums in, like, ten more thrusts,” Hongjoong said.
“I bet five,” Seonghwa replied. “She’s already curling her toes, look.”
“Darling, come on, don’t give in that easily. You hold on so well for me in my bed.”
You used all your strength to get Yeosang off you. Once separated from him, putting one arm on his throat, you squeezed his balls as you started sucking him.
“That’s my girl,” San said approvingly. “That’s it. Give him a nice blowjob.”
“Fucking hell, Yeosang! You almost had her!”
“Kang Yeosang,” Seonghwa scolded him, “If you don’t turn that bitch around and get back to fucking her, I’m going to put you in the greenhouse. You remember how stretched your ass hole got when Dennis finished with you, don’t you?”
This threat caused you and Yeosang to roll onto the hard floor. A shock of pain went from your head to your back, with you breaking Yeosang’s fall. Scrambling over you, he took advantage of your hard fall and lifted and spread your legs. Your head stuck against the bed frame, the awkward position nearly choked you. Keeping himself up on his hands, Yeosang fucked you in a reverse position that pleased your audience.
“I bet you she passes out,” Hongjoong tapped San’s arm. “He’s got her in a rough position.”
“Darling, don’t give up,” San encouraged you.
“No, do give up, Darling,” Hongjoong said, “I want to fuck you after Yeosang.”
“Hell no,” said Seonghwa, “It’s my day so I’m fucking the loser first.”
Using Yeosang’s tactic against him, you started tickling Yeosang’s feet. He collapsed right at the first few brushes. To keep your audience happy, you managed to maneuver yourself on Yeosang so they could see you jerk him off with your soaked cunt.
“She’s so fucking wet,” San moaned. You saw the bulges in each of their pants. San palmed his down to focus on you instead of his own pleasure. “How long have they been at this?”
Seonghwa told his brothers what you and Yeosang did in the garden. While he recounted the story, Yeosang knocked your elbows so you fell onto his chest. Locking his legs around yours, he stuck his hand to your pussy and started rubbing your sensitive pussy quickly. You managed to stick him between your thighs again, grinding into him. Both of you grunted and groaned, restraining your needy whimpers as you fucked on the ground. You refused to let him win. Even with your bloody mouth and aching muscles, you fought against him.
“Holy shit, they did that?” Hongjoong laughed. “Sounds to me like they’re both whores. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“Neither do I,” said Seonghwa, “But it riles them up. I figured a one-on-one will settle things between them.”
“By how they’re fucking, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Yeosang turned you into your front and stuck himself in your ass. Your sudden scream delighted the three men. “She loves it in her ass,” Hongjoong said, “Give it to her hard, Yeosang.”
“Fuck her ass,” Seonghwa chanted.
The three brothers began chanting as you clawed at the hardwood floors. Pleasure pounded into you in every thrust. When your moans finally broke and became louder, the chanting ended and you heard clapping.
“Make her cum,” Seonghwa said, “Get that slum slut to cum really hard. I want that pussy nice and sloppy for me.”
“Darling, stop being a wimp and fight back!”
“She’s too fucked out to care about fighting-Oh, oh, oh, I think it’s happening!”
You punched at Yeosang’s arms, hoping it might cause him to collapse, but he held strong. Your face pressed to the floor by his hand, you trembled and pounded the floor as you came. You felt humiliated and defeated. Yeosang laughed in triumph. Hongjoong and Seonghwa cheered at your quaking legs and stiff muscles. They encouraged him to keep going, but Yeosang pulled out and stood over you. He kicked you over onto your back, smugness on his blushing face as he put his foot on your chest. His muscles tensed and body rocked back and forth. Thick drops of cum fell right onto your face and neck. This time, you didn’t catch them in your mouth but instead turned your head. You hated how he laughed in the face of your defeat, humiliating you further by cumming all over you.
“Oh, all of a sudden you don’t want cum in your mouth?” Seonghwa asked in disbelief.
“Darling,” San moaned in disappointment, “You were doing so well. What happened?”
“Yeosang’s cock happened, that’s what,” cackled Hongjoong, who stood to unbuckle his pants. “Now, it’s my turn.”
“No, it’s mine,” argued Seonghwa, taking off his shirt. “Like I said, it’s my day with her so I go first.”
“Then I’m going second. San goes last.”
“What? Why me?”
“You’re the youngest.”
“And the biggest,” he argued back.
“Oh give me a break. Don’t use that excuse again.”
“On the bed, bitch.”
Seonghwa took your ankles and Yeosang took your arms. In a single swing, they threw you onto the bed. “Fuck, look at that,” Seonghwa groaned, removing the rest of his clothes and climbing onto the bed, “Her pussy is so damn wet.”
“She’s a whore,” Yeosang said, tapping his dick on your mouth, “They’re always wet.”
“Isn’t that the truth?”
He swiftly slid inside, and immediately began pounding into you. They both laughed at your instant moaning. Hearing you moaning, Seonghwa shook his head and slapped your cheek. “Losers don’t get orgasms,” he said, “They get their slutty hole fucked and pumped with cum. They don’t get to finish.”
“You should’ve considered that before fighting me,” Yeosang said, swiping his dick on your face. “Unless you lost on purpose, which is just pathetic. So, so pathetic.”
When you wiggled, Yeosang grabbed your arms to hold you down. San and Hongjoong appeared to keep your legs spread wide as their older brother quickly finished inside you. You quivered feeling hot cum shoot all over your walls. Being held down made it hard to escape the overstimulation each one brought. Hongjoong and Seonghwa switched places, and he swished his hard tip over your gushing sex. He chuckled when you whined, doing it even more to hear you cry out. He fucked you exactly how you expected, hard and fast. His hips snapped into yours while he rubbed your nipples. You nearly came again until he did first, adding his milky cum to Seonghwa’s load.
“Oh fuck, look at this.”
They all groaned at the cum oozing out of your pussy. “Let’s see how much it gushes when I fill her up,” San said, sticking himself in you next. “I thought for sure you’d win, Darling,” he said, fucking into you hard. “I thought my wife was a winner.”
“Ma-Mas-t-er…”
“Shut up, whore,” Yeosang said, smacking one tit until you cried. “Keep talking and I’ll shut you up myself.”
“She’d probably like that,” said Seonghwa, tweaking your nipple hard. “She’d suck dick all day if we let her.”
“I wouldn’t complain!” San whimpered, on the verge of an orgasm. “I’d take her to work with me too. Let her suck me under the desk.”
“We should do that,” Hongjoong said, eyes brightening at the new idea. “It’d make my work day so much more fun.”
The thought set San off. He came in several deep thrusts, bulging your belly like always, and pushed back all the cum that leaked out of you. Yeosang, hard from watching them use you, finally took his turn. Your masters laughed and beckoned him to go faster inside you.
“I’ll pay you fifty-gold if you make her cum again,” Hongjoong told Yeosang.
“Fifty-gold and a weekend off,” added Seonghwa.
“And your choice of a brothel whore,” said San.
Playing with your clit and pounding your sweet spot, you saw stars as you came. Your high-pitched squeals and quaking body amused them, but angered you. Yeosang forced himself as deep as possible as his cum joined the mess already inside you. Your masters finally released you, watching you cry from the overwhelming sensations running through your body. When you moved to close up, they held you apart.
“I want to see it,” Hongjoong said, looking to see their combined fluids seep out of you. “Haha, it’s so full. If she were even half a demon, we might’ve just knocked her up.”
“If only,” said San with a pout. “She’d look so pretty pregnant.”
“I’ve never fucked a pregnant chick, surprisingly.”
"Are you okay, Kitten?” asked Seonghwa, cupping your face and kissing you. “Sensitive? Any pain?”
“Yes.”
“Here, lay back against the pillows.”
“I’ll call Yunho. Yunho!” San called into the room, the butler appearing when summoned.
You hardly paid attention to anything else. You glared at them, “You’re a bunch of whores too. If there’s a House of Kisses, then this is the Palace of Whores.”
