#but it's the same blood that's running through their three hearts attached by a red string | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ty-bayonet-betteridge · 5 months

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(transfem top x ambiguous gender pov bottom, woundfucking smut, do not read if you are underage. trigger list will be in the first reply.)

the girl you've been talking to online turns out to be local. not too surprising since your city is so major compared to some of the other ones left, but still good news. you had plans to meet up tonight at a bar near her place and are almost ready when she sends you this text:

sorry have 2 cancel bc work running late. i work from home tho so if u want 2 come over i can send the address

you agree and she gives you the address to her apartment. she says the door will be unlocked when you get there so let yourself in. you send her a thumbs up and head over. her apartment building is very poorly designed - the only door into her place is accessible from the third landing of a rusted fire escape. you let yourself in after verifying that you have the right unit number. immediately after opening the door you are struck by the scent of blood and sweat, as well as other smells you can't immediately put names to and the humming of what sounds like a loud fan. she calls out from another room. she says hey. she says shut the door. you do. she says sorry i cant greet you im in the living room and cant move. you say thats ok and head towards her voice. the scent gets worse as you head through the door into her living room.

on top of the dirtiest sofa you've ever seen lies a man you do not know. he appears to be asleep, though with the state he's in it's difficult to tell. he has no legs, and no bandages covering the bloody stumps where they once were. the legs that previously WERE attached are sitting on the ground in a heap, along with his similarly detached arms. his chest cavity is open, and his ribs are unfolded. various tubes lead out of the open cavity. some of them are made of plastic and lead to what appear to be bags of saline, blood, and a strange machine with vents along the top that whirs loudly, the source of the noise you heard before. others are made of flesh, their shape and size similar to how you imagine intestines look, and they connect to several of the man's organs, which are currently stowed on a three-tiered rolling metal cart.

on the middle shelf is a jar of neon blue liquid, inside of which his heart sits, still beating thanks to live electrical wires leading to what appears to be a gutted and repurposed chunky plastic kid's electric piano. his lungs hang off of a hook on the side, inflating and deflating in a shuddering motion that is not at all what you expected breathing to look like. the middle shelf also holds his kidneys, one of which has been disconnected and sits in a pool of blood on the bare shelf. the other is in a jar of what seems to be some sort of clear jelly. the bottom shelf holds a concerning pile of viscera, none of it connected to the man. you pick out his stomach and intestines easily enough, but the offwhite translucent fatty mass that clings to the intestines and the sad grey sac included in the mix are foreign to you. the top shelf holds several organs you don't recognize as well - a yellowish-gray waxy lump in a vaguely phallic shape and a small red orb , both of which are suspended in the same jar of pale yellowish fluid and appear to connect back to the same fleshy duct. they twitch occasionally, but are otherwise motionless. another top shelf organ you identify as the liver. it has no special setup, simply laying flat on the shelf, but is nonetheless connected in several places and seems to be functioning normally, especially as you can see some sort of dirty yellow-brown liquid dripping out of it through a plastic tube and into a large, clear bottle that you're pretty sure was a mayo bottle at some point in its past. finally, two large cooking pots are gently simmering over a large camping stove, connected to the rest of the mess of tubes, ducts, veins, and flesh. one of the pots has a lid on, leaving you unable to see what's inside of it. the other is about half-full of an off-white, slightly meaty substance.

in the center of the mess sits the girl you're here to see. you've exchanged both lewd and non-lewd images before, so you recognize her well enough, though you haven't seen her in these clothes before. if you can call them that. she's wearing simple black panties, a pair of light grey ankle-height socks, a deeply stained apron with a heart and a KISS THE COOK on it (though somebody has taken a maroon fabric marker, crossed out COOK, and written SURGEON below it), a pair of yellow rubber dishwashing gloves, and nothing else. her legs have a thin covering of hair, as if she shaved four or five days ago and it's starting to grow back but she hasn't had the energy to shave it again. her wavy blond hair is unkempt, and she makes no effort to tie it back. this is somewhat concerning, as she currently sits hunched over the dismembered man on the couch, her hands inside of his open body cavity. her hair hangs around her face, the ends of it matted and dirty with blood and other fluids.

the man you thought was either sleeping or dead opens his eyes and turns to look at you, silent, a look of blank curiosity on his face.

she stands and turns to you. she looks like she hasn't slept in five weeks. there are track marks on her left arm. she extends a blood-soaked glove for you to shake. you take it, dazed. she says hey, nice to finally meet you in person. im riley. doctor riley grace davis MDE. you say nice to meet you too. she says sorry that theres not space on the sofa here. when she draws her hand back to gesture you wipe the blood off on your pants as best you can. she says do you want to sit at the kitchen table or go straight to the bedroom? you say um. you say sorry if this is rude but who is that? she says one of my clients. you say clients? she says yeah. you both look at each other for a moment. you say uh, sorry, what is it you do exactly? she says did it never come up? you say no. she says oh. she says sorry im used to people having heard of me, guess i forgot to mention. you say its fine. she says im a plastic surgeon.

you glance at the man with his organs spread out across the cart. you say that looks like a little bit more than plastic surgery. she says im very talented. you say isn't plastic surgery minimally invasive? im very talented, she repeats. come on into the kitchen, she says, turning to lead the way. you say uh, is it okay to leave him like that? she says yeah. you say isnt he going to bleed out? she says trust me, i'm a doctor. as she heads through the door she reaches one gloved hand to tap a frame on the wall. a smudge of blood is left behind on the glass. you look at the frame.

The assembled medical staff, Thinker-class parahumans, and administrative staff of the Parahuman Response Team East-Northeast, in cooperation with the governance of New Brockton on Earth Gimel, confer on RILEY GRACE DAVIS-LAVERE the degree of MEDICAL DOCTORATE EQUIVALENCY for recognition of medical knowledge and talent conferred by a parahuman ability, evaluated and classified as Tinker 8, as well as for the demonstration of excellence in prior practice of medicine and the use of that parahuman ability to complete an assessment of medical knowledge and talent agreed upon by PRT staff.

you follow her into the kitchen. in the time it took you to read her doctorate, she has apparently doffed both the apron and the gloves, which now sit on a pile in the floor. she holds out a bottle to you as you join her at the table. it's a green glass bottle with no label. what is this, you ask. beer she says. she says i made it myself. you take a terrified sip. it tastes amazing.

you are acutely aware of the fact that she is now topless. my eyes are up here she says. you say sorry, but she's grinning lecherously. she says you like'em that much? you say honestly i was stuck on how different you look from your pictures. she says wow, rude. you say i didn't mean it like that. she says how did you mean it? you take a second to collect your thoughts. you say your boobs are at least 50% larger in person. she says puberty is a magical thing. you say puberty? she says yup. you say how old are you? she says don't you know how to talk to a lady? you say absolutely nothing about this visit has led me to believe you're a lady. she laughs. you have no idea how to label the sound of her laugh in your mind. it would almost be a cackle if it didn't degenerate into a giggle. she says you wanna know how old i am? you say yes. she says me too, kid. you say what year were you born? she says 1998. you say okay, so- she raises a finger to stop you from talking. she drains her beer, then slams it down and starts talking very fast.

born in 1998, triggered and stopped aging mentally in 2005, went on puberty blockers in 2010, started aging mentally again in 2011, went off puberty blockers in 2012, undid my puberty and went back ON puberty blockers in 2013, then all of my self-modifications were undone also in 2013, and i dont know what else in my body changed at the same time, went off puberty blockers again in 2014, or 1 GM if you use that calendar, i dont because thats stupid but just in case, aged fairly normally until 2023, then undid my puberty again because i was scared, aged normally until 2029, and from then on my Amy and i have theseus shipped me about twenty times over because staying the same is boring. so yeah. the paperwork says i'm 38, let's go with that.

you dont know how to respond to that. to any of that. she gets up and says sorry, ill be back in a second. she leaves the room. you take another sip of the beer. you don't like beer. how the fuck does this taste so good? you glance around the kitchen a bit, not getting up. it's clean in the sort of way that indicates it doesn't see much use. the only thing that has clearly been used frequently is the microwave, which you can tell from here has probably never been cleaned since she bought it. at least the lack of mess means there's probably no mouse, rat, or ant problem. in here, at least. you vaguely wonder if the bloody, dying man in the other room would attract vermin.

she returns, shrugging on a filthy grey hooded sweatshirt and carrying a small case. she says sorry, room gets cold as balls sometimes. dont usually notice it while im working. she grabs another beer out of the fridge, then sits down and pulls a rolled cigarette out of the case. she pulls an old zippo out of the sweatshirt's front pocket, lights it, and starts puffing. it doesn't smell like nicotine or marijuana. want one, she asks. you say what are they. she says salvia mostly. she says bit of kratom to mellow it, but mostly salvia. are those safe to use together you ask. especially while drinking. she pauses. she says fuck, iunno. id hardly notice at this point if i started to OD. pretty sure im good enough to fix it if i do. fix it you ask. she says yeah. how you ask. she says im a doctor. damn good one too, she says. you say arent you a plastic surgeon. she says im a lot of things.

she says sure you don't want it? you seem tense. you say uh, ive never really been high before, don't want to start with untested interactions, no offense. she says none taken. she says youre drinking, though, that counts. you say im drinking but ive never really been drunk. she says wanna fix that? you say im good. she says good. she says being drunk sucks. she says worst depressant there is, just use tranquilizers if you want to start acting like an idiot and forget it all the next day. you say i didn't know you were so into this, um, scene, i guess? she squints at you. she says are you a cop? you say no. she says cause you're being awkward and simultaneously pretending you know and don't know what you're talking about and that's what a cop does. you say i'm not a cop. she says none of this is illegal. she says all this shit falls under the realm of reasonable materials for her research. you say i SWEAR im not a cop. she says and jeff in the living room there signed the consent forms and waivers before i started doing that shit to him. you say if i were a cop i would be given better training on handling this situation than just repeatedly saying im not a cop.

she says if youre not a cop why are you so fucking tense? she says calm the fuck down. you say um. she says you were so casual over text, thought we had good chemistry. you say we did. she says so whats got you like this? is it cause ive got a client? you start to answer her but she keeps talking. she says sorry about that, really. she says it was supposed to be a simple body swap job, organs out, couple changes, organs in, but dude keeps asking for more and more weird shit until somehow the plan has changed to him floating inside of a translucent biological skin suspended in a mix of lympatic fluid and vitreous jelly. you say what?? she says and i got no problem with that, but it means im gonna need a fuckton more meat than i thought i did when i started, and its gotta match him or his antibodies are gonna fuck him UP, so now im working his stem cells and bone marrow overtime to cook me up all the shit i need, meanwhile hes on life support and all this equipment is so esoteric i gotta babysit it the whole time, so i can't get away like we planned. again sorry about that she says.

you say its fine, i just didnt know what your job was. you say caught me off guard coming in and seeing a guy opened up like that. for a second started wondering if i was next. you laugh awkwardly. she does not laugh. she smokes a little more without saying anything. the silence goes on an uncomfortably long time.

she says do you want to be?

you say what? she says dates get discounts on ops, especially if its something hot or something simple. im really fucking talented too she says. she says you saw the state jeffs in and hes still alive and well. so cmon, anything you want? you say um. she says cmon, dont get shy now, tell me! you weren't scared to talk about kinks online. you say well there is one thing, not a body mod exactly but something that wouldn't be possible to do under normal circumstances. she says out with it, grinning wolfishly. you say im, uh, kind of into woundfucking.

she takes another gulp of her beer. she says god, who the fuck isn't? she says i'll never understand why that isnt a more common thing. seeing somebody as so much of an object that youd put a new hole into them just for your own fun. or alternatively, loving someone so much that you need to feel what it's like inside every part of them, need to connect with their muscle and blood just as much as you do the rest of them. fuck, it's delicious, she says, her grin stretching unnaturally wide, like a Glasgow smile that opened to reveal more teeth and gums. you have never felt more afraid. you have never felt more turned on.

you top or bottom, she asks. bottom you answer. good, she says, cause i've been wondering what you would look like screaming this whole time. your eyes widen. she downs the rest of her beer and stands up, grabbing your arm and yanking you up as she does so. she says cmon. you follow her, if only because when she pulls at you you briefly feel she may have the strength to tear your arm from its socket.

you pass through the living room. she shouts out yo, jeff. the unseamed man opens his eyes and looks at you. you cant read his expression. she says im gonna be busy in the next room for a couple hours. if you start dying, she says, slam your head into this. she grabs what looks like a game show buzzer off of a bookshelf covered in junk and sets it on the couch next to his head. she says should be loud enough for me to hear from the bedroom and come get you stabilized. blink twice if you got that. he blinks twice. she says cool, later. she pulls you through another nearby door and slams it closed behind her.

her bedroom is a confusing mix of the junk and grime you saw in the other room with a shockingly pristine bed. her clothes are strewn about the floor and the walk-in closet, with no organizational system you can discern, not even between clean and dirty. in fact, you wouldn't have called any of these clothes clean. she opens the cabinet under the bedside table, pulls out a huge roll of plastic sheeting, and covers the bed. ah. that explains it.

is this a dexter reference, or... you say, trailing off. she laughs again. what the fuck is that laugh? she says my amy got frustrated having to clean the sheets literally all the time so now i just do this instead. you say er, whos amy. she looks at you like youve lost your mind, a hypothesis you cannot disprove as you think on the situation. my wife, she says. wife you ask? she says fuck, did i not mention this either? shit, fuck, goddamnit. she says ive been married for three years. you say uhhhhhhhh. she says oh dont worry she knows! shes cool the relationships open. uh, unless YOURE not comfortable with me being poly, i guess. fuck i couldve sworn i mentioned this, she says. its not a problem you say. she says you wanna keep going? you say yeah. she says good.

she heads into the walk-in closet, grabbing a three-tiered cart from under a shelf and starting to wheel it to the bed. allergies, she asks? oxybenzone, you say. she says well im not planning to inject any fucking sunscreen into you, so i dont think thats relevant. you say look i dont know how any of this works, better safe than sorry. she says dont worry, you're always safe with me. AND im going to make you sorry, she says. she giggles before she stomps on a toggle on the cart that locks the wheels. you get a look at this cart and see that it has a collection of medical and not-so-medical implements, with the middle shelf appearing to contain various bottles, jars, and tubs of what you hope are medicines while the top shelf holds needles, sutures, scalpels, saws, scissors, and almost any kind of tool you can think of that holds a blade, from bread knives to x-actos. the bottom shelf has a large circular saw and a rusted chainsaw.

traffic light system for safety checks, she asks? you say yeah. cool she says. she pushes you onto the bed, the plastic crinkling as your head hits the pillow and you fall on your back. she sits on top of you, straddling your lap, holding your hands over your head by the wrist with one hand. she's freakishly strong, far moreso than her spindly limbs should allow. she takes the cigarette out of her mouth. you swallow. your eyes flick to it. you say sorry, can you, um... she grabs your neck, interrupting your speech and yanking your head forward. she leans down, spits on your cheek, and shoves the lit end of the cigarette against the same spot. the saliva buffers it slightly, but the burning feeling is still intense, a pain that rides through several seconds as she presses the cigarette into flesh. you hear yourself whining at the pain.