They laughed at your frowning face, and Seonghwa cooed. “Don’t be a sore loser,” he said, smiling and kissing you again, “You did well too. You’ll get him next time.”
“If you want,” San came up next to you with a wet cloth, beginning to clean your face, “We can practice together. I’m quite good at fight fucking, I’ve been told.”
“He really is,” agreed Seonghwa.
“I’m more of a spectator.” Hongjoong knelt in front of you, another damp cloth in his hand. He went to touch your sex, and you clammed up, shaking your head. “I’m not going to do anything. We need to clean you, baby.” He gently pushed your legs apart and cleaned the sticky mess coming out of you. “We can’t have you walking around dripping like this.”
“Just get some rest, Darling,” San pecked your lips, “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“You promise?” you asked softly.
“I promise,” he said, nuzzling your nose gently. “Be a good pet and sleep.”
The last words you heard as you drifted to sleep were Hongjoong’s:
“Dude, what happened to your doors?”
****
Yes, what happened to the doors? Yeosang wondered about this as the masters converged on you. His body slumped into a nearby chair, sweat sticking to his skin and matting his hair. All the adrenaline in his veins died out after his third orgasm of the day. Surely, he’ll be needing that weekend off. The smell of apples clung to his nostrils even with the sweat and sex in the air. Your fruity fragrance always stuck with him after being around you too long. He wondered which perfume you owned had such potency. It usually wears off after a short amount of time, but yours always stuck around.
“Yeosang,” Master Seonghwa approached him, pouring a brandy for him, “Here. For you.”
“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, mustering energy to grab the glass and sip from it.
“She’s something, huh?” he asked, leaning in his own chair and finishing his brandy. “I’ve never had a human who can take such a pounding like that. They usually give up in the first few minutes.”
“She’s a whore, Master. It’s what she’s made for.”
“Humans are made to be blank slates for the world to fill up as they grow,” he said. He saw his master staring at you intently. Yeosang only saw that stare in one situation: when his mind was turning. “They’re meant to be given choices, leading them one way or another, and they’re given free will to choose. Kitten chose herself each time…”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“What does she smell like to you, Yeosang?”
“Master?”
“When you are near her, what does she smell like?”
“Apples,” he answered, “Apples covered in cinnamon.”
“Are you fond of cinnamon-apples?”
“I do enjoy them on occasion.”
“Hm, interesting.” He poured himself another brandy, “She smells like honey to me.” He smiled softly, “Golden honey spread over fresh, warm bread.”
“I am aware, sir.”
“Hongjoong tells me she smells like strawberry ice cream,” he said. “You know how partial he is to strawberries in general, but he says she’s like the ice cream specifically.”
“Huh,” Yeosang said, leaning in his chair. “That is interesting.”
“San says he smells orange slices.”
“So fruit based scents,” Yeosang concluded. “What does that tell you?”
“Remember when I kissed her?” he said, “Licked her bloody lip and all?”
“I do.” He’d found it a pleasurable sight.
“My throat stung.” The silence that followed the words left many things unsaid. “It stung as if I had acid reflux. At the time, I thought it was something I ate but now…”
“Do you believe otherwise?”
“I do. You tasted her blood. How do you feel?”
Yeosang took a moment to think about it. In the heat of passion, he’d owned the stinging in his throat to his low growls and snarls. He thought it might’ve been the deep breathing drying out his mouth. Yet, as he took a purposeful swallow, he realized it stung slightly. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach might have been his tensed abdomen or another thing entirely.
“The same.”
“Huh…And the doors-”
“-I would never damage your property, sir,” Yeosang interrupted. “Not even in the hottest of rages would I do that.”
“Then who did it?”
“I’m not sure. She might have touched it without realizing and pushed them hard. This house is very old, Master. It is possible.”
Seonghwa chuckled, “Yeosang, you are not so blind.”
“Then what do you believe happened?”
“I think Kitten hasn’t been entirely honest with us,” he said. “I must think about this more.”
Yeosang felt a pit of worry break through him. “Master, what happened between-”
“-Dennis…” the name came from Seonghwa without realizing.
Yeosang’s blood went cold. “What about him?”
“Let’s put her before him,” he suggested. “I’d like to see what happens.”
“What happens? Sir, I don’t believe that is the best idea. Dennis will drain her, then rip her apart. You’ll have lost-”
“-Let me worry about that. You go and enjoy your weekend off. I recommend that brothel in the high street. It’s called Scarlet Silk. They truly have a nice selection there.”
“Master, the greenhouse is meant for disobedient slaves and for the maids,” he said, not letting it go so easily. “YN might be a bit untamed, but she doesn’t deserve such a harsh and cruel end. What happened between me and her was nothing. It was a spat between rivals. I would never truly harm her or wish her to be harmed. I could’ve easily have crushed her if I-”
“-I said I will worry about it, Yeosang,” he said with finality. “Clean yourself up and get some rest. Jongho can see after Kitten tomorrow.”
“Yes, Master.”
Regret tore his insides as he left the room in nothing but a sheet. Walking through the quiet palace, he worried about what he’d just done. He’d played the prank in hopes of heating you up for sex. Yeosang enjoyed the small spats and insults you threw at one another. He knew if you figured that out, he’d never have a peaceful moment. He’d struggled to keep himself together in the library, where you left yourself bare for him. He might have taken you right there if Master Seonghwa had not intervened. The two of you could always have an amicable relationship like you and Jongho.
But, where was the fun in that?
***
Y/N: hmm, interesting, no? We might start learning a few new things about YN now. As always, thanks for reading, and please reblog and like <3
#ateez#ateez fanfiction#ateez fanfic#kang yeosang#yeosang ateez#yeosang x reader#yeosang x you#yeosang x yn#ateez smut#ateez x reader#yeosang smut#kang yeosang smut
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🩶As Close As Strangers🩶
{POV: When drunk Leon showed up at your door that night, the last thing you wanted to do was catch up with your old partner. There was just too much you hadn't told him.}
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
《 Rain was falling against your roof softly that night, lulling the sound of late traffic and other nighttime noises outside your suburban home. But it startled you when a loud, jarring knock came to the door suddenly.
It thudded with an urgency, and you were on alert now with the thought of who could be knocking this late. In the rain, too. You stood up, using your used-to-be police training to creep through your living room to see out onto your stoop.
Your eyes widened seeing no one at first, but there was a shadow that slowly came into the light, and your heart thundered when you recognized the face. You hurried to the door, unsure even with a million guesses as to how he even found your address or remembered you at all.
“Leon?!” You said opening the door in a swing, wrapping yourself tighter in your silk night robe to keep the chill of the rain away.
He stumbled on his feet, seeming like he was reaching for a hug but he stopped, as if he was unsure how to proceed in reintroducing himself. Suddenly it all became clear when he started to slur his speech in a ramble of words,
“I ugh- I was in the…the ugh- ” His hands moved up to try and talk without words, but you nodded in understanding,
“You're drunk.” You said finitely, ready to tell him that he needed to find a way home but he stumbled again, however this time his stance gave out completely as he dropped on your doorstep in a fall.
You knelt down, trying to save him from hurting himself then mentioned in a gasp upon feeling the wetness of rain soaked in his clothes,
“Did you walk here?”
You knew it didn't matter. He was drenched, shivering, probably on the verge of a fever from the cold, and he was clearly too plastered to get himself home. So, you helped him inside, pulling on him gently and supporting his weight to rest him on the sofa for now while you figured this out.
You hadn't seen Leon in years. He looked exactly the same. As if time just hadn't caught up to him yet. You wished you could say the same. The new recruit you were when you knew him was long gone now. You'd changed so much. You wondered if maybe he'd just have to meet you all over again. You were partners at one pretty little point in time, always together and growing together to protect the city.
Now…you felt as close as strangers.
But there was something else. Something so dire that you never got to say to him. Your world depended on it, actually. Leon Kennedy was someone you hoped to never see again now that you'd stayed silent for this long with such a gravelly secret.
You sat him on the couch, watching as clearly his head was swimming from alcohol. He smelled flammable, so you were surprised he wasn't ready to lose the liquor on your living room floor, but he was quiet. And still. You reached forward, trying to convince him to shed his wet jacket to get comfortable, telling him to just lie down and be warm for a while. Quietly, he fell asleep, and you knew that might be for the best. You didn’t want to catch up like old friends. There was too much he didn't know.
Couldn't know.
After a few minutes, your gaze on his nostalgia was broken when he began to stir away from sleep. You never thought you'd see him again but he looked at you tiredly now trying to keep conversation.
“How've you been? Haven't seen you since I moved up to federal. I lost my cell at the bar - I figured I'd see if you were home.” He said with a little more sobriety.
Your blood went cold when you knew you had to lie and you played the only card you had at this moment, which was being as vague as possible.
“I've been fine. Just working…some here then some there. Just busy.”
He nodded but then groaned as he sat up straight. Letting the moonlight in the room illuminate his face. Your expression turned soft, and you watched as winced from a headache - somehow beautifully. You stood up, trying not to be seen awestruck by the eyes that still halted you to this day.
You poured tea that was still warm from the kitchen kettle and brought it over in a mug as it steamed. You promised it would help his headache, and he thanked you in a mutter as he drank.
“How uhm-” You said stuttering now as you sat across from him, becoming more interested in talking after all,
“How've you been?”
Leon swallowed his gulp laboredly, that probably being the only hydration he'd had in hours, and he cleared his throat softly,
“I've been alright. They take me everywhere now that I'm an agent. I'm wondering when they'll let me off the leash for a while.”
You smiled, chuckling to remember how hardcore of a workaholic he was. Even before being promoted to agent, he was always everywhere for the city. Under the governor's orders or the mayor's. He did work like a dog.
You balled up in the armchair where you sat and heard as he spoke further with a growing smile,
“Yanno, I actually caught up with our old chief the other day. I told him that…you were still one of the best partners I ever had. He said you….went on leave for a while? After our last mission, I ugh- didn't expect that.”
Oh God, you thought with a shiver in your spine.
There was no way to explain that little leave of yours without telling the truth. And all of it. You struggled to find an explanation. Another lie. You only nodded, struggling to merely confirm that you did in fact leave the force for a while.
But, suddenly, there was a creak on your stairs where a tiny voice called out in the dark,
“Mommy?”
You both spun towards the stairs where the small voice came from and Leon froze seeing a boy, no older than five, sleepily rubbing his eyes in his pajamas. He looked back to you, silencing himself from even breathing as you interacted with what to be….your small son.
You put on your kind, motherly smile to ask if he'd had a nightmare, to which he nodded so sweetly. You assured him that you'd be up to turn on his nightlight in just a moment and heard him tiptoe back up the stairs with his tiny footsteps thudding.
He didn't see Leon. That was a relief. But Leon also didn't see him, not in this dark.
At least not his face.
However, once there was quiet again, you knew exactly how this night would go. Leon was too quick, he wasn't stupid. He'd piece it together like the trusted detective he was. And there'd be only one person to blame.
“I-” He stammered, getting the first hint that you were lying about something,
“I didn't know you had a kid..either.”
You stayed quiet. Maybe you wouldn't have to open your mouth at all. He could see you weren't wearing a wedding ring. Meaning this boy's father wasn't asleep upstairs or…away on a business trip.
You both were inches away from the truth now, and you saw as the pieces in his mind soon fell into place.
He thought of the last mission you were on together. Not the work of it all. Not the report, and not the recognition you earned for it. It was the night after.
That night.
"Fuck that job", he thought. All he could remember was that night.
Both of you had just finished your report in DC, shook hands with the governor and….tried to fly home. But there was a storm - the flight was canceled. And the only hotel with vacancy within city limits had only one room for the both of you. It didn't matter if there were double beds. Neither of you slept a wink.
"We….didn't even want to," he remembered.
"We just wanted each other. Over and over again."
But what month was it. Was it May? April - No. It was summer.
It was July.
“He's not yours, Leon. Christ!” You said in a quiet snap, knowing the face he made when his mind tried to unravel a timeline and do the math.
It was one last attempt at a good lie to make this all normal again.
Leon kept quiet. That face he made- The one that solved cases stayed firm in the thought that he needed to determine whether or not was being lied to. And had been for years now.
He reached to the end table at his side, but he kept his gaze with yours. He told you without words that you had one last chance for honesty before he looked at the photo being tenderly kept in a frame right here in the family room. He didn't need to guess if it was a picture of your son.
He knew.
His eyes moved down, stone cold sober now, and you tried to stop him from using that same ray of moonlight to see how big of goddamn liar you really were. He'd see the resemblance. There wouldn't be a need for him to do any math after that.
“...L- Leon, d-”
“Just fucking stop.” He said cutting you off with the first touch of rage in his tone now that he saw exactly what he'd been left in the dark about.
It was everything.
He began to unsnap this photo away from its picture frame, wanting and needing to hold it in his hands. His jaw tightened and his throat burned. He thought you were a better liar. Or maybe just a better person.
Sometimes, when he was alone, all he thought of was you…in that room with him in DC. Was this why? Because something wasn't right?
“Don't you dare tell me…that he isn't mine.”
He turned the picture of your small son towards you, practically holding the proof in his hands. He didn't need to remember the month you slept together. Or ask you how old your son was exactly.
He knew.
“-When he looks just like me.” 》
(Open to finishing this one ♡ more to come)
#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy au#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#resident evil 4#resident evil#drabble#one shot
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I am so very curious on what kind of role Ash is going to play in TWP.
One thing in particular I’m curious about is if he’ll be a ‘shadowhunter’. Now obviously he has the blood of the Angel (through Sebastian). However, because he was born in Thule he never got to experience the life of a shadowhunter, or even bare ruins. Not to mention currently he is living at the Faerie court. So I’m curious if his story will stay in more of a faerie direction or more of a shadowhunter direction.
In my opinion, I think his storyline being more focused on his Faerie heritage makes the most sense and what I see being the most plausible!!
And talking about his role in the story, I’m so curious on what it actually is. I think villain with a redemption arc makes the most sense. I can definitely see him helping Janus at the start and than after maybe hanging with our main cast (Kit, Ty, Dru ect) that he will maybe turn more good guy.
I’m also so curious on his relationship with the other characters will be like as well. Ofc we have his romance with Dru and his relationship with Janus. I really want to know what his interactions with our world Clary and Jace will be like. And most importantly I wonder how both Clary and Ash feel react to each other. Because Clary is his AUNT! And on that note, I wonder how poor Jocelyn will feel. (Especially since Ash looks what Sebastian would’ve looked like if he didn’t have demon blood).
Also, him and Kit are literally related! (Ash’s mum is Kits great great great great great great grandma!)
We know about that spell the unseelie king put on Ash to make people feel the need to protect him. So I really wanna know how that’s gonna play out.
He’s definitely one of the characters I’m most excited to see play out and how his story goes!!
And just to put it into perspective:
#ash morgenstern#the shadowhunter chronicles#the wicked powers#twp#clary fairchild#jocelyn fairchild#tsc#shadowhunters#Kit herondale#Dru blackthorn#Janus#cassandra clare#sebastian morgenstern
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Azriel had waited. He had waited for five hundred years to find his mate. His equal.
That's the kicker, wasn't it? His equal. How could he find that, when he was Death itself. When he looked into the bloody mouths of his victims, Truth Teller in his grasp, and he could not see anything but his own reflection staring back at him. Built upon fingernails and severed toes, built upon a burst of blue that burnt like fire, built upon a blade that sang when it cut through flesh. Calculated death, something beyond rage, something beyond a quest for justice. Something not borne out of impulse or uncontrolled power, but out of a carefully constructed network of lacerations, each placed with more thought than the last.