she flicks the now-extinguished cigarette aside and kisses you. it tastes like blood and morning breath and ash. she picks up one of the scalpels. in stark contrast to the rest of her home, each and every one of the tools is in sparkling pristine condition. she toys with the scalpel as she looks you up and down. you have any experience with being cut into, she asks? you say huh?, taking some time to process. oh, you say. um not really you say. never done cutting during play before and my only surgeries have been dental when i was a lot younger. she says no problem. she says im only gonna dull your pain a little, but let me know if i need to adjust sensation up or down. you nod breathlessly. she angles the scalpel and cuts through the front of your shirt, a swift motion that leaves the tip of the blade an inch or two from your neck. you recoil on instinct and she giggles again, pulling the knife back and moving the fabric of your shirt aside. she takes one of the smaller jars from the cart and dips two fingers in it, the scalpel dancing in her fingers as she does so, like a bored baton twirler doing pen tricks. the paste is bright pink, and she rubs it into the flesh of your upper stomach. you feel your nerves start to tingle slightly as she finishes.

she fills a syringe with something pastel red. placing her hand against the numbed area of your stomach, she spread her fingers, guiding the needle between two of them to hold it steady. you watch the point of the needle break skin, feel it sinking through your flesh. she depresses the plunger slowly. you exhale as she removes the needle. gooood toy, she says softly. your breath hitches at the praise and she smirks. she presses the scalpel to your skin, but doesn't start to cut. color, she asks? you say green. she smiles. she says making the incision.

the feeling of blade breaking skin isn't the sort of jarring penetration you thought it would be. the transition between the scratching pain of the scalpel against your skin to the actual slicing sensation is gradual, and you're not certain you could have pinpointed the moment if you weren't watching. you find yourself gritting your teeth, your jaw clenching involuntarily as your body tries not to vocalize the pain. it isn't intense, but it's persistent and deliberate in a way that doesn't match what you think pain should feel like.

riley is more energetic than youve seen her this whole time. she starts to hum happily to herself, cutting through your skin and flesh. the incision is vertical, two inches long and ending about an inch and a half above your belly button. she retrieves a pair of those metal clamps surgeons use to hold the incision open during surgery. you don't know what those are called. maybe you should ask her. you think that would kill the mood. you'll ask her after. she inserts them into the incision, adjusting the tension so that they spread it open about an inch. she notices you looking. she says you don't need to watch if it makes you squeamish, pet. you swallow hard. you say i want to watch. she giggles.

you lose track of time, watching her work. she wields the tools with a grace, precision, and speed you didn't think was possible. the blood wells out as she does so, flecks of it flying when she moves too frenetically, adding to the stains on her hoodie. it covers the ends of her fingers, drops trailing down to paint their streaks further down her hands and arms, like candle wax melting. your blood. her hands. you feel slightly faint, and you don't know if it's from arousal or bloodloss. the pain is constant, but still sharp enough not to ache. you breath shallowly, occasionally whimpering or letting your breath hitch as the scalpel catches flesh. for the most part, neither of you speak, though from time to time she gives soft praise, her voice warm and comforting as she assures you of how sweet and well-behaved you're being.

she isn't just making a hole. you don't know exactly what she's doing, but it's not just cutting. the needle and thread flash in her hands from time to time, and you can feel the muscle and fat in your torso being stretched and pulled, split and joined in new ways. your angle of view prevents you from seeing the operating area, to your dismay, and at times you almost speak up and ask if you could reposition so you could watch better - but you know you can't. it's not your place to ask anything of her. she's the one in charge.

still, you wish you could see. she described herself as a plastic surgeon earlier, but her movements don't match that description. it is not the slow, precise, micro-motion of a surgeon; her body language is free and expressive, passionate in a way that reveals her true nature. she is an artist, her chosen medium skin and meat, the tools of her craft surgical by their raw nature but not in the way she wields them. the blood-covered flesh, the sinew and fat held beneath your skin and even the skin itself are only the raw material with which she crafts her magnum opus. a sculptor of a living body, like a leatherworker or carver of bone taken to the logical conclusion.

she pulls off her sweatshirt, a sheen of perspiration covering her skin. your eyes are glued to her bare form. she notices you staring and flashes a predatory grin. aw, someone likes watching, huh? she says. you nod dumbly, and she chuckles. stupid little pile of meat, she says, affection in her voice. you think you might be in love. you cannot tear your eyes from her, though she evidently does not mind the attention as she returns to her work.

your gaze is not lustful, though doubtlessly lust is the predominant feeling in you. your focus is drawn to her through fascination and adoration, not arousal. you study her curves, the hair of her stomach, the dullling red stretch marks that frame her chest and gut and streak across her thighs, because this is the body of the woman who is recreating you. is this not the same as knowing the form of the god who shaped you in his image?

no, it is something different from that. this is not the god who made adam in his image but the god who knew man would need a companion, and shaped one from a rib torn from the body of his creation. a divinity that does not create from whole cloth but rends meat and bone until its craft is complete. a godly vulture, a being that tears its hooks into the carcass of the universe and pulls free a dried, gristly tendon, granting importance to that which exists but lied bound beneath the surface of the skin, out of sight, out of mind, waiting to ooze its way free from this veil of vellum. the perfected form of imperfection. the blood is drying in her filthy, matted hair. she takes a pill bottle from the cart, pours out a handful, and swallows them without water before returning to the frenzied stitching of your adipose tissues.

what must be hours later, she sits up and wipes the sweat from her brow, smearing your blood across it at the same time. she wipes more of the blood onto her thighs, apparently to clean her hands, though they are still caked with grime and gore. think its done, she says. she says anesthetic should be wearing off too. she sets the scalpel down and leans over you. she's right; you feel the sensation returning to the area she's operated on in full force. she lays on her side next to you, head propped up on her hand, her other arm draped across your body, cheshire smile on her face. you feel her fingertips lazily trace the edges of the gash before she slides one in.

how do you describe the sensation? what does it really feel like for something to work its way between the folds of your muscle, for subcutaneous fat and flesh to be pressed aside, molded, to make way for the penetrating presence of another? the pain is omnipresent, but not overwhelming as you expected it would be. the flesh holds sensation deeper than you thought it would as well - several inches beneath your skin, you can feel her fingers hook inside of you. you can't tell how much of the pleasure is physical and how much is psychological, but it is there, and it is overwhelming. you tense in response to it, moaning, and the tension causes your muscles to clench, sliding against her fingers, bringing sensation to new parts of your abdomen. the feedback loop overwhelms you, and you feel a disappointed whine escape you as her finger leaves the hole.

she giggles. so needy, she says. she says guess i did make you pretty sensitive, huh? you whimper in response. she says don't worry, i won't leave you empty too long. she moves, sitting on your lap, pulling the panties off as she does so. her dick flops out over your stomach. it is roughly human in shape, and on the larger end of normal human size, but its appearance throws you for a loop. it is stitched together, frankensteinian in construction, without even a consistent skin color. she notices you looking. you like it she asks? she says sort of had to bodge it together pretty quick, don't put nearly as much effort into my own body as i do others. she says amy could do better. you are far too horny to consider the implications of any of that. you whine, straining upwards to press the wound towards the tip of her cock. she laughs. good toy, she says.

she sighs deeply as she forces herself inside of you. ffffffffffuck, that's good, she says. your core muscles shift around her, flexing to squeeze her cock as she sinks it in, hilting inside of the hole. you moan, your hands coming up reflexively to cover your face in some act of shame or modesty which is at this point thoroughly meaningless. she pulls back out slowly, her cock glistening with your blood, before slamming back into you, new parts of your abdomen being forced aside to accommodate her. you think she is pressing against organs now. you desperately want her deeper.

she pulls your hands away from your face with one hand, and with the other shoves the finger that she had previously used to explore the laceration into your mouth. you suckle at it thoughtlessly as she rolls her hips, the tip of her dick forcing itself into your abdominal cavity. the taste of blood and sweat and dirt linger on your tongue. she starts thrusting hard, the repeated slamming of her cockhead against the parts of you that were never meant to be touched the only thing you can think about. it hurts. oh god, it hurts, and it feels so much better than anything you've ever felt. damn that's a good hole, she says. you don't say anything. she takes the finger out of your mouth. color, she asks? it takes you a second to connect the thought. green, you say. she says thank god. can i come in you she asks. you nod stupidly, your mouth still open from her finger being pulled out. she giggles.

she grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and presses her lips against you. she tastes like morning breath and your blood. it's delicious. you wrap your arms around her as she forces herself in and out of the gaping, bleeding wound in your stomach. she's so close to you, her whole body pressed against you as that massive, unnatural cock digs into your blood and muscle and guts. she doesn't smell like she knows what a shower is. she is practically laying on top of you. you can't think. your wrap your legs around her too.

she groans in your ear as she slams herself balls deep into the gash again. your insides are flooded with her cum. your own orgasm forces your core muscles to clench, tightening and sliding around her length, unintentionally milking her cock into you. she pulls out, laying the dick slick with blood, sweat, and cum across your stomach, as she pants. she rolls off of you, laying in bed beside you. unthinking, you turn onto your side and press your body against her. she wraps her arms around you and kisses you again.

you hear the sound of thrashing from the other room, followed by a cartoon buzzer sound effect, and then what sounds like the seinfeld jingle starts to play. she jumps to her feet. god fucking damnit, jeff, she says. she says i'll be right back as she crosses the room at a run, slamming the door behind her. the wound in your stomach is still bleeding. you have no idea how to process anything that just happened.

#wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #our writing #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #dr riley davis mde #hjow the fuck do i tag this #tw gore #tw body horror #tw blood #tw sex #tw medical stuff

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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year

Text

Chapter 21: The Final Chime

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Word Count: 4838 words of chaos

Warnings: swearing, death, blood, [flashbacks], mourning, fire, canon stuff yk

[A/N: i know so many of you are wondering what this chapter could possibly be if reader isn't there and i'm here to tell you that it's set in the pov of the others so... prepare for some angst again]

The Final Chime

“I don’t believe in a higher power or divine intervention.” Robin chokes out, watching as the vines retreat. “But that was a miracle.”

After what felt like an eternity, the trio were finally released from their captors just before the light had left their eyes. The vines had unexpectedly set them free, their bodies hitting the ground as they gasped for air.

“Then we better not waste it.” Nancy breathes.

Steve is scanning the area around them and Robin frowns before widening her eyes.

“Shit, do you think Y/n’s with him?” Robin asks with a small voice, rubbing her neck.

The last thing Steve remembers is watching as you were pulled into the attic, a look of fear in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before. There was something you hadn’t been telling him. He had noticed it first when you and Nancy talked privately, the dampened cheeks that surely held tears that were swiped away as quickly as they fell. Then there was the way you held is hand just before, like you were scared to let go.

So many things you had done to hide a devastating truth, protecting him like you always did.

“She has to be, right?” Steve looks to Nancy, noticing her hard stare, jaw set tight.

“Right.” She finally agrees, cocking the shotgun in her hand.

Nancy was afraid. But not of Vecna. Of what they would find when they finally turn that corner. There was only one thought running through her mind and she wanted there to be a higher power. One that would grant all of her wishes.

For a future you were in.

Steve’s look of curiosity made Nancy feel guilty. She shouldn’t be keeping this a secret, especially not from him.

“I…” She speaks, but then she’s biting her lip and shaking her head.

“There’s something you’re not telling us, isn’t there?” Steve frowned, searching her eyes for some kind of clue.

“What?” Robin’s eyes were wide as she strapped her bag on properly.

“We don’t have time.” Nancy decides, locating the attic and nodding towards it. “Let’s get this over with.”

Steve and Robin hold their breath, noticing how she was remaining emotionless. It scared them, to see her like that.

Nancy had already taken steps towards the attic before Robin finally cleared her throat.

“Let’s just find Y/n, kill Vecna, then get the hell out of here.” Robin practically pleads, rubbing her throat and wincing at the soreness.

“Yeah…” Steve agrees, scooping up his axe from the floor and joining his friends. He couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t prepared for whatever was in that attic.

And he was right.

It was a rush of footsteps, surely to be heard through the vibrations emitted.

Nancy leads them in, shotgun raised. And when she stops abruptly, Steve and Robin share a confused look before stepping in after her. Their first sight was on the monster attached to vines, eyes closed.

But that wasn’t why Nancy was crying.

“No!”

Robin lets out a choked gasp, rushing over, but Nancy pulls her back, arms wrapped around her as the girl struggles in her grip. Robin’s heart shattered. They told her you shouldn’t come down with them, but she had insisted. She made that call. And now… you were…

Nancy ignores the teary eyes of her friends and peels her gaze from the body. She had seen it before. The same attic, the same position, the same pool of red. If she looked any longer, Nancy would shut down completely.

Steve hadn’t moved since he saw you. Those tear stained cheeks, blood everywhere. A sight permanently seared into his brain. He was just with you. Your smile, the laugh that sounded like a melody he would replay over and over, even when you were away. He was just with you.

As Nancy held onto Robin, the girl’s efforts to break free now dissipated as she clings to Nancy for comfort, Steve drops his axe and walks over to you. There was a small slither of hope in the back of his mind that you weren’t really gone. That it was just a trick.

Your face was covered by loose strands of hair, head tilted slightly to the side. One hand covered your abdomen, soaked in blood. Steve carefully crouches beside you, Robin’s muffled sobs breaking his heart with each movement he made. His shaking hand reaches out to brush your hair away.

“Y/n…” He whispers out, as if you would respond, tell him it was all a big misunderstanding.

Eyes closed, lips parted. A trail of a tear ran down your cheek and Steve’s breath hitches. Trembling, he presses his fingers against the side of your neck… nothing.

His teary eyes raise to meet Nancy’s, slowly shaking his head. Nancy lowers her gaze but grips onto Robin tighter.

The tears that slip down Steve’s face were rare, an emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for a very long time. He had to be the strong one, the one the kids could count on. The one you could count on. But, even then, he always needed someone too. Someone to keep his head above water, to bring him back down to earth when he feels like he’s drifting away.

And that one person was now led in a pool of her own blood.

Steve gently strokes your cheek, a sob building in his throat, before his eyes drift to your stomach, noticing the four slashes in your jacket vest. He freezes. It only then hits him that you weren’t snapped and bruised, nor did blood run down from your eyes. You weren’t killed by a curse. You were murdered.

Everything you had done for them, all the pain and loss you had experienced. All for this.

Rage boiled in Steve’s veins as he drifts away from your body and carefully steps towards Robin, motioning to her backpack. His stare caught onto Vecna, suspended in the air in the middle of your last view. He didn’t care how they did it, how long it took. He wanted revenge.

They all did.

Robin furiously wipes her tears, lighting the first bottle and holding it out.

Steve gladly takes it, anger coursing through his veins.

“But if you knew about the black dust, why didn’t you say something?” Steve’s worried eyes stared into yours, the noise from the comedy on the TV long forgotten now, “You could have died when we-”

“I couldn’t risk it.” You whisper and he lowers his gaze. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“That’s different.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“How? How is that any different-”

“Because it’s not you!” Steve cries, holding your arms, “You don’t deserve any of this, Y/n. You- you’ve never done anything wrong.”

“Just-” He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “Just let me know when one of these… visions or something show up again.”

When you don’t respond, he leans forward until your foreheads touch and the action makes you laugh.

“Swear it.” He says in a monotone voice, making you laugh harder.

“Okay, okay. I swear.” You giggle and he pulls you into a hug.

Sacrifice had always come naturally to you, something Steve both admired and hated. You constantly chose the danger, protecting everyone you loved and never receiving any kind of gratitude. He saved you once, seeing the Demogorgon taking your life from you and never once hesitating to grab that bat and beat it to a pulp if he had to.

But he couldn’t save you this time. Because you were too busy trying to save him.

“For Y/n.” He mutters with reddened eyes before launching the bottle at Vecna.

They watch as it hits the monster squarely in the chest, igniting his cold red skin as he screams out in pain.