What, out there, was equal to that?
Oh, how cruel, he thought.
Is this what it is? Is this what an equal is? Someone with fists wreathed in flame, who could wield what Azriel's hands hadn't been able to survive.
Fire itself mated to the burnt.
Someone tortured, mated to a torturer.
How cruel to him, he thought, flames dancing in his head.
Was it cruelty, though? Or simply justice? That fire lord with lashes across his back was no hero. He was the worst of the worst, and his pain didn't make him any better. It just made him both the victim and the tyrant. It allowed him to play both sides. He himself was cruel.
Eris was nothing like who Azriel had thrown himself at. Eris was unkind, unable to wield his flaming hands with the same delicate niceness of Elain. Eris was a sneaky, manipulative, slithering thing, a stranger to the blunt authenticity of Mor. Eris would never be able to turn to the sunlight the way she did. Eris would never be able to speak with words like honey the way Elain did.
Azriel had never earned those words, anyway.
This is what it is, then, he thought. Two people who got exactly what they deserved. Fated to share something so pure, so clean, with someone who was decidedly not. The thing he had slogged through five centuries of silent desperation for a female who would never love him back for, finally granted to him--only with someone just out of reach. Perhaps, if he wanted, he could reach out a hand.
But he didn't want to. It was easier to stay angry, easier to pretend that he didn't deserve something as honorable as a mating bond, like he had during those five hundred years of waiting.
He did, though. He was getting exactly what he paid for.
His was soaked with the blood of a thousand, a hundred thousand, too many for Azriel to feel bad for. Eris' hands burst with the same flame that had once bathed Azriel's own. They delivered each other's scars, Azriel supposed. His mottled skin would be familiar to Eris. How many people has he burned, Azriel wondered. The scars that littered Eris' perfect High Fae body were the same Azriel imparted dutifully upon anyone unlucky enough to find themselves in his chamber. How cruel, to look at the one tied to your soul and see an assignment. The same methodical job he imparted on the prisoners in the dungeons, blanketing the one he was supposed to be able to look at reverently. How could he?
Eris was always a slimy bastard, anyway. Azriel could never love him, just as he would never love Azriel. It was upon principle, more than anything.
And perhaps it was easier that way. Perhaps his hands would thank him, kept safe from the fire that they still shied away from, centuries later.
How cruel, he thought as his chest throbbed with that bond.
Azriel had waited his whole life for something he knew, in his soul, he would never deserve. But of course, the Mother found Her ways. To give him what he wanted more than anything in the world.
To give him something he would never be able to have.
Not when he was one who supplied torture, and his mate was one who received it. Not when he was scarred with burns, and his mate could light the fire with half a thought.
How cruel, he thought, that I could not have been better. That I could not have become someone able to earn something good.
That even the mating bond could be twisted into something to punish him, something to prove his unworthiness. It was right there, and yet he couldn't have it. Would never be able to face that. The fact that he and his mate were everything that had made the other suffer. Why, he wondered, had he wanted it so? Had he not realized that to be granted that, he would have to look into the eyes of another and see himself reflected back? The one person that could break him.
After a lifetime of waiting, he had finally gotten what he wanted. But he had also finally gotten what he deserved.
#azris#i dont know what this is lmao#but like#theres just so much to say about the tragedy of their pairing#something something your equal includes everything youve come to hate about yourself#azriel#azriel x eris#eris#eris vanserra#azriel shadowsinger#my writing#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar drabble#azriel acotar#eris acotar#azriel spymaster
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Aaravos, Resurrection, and 6x08
This ties back to the poster - so many death themes, when I was looking at it I just had the feeling Aaravos was trying to bring back the dead. So 👀
@parroset explained it well and I don’t have the spoons/time to go in depth about it but yeah!
I think it makes sense if it was him doing some sort of ressurrection considering how in 6x01 Aaravos was sobbing- it could be over his fall losing people but 👀
and he’s also like wants to break the perfect world the stars created in and I think a big part of that is breaking the death and lifecycle and NOT accepting death…. “We are all of us stardust held together by love for a moment” BUT I want to change that or something. I think it would also make sense as the creators keep saying how Aaravos is more benevolent/complex (than it appears) but so far he’s mostly been portrayed as a villain.
But he doesn’t seem to be only seeking power, he helps Viren, and he fully understands the consequences of what he is doing —something introduced since 1x02 -> blood price, what Harrow’s talking about, and “you can’t expect to wield such powerful magic without some sort of consequence.” So I wonder how that will play into fighting the stars and enacting fundamental change…
I’m excited to see how this turns out 👀 also double entendres & wordplay and layered meaning is like one of my favorite things it’s in Aaravos’s reflections and I incorporate in my poetry so if it’s here too I’M SO HERE FOR IT
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*Trigger Warnings for this post discussing self harm and suicide*
So I was talking with @mgjong about Mahiru, and we noticed a few things regarding her story that I wanted to go more in detail with and highlight! First, I wanted to talk about Mahiru’s behavior during her T1 VD:
Once Es gets to the heart of the conversation and starts reminding Mahiru about her crime, the tone notably shifts here, along with Mahiru’s reaction. Her words are trailing off, her voice is notably more subdued, and of course, she does not deny that she did "kill" someone:
And then, Mahiru changes the subject, with Es even pointing it out and wondering why she’s doing this. The topics she starts talking about are very interesting too:
Mahiru: “So first things first, you should gather up all your courage and be completely transparent about yourself. Doing so will make your partner feel at ease. And they’ll start opening up about themselves more.”
What interesting topics to talk about Mahiru! Communication and transparency? Wanting your partner to open up? Why would you bring up those kinds of things here? Right after Es mentioned your crime? Were you doing it subconsciously because you were reminded of the time when you couldn't do this? Specifically for your boyfriend in mind? I don't know, it's just very interesting how this is the very first topic about love that she brings up in her VD.
Mahiru's bf:
Speaking of her bf, do I think this guy is a saint? No, definitely not. Do I think he’s some asshole who deserved to die? No, I don’t think that either. To me, the bf is just another guy. He’s human, and he failed to communicate his boundaries with Mahiru, which contributed to their conflict.
Clearly, we don’t know much about this guy, outside of Mahiru’s perception of him, but here’s how I personally interpret this guy and the role he plays in Mahiru’s story:
1. Mahiru's bf was just someone who failed to communicate and establish his boundaries with Mahiru, with his mental health getting worse as time went on for their relationship.
2. Mahiru's bf had his own mental health and self-harm issues before he had met Mahiru, which were made worse because of their relationship.
I don't think these two options have to be mutually exclusive either. But I do think there's a bit of evidence that points to her bf having mental health issues before. In one of the magazine scans in TIHTBILWY and in Q16 of her T2 interrogation, Mahiru notes that she met her bf on the university terrace, which seems innocuous enough with how Mahiru describes it:
From user @shima1408 on YouTube:
But in ILY, Mahiru's bf has also been shown to have blood on his clothing while both of them are in the forest. It is possible that he could've gotten injured while they were walking through the forest, but more importantly, Mahiru does not have any blood on her clothing. Why is Mahiru the one not injured then, but her bf is? Did he inflict those wounds on himself? Why was he on the university terrace that fateful day he and Mahiru met? Did he fall in love with Mahiru because he thought she was the one? A fated partner who stopped him on that day and could give him another chance at a happy life?
So I do think it's a possibility that this guy had mental health problems before he had met Mahiru, which she inevitably made worse due to her love. He literally could’ve just been on the terrace chilling, but the meeting detail is still pretty odd to point out. It also stands out from all of Mahiru’s existing fluff dialogue and romanticization of the event and is even noted again in an interrogation question in T2, despite having been mentioned before.
But regardless of whether or not he did, Mahiru did not recognize how her love caused a strain on her bf's mental health. So when Mahiru became more obsessive and overbearing as time went on, as well as her bf not being able to communicate his needs and establish those boundaries with her, they both ended up being mutually toxic to each other as a result of this miscommunication.
Again, this is why I think she continued to emphasize “getting to know the other person better” and “being transparent” to Es in her T1 VD, because she had failed to do this with her bf before. Not only did she change the subject to avoid talking about her sin, but she also switched to a topic she knew deep down she failed to do with her bf, so she ends up compensating for it through her conversation with Es.
Cake:
The cake in ILY obviously represents love, but it also represents hurt and pain (as shown with how Mahiru feeds the cake/rat to her bf). Because both of them are shown to be feeding the cake to each other, it shows that in this conflict, blame cannot be placed on one or the other entirely. They had both failed in the relationship, despite genuinely loving each other.
Mahiru's bf feeds her a small piece, which she takes happily. He's careful with it, making sure the piece doesn't fall it to the ground. An important thing to note: Mahiru eats the slice willingly (Mahiru is so willing to accept that pain too, huh?), and her bf does not force her to eat it:
But Mahiru gives him a much bigger piece with no hesitation. Because she thinks that's what he wants. She thinks that more of her love will help quell his exhaustion, his pain. So she feeds him a bigger, more overwhelming slice of cake. She's careless, and the slice could fall so easily. And what does she do? Force her bf to eat the cake. She does not give him a choice to not accept it.
Suicide:
Now to the main setting in ILY: it’s a literal forest, which seems to allude to the Aokigahara Forest aka the "Suicide Forest" as it's known for in real life. We know that Mahiru's bf died from suicide based on ILY and the Undercover shot where he's missing his shoe, but we still don't know the reason why Mahiru was shown to be with him before his suicide. This leads me into thinking two possible scenarios on what possibly happened:
1: Mahiru’s bf was planning to kill himself, and Mahiru somehow found out about it and tried to join him, but had failed in doing so.
2: Both Mahiru and her bf were planning a "shinjū" (lover’s suicide) together, with Mahiru being unsuccessful with the attempt.
I am leaning more towards possibility #2 because of how it would fit in with Mahiru’s tendency to "share pain" as something she views as love. Since the lover's suicide is a concept that matches this sort of thing, I wouldn't put it past Mahiru and her bf to go along with this idea, and it was just that Mahiru was the one who survived this while her bf did not. Lover's suicides are also a thing common in literature, so it's definitely something Mahiru would find and know about given her literature and romance novel associations.
Other interesting details pointing to this in ILY: Mahiru's bow around her neck and the way it is here in ILY is very odd, like it’s supposed to be some kind of noose around her neck. It doesn’t even seem like it can normally come undone like that while they were trekking through the forest, especially since the bow itself is usually fastened and tied up neatly in the outfit she wears with it:
Mahiru is also shown to be barefoot, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense? Why are you barefoot like your bf is, Mahiru? What is the reason for matching with your bf, who is about to commit suicide in this forest? Were you going to go along with him? Why were you even there in the first place, Mahiru?
Both of these theories could still work though! Whether it be them planning the suicide from the start, or her joining in willingly, I think both of these examples highlight how much little self-regard Mahiru has for her own life. Mahiru has established that she would do anything her lover does (including harmful behaviors such as smoking), and she would do anything for love itself at that. Mahiru would continue to endanger herself if it was for the sake of love, so it doesn't seem too far fetched that she would go along with something so extreme and life ending at that:
And what else does Mahiru say about love, the ultimate form of it? Being always together. Lover's suicides are often done with the intent of being reunited again in heaven and in the next life. A method such as this would definitely help Mahiru and her bf be together forever, right?
How interesting though, that she still does not quite understand why her bf isn't here anymore. Isn't the ultimate form of love always being together? So why then, is he not here anymore? She knows she’s responsible, that she had done something wrong.
But she was just showing her love. And yet, just why?
Why is he not here anymore?
#but yeah most of this is just scattered thoughts so dkfjdfnl#I wanted to finish this because of all the Mappi posting today#with her sheltered life could've contributing to her extremely low self-worth and perpetuating the cycle of being trapped#both for herself and for others who she loves#tw self harm#tw suicide#milgram#mahiru shiina#rose.txt
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unsure if this has been said before but please let me get what i want (the deftones vers specifically) feels very fitting for pinepaw or maybe even rainhaze. the family guys who are almost foils to each other when they're both going through a messy rough time 🤝
I really like this suggestion, because Morrissey is my current voiceclaim for Pinepaw so he's very Smiths-coded in my mind.
Haven't had a dream in a long time
See, the life I've had
Could make a good man bad
So for once in my life
Let me get what I want
Lord knows it would be the last time
Lord knows it would be the first time
youtube
Oh my friend, British men screeching is just about my favorite musical styling.
Want land in the valley
There's pieces of you breaking off
(Pieces of you breaking off)
Big money's in the basin, you don't come back without it
He's killing with abandon to get over the mountain
Got darkest rum from Mama, seething in the liver
Blood disease from Papi, poisoning the river
youtube
Friends on the Other Side works pretty well for Ranger, at the very least his attitude. Rainhaze's deal came from desperation rather than greed, but I do like things that speak to his thoughtless self-centeredness and hero complex.
youtube
That's a Rainhaze song if I ever heard one!
Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart
Follow the scent of iron sinking
Deeper into corpses rotting
But they can't hear you talk, talk, talk
About every little thing
And the Hound
Is humming you
A lie, a lullaby
youtube
Ohh, yeah... I can see it.
I wonder who I'd be
If all these bad things
Didn't happen to me
I must be
The Virgin Mary
To create a son
Who will suffer so much <- the sloug.......
youtube
The tone of the song is pretty light, but I can see the lyrics working! Especially drawing parallels between the original great destruction and the current onslaught.
Oh god, come quickly
The execution of all things
Let's start with the bears and the air
And mountains, rivers and streams
Then we'll murder what matters to you
And move on to your neighbors and kids
Crush all hopes of happiness with disease
'Cause of what you did
And lastly, you're all alone with nothing left but sleep
But sleep never comes to you
It's the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak
It's just you and me
youtube
Ah, that musical is on my watchlist but I haven't gotten around to it yet. I've heard pretty good things, though!
I roar!
And you cry!
I'm the reason
You run and hide!
You better leave your hopes behind
No one's gonna stop him
You better hope he's out of sight
Or you're doomed to be a victim
youtube
Objectively wild pull, but I do love Johnny Cash, and his voice reminds me a lot of what Mallowstar's would be like. I like this song a lot with him. :,]
Well, I won't back down, no I won't back down
You can stand me up at the gates of Hell
But I won't back down
Well, I know what's right, I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin' me around
But I stand my ground and I won't back down <- wahh mallowstar...
youtube
I'd definitely this has big Slugpelt energy.
Dear, I fear we're facing a problem
You love me no longer, I know
And maybe there is nothing
That I can do to make you do
Mama tells me I shouldn't bother
Lately I have desperately pondered,
Spent my nights awake and I wonder
What I could have done in another way
To make you stay
youtube
It's a pretty good song!
youtube
YAY Queen song! This is interesting; I can see it very well with characters that are still a spoiler to talk about.
So much ado, my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead, all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead, all dead
And alone, I'm spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead and gone
Damn I ran out of video links
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Rekindle Our Spark~
Alastor x reader -Part 4- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!!