The fire spreads, catching onto the vines, and they screech, detaching Vecna from their hold and he crashes to the floor in front of them. With a growl, he raises his head with a murderous glint in his eyes. He stands slowly, unaffected by the flames burning his body.

But they aren’t finished with him yet.

Robin flicks on the lighter, burning the cloth.

Robin slowly nods, humming. “So what I’m hearing is that… you’re scared?”

“I was on my own when I moved here.” You shake your head, looking at your hands, “And I hated it. I guess all my graduation plans had involved another person. And, I don’t know, I just hate the idea of being on my own again.”

“I get that.” She solemnly nods, sitting back in her chair. “The fear of being alone? Haunts me.”

“Just… don’t tell him.” You plead. Robin glances at the divider before looking back at you, a sincere smile on her face.

“I won’t.”

Your greatest fear, one you and her had shared at the time. Being alone. And now, knowing that you had died at the hands of the creature in front her, alone, her grip on the bottle tightened.

“Flambé, asshole.”

She grits her teeth, pushing as much strength as she can into her arm, and she throws the bottle to watch it slip from her fingers and hit him with such force, he stumbles back.

But he doesn’t stop.

Nancy raises her shotgun.

“It already has my scent, Nance.” You admitted. She sent you a confused look and you knelt onto the floor, pulling up your jeans to reveal the mark the Demogorgon had left on you. A constant reminder of the terror.

“No.” She shook her head furiously. “That’s not happening, Y/n. No.”

“Yes it is.” You stayed stubborn, standing up and looking your friend in the eyes.

“The only reason is hasn’t attacked me is because I haven’t stayed in one place long enough.” You sighed, taking a breath before resting your hand on her arm. “I just need to lead it here, Nance. And I promise you, I’ll never let it get close enough to hurt me.”

“But-”

“I’m just bait. We have a plan, it’ll work.” You reassured, smiling a little.

The girl in front of you finally sighed, shaking her head before pulling you into a hug.

“Fine. But if you die, I’ll kill you.” She chuckled sadly.

Ever since Barb’s disappearance, you had done everything you could to protect them, to risk your life when no one expected you to. Nancy remembered the time she spent without you in her life, and it was desolate. You brought a light she never appreciated.

Vecna had told her you would die, shown it to her in a nightmare of visions. He had claimed that your death would be his strength.

Bullshit.

Nancy fires the gun, the bullets piercing his skin and pushing him back in surprise. He had taken her best friend, and he was going to pay for it.

Another shot, then another, then another.

She keeps moving forward, just as he keeps stumbling back. She was relentless. And they were so close to killing him.

He spins around, clutching onto a surface in the attic. She cocks the gun once again.

But then he pounces at her.

His claw swipes out and only just misses her face; Steve had pulled her back in time for Vecna to stalk toward them, bleeding and burnt, but still stronger than they anticipated.

With wide eyes, they watch as he gets closer, Robin fumbling for another bottle. Vecna is close to taking the gun away from Nancy and leaving them vulnerable, holding his arm out ready to take another life.

Robin finds herself squeezing her eyes shut, hand gripping tightly around Nancy’s wrist as they await the pain.

But then Vecna is frozen, unable to move.

Every limb goes stiff, a cry of war hissing through his burned lips. Struggle ensues. Nancy and Steve can only look in confusion, stepping back and looking to eachother for answers.

“Oh my god.”

Robin’s muttering led them to it, Nancy’s gasp echoing through the cold attic. Steve frowns, shifting his gaze to where Nancy stared. Tears laced his eyes for a whole new reason.

Vecna manages to crane his neck to where they are staring and his dead eyes widen in utter shock.

Black dust is swarming the space behind him, threading their way around his limbs to keep him paralysed, a taste of his own medicine.

And in the middle, black eyes stare daggers into his soul.

You.

The screaming was like daggers in your mind.

You could never see it, only hear. Some tortured souls surrounding you, echoing in the barren darkness you found yourself in. You were helplessly alone.

It felt like hours that you had tried screaming for help. But with each tired note of pain, you found your mind drifting away from everything you knew. You were here for a reason. You had…

You didn’t remember.

A sob echoes out and you turn around. But the sound came from you. You were afraid, stuck somewhere you couldn’t escape. And you didn’t know why.

“Join me”

You spin around to the growl of a deep voice, goosebumps lacing your skin, breath quickened. You recognised it. Why?

Vecna, you remind yourself. Vecna. He was a monster. He-

“Your only way out of here is to join me”

You squint into the darkness. He… who was he again?

“No.” You whisper out before you can even register what you were saying. Frowning, you find yourself retreating from the voice… why?

A loud roar thunders, an ear-splitting noise of what sounded like a million flies penetrating your mind. Covering your ears, you groan, collapsing to the floor. You barely gathered the strength to scramble from the ground and into a sprint once you heard the eerie call of something in the shadows.

y/n…

You freeze, eyes wide. It wasn’t the monster’s voice. No… no this was softer, almost comforting. A voice that calmed your nerves despite the fear.

An image came to mind, forming the portrait of a boy, piece by piece. It started with hair, different shades of dark brown prominent against the lighter, bleached from days in the sun. They descended into wavy locks, loose strands falling perfectly into shape around his face. His face… brown, no… hazel eyes, a colour you only noticed through careful observation, small flecks of gold reflecting the purity of his heart. This was a boy that looked at you with such adoration… and you couldn’t remember why.

The image cascaded into a thousand little memories… basketball, lakes, ice-cream… none of it made sense but once they were strung together, it was perfection. Whatever it was, whoever it was… you wanted it back.

“There is nowhere to run, Y/n”

Your body hits some kind of invisible wall, sending you backwards. Coughing, you pull yourself up and reach your hand out, a solid barricade within the darkness cold against your touch, locking you in this nightmare.

Your hands fumble against the wall, footsteps speeding up but never finding any opening. You were trapped. You were trapped.

Another flash of memories hit you, smiles and laughter, death and guilt. All of it was a nauseating blur, descending you deeper into madness. Cries from souls echoed around your head, the flesh of your hands not nearly thick enough to block them out.

It all became too much. The tears, the heartache, the rage. It was building and building until you were breathing heavy, scrunching your hands into fists that tore at your skin. A raw scream ripped from your body, a sound that even terrified you.

“There is no use screaming”

The voice- Vecna – taunted you once again, and you find yourself on your knees, panting for breath. Something made you think you deserved this.

“You are alone”

Alone. You frown. Alone.

The word was frightening, and yet you found yourself contemplating it. Alone. It was true, you were by yourself in a dungeon of despair, but were you truly… alone?

A crowd of faces, some younger, some older. Each of them held smiles that warmed your heart, all gathered together like some kind of family. A family.

Your family.

“I’m never alone.” You manage to sound out, raising your head to look through the dark. The words were unexpected, but they felt right. “I am never alone.”

It was silent around you.

Standing, your eyes dart around void surrounding you. Nothing. Then, a faint hum.

A bright glow of some sort flashed in front of you, causing you to stumble back and raise your arms to shield your face. It was the contrast that made it so painful.

Slowly blinking, you adjust to the blinding light in front of you.

What was going on?

A frown is etched into your forehead, each step towards the light echoing in the dark and deserted space around you. You had no control over the movement, drifting closer and closer.

Where were you?

Then, with a brush of your finger, the scene around you fades into something much more familiar. Something…

… nostalgic.

The wallpapered walls, the untouched armchair. Frames and frames of happy memories. The smell of delicate perfume stained from long ago.

You could barely make sense of it until when you feel yourself being watched, cautiously turning back to the front door. A silhouette of a man, taller than you, striking a nerve. Vecna?

As you caught sight of the small scruffy beard, the kind eyes, the breath leaves your lungs.

“Jack?” You whisper out, afraid that if you startled him, it would all be over.

“Hey, kid.” He smiles, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here so soon.”

You didn’t understand what was happening, all of it a nauseating blur. But you felt calm in this place. Almost… at peace.

“Where is here, exactly?” You question, resisting the urge to move closer, to wrap your arms around him. You weren’t even sure this was real.

“Not a damn clue.” He admits with a chuckle. His eyes still smiled but a worried brow lay above them. “But there’s only one way to get here.”

“What?” You shake your head, confused.

As he looked at you, something pulled at your chest.

Piece by piece, you slowly recollected everything that had happened before you woke up. The mission, the vines… Vecna.

Your eyes widen.

“I’m dead.” You say numbly and Jack finally approaches you, still careful enough to stray from contact. “Vecna. He…”

“I know.” He nods and you whip your head up.

“How?”

“Well, let’s say there ain’t much TV around here.” Jack chuckles, “And I always told you I wouldn’t let you be alone.”

“So you know about everything that’s happened?” You ask and he simply nods. You lower your eyes, biting your bottom lip. “Then you know I failed.”

“Failed?”

Jack closed the distance as tears fell down, pulling you in. A choked sob leaves your lips once the familiar material of his jacket rubs against your nose. You had spent so long without Jack, you forgot what it felt like to hug him. To even just hear his voice.

“You have been the bravest girl I could ever hope of having for a daughter.” He says and you tighten your lips, pulling away. “Sometimes I don’t think you realise how selfless you are.”

“But I left them.” You sob, shaking your head with trembling lips. “They needed me and I… I-”

“You haven’t really left them.” Jack reminds you and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Right.” You cry, closing your eyes. “Because my memory will always be there.”

“No.” He says and you raise your head. “Because we all get second chances.”

You slowly shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

“You should.” He points out with a knowing look, smirking. “You give them out all the time, kid. With me. Nancy, Steve. Hell, even Eddie. Everyone deserves a second chance. Especially you.”

Before you could question his suggestion, you notice something moving behind him.

Outside of the window, the shadows of a thousand little particles of black dust danced behind the glass, waiting.

“What’s that?”

“Damned if I know.” Jack shrugs.

But you did know, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The Mind Flayer was waiting for you.

“You have to make a choice.” Jack prompts you, kissing the top of your head and nodding to the moving shadow. “Whatever you do, it has to feel right. And I know you’ll make the right call.”

You smile up at him with teary eyes, glancing back at the front door.

This was your second chance. Another try to do what was right. A test. You could stay with Jack, enjoy the peace. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected death. In fact, you were surprised it took this long to finally catch up with you.

Or, you could go back to your friends. Help them fight and live your life to the fullest, with the people you loved.

Even if it hurt, you knew what you had to do.

“My friends need me.” You say quietly.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Jack grins, nodding to the door. “So, what you waiting for?”

You walk towards the window, hand reaching out and grasping onto the door knob before you look behind you at where Jack stood smiling.

“I miss you.” Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Me too, kid.” Jack admits with glittering eyes and you take one last breath, pulling open the door.

Then, you let the comforting darkness consume you.

You had died.

Vecna had finally won, removing you from the playing board.

But the Mind Flayer had other plans, flooding to your body and starting your heart once again. Jack was there to see it through, to ensure you’d make a decision you wouldn’t regret. You hoped you wouldn’t forget it.

You wake up just as you hear the fire power from Nancy’s gun.

Sitting up slowly, you find your eyes drifting to your stomach, the black dust knitting together your wound, healing it. It left marks on your skin, a reminder, but you were alive. You were alive.

A small yelp catches your attention and you look to find Vecna is close to taking the gun away from Nancy, holding his arm out ready to harm your friends.

This time, he wasn’t killing anybody.

You rise to your feet, eyes flashing black, and you raise your chin. You felt more powerful than ever, the Mind Flayer’s connection stronger.

The particles rushed towards Vecna, pinning his arms to his side and restricting his movements. With a growl, he turns around, appeared to be surprised.

And you stand there, glaring, covered in your own blood.

“Impossible”

Flames still danced along his skin, the light somehow darkening his eyes. The anger radiated off of him, feeling more deadly than fire.

You raise your arm, pulling him away from your friends and stepping forward.

“You didn’t think it would be this easy, did you?” You mock his earlier words. As you stared into his milky eyes, for once you didn’t feel afraid.

And he did.

“I’m in control now.” You whisper, the fluttering of black particles spread around your body enough to validate your words.

The fear on his face is a sight to see before a smirk appears on his lips, tilting his head.

“Maybe” He replies with a snarl, “But I’ve already taken away the only thing you love”

You frown before he lets out a cold laugh. Your eyes widen with realisation.

Max.

You feel fury course through your veins, letting out a scream and throwing him towards the wall furthest from your friends, his flaming body dangerously close to the window.

But his power is strong, pushing against your force, even as you give everything you’ve got.

“Nancy!” You strain and she doesn’t hesitate.

She steps beside you, aiming. When the shot rings through the air, Vecna is thrown backwards, the dust and bullets combining to overpower him.

One last yell, and you overpowered him completely.

The shatter of wooden boards echo in the attic, splinters whipping at his skin, as a roar leaves his lips.

You hear the bone-crushing thump, slumping your shoulders, and walking to the broken window. You wipe away the trickle of black blood on your upper lip as if it would make a difference to your overall appearance, staring down at the grass below where Vecna lay, still on fire.

As you glare down at his body, you feel the Mind Flayer relaxing from your body and relieving you of its power. For now.

The burning corpse below didn’t feel like a victory. You wanted to believe that he had been lying to you, trying to trick you. You needed to have hope that Max was still alive. That you caught him before he could take his revenge and fulfil the final chime.

You felt weak as you tear your eyes away from the window, finding solace in the eyes of your friends. You let out a choked sob and you rush towards eachother, capturing you in a hug in the middle of the attic, relief taking over the pain you felt.

The stain of blood still marked the floor, reminding you of the inevitable. You had died. Your heart had stopped beating. But you were here. You were still here.

Finally pulling away from their embrace, you go to speak but are interrupted by Steve’s hands on your cheeks, bringing your forehead against his and gently rubbing his thumb against your skin, wiping your tears with it.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, feeling the erratic beat of his heart, the shakiness of his breath. You reach up and wipe away the strands of hair that clung to his forehead. “We’re okay.”

Nancy clears her throat with raised eyebrows, a smirk dancing on her lips, and you smile, Steve letting you go but instead placing his hand in yours, keeping you close.

“Please, never do that again.” Robin begs, pulling you into another hug while Nancy nods along, happily wiping away a stray tear marking her skin.

When you wince, however, Robin immediately moves away with a frown. You look down at your torn jacket, fingers brushing over the scars that were once so fatal.

“I really need to stop getting these.” You mutter and Steve lets out a laugh.

“That’s not funny.” He remarks, smiling at you and you giggle.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Is it over?” Nancy voices, brows furrowed, eyes still gleaming with tears, and you grab her hand.

“God, I hope so.” You sigh and Robin sounds out an agreement, a bright smile lighting her once fearful face.

She practically tackled Steve into a hug, you and Nancy bursting into laughter at the sight. You end up resting your head on her shoulder, her hand finding yours, as you watch Steve try and push off a clinging Robin.

.......tick.......

.............tick.............

...................tick...................

.........................tick.........................

Everyone’s glee, the burst of excited conversation, all fades to silence in your mind. A chill strikes your spine.

It’s never that easy

You widen your eyes.

“Y/n?” Nancy asks, prompted by the lack of weight on her left shoulder. Her body tenses when she catches sight of your face, knowing fear when she sees it. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head, dropping her hand and running back to the window, bracing yourself against the wall as you stare down. You didn’t even hear her words, the blood rushing to your ears through the attack of a heartbeat.

“No.” You whisper out, pushing away and rushing back to the group.

But you don’t stop. Instead, you’re sprinting out of the attic and practically flying down the stairs. You didn’t care if you avoided the vines.

“Y/n!” They called after you. You didn’t stop.

Almost stumbling down the porch steps, you skid into a halt, pain striking your chest.

Vecna wasn’t there.

The scorched grass marked where he had fallen, but he was nowhere to be found. He had cheated death just like you had. And it was mocking you.

You scream into the dark, a scream that you belted with your entire chest; all that pain and despair echoing through the white particles. It was a cry of defeat and torture. You had lost.

Before anyone could move towards you, a loud chime blares from inside the house and heads whip towards the noise.

You all share a look of horror before rushing back into the Creel House, locating the grandfather clock. Two more chimes echo just as you stop in front of it, noticing the cracks on the glass. Just like the vision you had before you died.

The final chime cracked the glass completely, an end set to the time you no longer had.

“Four chimes.” Robin breathes and Nancy gasps.

“Max.”

Steve immediately looks to you as you stare at the clock. Your whole body felt numb. You weren’t sure oxygen was even entering your body anymore.

The first tremor beneath your feet was barely noticeable, gaze attached to the broken glass of a face with hands.

Everything falls apart.

Chapter 22: Part One: Madmax ->

[A/N: surpriiiiiisee!!!]

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl / @cherrymedicine13 / @engenelxver / @sagaonpandora /

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siennablaze219 · 2 months

Text

((Content warning, graphic violence))

@daily-writing-challenge

(Events from the beginning of Battle For Azeroth, trying to take this week to flesh out pieces about Mirri’s family history)

Lyanna and Rastien were lounging by the pond near their home in Ashenvale, the stars in the sky were bright as they laid upon a blanket and shared a bottle of Dalaran Red that Mirri had brought home to them on her last visit home. They had little to do in the moment, Sentinel Tyl’inithia had come by earlier in the day to pick up all the sabers of rideable age and size, fully trained or not, to take with them down into Feralas. She had made the request for mounts in person a few days prior to give them time to prepare, “I know that you are attached to all your furred children, but skirmishes are being waged and we need replacement mounts for when the Horde cut them out from under our Sentinels. You both served on the battlefields long ago and know this to be true.” She was right, neither of them wished to see the sabers they raised go into battle, but that was what the beasts were bred for.

Had Mirri been home every one of the big cats would have been fully trained and off to the riding instructors already, but her decision to stay among the humans had left them without a trainer so they had taken longer this season than in others past. “We will care for them you know that.” The sentinel had assured them. She had even taken all but one of their sires, it was the same as when the sundering came and the Horde began to work more into Ashenvale, they had a couple promising young males in the yearling cubs that were too small to carry a rider yet and those remained to replace the big males Tyl’inithia had led away earlier.

With heavy hearts they wished their young sabers safe steps and long life in a blessing, then made their way to the pond to relax and not think about their children moving into battle. Blessed as they were to know that Mirri would not be one of their riders, nor Tysha as since Mirri had found her, the ex-Sentinel spy was staying far from any chance at fighting, so at least their blood was safe even if the beasts they gave their hearts to, were not.

The wine looked blood red in the darkened night while the moon rested and the darkness of her new face held its place in the sky without even a hint of its light. Lyanna shuddered softly as her glass held just a finger’s width of the liquid, looking to the cut crystal that remained that showed deep red in every facet as true as if the glass was still filled. Peering into the carnelian liquid, she swirled it around, about to say something to her mate but her head turned, distracted as her ears shifted back towards their home slightly, a sound having caught her attention.

Rastien had always been quicker to action than Lyanna and she spoke as she rose, “The sabers.” Sprinting out across the grasses with Lyanna left to follow in her wake, the scent that came after would be one she had never forgotten though she had wished to. Fire, and fur… “The stables.”

Catching up with Rastien would be impossible, her mate’s stride had always been longer than her own, so she called to the Light of Elune and asked for a blessing that would hasten her steps, if only for a moment or three. Rastien, ever the one to react to threat with action rather than thought, had already called the power of Elune’s darkest embrace wrapping it around her making her barely able to be tracked through the long shadows of the trees from what little light the sky offered. Her right hand dropped and she called to the darkness, ready to act the instant she could find the source of the danger. Her voice rang hollow in this form, “They are burning the stables.”

Lyanna did not need to ask who ‘they’ were, the Horde had been running sorties further and further north through the lands for a few weeks now. They had hoped that they would be sidetracked, or the foolishness of more bloodshed would be ceased, but they had been arrogant in those thoughts it seemed. Each had each lived over ten thousand years and never had a foe just decided to go around a home, or give up just because two ancient elves raised nightsabers in the woods.

As they broke into the clearing, shadow and light once again joining together in the team they had become long ago, standing an arms distance apart so each could act independently they surveyed the scene. From inside the stables the sabers were screaming, one mother darted into the forest with a cub, she must have been able to break free from her pen, but the other four and the other six cubs were nowhere to be seen. The cries raised into the night sky, sound dancing with the smoke of the orange of the flames, both equally calling forth tears from Lyanna’s eyes.

A scream of outrage sounded from Rastien’s throat and her head swiveled to an orc with a torch that was behind the barn, reaching out a shadow cloaked arm she clenched her fist and the mohawked woman fell to her knees dropping the offending flame into the black of the night’s grass. Even that flame did not add color back into the scene, everything around them was a mix of the intensity of the bright fire, the black of the shadows of Elune’s darkest face and the ashen grey of them when they chanced to meet together in a bloodless dance of chaos amongst the tides of the shrieks from within the death of the ancient building.

Knowing they must clear the threat before they could even try and asses the damage, Lyanna called to Elune seeking the blessing of the Goddess that they, and their children, had worshipped for their entire lives. Light came to her call and she stepped forward seeking battle, on one side an orc closed, on the other a troll, wary of the living shadow that was Lyanna’s mate, they moved in. The orc held an axe, and the troll a halberd, trying to trap her between them as she was unarmed. With an exhale Lyanna released the power she held and light exploded forward as a star from her lithe form, the divinity of her gift rocketing outwards, maring the depth of the night around her. First to react were the eyes of her foes, having to close in reaction to the explosion of the power she had unleashed, and then their bodies began to burn much as the barn they had torched before they both toppled to the ground.

Rastien knew the gift of her mate, and how she could be blinded by it, so she sprinted to the side, letting the shadows cover her movement through the knee high grasses that surrounded where they lived. Once she was in the embrace of the forest to the side of the barns, and the flash of Lyanna’s star bright spell had faded, her lip curled back in a snarl and with a small flick of her fingers she began to strike the other ten horde members in the party that had come to their home, each one becoming wracked with pain as her anger was released within their bodies. Shadows held her dear and even as they looked about, they did not target her, instead focusing upon her mate who had left the duo she faced lying in the dirt as she stepped back, creating more space between her and the horde.

The fighters recovered quickly, speaking in Orcish, which both of the women had learned from a troll they had saved once, “I thought the buildings were empty except the beasts, you said you searched the house.” A tauren woman yelled, “I will have your head for this Mugla!” Her hand gestured forward and a fire elemental burst into existence much like a phoenix, its heat and glow making the rest of the raiding party step clear to give it room as it broke towards Lyanna, scorching the ground and drawing its hand along the side of the burning stables in a lover’s caress.

“Fel take you,” was all Lyanna had time to get out before the elemental closed. She cursed softly and began to use her anger to first pull from the sky a burst of holy fire, once that had taken hold of the elemental she drew bolts of light from the air which slammed into the chest of the being but it did not stop, it raced forward boosted by the energy of the flames the buildings had become. Screams of the sabers continued to fill the air, but there was no time to act to save them, they had engaged their enemy and would need to see them all handled before caring for their family.

Seeing the danger her mate was in, yet too far to help her Rastien called out with the hoot of an owl, an old trick they had used when scouting before they had retired. Lyanna’s head swung towards her for just a moment, then she began to move in Rastien’s direction. As did the horde members that had followed distance behind the elemental. *”Perfect.”* Rastien thought, a sneer drawing her top lip up as she looked to the shaman that had called the elemental, words pulled to Mirri’s birth mother’s tongue, ancient words, dark words and the mind of the tauren was twisted and became trapped within itself as Rastien took control of the woman’s body. Using the form she claimed, the shadow priestess called lightning to the orc’s hands then loosed it.

A laugh from a troll rang out between the buildings as the magic lit the air next to him. “Now you are in for it bitch.” He called as he continued to run towards Lyanna, but the bolt struck the elemental first, which faded beneath the ferocity of it, and Lyanna’s magics, then doubled back to hit him square in the chest, enough to kill him the instant it blackened his breastplate. The light continued to streak on, hitting an orc and a tauren woman before it faded into the night.

Focused as she was, Rastien did not notice as a rogue appeared from behind her and struck the back of her shadow wrapped head. Lyanna noticed, pain shooting through her skull from the bond they had made long ago when the battlefields were their home. Stumbling as she saw Rastien sway forward, her hand shot out towards her partner and she called the shadow user’s body to her own and laid her healing touch upon the bleeding that had begun there.

These moments were just enough for the last five horde that had been advancing to close on the two women, twelve against two had never been odds the priestesses, even in their fighting prime, should have attempted to handle, but anger had taken them down this path and nothing was going to stop them now but the raiders that had come to the land seeking to destroy what they loved most next to their children and each other, their sabers.

The healing had Rastien renewed enough that she straightened, her eyes in the shadows she wore glowed with a depth of fury and hatred that none of her kin except Lyanna had ever seen in her expression before. Her hands moved lightning fast and pain showed on the face of attacker after attacker, then with a scream into the night she summoned a beast of pure void that skittered across the ground and began to feast on the life essence of a troll that was closest to the two women.

Lyanna took a deep breath and called to Elune softly, a prayer first and then she stepped back to back with her mate. Her hands moved in a calmer, gentle pattern, weaving the light again and again, calling forth holy fire, upon the foes she could see, then drawing light within before expanding outwards within, felling another orc.

There were too many and as they fought the shaman walked forth, she growled out a word between flat teeth and the very earth beneath the Kaldorei womens’ feet trembled, pitching Rastien forward upon the spear of a troll. The serrated edges lodged in between Rastien’s ribs and stuck true as they were meant to, holding the shadow user impaled as blood as black as night bubbled up from between her lips. The tip had pierced a lung and breathing now was more like drowning in her own life’s essence.

Feeling the pain within herself as well as seeing her mate lurch forward, Lyanna unleashed a blood curdling cry. For over three thousand years they had been as one, mating, fighting, loving and raising their children together, never apart until his moment when it felt like the entire sea could fill the space between them as Rastien’s body lost contact with her own. Throwing her hands out to the sides, she screamed Elune’s name and Light began to fill the circle of horde fighters in the shape of Lyanna, the very ground that had trembled under them a moment before shifted from the dark of night to the light of day as she called forth in her faith. Gold eyes shone with the intensity of the sun itself and she loosed a word of power, pouring all that light from her into an attack that felled four of the fighters that had closed on them and burned the troll whose spear was still impaled within Rastien, Lyanna’s own lover shielding the troll from the agonizing power of the light the woman called.

The tauren shaman held back, she did not need to close to use her power, turning from the glory and destruction Lyanna brought upon her raiding party. It was not until the glow faded that she turned to see what had remained. The elf had managed to wrap her arms around Rastien’s middle then shove them both forward on the troll’s spear so they died as they had lived, in the embrace of their Elune blessed love. Of the twelve of the shaman’s party she had left with, only three remained, herself, the troll, and the rogue that had ambushed Rastien in the forest who had been holding himself back, waiting for an exposed back to strike. Ten good fighters dead, and for what? She shook her head, this conflict was pointless, she did not understand this call to war, but her warchief called and Baine had answered. Lowering to the ground, laying a hand on the tauren woman that she had struck down with her own lightning when under the shadow priest’s control. “Be at peace daughter, your father and I loved you well, may we meet again in battle soon.” Tears picked up the dance of the flames that rose in the sky from the barns as they rolled down her face.

#februarydwc2024 #februaryday12024 #siennablaze219 #Mirrielyanna #moonguard

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ginger-and-all-things-spice · 1 year

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An afternoon with the Di Angelo’s

In the Italian country side there was a beautiful mansion made of stone. The doors towards the giant garden were open and the sun was shining on the green grass. A beautiful brunette was sitting cross legged on the ground. Her hair in a short neat ponytail, her skin was tanned, and she was wearing white trousers and a blue button up, her feet were bare, her toenails painted blood red the same color as her fingernails. Her warm brown eyes were sparkling with mirth as she sang and clapped as two young children were chasing each other through the grass. One was a girl, her dark brown hair was in two braids. She was dressed as a knight with a wooden sword, chasing the boy, her brother, who was dressed as a pirate. The boy had raven hair in a wild mess on his head, he was shrieking in joy as his sister chased him.

Another person walked into the garden, dressed in a gray shirt and black pants. Feet and hands bare. Long raven black hair flowing in a thick braid down the man’s back. He was white as a ghost, and his eyes were black as coal. The man let himself fall on the grass with his head pillowed on the woman’s lap as they watched their children play. The father was smiling. Suddenly the girl stopped, just as the woman leaned down for a kiss. “NICO LOOK! THE PRINCESS IS GETTING ATTACHED BY THE DRAGON!”

Nico came to a halt. “ARR, we must save the princess.” The boy raised his wooden sword. Nico and Bianca broke into a run and bombarded their parents, but instead of attacking their father as a dragon they jumped their mother. Nico was getting tickled by Maria and shrieking in laughter.

Bianca helped Hades up, who had been fake scared of the dragon that was the mother of his children. “You must now go princess.”

Hades smiled at his daughter. “Princess? Aren’t I a prince?”

Bianca pondered that for a moment. “No, you are way too pretty to be a prince. Boys are yucky.” Hades nodded as if everything made sense now.

“I think brave knight. We must help save the pirate from the dragon’s clutches.” Bianca nodded in agreement.

“Yes, we must.” Then with a battle cry Bianca jumped on Nico and Maria who were rolling down in the grass. Which helped Nico get the upper hand, as he sat on his mother’s stomach who was fending off attacks of Bianca’s ‘magic powers’ Nico took his sword and with a great arch behind his back he got ready to strike, accidentally hitting his father who was behind him. Who let out a gasp and dramatically folded his hand to his forehead as he crumbled to his knees in slow motion. When he had ‘died’ tragically after sticking his tongue out his mouth and making a bleh sound, Nico and the others stormed to the fallen Princess.

“What shall we do?” Nico exclaimed.

“I know what we must do, a true love’s kiss. We must all kiss papa on his cheek and he will magically wake up!” So Hades got three kisses on his face, two very sloppy ones by young children and one neater one on his forehead.

He gasped for breath and put his hand to his heart. As he pulled his family in his arms and peppered them with kisses. “I have been saved!”

The family spent the rest of the day running around in in the grass, laughing. Enjoying their last day under Italy’s warm sun. Tomorrow they would move to the states. Hoping for a better life. Not aware yet of the murderous plans of one certain king of clouds.

#Nico di Angelo #bianca di angelo #maria di angelo #Hades #di angelo siblings #di angelo #maria x hades #hades and maria #nico di angelo fanfic #short story

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dandelion-blues · 17 days

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PJO One-Shot

The Blood of Gods

Now on Ao3

Liquid seeps into the soil.

The clash of metal ringing all around.

Red, a mortal’s plight.

To live such a short life.

Oh, Warrior given a moment of glory,

Of spilled blood for the Gods' need for gore.

Their armor dented,

But their hearts race free.

Free, but they're bound in chains.

A pretty golden chain for thee.

Scars among their bodies,

Proudly displayed battles won.

The battle a stage to be viewed,

Laughter and cheers or boos and jeers.

An arena of entertainment!