Warnings: smut, 18+, predator/prey, murder, S&M, bondage, knife play, blood kink, marking, cock worship, pussy worship, body worship, dom/sub, breath play, she/her pronouns, vaginal sex, breeding, creampie, rutting
Other tags: Fluff and Angst
Aftercare always!!!~✨
Enjoy part 4, my darlings~ We have some unfinished business to attend to~ 😈✨ (I apologize for the wait! Life has been crazy, but I finally got to finish the chapter 🥰)
(Y/N’s P.O.V)
I didn’t expect the night to go like this…but I’m not complaining either. During our time when we were alive; we did have a few interactions with one another. Even then I found him quite charming as I do now. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered myself like I did that night; knowing it would have been a long shot due to his lack of interest in things like this. You can imagine the shock when he accepted my offer to have me. Makes me wonder what his motives really were; even now when we’re already dead. He snaps me out of my thoughts when I feel his claw hook into my collar of my shirt. “I don’t have my hunting knife this time…but my claws will do nicely~.” He runs his claw down the fabric; tearing it in half as he exposes my bare chest. He chuckles darkly as he leans down to my stomach “Such a naughty girl~….came here to my room without wearing anything underneath~.” He slowly licks up along my torso; all the way until his face was in between my breasts; making my body shiver against him. “It’s almost as if you were….expecting this, my dear~.” I blush from embarrassment; suddenly arching my back as I mewl when Alastor takes my nipple into his mouth. With his free hand, he tweaks and twists the other; making me trash my head against the grass floor as he nipped at the navel. He smiles wide as he watches my expressions in awe.
“So reactive, my dear~…..this is gonna be very entertaining~.” I feel his hand run down my stomach; slowly making its way to the hem of my shorts. His fingers ever so gently pushing past the hem; further running them down to graze against my soaking wet folds. I softly moan as he rubs his fingers along the slit; making me grind into his hand for more friction. “So eager for me already?~….patience, my little doe; let me throughly enjoy my prey.~” I gasp as I feel two of his fingers enter my pussy; slowly thrusting them as he uses his thumb to stimulate my sensitive clit. My body will jolt every time his thumb grazes my clit; turning me into a moaning mess as my walls spasms and fully coat his fingers in my fluids. “A-Alastor…..m-more~…..please give me more~.” His smile grew wider as he chuckles darkly; dropping an octave as he spoke. “Your begging is like music to my ears, darling~……keep singing for me~.” His fingers thrust faster; coaxing more moans from my throat as constant pleas escape along with them. Alastor then nestles his face in the crook of my neck; licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. “Please, Alastor!~…..I need you~….I need more of you.~” I feel him grin against my neck; letting a low growl escape his throat as he pulls his fingers out. In one swift move, he uses his claws to tear my shorts and panties to shreds; leaning back up, he grabs my hips as he lifts them to meet his face. My legs now dangle completely over his shoulders, as my upper back and head are the only thing touching the grass floor.
The look in his eyes grew feral, as his tongue drags agonizingly slow along my needy slit. Good god!~ His tongue was making me see stars!~ He feasted on me like a starving predator that finally caught his dinner after weeks of famine. My tongue lolled out my mouth as my eyes roll to the back of my head. I’m pretty sure the whole hotel could hear me right now, but I couldn’t care in the slightest. The knot in my belly was tightening; signaling I’m steadily approaching my release. “A-ALASTOR!~…..I’M…I’M ABOUT TO-!~” He then plunges his tongue deep into my waiting hole; screaming as I come undone on his slick appendage. I’ve never came so hard in my life! I can get addicted to this!~…..addicted to him!~ God I wanted more!!~ I. NEEDED. MORE.~
(Alastor’s P.O.V)
I look down at (Y/N’s) blissful expression she has etched on her face. My my~ Such lewd behavior from just my tongue alone~. Makes one wonder, what other expressions I can pull out of her~. I place her back onto the grassy floor; helping her sit up in front of me as I lean back against my hands. “Now it’s your turn, my dear.~” I watch her slowly make her way to my lap; undoing my belt while she unzips my pants; fully releasing my cock. I chuckle at the sight of her going wide eyed. It was interesting to see her hesitate, due to fear of this monster I have. I interlock my fingers in her hair as I pull her face close to my cock; lips brushing against the underside ever so pleasantly. “Don’t worry, darling~. If things get out of hand, just pat my thigh twice and I’ll give you a breather~.” She swallows hard; licking her lips as she opens her mouth. I slowly lower her lips to wrap around the tip; pushing her down to take more of me inch by inch. I fully bottom out; my tip protruding into her esophagus as she gags and sputters around my cock. Tears start to form in the corner of her eyes; slowly rolling down her cheeks. “Such a good girl~….you take me so nicely~.” I start to slide in and out her waiting mouth; gripping her hair as I make her take me deep into her throat.
Who would have thought I would enjoy this kind of control. I normally don’t find such things like this appealing, but with (Y/N); this obedient little doe~…..I can’t seem to get enough~. By now I’m completely throat fucking her; praising her by how well she’s taking me at full force. I soon then feel her pat my thigh twice; pulling her off me immediately as she coughed and sputtered. My grip of her hair loosened as I lead my hand to tilt her chin to look up into my eyes. “You did well, my little doe~…..now, are you ready for whats to come next?~” I place another kiss on her soft lips; this time with more hunger as I devour her mouth. Our tongues tasting every inch as we explore every crevices of our mouths. I couldn’t take it anymore. This primal urge within me was now screaming; telling me to break her….rut her……BREED HER.~ With a low dark growl, I forcefully pick her up from the grassy floor; quickly taking her back the table as I forcefully bend her over the table. Taking a handful of her hair again, I lean over her body; my lips grazing the outer shell of her ear as I line myself up with her slick entrance “Be a good little doe and Take. Every. Inch.~”
#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel oc#hazbin art#18+ content#18+ only#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x y/n#alastor smut#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor#artists on tumblr#oc art#my art#digital art#artwork#art#hazbin hotel fanart#hhoc#hazbin smut#18+ mdni#18+ account#18+ post#18+ blog
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red frank will be the end of me~🎃
#please#he’s just#red is one of his colors#i wonder if it plays into the blood thing#which isn’t a thing#i don’t have a thing#what#blood#no just red#just red#red#frnkiebby#frank iero#mcr#frnkiero#mcrmy#mcr5#frnkie#my chemical romance#my chem#ilhsm
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A new challenger approaches (slowly)
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#wen chao#jin zixuan#jiang cheng#lan wangji#tulu xuanwu#Wen Chao's turtlephobia starts now. I wonder if that's ever going to come back into play?#Slight re-ordering of events for the funny punchlines but we're close to getting back on track.#The mianmian stuff happening right after we also have a Torment Tortoise looking for blood makes this scene so chaotic.#A good kind of chaos as it is supposed to be overwhelming and anxiety inducing!#I have been sitting on the idea of the Beast being just a normal turtle with a knife for ages. Years in fact.#It's stupid as hell but that's sometimes what art is. Indulging the past you who would have loved to see the dumb thing be drawn.#Making it canon now that A-Qing's turtle (the one pd-Lan Sizhui found) is a descendant of this turtle.#Maybe she was so defensive because she has eggs she was watching over! How insensitive of these cultivators!#You can insert your own choice of boss music here - I did not grow up playing video games so I have nothing off the top of my head.#I am making a BOTW reference here so you could substitute one of those themes but I find them more melancholic than menacing.
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Chapter 8 of TPiaG: Body Swap AU
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@sincerely-sofie I think this is my favorite chapter I've written so far!
Twig is unconscious
Darkrai couldn't sleep.
As ironic as that sentence is, it's nonetheless true.
He'd long since gotten used to the needs that Twig's body demands for. And he would be lying if he didn't say he, to some extent, enjoyed being able to fall asleep.
But for the last week, he couldn't fall sleep for the life of him.
He tossed and turned in his bed, trying every position he could think of.
He attempted to sleep curled up, splayed out, on his belly, his side, his back. With his blanket, without his blanket (A grave mistake).
Nothing worked.
And he hated so much that he knew why.
He couldn't stop thinking of Twig.
That loathsome wretch that took his body.
He couldn't understand why he can't stop thinking of her.
He hated her.
He hated how scared and helpless he felt seeing that passage open.
He hated how he wasn't as angry as he wanted to be when she picked him up without his consent.