Gods clap, thunder follows.

Gods cry, rain falls.

Gods smile, and the sun sears.

Gods! Gods! Gods!

They must cheer.

Blood offered for Gods.

The immortal’s lips stained red.

Is it blood or wine?

The gods love it all the same.

Only in death can they be free,

But even death is ruled by immortal beings.

Thus, mortals left forever at the Gods' whims.

Lesser, worthless, insignificant things.

A bug to be crushed under their heels.

Their lives and deaths sacrificed to the Gods!

To bow before their superiors!

Kissing the dirt! It’s where they belong!

Grovel before the Gods’ magnificence!

Mortal’s eyes don’t deserve such beauty!

Eyes burned from their sockets, if they ever saw.

For Gods’ true sights are monstrous beings.

“A God is such a magnificent being.” A cloaked person hums, their voice rasped like a snake’s. Their voice deep yet soft, somehow echoing in the dark tunnels.

“You can’t run, for a God is all-seeing.” Their words lowered in pitch towards the end. The words lifting through the air like a discordant melody.

“You're lucky if a God notices thee,” the voice raised to a high mocking tone. Laughter heard in the shadows following the cloaked individual.

“But your luck runs foul in three,” The voice turns somber, a spool of thread weighing down their scarred hands.

“Oh great Gods, I pray for your blessing!” The voice laughs, the thread turning red in the dim light of the tunnel.

“Oh, blessed! A child of Gods through their caressing.” The voice low and dark, their eyes glowing bright in the darkness. Their body shaking with barely concealed rage. Shouts of anger heard behind them.

“The child sent off to war,” the voice shakes, tears building in their eyes. Great blonde hair falling from their hood as they bow their head. But still, they move forward steadily and with purpose. The marching of soldiers stomping behind.

“Hoping for the child to be one Gods’ adore!” The voice breaks, and the string tightens in their hands. Winds are felt in the tunnels, the damp air becoming heated. Sad whispers heard in the wind.

“The child brought before the Gods,” the voice now has an anticipating edge to them, as the dark tunnels light up at the end. The voices behind quieting down to a humm, the tension savored like the build-up before a storm.

“Now a man to settle the odds,” the voice whispers dark and menacing, a jeer at the end of his song as he reaches the end of the tunnel. The man’s voice echoing down the tunnel, but quiet to the open air.

The thread carried in his hands now bright and golden in the bright light of the sun, and it splits and weaves onwards to the giant figures beyond the person.

The person sighs and pulls his hood down as he faces the giants, the gods. The thread attaching to each of their chests where a heart would be if they had such things.

The person's hair shines golden as the string and is accompanied with the bluest eyes, the color of sapphires. The man’s rage was shown clearly to the world. A young, pretty teenage face sneers.

The gods, however, don’t notice the speck of a person entering their great home. The home of the gods, Olympus, that casts a great shadow over the insignificant lives down below.

The person's knuckles turn white, drawing great shining blood from his hands. Red and gold, now marring the great thread. He breathes in, and he yanks the thread down, and down go the gods from their false thrones. Groveling before the person’s feet.

The person, the demigod, smiles and sings, “Now it’s time for the gods to bleed.”

“Son!” A god yells in shock, their voice portraying a mask of hurt, but the demigod knows better. Gods don’t feel. Gods are monstrous beings disguised in mortal skin. Monsters who play good and just, but still kill children all the same as the monsters demigods fought in vain. The monsters demigods, children, had to fight to reach camp just to survive.

Survive only to live to fight in the gods’ name. Only living for their parents' glory. Then, the so-called good gods, their parents, just watched as their children reached their demise. Laughing at especially gory deaths, sneering at ones who never gave them glory. Forgetting all their children just the same regardless.

Still, the gods don their great beautiful masks again and again. They seduce and rape mortals just to leave them with children in a broken home. Homes always left yearning for the gods’ addicting touch, a mortal never knowing how to go back to the way they lived before. The gods felt like destruction; they felt like creation; they felt like everything. The gods gave the mortals a taste of divinity to ensure that the mortals were theirs (forever a possession to the gods). That their mortals would remember them, worship them, in every possible way.

Children loved by mortals because of their reminder of the gods’ divinity, but the children would always fall short - living to an impossible standard unless they were lucky enough to be blessed. Blessed to forever be on the run from monsters and always used for Gods' quests.

Children abused because a parent decides to take their anguish out on children who resemble the rapists who hurt them.

Children abandoned because a mortal couldn’t bear to even be near an ounce of divinity again.

It’s all much the same because of the gods’ left mortals broken after they had their ways.

The Gods, though, couldn't possibly be evil, the children naively believed. The Gods were good. They were just. The Gods were their parents. The mortals were their parents, too.

It’s a game for the Gods. They’ve played it so many times before. The Gods gave a moment of attention to their children. A smile behind a sneer. A laugh behind a gag.

Emotions, a plaything, for the Gods to toss around when they need to. Emotions used to manipulate their children into loving, into worshiping, their parents.

To be the most entertaining. Children into soldiers. Sibling fighting against sibling, for Gods don’t pay attention to more than one demigod.

The Gods were everything for the demigods. These were the demigods’ other parents, so surely they were better than the mortal ones. The Gods had to be because the demigods had no one else to give them a chance. The demigods were too different to fit in with the mortals, so surely the immortals would appreciate them, would love them.

All the demigods had to do was fight and win. It’s what they were born forced to do. To receive just a word from their parents, a moment of attention. Why are their hands stained red?!

But why doesn’t it feel like enough? Why do the demigods still feel so alone? More of their friends are dying. More of their siblings are dead. Where did they go? Are they finally free?

A pyre burning. Another child is gone. Who will be next? Does it even matter? The gods their parents never would come.

No more, the person in the cloak vowed. No more children to be forced to be the gods’ child soldiers. No more children to be left, not knowing what a parent’s love is.

Gods don’t deserve their worship and love. They never did.

The demigods are done serving the gods. No longer will they be tossed around for the gods’ whims.

And so, with these gods at their feet, the neglected children, turned child soldiers for these so-called gods were finally ready to end their immortal ruling. The gods, no the monstrous beings, at their feet tried to plead for their useless lives, but the demigods laughed as they descended on them.

Mercy, the demigods said, as if the gods ever done such a thing for them.

No, and screams filled the air, and gold has never looked so beautiful.

Notes:

Who though? Who dares speak up? Does it really matter when the gods will finally meet their demise at their hands.

Blonde hair and blue eyes match a lot of demigods after all 😁

Also, I purposefully capitalized Gods in some places, and not in others, to represent the worship and idolization, or mocking like in the song, before the gods fall in the eyes of their children.

My tags unfortunately don't include all the options for who this could be, but don't let that hinder your imaginations running free.

First - Next PJO One-shot

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sprnklersplashes · 1 year

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two worlds make a universe (ao3)

Jesper hadn't fully understood what Ohval said until now; when a group of Barrel rats try to break into his home, while Wylan sleeps peacefully in their bed. In Shu Han, she had been protecting her universe. Now, decades later, Jesper is doing the same.

Waking up happens quickly. Just one ring beside him has Jesper bursting into consciousness, nervous sweat trickling down his back and his nerves sparking like livewires through his body. His head is a scramble of half-baked thoughts, still momentarily caught between sleep and reality. But then the bell rings a second time and his head clears.

It’s the sound he never wanted to hear, and the one he’s prepared himself for a million times over.

“Jesper?” Beside him, Wylan blinks heavily and raises his head. His voice is softer than Jesper’s would be, worn out and weighted with sleep. Slowly, he lifts his head from the pillow and attempts to hold himself upright

Jesper has prepared for this too. He gives him his best approximation of a comforting smile and uses one hand to stroke his cheek. The other pulls a gun from beneath the mattress.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he whispers. “Everything’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” He repeats himself once, twice more, his hand stroking Wylan’s papery cheek. His eyes drop closed and Jesper waits for his breathing to deepen before getting out of bed. More than anything, he wants to press a parting kiss to his temple or run his fingers through his hair.

But that would cost him precious seconds, and time is one of the many advantages on his side.

He creeps steadily down the hall, so agile and silent that the Wraith herself would be proud. The tinkling of bells draws him further into the house and down the stairs; he silences each one as he passes. It was a system Wylan designed years ago; a series of long, thin wires attached to various bells around the house. The bells used to be louder, larger, made of brass and copper instead of silver. They might have been more useful that way. But at some point, Wylan got older and began sleeping longer. So Jesper switched out the bells and got used to listening harder instead.

(How his father would have loved to see that, he thinks).

The ringing ceases when he places his hand over the fifth bell on the first floor. The silence echoes back at him, startling now that he has nothing to listen for. The smallest of sounds sharpen; the clock at the end ticks the seconds away in time with his heart. He stands there, his blood buzzing, his ears straining, and then he hears it. The main window overlooking the courtyards; something metal scraping against the stone and two, three muffled voices. They’re loud, cocky. They don’t know he’s there. They think they’re untouchable.

(The glass was their project; his and Wylan’s. Dark and obscured from the outside, clear on the inside).

He wedges himself against the corner and watches out the window. In the light of the garden lamps, he sees the grappling hook dug into the windowsill. When he cranes his neck, he sees the thick rope attached to it, pulled taunt as its owners start their climb. It’s catching on the roes they planted along the window box.

A surge of anger runs through him, smoking like a freshly fired bullet. He won’t be self-pitying or pretend they’ve lived in peace and never harmed anyone. His ledger runs longer and is stained with more red than he wants to admit. And, much as he loves him, so is Wylan’s. There may well be justice to be dealt for them. But these kids are not agents of justice. They're like he was; Barrel rats with big scores to settle, searching for the nearest thrill as if it will fix them.

He can relate. He empathises with them. Unfortunately for them though, they came to his house looking for their thrills. His empathy only goes so far.

He fires two shots. The screams shoot up like fireworks, erupting above his head. The hook shifts, and on the second shot, the wire snaps. They scream again, louder this time, fuelled by shock and the feeling of nothingness beneath their hands. Their groans are weak when they hit the ground, and Jesper isn’t sure whether to roll his eyes, offer help, or just since. Good thing they aimed for the first floor and nothing higher; otherwise he’d have to consider calling for a medik.

“That was a warning shot,” he calls from the window. “Get off my property or the next one won’t be.”

He holds his nerve, lingering in the shadows of his house. His finger wants to tighten on the trigger, but he forces himself to be still. Patience may have been the Barrel’s toughest lesson, but it’s a worthy one. It pays off when he sees a gang of four kids legging it to the west gate and scaling the wall. He’s glad to see the back of them, although he’s also a little insulted. The west entrance is by far the easiest one to break into, and the easiest to get caught at. It feels like they didn’t even try.

At least, back in his day, they put effort into breaking and entering.

He huffs, the muzzle of his gun pointed at the open window. The kids scramble up the wall. It’s likely their only grappling hook is still wedged in his window box. Impatience strikes like a match inside his chest because it’s late and he wants to be in bed and they’re taking too fucking long. He toys with his revolver as he watches them begin to disappear and pictures himself sending another warning shot their way.

He may have done it too, were it not for the hand wrapping around his bicep.

“Jes?” His voice floats softly through the dark, a stray lantern floating through the night sky in his mind. “Jesper, is everything all right?”

And that’s when it shatters. The focus, the anger, it all breaks like brittle glass. He lets his shoulders sag, lets himself exhale, and lets his touch be gentle as his hand covers his.

He turns and puts his gun down.

“You should be in bed, love.”

“So should you.” Wylan’s eyes are steely as they move to the window, worry creasing his wrinkled face. “Did something happen?”

He cups his face too quickly and turns him away from the glass.

“No, nothing’s happened.” He slides his gun into his waistband and hides it with his jacket. Then, he offers Wylan his arm. “Come, darling, let’s get to bed.”

Wylan frowns and sends another, sceptical glance at the window. He isn’t convinced, and there’s an argument held in his blue eyes. But it’s late. His shoulders dip, and he takes his arm.

The trip up the stairs is slow. Once upon a time, they traipsed up and down them with ease, giggles flooding the hall. Sometimes hand in hand, sometimes pulling at each other’s clothes. The stairs seemed to move for them beneath their feet, and neither of them gave it another thought. Jesper still can’t remember when precisely that stopped. It was more of a slow process, laboured breathing one day, a twinge in his knee the next. Until Jesper found himself one day at the top of the stairs, waiting for Wylan to catch up with him.

Wylan refuses to have a railing installed. Or to move their bedroom to the first floor. He faces the stairs the same way he faces the Ice Court; unflinching, unafraid, unwilling to back down. It made Jesper fall in love a little more.

The bedroom door is still open Wylan didn’t bother closing it before he followed him. Jesper clicks it shut behind them before helping him out of his dressing gown. He makes sure to dust it off before he hangs it up; the dust clings to velvet so easily. Then he rushes over to Wylan’s side as he eases down on the bed, a sharp exhale escaping him as he does so.

Wylan had scoffed at Jesper’s fussing once. Rolled his eyes and told him “I know I’m not young any more, but I’m not that old yet.”

Jesper doesn’t know if Wylan is “that old” yet. What he does know is that he took a nasty fall a few months ago and that the arm has only just come out of the sling. He knows that a new kind of worry has taken over since then; one that steals his sleep and works its way into his dreams.

“Did you get them?” he asks as he toes off his slippers. Jesper freezes. He blinks and notices that he’s wandered over to the window. His hand is on the lock, solid and secure beneath his fingers. His heart slows, just a little.

He pulls away and sits on the bed beside him.

“There was no one to get, dearest,” he says gently. He reaches up and runs a hand through Wylan’s hair. It’s thin and combed back now, the beautiful ruddy gold now faded to grey. Not by a Tailor, but by time.

Wylan frowns, his eyes clouded by sleep.

“I could’ve helped,” is all he says. Jesper forces himself to breathe, to keep his hands steady as he pulls the covers around him.

Truth is, Wylan could have helped. The years might have made him move a little slower, and made his bones more breakable, but he’s still Wylan Van Eck. The boy who broke into the Ice Court, who outsmarted the Merchant Council. He tinkers in his workshop more than Jesper is comfortable with, telling him about his newest inventions as they drink tea in the sunroom. One of his creations could have sent those skivs scurrying back to the Barrel with their clothes singed.

But it isn’t about whether Wylan could have helped. It’s about how he knows, and they know, that Wylan might not have long left. And damn it, he deserves to spend these last years in comfort. After so much of his childhood was taken from him, his last years should be peaceful, safe, happy. Peace isn’t something a person earns, but if it was, Wylan is owed decades of it.

“I know, love.” He presses a kiss to Wylan’s temple and hears forgiveness in the way Wylan hums.

He settles himself in bed beside him and as he does, a calloused hand wraps around his. He hadn’t realised how cold he was until then. Carefully, he lowers himself against the pillows. They rest their joint hands between them, and then Wylan smiles. Almost everything about him has changed, but that smile has remained the same. Like hot cider on the coldest autumn day, the first sunny evening of spring. His Wylan. His maddening, perfect merchling.

Jesper runs his finger down Wylan’s cheek and whispers “I love you” into the air.

He waits for Wylan’s breathing to even out before he lets the tears come. Wylan’s grip loosens as he sleeps, but Jesper’s remains tight.

He won’t sleep tonight. Instead, he’ll wait with a twitching trigger finger, listening for a signal that their home has once again been breached. Tomorrow, he’ll make a show of waking up beside Wylan. Perhaps they’ll go for a walk along the canal and Jesper will press his face to his shoulder. He’ll breathe in the scent of paint and ink and gunpowder. And tomorrow night, he’ll lie awake once more, thinking about that moment by the canal, and have his gun waiting beneath the mattress.

This peace is theirs. They fought for it on the streets of Ketterdam, in the Slat, at the Ice Court. They fought against Pekka Rollins and Jan Van Eck and they fought for it every day after. It’s hard-won and built from ashes and rubble and if he must fight the world to protect it, he will. Guns blazing, knives drawn, his fists bloody.

What’s one measly world, compared to the universe of a man he married?

#wesper #wesper fanfic #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #shadow and bone #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fic

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rivalriotrenegade · 2 months

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The Monsters Hunter.

“Holy shit, holy shit! I am going to die! Like actually die.” Chase mutteres to himself as he runs through the dense swamp. He could hear the shrieks of the drowned behind him as they quickly closed the gap between them.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Just a snaggletooth. Nothing a monster hunter like him couldn’t handle. But instead of the snaggletooth he was expecting, it was a group of drowned and he had been caught as people say “with his pants down.” Only he had been caught with his pants down quite literally. Admittedly it wasn’t his finest moment as a hunter. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately he didn’t have much time to dwell on that as he’s being chased by said undead horde of drowned.

Chase fumbles with his bow and arrows. He curses himself for attaching his sword to the belt of his pants. The same pants that now happened to be somewhere far behind him.

In his panic he misses the tree root jutting from the ground. It’s a classic horror movie cliché as his foot catches the root sending him tumbling to the ground, arrows flying everywhere.

Before he even has time to think one of the monsters is soaring through the air claws out and aimed at him.

He lets out a scream and coveres his head as the monster's claws came crashing down. He waits one… two…three… and… He isn’t dead? Slowly his scream tapers off as he peeks out from between his fingers to see his wife standing over him with a scowl on her face. Chase lets out a nervous cough, “Oh uh hey Tammi, funny seeing you here?” He says, giving her an awkward smile.

She scoffs. “It amazes me how you’ve managed to survive for so long. Truly, a mystery.”

Chase shrugs. “What can I say? I’m just too pretty to die.” She snorts. “You looked ridiculous by the way, running through the swamp in nothing but a shirt and heart print boxers.”

“You saw that?”

“Yup.”

“So, just to get this straight, it wasn’t a turn on?”

“Nope.”

Chase gasps and opens his mouth to say something but before he could a blood curdling scream cuts him off. Tammi looks down at him, sword in hand. “Stay here. I’ll deal with this.”

Chase watched in amazement as she took down drowned after drowned. She always looked so graceful cutting down her enemies, or well she would, that is if you took away the manic smile she wore while doing so… and the psychotic laughter… and the fact that she had no problem dropping her sword to tear them apart limb from limb with her claws… Okay so he’d admit she wasn’t the most graceful of fighters, instead preferring sheer brutality over style, but Chase supposed it was all just a part of her charm.

He watched in lovesick awe as she lopped off the last of the drowned’s heads with her sword, before sheathing it. He sighed dreamily. “You know what’s hot? Consent.” He snaps his fingers into a finger gun, pointing it at her. “And I am giving you mine.” He says seductively. Tammi stares at him blankly for a moment before her face slowly starts to turn red. “Don’t say such things!” She snaps, turning away from him.

“Oh but I mean it!” He tells her as he gets up from the ground. Tammi glares at him, her face flushed. “Careful, what would you do if I actually took you up on your offer?” She huffs. “Baby, take me up on it or not, I am all yours.” This only causes her face to grow even warmer. “I should cut your tongue from your mouth. That would shut you up.”

“You can shut me up another way, preferably with your tongue.”

“You’re the worst!” She growls. Chase hums. “And yet you still married me.” He says cheekily, proudly pointing to his wedding band.

Chase is suprised as Tammi suddenly stomps towards him, a murderous look in her eyes. She grabs him by the wrist, yanking him towards her, then pulls him up into her arms bridal style. “Wha-What are you doing!” Chase squawks as she begins to carry him. Tammi chuckles darkly as she smirks down at him, her unusually sharp canines glinting in the light. “Taking you up on your offer.”

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madam-wakefield · 5 months

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Open when...Chapter 7

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn't sure how she's going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn't expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn't a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn't all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta'd. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when you should be celebrating your birthday…

Serena decides to work on her birthday, since she doesn’t need a reminder that Bernie can’t share it with her in person. If she’s a little picky about who she’s on shift with, well, it’s a perk of the job to choose the best team for her birthday, a team she knows will make the whole day easier to get through.

When she wakes up, Jason has made her breakfast, simple scrambled egg on toast but totally appreciated. He wishes her happy birthday as he slides over a card and a present. It makes her heart fill with love all over again. She may not have known this boy all his life, but she does care deeply for him.

She sips her coffee as she sets about opening the cards that have arrived in the post over the last few days: One from her cousin in Sydney, a few from former colleagues, a rather inappropriate one from Fleur and even one from Grace, her oldest uni friend. She’s disappointed when she doesn’t have one from Bernie but knows she can’t blame the other woman. She knows that Bernie would have tried, but she is in a warzone.

She arrives at work in good spirits. She’s greeted with hugs from Morven, since she’s always so excited about other people’s birthdays, even if they themselves aren’t.

When she walks into the office to deposit her bags, she can’t help but notice the vase filled with lilies on her desk. The smell alone is amazing, and they are gorgeous. She walks forward and extracts the little card attached.

My Dearest Serena,

Happy Birthday!

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

The message is typed onto the card, but Serena can’t help but run her thumb gently over Bernie’s name.

She turns to the messily wrapped present then, and really she shouldn’t have expected anything less from her girlfriend. She caresses the crimson ribbon before pulling it loose. She’s just slipping her finger into the paper when the red phone starts ringing.

She places the gift gently on her desk before venturing out to face whatever awful injury she’s going to be dealing with. It’s a 22-year-old stab victim. She and Raf try endlessly to save the boy, named Sean, but in the end, they fail. After resuscitating him three times they decide the fourth just isn’t going to happen and that he’s already lost too much blood.

Breaking the news of the loss to the family is the hardest thing to do, it always is. It’s just always felt a little bit harder since Bernie deployed, likely because of her own fears that one day it could be her on the receiving end of the conversation.

Things get busy after that. Morven needs a second opinion on a patient and Raf requests her support in surgery. The messily wrapped package slips from her mind until she makes it back into the office with a very late lunch picked up from Pulses. Taking a sip of the strong hot coffee, she sets back to sliding the paper off the present.

Underneath the paper is an envelope, the message in Bernie’s messy writing reads “Serena - Open when you should be celebrating your birthday…” And the beautiful ornamental figure she’d been contemplating buying herself before Bernie went away but just couldn’t justify is laying in her hands.

And once again Serena feels like she doesn’t deserve Bernie. Bernie who once again went out of her way to think of her while getting herself ready to go to a war zone. They are just over two months into the nine months her love will be gone, and it hasn’t been easy on either of them, but somehow Bernie keeps finding ways to make it easier for her, to help her get through.

She turns to the card next, sliding it out of the envelope. It’s a stunning design, with a map of Afghanistan on one side including Bernie’s name, and a map of England on the other side with her own name written there. The names are connected by a swirling heart.

It’s the message that sets the whole thing off perfectly. “Though oceans may lie between us, we are never far apart for love doesn’t count miles. It’s measured by the heart.” Serena smiles gently because she knows that Bernie doesn’t find declarations like this easy but it’s exactly what Serena needs right now. She knows her love for Bernie hasn’t changed at all since she went away, but she also knows her heart yearns for her.

As she opens the card, Serena’s eyes fall on the voucher inside. She scans over the word—a spa weekend—something she’s been promising herself for far too long but has never actually got around to. She shakes her head softly, thinking Bernie really shouldn’t have spent all this money on her. Then she reads the message written on the card.

My Dearest Serena,

Happy birthday, My Love! I hope you are able to have a wonderful day. I’m sorry I can’t be with you but I’ll give you a special belated birthday once I’m home.

I hope the spa voucher is okay, I know you’ve been talking about going and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to treat you to a weekend away with Elinor. I’ve already sorted out the shifts so all you need to do is go and relax.

What do they say about birthdays, another year older, another year wiser? Well, maybe this is me telling you to be a little bit wiser and to make sure you spend some time putting yourself first. I’m sorry I don’t get to spend this special day with you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to enjoy it.

Once again, happy birthday!

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

Serena can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at this. She’d mentioned wanting to spend more time with Elinor and also wanting to go to a spa and now Bernie has given her a chance to do both despite the fact Elinor hasn’t really warmed to Bernie. And despite the fact Bernie finds her own lack of relationship with Charlotte hard. Serena is determined to enjoy her weekend away and she is going to make sure Bernie’s belated birthday is something special when she gets home.

At the end of the shift Morven, Fletch and Raf pull her to Albie’s for drinks. “You can’t not come out for a nice glass of Shiraz on your birthday,” had been Fletcher’s response when she’d tried to say no. So, she gave in because she had to admit, a glass of Shiraz sounded divine.

They are seated around a small table joking about the worst birthdays they’ve ever had due to work, Fletcher having been vomited on seven times during one birthday shift.

Suddenly Serena feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and quickly slips it out to see Bernie is trying to skype her, she should have known Bernie would ensure she found time to ring on her birthday, and she’s going to answer it because it may be the only spare seconds Bernie gets.

“Hello,” she says the minute the connection is made. Bernie is still in her desert fatigues, her hair still scraped back into the army acceptable manner, so she could easily be called away at any moment. The lines under her eyes are the darkest Serena has seen so far and she looks beyond exhausted but to Serena, she still looks beautiful.

“Hey, and happy birthday, my love.” Serena smiles and then watches Bernie’s face as she works out where she is. “Oh shit, you’re busy, I’ll try and ring you later.”

“Berenice Wolfe, don’t you dare! Yes, I’m at Albie’s with our friends but I always have time for you when you call, you know that! I’m so thankful you took the time to call me today! I know how busy you are.” It seems it’s only as she says Bernie’s name that the rest of the table realises who she’s skyping.

In unison they stand up and walk to stand behind Serena so they can be seen in the camera, and so they can see Bernie on Serena’s screen.

“Hey up, Major, you alright?” Fletch says not really giving Bernie a chance to process what she’s seeing.

“I’m good, it’s lovely to see you guys.” She says, smiling back brightly. “I hope you’re looking after the birthday girl for me when I can’t be there to do it myself.”

“Be assured, Ma’am, we are,” Raf jokes back, giving her a tiny salute. Neither he or Fletch have been able to refer to Bernie properly to her face since she announced she was deploying again but it’s all good natured.

“Though we practically had to drag her to Albie’s, well, until we offered her a glass of Shiraz.” Morven adds. Morven has found Bernie’s deployment really tough, since the two of them have such a good relationship.

“Well, you know, Serena, if you have Shiraz, you always have a bargaining tool. But now go and enjoy your drinks and leave me to have a few minutes with my girlfriend!” Serena knows this means they probably haven’t got long.

The three call their goodbyes to Bernie and all slip off to either the bar or the toilet. leaving Serena alone.

“Hey,” Serena says again, enjoying this time when she gets to hear Bernie’s voice.

“Hey, yourself, have you had a nice day?” Bernie always asks first. Serena has come to accept it, and understands it’s Bernie’s way of escaping for a few minutes.

“It’s been good, busy, lost a patient but saved more that shouldn’t have really been able to be saved. It got better when you called. You know I love hearing your voice.” At this Bernie looks at her with that look full of love, the one that Serena knows would normally come from under her fringe.

“The feeling’s mutual, hearing your voice always gets me through a bad day.” And Serena knows then why Bernie looks so tired and while she’s still dressed in fatigues despite the late hour in Afghanistan. It’s been a bad day in the field. Serena knows Bernie won’t talk anymore about it, especially not today, so she changes the subject.

“The birthday presents were wonderful, thank you. The figurine is beautiful even if you shouldn’t have. The spa looks incredible and how you managed to sort the shifts I don’t know. You really are so very thoughtful, how you managed that while sorting out to deploy so quickly, I have no idea.”

And she really doesn’t. Serena knows how much Bernie had to do before deployment. She was running every day to build her stamina back up, she had to attend base every day for two weeks to ensure she was fit, could still shoot a rifle and was still able to command the soldiers. Don’t they know she’s co-lead of AAU? If she can lead the team there, she can lead anyone. She had to tie up all the ends of the trauma unit leaving them in a manageable way for her and Raf. She had to pack that stupidly heavy bergen, a bag so big that Serena can’t even believe she’s allowed to carry it, all while working in AAU, feeling bad enough about having nine months away from the place so refusing to take any more, and despite all of that she was still the foremost thing on Bernie’s mind.

“You are worth it and so much more. Just promise me you’ll actually relax at the spa, enjoy being a mum to Elinor. Catch up on all her crazy uni gossip, drink too much Shiraz and have a good time.” Serena knows Bernie wants her and Elinor to have more of a relationship than she herself has with Charlotte and Cameron. Cam still has a very professional work relationship with his mum but that’s about it and Charlotte hasn’t really spoken to Bernie since the divorce and she knows it breaks Bernie’s heart.

“You had me at too much Shiraz, love, I’ll write you a bluey while I’m there, in between all the spa treatments you managed to book. I really do appreciate it, you know. I love you.” The last three words are the only way she can truly get her appreciation across.

“And I love you, sweetheart, but now go and enjoy your birthday drinks with our friends. I’ll make contact again when I can. Remember that I love and miss you so much. And happy birthday again, darling.”

“Thank you, I love you too Bernie, so much. Stay safe, soldier.”

Serena doesn’t have any time to worry or miss Bernie, a fresh glass of Shiraz is placed into her hand as the call disconnects and she spends the evening laughing and joking with her friends. Even Jason joins them when his shift as a porter ends, and she falls asleep that evening knowing she couldn’t ask for a better family of friends.