He can't stop thinking of how she broke the shelves in that closet to fit both of them in there, even though she could have easily just stuffed him in there alone.
He hated so much that he felt safe in there with her.
He hated the way his breath caught on itself when she pulled him closer, after hearing Grovyle step past.
He hated how he felt like he'd been torn in half when Grovyle ripped her out of there.
He hated how frozen in terror he was as he watched Grovyle beat her within an inch of her life.
He hated how he felt utterly useless, watching Celebi, Dusknoir and Kip do everything they could to keep her from dying...
...
Darkrai's eyes widened as a thought came to his mind.
She may not have been attacked if she had just left him.
She might not be unconscious in the hospital, straddling the line between life and death, if she had simply hidden herself in the shadows, and left him to confront Grovyle.
She wasn't hiding herself from Grovyle.
She was protecting him...
...
Darkrai slowly curled his fists, leaving scratch marks in the floor.
No.
That wasn't what she was doing.
She hated him as much as he hated her.
It was in her best interest to keep her own body alive.
Then why didn't she hide you in the closet alone, and try speaking with Grovyle
Because Grovyle would have attacked her regardless.
Then she would have hidden herself in the shadows and tried conversing with him.
Did you not see the murderous rampage Grovyle was on?! He wouldn't have listened to her.
What about the code word?
Darkrai's heart skipped a beat.
She would have had a chance to say it had she not tried to keep you safe.
She... She had a chance to say it during their fight. She'd forgotten she had that word in mind.
Would she have forgotten if he didn't claim that her voice was a trick? Would she have forgotten if she had a chance to talk with Grovyle? Would she have forgotten if she only dodged, and didn't try to fight back?
Grovyle wouldn't have believed her if she did say the word.
Kip didn't believe her until she said the word to him. And he had more of a reason to doubt the legitimacy.
Darkrai pressed his claws into his arms.
Stop.
If she had shown you to him, and explained what had happened, what do you think Grovyle would have done?
Darkrai winced from the pain he was inflicting on himself, attempting to hold back tears.
Stop it!
Grovyle would not have hesitated to try and kill you.
STOP!
He would blame you, as he does now, for stealing her body.
Blood was starting to pool where his claws pierced his skin.
Do you not recall her expression, when she apologized for what she said to you that morning? And the promise she made to find something for you to do during the day?
ENOUGH! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MY OWN MIND BELITTLING ME LIKE THIS!!!
She cares about you.
...
Darkrai quietly cried in his bed. Trying to remain as silent as possible so the others couldn't hear him.
Why?
...
Silence.
**********
Grovyle lay flat on his back in Kip's bed, ironically getting less sleep than he did than for the few weeks he was technically homeless. Forced to stay in that position so his ribs would heal correctly. Tears flow down his face as he thought about Twig.
The fear in her eyes, as a human, a Charmander, and in Darkrai's body haunted him.
The feeling of satisfaction he felt, watching her bleed before he knew who she was, made him consider leaving to enter Labyrinth Cave alone.
Grovyle intentionally took deep breaths. Each one sending out sharp pain from his chest.
He can never see her again. His presence would force her to relive what he'd done to her.
He tried to kill her.
He forced her through intense agony to make her suffer.
He traumatized her.
She should hate him.
She should hate him the way he hates himself, with every fiber of her being...
He hopes she does.
*********
Dusknoir couldn't take any comfort in the literature he used to. Despite Celebi's and the doctors' best efforts, the damage done to his eye is permanent. Everything looks like he'd been submerged underwater. His age already made his eyesight worse, but now he'll have to learn Braille to read again.
But he wasn't worried about that.
He was more worried about Kip.
He was of course worried about Twig. Praying at every moment that she would recover, but his fears still lay in seeing Kip neglect himself to watch Twig at all times.
The fact that the last thing he could, and probably will ever see clearly, was Kip's expression of terror, the same he'd seen several years ago, filled him with a pain that was much greater than what Kip had afflicted him with.
Dusknoir wondered if all of this would have been avoided if he was never given his undeserved mercy.
He saw the way Kip shook when he exited the passage of time.
Twig wouldn't be on the cusp of death, and Kip would be happy if he was simply never brought back.
********
Celebi couldn't understand how Darkrai isn't exhausted all the time with how he's constantly angry.
She's barely able to do anything but sit on the couch and think of just how much of a brain-dead idiot she is.
If she had just looked forward when they figured out that Kip and Twig had moved, then she could have stopped any of this from happening.
But NOOOOO!~ She just HAD to wait and see what would happen! She just HAD to be surprised by how things would turn out!
And now she hurt everyone and Twig might die.
Sure, they managed to get her to the hospital, and yeah, She's at least stable.
But what happens if her body gives out?
She dies.
And it'd be her fault if she does.
Celebi doesn't even want to think about what Kip and Grovyle would do if she passes.
She's completely trapped in a prison of her own design.
She hates that she didn't look forward then, and she hates how scared she is to look forward now.
She hates how angry she feels towards Kip for hurting Dusknoir like that. Even though she knows it was a knee-jerk reaction.
She hates how angry she is at Grovyle, for letting himself get to the point where all logic and reasoning went out the window. Even though she knows he was just tired and furious and paranoid.
But she doesn't hate how angry she is at herself.
There isn't a justification for her actions.
She is just stupid.
*********
Kip didn't care that sleeping next to her gave him nightmares. He couldn't care less that the pendant she wore with the lunar feather was lost during her fight.
The fear he feels in those nightmares pales in comparison to the fear he feels at every waking second.
Every morning he jolts awake, covered in cold sweat from the nightmare he had, and stares at Twig. Watching her to make sure she's still breathing.
He hasn't left the room since he was allowed in after the emergency surgery the Doctors had to preform on her.
He watches the doctors replace the medicine and bandages daily. Staring at her wounds to make sure they haven't gotten infected. Even if that's not his job.
Kip just-
He was so mad at himself.
He wanted to make up for abandoning Twig when she needed him most. But he can't.
And he might not ever be able to.
What a moron he is. He can't figure out why he started running in the first place.
They were his friends. They wouldn't hurt him or Twig.
But Grovyle ended up nearly killing her anyway. All because he wasn't there to defend her. To explain what had happened.
Kip stared at Twig.
First time she's slept since switching bodies, and it was because of him.
Kip stood up and heavily, slowly walked towards the door.
He turned his head to look back at her. Hoping she'd woken up.
She didn't. She lay in the same position. Her breathing, weak and short.
...
Team Skull was right about him
They were more right than Twig ever was.
All he ever did was weigh her down. He was a burden that he forced her to carry.
She had lied to him. He wasn't her friend. Friends don't abandon each other when they need them most.
Friends don't suddenly change their minds and try to go back for them for no reason.
Friends don't break down crying, unable to do anything while trying to put medicine on their wounds.
Friends don't act like him.
Kip left the room and slowly walked out of the hospital towards the travel agency. His head hung low.
He could feel the atmosphere get less heavy with each step, but he himself still felt heavy.
He's going... Somewhere. He doesn't know where. Just, any other town.
She doesn't deserve a scumbag 'friend' like him.
It's better this way...
*******
Celebi had told her everything.
She couldn't help but notice the underlying anger in her words. Everything recounted to her with an uncharacteristic flatness. Simply laying out the facts and nothing more.
She took a slight amusement as she thought about how Twig must have looked at Grovyle, when he saw her clutching that monster like some scared child holding a stuffed toy.
It was exactly what she deserved to have happen after she gave pity to that wretched, selfish thing.
At least justice was finally served.
Maybe now she'll take a step back and realize her actions and words were in no way justified.
Maybe she'll finally see just how awful he acted. And finally take the steps to right what's wrong.
Cresselia stopped her midnight flight when she suddenly realized that someone experiencing great physical and emotional pain. Barely detectable, as it was far away. All the way over on the Fire continent.
Cresselia decided to shelve the thoughts as she began making her way over to where the pain was originating.