#Open When #Berena #Bernie Wolfe #Serena Campbell #Berena fanfic #Holby #Holby City #Buckle Fandom #Madam Wakefield Writes #Berena FF #Berena Fanfiction #Holby Fanfic #Holby FF #Holby Fanfiction #Holby City Fanfic #Holby City FF #Holby City Fanfiction

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to-star-lake · 3 years

Text

one & only

sanzu haruchiyo x f!reader { you're sanzu's one and only. }

18+ minors dni | murder, drug use, dark themes, rough sex, choking, toxic relationship, character death, bonten sanzu

a/n: sanzu's name { 三途 } is written the same as 三途の川 { sanzu-no-kawa, “river of three crossings” or “sanzu river” } which is the japanese buddhist version of the river styx.

sanzu doesn't call you his girlfriend. he'd never use such pedestrian language to describe what you are to him. soulmate is closer. but still, to take everything he felt about you and edit it down to a single word? it wouldn't be possible.

the best he could describe it is perhaps that you were made for him.

the day mikey introduced you to the other executives as bonten's newest advisor, sanzu stood in the back of the room, unconsciously biting his lip as he stared at your clean and crisp white tee shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks. your perfect skin. your shiny hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. your delicate hands. and the sharp glisten of your eyes. you looked so sincere.

a top scholar and graduate of the national university. your parents had been foreign diplomats. you spoke five languages. all this brilliance packaged neatly behind such a pretty face. oh, you were so perfect. so pristine. i'll make you regret playing with monsters, little princess. sanzu thought he couldn't wait to break you.

it didn't take him long to realize how wrong he was.

he'd stare at your hands, the ones he thought were so delicate, as they beat mercilessly into the skull of a traitor that lay limp beneath you. being a bonten advisor meant you never needed to get your hands dirty. but you didn't mind. and sanzu felt a trickling heat of excitement shimmy up his spine watching the blood splatter across your perfect skin, staining your clean shirt.

he'd listen in awe in the war room as your fingertips traced gracefully over blueprints of the city, and you'd describe plans for a new building downtown. a new shell business to run money through. a merger with a smaller, weaker gang simply as a means to procure disposable foot soldiers for mikey.

on one particular night, he'd sat back and watched you, transfixed, as he pulled the car up beside a dark tinted suv at a stoplight on a deserted street on the outskirts of shinjuku. you'd pointed your gun out the open window, so fast and precise on the trigger, taking out all the passengers in the car. he would've missed the shots with a single blink.

he couldn't recall all the details of the rest of that night. but he woke to find you in his bed the next morning, your naked body tucked comfortably under his sheets beside him.

his head pounded and he tried to remember what happened but all that he could recall were a series of blurred images. of the two of you leaving the war room together after receiving orders from mikey to take out the heads of a rival gang. a vision of your bare thighs, exposed under a short, plaid skirt as you sat in his passenger seat, and the quiet rattle as you attached a silencer to the end of your gun.

he remembered the sound of indistinct chatter and an image of you sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant. a vague recollection of a bottle of scotch, of him staring at himself in the restaurant's bathroom mirror as he wiped some white residue from his upper lip. of you, bent over the sink with a straw in your nose. a blurred reel of your legs wrapped around his waist, of him pushing you up against the mirror so hard the glass cracked and you moaned into his open mouth. you sounded as sweet as you tasted.

in the grey winter light here in his bed, he looked at the blotches of blue and purple bruises that lined your neck and chest. at the edge of your perfect lips, a little swollen and the skin a little cracked. at the indentation of teeth marks on your shoulder, red with coagulated blood under the surface.

your eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was afraid. afraid that the cold light of day would be too harsh for you. afraid that all that was mystifying and beautiful in the night would be destroyed by the light. afraid you would leave.

but you'd looked into his eyes for a moment, and your lashes fell closed and you'd snuggled into his side, languidly dragging your arm across his chest.

let's sleep a little more, my head hurts and we still have at least another hour before we have to go meet the others.

oh, your voice sounded so sweet, still raspy with sleep, a lullaby to his ears.

as bonten leaders, he knew a relationship with you was strictly forbidden. he knew what mikey would do if he or any of the others ever found out. and he knew you knew too.

but you simply shrugged your shoulders as you picked up your clothes that were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. like you knew what he was thinking, and said i'm not afraid of them. are you?

he'd laughed at himself then. just who was corrupting who? he wondered.

the time he had with you began to envelope his heart. and the love he felt for you; small, crackling embers at first, had grown into a fire so bright and wild and twisted it could not be extinguished.

you were his partner; his chosen one. he loved the way your knuckles looked when they were bruised and red; such a beautiful contrast against your delicate and soft skin. he loved the way your fingers graced the handle of your gun, the dead calm of your eyes when you pulled the trigger. he was intoxicated with the knowledge that you were watching every time he carried out his duty as executioner.

his infatuation with you burned in his chest when he'd glance up at you, standing in the distance, eyes fixed on him and you'd slowly drag the palm of your hand up your thigh; testing his willpower to not pin you to the ground and tear you apart right then and there in front of his men.

under the cover of darkness, the two of you came alive. going on sprees, speeding through the bright streets of tokyo, the lights around you a blurred spectral of color to your bloodshot, medicated eyes.

in the midnight hours, your bodies would be intertwined, and in your arms he found a sanctuary. your body was the most addicting drug of all. you made all the pain disappear.

the quiet hours of the early morning, when time teetered on the edge of night and day, he'd lay on your chest, and for just a little while, his world would fall quiet. the air around him felt still. he would be coming down from his high, and he could feel everything. but he didn't mind. these small hours of lucidity shone brilliantly in his mind. when he could hear your breathing. feel your heartbeat so vividly beneath your bones. smell the lingering and sweet scent of your skin on his.

he'd become so possessed by you, so possessive of you that one night when he had you laid out beneath him, your legs spread wide for him, and he thought you looked so beautiful like this. so perfect like this for him. your skin, slick with a layer of sweat, luminescent in the moonlight. your lips, parted and choking out shaky pleas for him, begging him not to stop.

he buried himself so deep inside you, nails clawing into your skin, so desperate to be one with you. and he thought no one, no one else would have you like this. he was so intoxicated by the medley of pills in his system, completely unhinged in the euphoria of being inside you, he'd reached for his gun on the nightstand and held it to your forehead, point blank between your eyes.

you didn't even flinch. he watched you knock the gun from his hands, and slide your fingers up his wrists, and pulled his hands to your neck, letting him wrap them around your throat. if you're gonna kill me, do it with your own hands, you'd said.

god, he loved you so much. he wanted you so much, he needed you so much. he'd closed his hands around your neck with the gentlest force and watched your eyes roll back.

say my name, he'd command. and when you did, he closed his hands more forcefully around your delicate neck so he could feel the vibration in your throat as you choked out his name over and over. you'd clenched down so tight around him and he came harder than he ever had, collapsing into you.

he'd slowly let go of you, chest heaving, and gently caress at the skin of your neck, red and starting to bruise.

y/n...if i died, would you die with me? he'd whisper into your skin.

mmh, yeah. you'd whisper back.

i don't want anyone else to have you. i want you to be mine forever. he'd kiss the corner of your lips.

he'd feel your fingers laced up into his hair, your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him close.

what am i going to do with you...i might really kill you one of these days.

he'd lift his head to look at you. and your expression didn't change a bit. your eyes held the same resolve they always did, and you said, then i'll wait for you by the sanzu river.

this was what flashed through his mind when he walked into one of bonten's warehouses late one evening for a meeting of the executives, and he saw all of them standing in a circle around you, bound and tied, blood streaming from your hairline, your bruised body limp on the concrete.

he fell to his knees then, watching mikey shove the end of his gun against your temple.

did you think i wouldn't find out? mikey's thumb clicked down on the hammer.

he saw your eyes flutter open and find his. you smiled.

the muzzle flash was bright, and the shot rang through the dark, open space.

he stared at the blood pooling from the side of your head into the dust. he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. shit, am i really crying right now? he laughed at himself.

WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO, SANZU?! mikey demanded.

i'll wait for you by the sanzu river. your words echoed in his mind.

mikey may have been his king. but you were the redeemer, his messiah, his salvation.

the choice was simple.

he pulled his own gun from its holster and held it up to his temple.

i'm on my way, love.

#haruchiyo sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x you #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu imagines

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

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In Loving Memory (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @missroro the reader is steve twin and she married to bucky after the blip, she had enough of the 'new captain america' thing shes really mad, so when walker and his friend start talking about joining forces she snap like she pull out a gun and pointing right at them, also sam ofc dont forget about sam. Sam trying to stop her while bucky "nah let her do her fun"

Words: 2021

Warning: !!TFATWS SPOILER!! without context - violence

A/N: wrote this today, it basically follows the events of ep3 of fatws but without context. I have a couple of exams this week so I won't be able to post until next saturday. Until then, enjoy

"You shouldn’t have gave him the shield"

Sam frowned, turning back to look at Bucky.

"I didn’t gave him the shield" He defended himself, making a point.

"Well, Steve definitely didn’t" Y/N ironically answered back.

He gave her a pointed stare. They had had this conversation countless times and Y/N never missed a chance to remind him of what she thought was a huge mistake.

"You are the reason this is happening, Sam. You chose to take on my brother’s legacy and threw it out the window"

The man didn’t reply and pursed his lips. He knew she didn’t mean any of her harsh words, she was angry and still mourning. If taking it out on him could make her feel better, he would let her.

"Y/N, stop" Bucky took a step toward his wife, clasping her hand in his metal one. He had hoped the physical contact would be enough to calm her down.

"He abandoned me, Sam" She continued, her voice filled with emotions. "He was gone and all I had left was memories. I chose this life for him, I fought with him, I believed in everything he represented. I looked up to him, to Captain America. And today, even those memories are gone, taken by the same government you and I were up against, mocked by clowns pretending to be heroes, all because you gave up"

The Falcon closed his eyes and dropped his head. She couldn’t see his point of view, or share his opinions when her judgment was clouded by so much pain. He wished she could understand the dilemma, the duality that represented the shield for him.

"Y/N, please, that’s enough" Bucky whispered next to her ear.

She turned her head toward him and as usual, his heart broke when he saw the torment in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak, she was an open book to him. They both had lost so much and yet were all each other had left. They were collateral damage, their own team against a world that wasn’t theirs anymore. She silently nodded, assuring him she was fine. Sam watched Bucky kissing her forehead and he furrowed his brow. He would never admit it but he was glad they had each other, because no one could carry that much pain alone without crumbling apart.

Before any of them could add anything, soldiers in blue and red erupted in the room, bursting through the door of the apartment where they were hiding in Latvia. Bucky instinctively grabbed Y/N and forced her body to move behind his. The two man stood in front of them, tall and proud, a smug smile on their lips.

"Alright, that’s it, your time is up" The man calling himself Captain America announced, the shield in one hand, the other pointing at the three avengers. "Tell me where Zemo is"

"We know you’re hiding him" His sidekick added.

"I’m ordering you to turn him over"

Sam eyed them up and down.

"Let’s be clear, the only thing you’re running here is your mouth" The Falcon firmly replied, crossing his arms.

"I gave you a chance to work with us" He mentioned.

" ‘For us’ is the correct way to put it, tough guy. And we said no." Y/N reminded him, her face showing how much she was annoyed.

"You’re obviously in over your head so I suggest you turn back and go" Sam argued.

"You really want this conversation to go there ?" The hero threatened.

Bucky straightened up when he felt Y/N tensing. He knew she was already on the verge of snapping. One wrong word from the man she hated and this could go down to hell.

"Should I put down the shield ?" He continued to challenge Sam. "Make it fair?"

The woman groaned and when John Walker dropped his weapon, without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest knife and threw it right at his face. The man had barely enough time to move back and his eyes rose in surprise when the blade stuck itself into the wall with force.

"Sorry, it slipped" She ironically explained, shrugging.

"You don’t want to play this game with me" He tried to intimidate her, tilting his head to the side.

She smiled, pleased he was giving her the opportunity to smack his face. Bucky clenched his fists when he saw her walking in front of Walker. Without tearing her eyes away from his, she seized her knife and pulled it out of the wall with a sharp movement.

"I think someone should teach you a lesson, Walker" She told him in a low tone.

"Are you offering ?" He challenged her.

"Don’t tempt me"

"You’re lucky you’re his sister" He grinned. "But don’t push it. This Captain America is not as lenient as the previous was"

Bucky swore under his breath. It was too late now. And just as Sam looked at him with concern, Y/N threw her fist in a curved punch at the soldier. He used his forearm to counter the blow, but she was faster and had far more experience. Using the momentum, her foot rose up and kicked him in the face. The man was thrown back, shaking his head in confusion.

"We should do something" Sam advised the former assassin.

"No. Let her have her fun" He crossed his arms, harboring a small smirk.

The soldier tried to hit her back, but even when he took the shield she blocked his attack. His sidekick soon joined the fight and distracted her for a second, just enough time for Walker to punch her. Immediately, she felt the taste of blood in her mouth, but no pain. She was passed that, far too pissed to feel anything.

Another blow on her chest send her to the ground and Hoskins hold her down while his friend was about to hit her with her brother’s shield. He raised it in the air, with every intention of beating her, but a strong metal hand stopped him in his movement. A very infuriated Bucky stood before him, his blue eyes darkening with anger. He firmly took the weapon, knocked Hoskins out with it and threw it across the room.

"If you wanted to make it fair, you shouldn’t have chosen to hit my wife" His tone was terrifying.

Walker didn’t seem as confident anymore. Bucky looked imposing, brute force ready to strike. His metal arm clenched in a fist and, without warning, it collided with the soldier’s jaw, sending him a few feet away. He strode to the man on the ground and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform

"This is all easy for you, isn’t it ?" Walker spoke with venom, staring at Bucky. "All that serum running through your veins"

With a swift movement, Y/N took the shield and launched it with power right on the soldier’s chest. The blow was so violent his body crashed into a door before landing on the floor. She was furious by his statement and he could see it with every step she made toward him. She grabbed the gun attached to her thigh and pointed it at his face.

"Lesson number one: learn when to shut up. Especially when you don't know what you're talking about" She was fuming but had not intention on killing the man, despite the sheer desire to do so.

She didn’t realize Sam was next to her until she saw his hand lowering her gun.

"This isn’t what Steve would want." He calmly expressed. "Remember, there’s always another way"

Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, remembering how many times her brother had told her that. She let him take the weapon and looked up at him. The conviction and kindness in his stare were enough. He didn’t have to say anything. Every words she needed to hear, he spoke them in silence.

She turned back to Bucky and he cupped her face, inspecting the bruise on her skin. He seemed ready to go back and beat the man down. Y/N softly smiled and clasped her hands around his wrists. He stroke her cheek and pulled her toward him before carefully kissing her lips.

"Good ?" He asked in a soft voice he only used with her.

"Good"

It was something between them, a single word they spoke every time they fought. Wherever they were, whomever they were up against, if one of them asked, the other had to answer. It was their intimate way to always know they were alright.

Later that day, Sam and Bucky had decided to go talk to the leader of the Flag Smasher, Karli Morgenthau, while Y/N had been charged to follow Walker and Hoskins. As soon as she had seen they were going after the young super soldier, she had warned her friends about the danger. She knew enough about the new Captain to guess he had no intention on arresting Karli. He wanted to make justice himself. She pitied his sidekick. He seemed like a decent man with good ideas struggling to find virtue on the wrong side of the battle. He was Walker’s collateral damage.

She wondered what Steve would think of all that if he could see them fighting both super soldiers and Captain America. He never cared for the star and stripes, never used his shield to harm. His heart was with the people he defended. Even when it had been against Tony, he pursued what he believed was best. Was that what Walker was trying to do ? She couldn’t know. But she was sure of one thing, the man had nothing in common with Steve. Pride, ego and selfishness were never traits anyone would have used to describe her brother. She couldn’t bear for him to be replaced, especially to a man that didn’t share his morals or any of his opinions. The shield he was carrying wasn’t just a weapon, it was her brother’s symbol of hope, a symbol he had fought so hard to forge. The man made the uniform, not the other way around. That’s what Walker didn’t get. Up until that point, people had not been following Captain America, they had been following Steve Rogers.

Standing in that public square, she didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Bucky entwined his fingers with hers. She couldn’t avert her eyes from the horrific scenery. Powerlessly, she watched a man she didn’t know being executed. His opponent was merciless, striking with determination and rage, using the only piece of memory she had left of her brother to bring terror and death. Frozen on the spot in the middle of the crowd, she could see the fear in all those strangers eyes and it felt like grief coming in waves, a shard in her guts that would never leave. It felt like this particular moment was choking the breath out of her body, short circuiting her mind. What was whole once completely shattered and she couldn’t find the strength to be angry anymore. All her brother had built had fallen apart in the split of a second and all the world had left was a bloodied image of his symbol of hope. A symbol that was no more.

“Sam...” She called him, almost like a scared child.

“I know...”

Both men looked worried. Y/N felt Bucky’s hand trembling and she squeezed him harder. She could easily guess how he felt. Steve had saved both of them, he had gave them a purpose, had allowed the former assassin to be more than the weapon Hydra had made of him. Pieces by pieces, he had brought their family back together. And as they both stood there, witnessing the horrifying end of his legacy, Bucky realized everything his bestfriend had fought for was turning into dust.