She thinks it may be coming from a Snivy but she isn't quite sure yet.
Cresselia enjoyed the feeling of the crisp, early spring night breeze against her feathers.
Perhaps her and Kip will finally see eye-to-eye when she returns.
#Boy. I wonder if that Snivy will have any significant impact on Cresselia's mindset and behavior.#Man trying to get Cresselia to act like a chunk of hairy dust filled play-dough without crossing over into cartoonish evil is hard#I can't say her portion is my favorite part#But i love the rest of it#I didn't want to say it in each portion because i would have just been repeating myself#but i wanted to emphasize how everyone feels like it's their fault; and their fault /alone/ that what happened; happened.#even though it was such a complex thing with so much trauma and paranoia involved on every side#that picking someone to solely blame would be pointless#the closest i could get to is Grovyle#but even then#dude thought that the only family he had for years had been getting tortured by a legend for almost a full year#couple that with what little sleep he got leading up to the incident#and the growing paranoia and anger each time they went to a house and couldn't find her#i can't really say i can blame him#I would act irrationally angry and paranoid too if i was in a similar situation.#granted; It is an explanation. Not an excuse#Can't wait to explore the implications of that!#Bullying the grass boy#text post#pmd eos#fanfic of a fanfic#the present is a gift au#pmd#writing#fanfic#body swap au#pmd2#cw blood#tw blood#Dusknoir and Grovyle's sections are shorter than i'd like but their thoughts are the most straightforward so oh well.
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blood loss edition
#sk8 the infinity#kyan reki#hasegawa langa#renga#colloquially. like gesturing towards a signifier of a signifier of a story told long before. youre not getting more out of me than that#ft. tố linh (and them in yuutoverse for a hot second)#if u wonder what a dirt historian is. stay tuned <3#that thing reki does in the first page is a real thing everyone here's convinced of btw#like. free hangin from a bar by ur arms will make u taller#also I literally did not mean to design amy and linh Like That. I did Not mean for them to be. Like That#but I am happy that I did. bc I love their design and they play well with yuuto#the last page is. some extremely disorganized Thoughts from a thing I kinda wanna write#maybe not right now. but eventually#I guess it's also mostly like. one more love letter to the siblings out there. it has to do with reki getting#underground basically illegal T shots at S lmao#shakes u by the collar we're not going anywhere! I love you!! everything will find its place!!!!#anyways. there are also a number of muppet type creatures in this one. idk whats up with that#I dont have much blood in me rn Im not lucid. have fun be urself ok?#thats also why the inks been taking a break btw. and the fact that my new pot of ink just arrived today#while Im being deprived of my appropriate volume of intravenous fluid#man. may be another day. before I can stop screaming at my wall and punching things off shelves. and draw properly#meanwhile. u know whats up#I go lay down now. have fun ok? be kind to ur tall friends knee them only gently#also just realized future!langa kinda has a bit of haruka vibes. that is literally so awesome
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" just...come here. just sit here with me" (...that one scene from princess momonoke, click for better resolution)
#tw death mentioned for the tag rambles!! (sorry)#meme redraw gone wrong (high effort). don't ask me how i did this- i don't know either. consider this perhaps an AU of the pyre scene?#or more accurately just my internal wonderings visualised. sometimes the vibes from the implications don't pan out the same way#i also lost the original sketch somewhere in my papers. alas. i vaguely recall thinking this would be haha funny and then somewhere down#the line it turned to angst. other quotes that inspired this from the show were 'ily. i'm sorry' and 'i will always be so proud of you'.#smth smth they met on the roof!! vincent stops quincy from jumping off and then. vincent tries to die + eventually quincy kills him on the#very same roof. anyway the quincent death scene was spinning around for a bit in my head and out of the miscellaneous sketches this won out#wanted to play w the strong blue lighting + bg + silhouette things that you get w stage lighting // replaced the knife w vincent's scalpel#quincy is kneeling bc poses + idk why it's fun staging for him ;-; // also the proximity + intimacy.. // the pyre is also in the bg#but it's silhouetted behind quincy. i think the last quincy post made me associate symbolism (help??) bc as i was painting i was thinking o#angel wings ksdjfh // not to mention the halos. halos are always fun to paint.. shiny stuff...#and from the last vincent art. i guess the star and eye imagery carried over. hm. tried to get the quincy halo to match so its like a#rounder less spiky star? which hehe aligns w the sun vibes (that i??can't explain??) but more importantly here i was thinking about#binary stars for the glowy parts. two in orbit in pull to one another.. tension.. ue. also the glow for vincent goes to stabby eye so like#behind the face shown to viewer. meanwhile for quincy it goes in front of the face#and of course u have the downward linking implied line from quincy's tears +scalpel + glowy eye.#this is supposed to be rotatable.. in landscape form u can have either quincy or vincent upright (pov) + it should work both ways#//bonus stuff is vincent holding the skask w bloody hands + shadow looks like blood spatters. like it would if quincy did the stabby.#hhhh this is the most. confused i have been making a piece lately.. just toss in a lot of fun visual stuff and mix..#if the rambling analysis here seems pointless and confused i think that's why. this is why u should plan out your essays o.O..#oh. stuff i just remembered: the whole impetus for vincent planning his own death was so quincy would be happy / it's already#mentioned before quincy kills vincent that he's severely injured- vincent says it's fine- ig u could intepret it as a finishing blow?#hastened over the phaethon announcement- when they make the second announcement quincy looks up smiling until the admin gives it to#beatrix-he didn't know.. // <- so for this it's possible to infer that vincent wasn't very attached to living anymore.. hence why they look#more accepting above. while quincy is looking very angsty and conflicted. yeah.. // tldr! don't look into it too deeply it's a meme redraw#adamandi#quincy cynthius martin#vincent aurelius lin#tw knife
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Negative experiences with a childhood educational
institution okayyy lmao
These questions are fascinating... the blood part made me think of vampires.
"Viability as subject – none" "Viability as agent – low" "Viability as catalyst – Medium" Compatibility ratings to be an avatar, cryptid hunter, or avatar's henchman maybe?? 👀👀👀
Gerry?!?! Again??? Or different guy? Also cursed objects???
Bro doesn't like dungeons & dragons? L
Is this dungeons & dragons game about to turn real like Jumanji???
Okay different Gerry I guess. Woahhh cursed dice???
Wtf kinda game uses two d6s? 👀
Oh this piece of shit just pawned off cursed dice on you & asked you to leave. Rude. 😩
Yes, tell me the next bit please, I'm curious.
You roll them & stuff happens?? Wait, do the dice rolling around in your pocket count as rolling them? I can see how that would be bad.
Gambling on life jfc.
Wait it's not random?? That's wackyyy.
Dice rolling is really fun. I'd probably roll them too just once to see what happens, especially if I didn't have the insight into them being cursed.
Uh oh.... what's gonna happen to Gary? 👀
Oh shit-
Bro said "one more game."
Hmm what are you up to, Lena? 👀 Why is this Nigel guy so important? Why are his companions important?
"Try to keep calm while you're there?" 😶 why?
"Bigfoot’s a good lay"
Adventures with Alice?! 👀 Oh Hell yeah!
Anyone else suddenly worried about Alice's safety? 👀
#I feel like the institution is clearly in reference to the magnus institute#making avatars with the other scientists at the institute; nothing could possibly go wrong#also yeah no the blood & creatures thing was an interesting mention; guess vampirism made it into the new universe#was really hoping the transcript person would have been sucked into a jumanji game#seems like the dice rolling has to happen with intent though so the dice are aware or the curse on them is aware of when they're rolled#with intent.#Lena playing power enforcement games with famous tv actors; wonder what Nigel Dickerson is up to in secret#also 'Bigfoot’s a good lay' obliterated me lmaoooo#Alice I hope you'll be safe please be safe I'm so worried#mine#op#tmagp liveblog#tmagp 9#tmagp spoilers#tma spoilers#tma#tmagp#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol
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