"I’m sorry" Y/N whispered to Sam. "But there’s no other way now"

Her husband dropped his head, trying to regain a sense of control over his emotions. Wordlessly agreeing with her, he turned to their friend.

“He has to be stopped”

Tags: @taina-eny

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x yoonbum #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo #yoonbum x you #yoonbum x y/n #yoonbum x reader #killing stalking yoonbum #killing stalking #ks yoonbum #ks sangwoo #yang seungbae #king x reader

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

Text

Coming Home (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Summary: dad!Chris Evans. Chris comes home to his twins fighting and he scolds them. But he also takes care of their wounds with you and then you all go out to eat ice cream and have a family day.

Warnings: None. Minimum angst but fluff all the way.

._._._._.

"Where are the kids?" Your husband came and sat right next to you on the couch. It was a shock to him when he didn't see his two little munchkins clinging to his legs the moment he entered the house. It has been kind of their routine from the moment they could walk on their little two legs.

“They are busy playing in their play room. Why are you not happy about it?” You knew that after a full day of shooting, coming home to two energetic kids was tiring and stressful. So you were shocked when he wasn’t glad to have a moment of peace by himself.

“Well, they are a part of my routine now. It feels weird not having them jumping around me.” The three year olds have always been more attached to Chris than you. Initially, you were a little jealous that the twins focused all their attention on your husband but now you were glad. Having a piece of quiet while he handled the children was pretty awesome.

You both had pretty successful careers and when the twins came into your lives, you both decided that you would handle it all together. In the start, each one of your married girlfriend told you that you had to quit your job as the marketing head because being a mom was a full time job. You were scared and when you shared your concerns with Chris, he consoled you and told you that you would both do it all. Having successful careers while being good parents.

“Just spend sometime with me while Emma and Jason are distracted.” Pouring him a glass of wine, you leaned in to him with your head on his shoulder.

“That is a good way to spend my evening. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was hell. My boss gave me a project to complete with a bizarre timeline and when I couldn’t complete it on time. He just took it all out on me in front of my colleague.” Today was humiliating for you and you couldn’t wait to get home, drink a nice glass of wine and relax. “Hated it, babe. How about you?

“Well, my co star couldn’t get her part right so we had to do the same scene five times. We are behind on shooting now and I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that we can catch up to the schedule.” Sighing, he took a long sip of the red liquid and felt his muscles relaxing.

There was a moment of silence that enveloped the room and you just basked in it. “A crappy day for us both.”

“Indeed. Let’s do something exciting then.” He kissed you and just when things were about to get heated, a piercing scream interrupted the moment.

“What-What is happening?” He was still in a haze and couldn’t properly interpret anything.

“It looks like your kids are fighting again.”

“Are you going to handle them?”

“Oh no!” Laughing at his incredulous request, you picked up your glass again. “You wanted to spend time with them so go on.”

Chris got up from the couch and went upstairs. Emma and Jason love each other to death but they have been fighting from the womb. Emma is the stubborn one and while, Jason backs out most of the time. Sometimes, he retaliates and it turns real bad, real fast. They were pretty hot headed, just like you.

“What is happening here?” The dad mode was fully in place when he saw his little girl sitting on the floor with hands pressed to a bloody forehead and his little boy trying to console her.

“She pushed me and then I pushed her. Not my fault. But she hurt, daddy.” The panic in Jason’s eyes was evident.

“(Y/N)! Come here, right now!” You scrambled to your feet as soon as Chris’s voice boomed across the living room. “You never hurt your sister, Jason. This is not alright.” The stern voice was new for Chris but the situation required it.

“But, daddy-”

“No excuses, Mister. Now, apologise to your sister and no toys for you for the whole week.” He got in to action with the first aid kit that he took out of their walk in closet. Emma was still crying her lungs out even when Chris tried to console her. She was not letting him touch the wound and was squirming uncontrollably in his lap.

“Daddy, why you always bla- blame me? Hate you.” Hiccuping, he stuttered on the big words and then stomped out of the room. You tried to stop your son but he just ran past you.

“What is- Oh my god!” The blood was now soaking up your little girl’s shirt and she still wouldn’t let Chris touch the wound.

The one thing that your kids inherited from your husband was the fear of blood and stitches. The small three year old knew that a boo boo that hurts really bad will lead to stitches. You knew how to handle all three of your babies in situation like these. Taking Emma from your husband, you hugged her lightly.

“Bubba, I need to look at your boo boo and then you can have the Elsa bandage.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” When she removed her chubby, little hand, you were relieved that the cut was not big or deep. A bandage would just do the trick. You softly hummed a tune in her ears while you applied an antiseptic to the wound and then the band aid. She had tears streaming down her face and she was sniffling quietly. Chris took her from you when you were done and gently rocked her in his arms. He always loved it when both your children seeked comfort in you. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have you. “Where did Jason go?”

“I scolded his regarding this and he threw a tantrum.” When Emma heard Jason’s name, she further curled herself into his chest.

“Give her to me.” Raising her face by holding her chin, you sternly asked her. “Tell me what happened, young lady?”

With a guilty tone, she told you both that she was the one who pushed Jason first. They were both playing with the doll house that Chris bought Emma as her third birthday present. Jason wanted to add his toy cars to the doll house but she won’t allow it. She pushed him first and he hit his wrist on the small coffee table but then he pushed her back. When she fell back, she hit her head on the side of the wooden house.

“You are going to apologise to him, Emma. I told you that this much anger is not alright, bubba.” Chris took her to the twin’s room that had two different themes running through it. Emma was never a fan of the color pink so she went with purple and Jason really loved yellow, so he got that. The room looked like a clown’s den but Chris was never the one to deny his children’s requests. They had his whole heart well, except you.

“Jace, Emma would like to say something to you.” Setting her on her feet, she went towards his elder brother by barely three minutes.

“I am sorry, Jacey. Never should have pushed you. Kiss your boo boo to make up?” He nodded gently when his sister climbed in to the body. Extending the bruised wrist, Emma held it in her hands and lightly pecked on it. Meanwhile, you got a numbing cream for Jason and you stopped in the doorway with Chris and watched their interaction. They were your and Chris’s two little bundle of joys and you both couldn’t get enough.

“I am sorry that I yelled at you, baby. You two will not have your toys for a week. But who wants ice cream right now?” They both jumped at the mention of their favorite treat.

Chris had a way with the children. He completed all their wishes from eating ice cream as dinner or buying the most expensive toys for them. Making them happy was his primary job and he fulfilled it with great joy. However, he knew when to step up. He knew when to tell them no because he didn’t want his children to be some spoiled brats. He knew how to mediate and that was one of the many thing that you loved about him.

“I will get your jackets while daddy will help you with your shoes.” Going downstairs, you placed Dodger’s food in his bowl because you were going to be out for sometime. Chris always turns a simple outing to a full blown family day. A walk in the park, dinner at a high end restaurant and then shopping at the mall.

“Let’s go.” He buckled both the kids in their respective booster seats and made sure that they both had their preferred stuff toys. God knows, if they didn’t have them on their car ride.

The ice cream place on the fifth avenue was your favorite because it was where Chris took you on your first date. Both the children went for chocolate ice creams and Chris cleaned them up after they were done anything. It was so wholesome to watch him perform his dad duties.

“Then Oliver tried to eat dirt and the teacher gave him a time out.” You never understood why your son was friends with that boy because all he ever cared about was dirt.

“That’s why I hate boys. They are dirty.”

“That’s right, bubba. They are all dirty and disgusting. You stay away from all of them.” Gently nudging him with your shoulders, you playfully scoffed at him. He was sometimes very protective of his children.

“Ollie said girls also have icky germs.”

“Yes. You also stay away from them.” Chris was full on laughing at the situation right now because both the kids were in some serious thoughts.

“Okay dadda.” They both started skipping on the side walk and already started bickering about who was their dad’s favorite. He took you in his arms and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you for all this, babe. I love you.” He was truly thankful for you and for everything that you brought in his life.

“I love you too. Now let’s buckle them in before they start pushing each other again.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: Dad Chris Evans is a dream so I wanted to write a little blurb related to this idea. Hope you guys enjoyed it. You guys can send in requests but I will get to them a little bit later because I am focusing on my drafts right now. Tell me if you guys want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Canidae pt2 - Getou Suguru

Oh oh oh, oh here we go, walkin’ talkin’ like you know, I want your pretty little psycho. Oh oh oh, oh here we go, baby strike a pose, I want your pretty little psycho! 14.5k words

part one

Content warningz: pseudo-incest, yandere shit, spanking w/ a belt, dubcon+noncon, (slight) breeding kink, choking, size difference, face fucking, drugging, vouyerism, face slapping, (slight) blood, biting, virginity stuff, (slight) pussy slapping, implied somnophilia, kind of mindbreak at the end? sorry it probably sucks tho

The first thing you notice when you wake up isn’t the heavy drooping of your eyelids as you fight the drugs off still lingering in your veins. It’s not the stark white ceiling contrasted with pastel pink walls, or the fact that you’re surrounded by plushies in a soft bed that’s not yours.

It’s the borderline too tight collar around your neck, a good sized bell attached to it that jingled softly when you moved. Skimming your fingers over it you can feel the metal heart attached to the front as well and with a heavy head, you turn to follow the pastel pink leash attached to the collar, wrapped around one of the posts of the bed frame.

You were too tired to try and unwind it, simply staring at it for what felt like ages as your vision went in and out of focus. Even with the white curtains drawn closed there was still afternoon sunlight peeking in and giving you plenty of light to notice another thing.

This wasn’t the house you ran away from. This wasn’t your childhood room, the shape and size were different. The once familiar sound of cars driving by on the road was no longer there, just the ear ringing silence around you.

It’s unclear how long you laid there, but as the drug wore off more and more, you were able to sit up and take in more of the room. Nothing about it was familiar to you; there was a tiny en suite, you’d never owned this many cute little plushies in your life, and even the desk and trinkets that were under one of the windows wasn’t the same one you’d had.

Looking down at your clothes, you were torn between feeling happy they’d changed you out of what you were wearing or sick that all of them probably saw you naked. You were wearing one of Suguru’s shirts, his scent easily wafting up and surrounding you. It came to just above your knees and the amount of fabric left you swimming and shapeless.

Twiddling your thumbs, all you could do was wait for someone to come home and enter the room. Going by the sunlight it was nearing six pm and you knew Kento never worked overtime.

As if one cue, the front door swung open and muffled voices could be heard, but you knew exactly who they belonged to. Satoru’s loud chatter couldn’t be mistaken, nor the way Suguru laughed. Kento’s low grumble followed, and the three fell silent.

Footsteps clambered up the stairs, no doubt Satoru’s eager feet running to you. There’s the slightest creak of hardwood right outside the door and some hushed whispers, and then the lock is undone and the door swings open.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Suguru grins upon seeing you sitting up in bed, pulling the shirt down farther on your body to cover up your bare legs. They hadn’t put you in any undergarments, not that you were surprised by that fact.

You glared harshly at all three of them, your tail tucked away behind you. Still dressed in their business attire, they didn’t look like three foxes who would murder and kidnap. They looked respectable like any businessman should.

“Don’t give us that look, you’re where you belong.” Kento drawls, undoing his tie as he speaks. He’s tired, you can tell by the subtle bags under his eyes. Usually when he came over after work with Suguru, he’d silently cuddle up to you on the couch and lean his head on your shoulder, taking a nap as you played on your phone.

“N-no...no I’m not.” Tongue still feeling heavy from disuse, you slurred the words out. Satoru chuckled at you, hiding his laugh behind a few long fingers.

“You sound so cute, little sister! It makes me want to drug you again.”

“Ah, that’s right! Speaking of drugging, you need to apologize to Toru-nii.” Suguru pipes up, snapping his fingers like he’d just had an epiphany. “It wasn’t very nice that you drugged him, you know.”

“Don’t care.” Shaking your head, you turned away from them. Compliancy wasn’t something you were going to give easily, especially not so quickly. Humming softly, Satoru walked to the bed and sunk his knee down next to your leg, the mattress effortlessly dipping with his weight.

“Such a naughty kitty, aren’t you? Can’t even apologize to your big brother.” Hooking his finger through the front of the collar, Satoru yanked your head up and towards him. His fluffy white hair fell into his eyes, obscuring the deranged look he had. Forcing you to sit up a little straighter, he pushed a clawed finger into your mouth and pulled your cheek out.

“-top!” You tried to bite down on his finger but it was no use. Satoru shook your head, the wet gushy sound of your cheek slapping against your gums resonating in the room.

“Say you’re sorry and I will.” Letting go of the collar, he put two fingers into your mouth, skimming over your sharp teeth and pressing down on the back of your tongue. “Say ‘sorry Toru-nii’.” He mocked you in a high pitched voice. He knew you couldn’t speak properly and that just delighted him further.

Drool began to spill out of your mouth the more he played with you, pushing his fingers far enough to make you choke on them. Grabbing the tip of your tongue with his claws, he pulled it out of your mouth and leaned forward, spitting into your open mouth with practiced ease.

“You’ll apologize sooner or later.” Letting you go, Satoru stepped off the bed and to where he was previously standing, fingers glistening with your saliva.

“Are you hungry?” Suguru asked. His expression hadn’t changed during the whole exchange, just watching gleefully from the sidelines.

“No.” Your angry eyes flicked to Satoru for a moment before settling onto the floor.

“You will be.” Kento sighed. He’d fully shrugged his suit jacket off, both it and his tie in the crook of his elbow. “I’ll make dinner.” Leaving without another word, Satoru followed suit, leaving just you and Suguru.

Rocking back and forth on his heels, Suguru has the nerve to have an air of innocence around him. Twiddling his thumbs like an embarrassed high schooler about to confess, he bites his lip when he looks at you.

“I’m glad to have you back.” He says, just barely able to hide the bursting happiness in his chest. He doesn’t recoil at the glare you send him, his smile only gets bigger. “You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know.”

He takes a step forward, and your lip curls in anger.

Another step, and you scurry to the back of the bed, against the wall and plushies.

You’re fully hissing by the time his legs press against the bed. Fingers curled, you’re ready to swipe at him if he tries to grab you and you watch him closely as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“You never used to hiss at me...did something happen while you were away?” Pouting at you, Suguru fiddles with the blanket. Even with his supposedly relaxed demeanor, you can see the way his arms are flexing beneath his clothes.

His arm slowly reaches out to you, just grazing the skin on your legs before you tuck them under yourself. Trying again to grab onto your leg, Suguru does startle a little when your hand comes down and you swipe your claws on the back of it.

“That’s not very nice.” His skin is pebbling red and there’s a few dots of blood on his skin. Shaking his head, Suguru stands up and rubs the back of his hand, giving you a disappointed look.

There’s a mumble of Kento-nii as Suguru turns on his heels and leaves the room, closing the door and locking it with a soft click. Still on edge from the encounter, you don’t uncoil yourself until you hear Satoru and Suguru downstairs and the clinking of dishes.

The sun is completely down when someone visits you again. Your stomach has started to growl, but it’s a dull ache that you can manage to ignore for now. Trying not to appear too eager at who it might be, you only look at who enters through the corner of your eye.

Kento walks in with his styled hair tousled, like he’d been running his fingers through it a few good times. It’s not often you see him in casual clothes, but now he’s in gray sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt.

You stay perfectly still as he flicks a lamp on and takes a seat on the bed. There’s something clenched in his fist and you can’t see what. The wide expanse of his back is intimidating, getting larger with every deep and even breath he takes.

“I saw you scratched Suguru.” Kento finally breaks the silence between you and finally uncurls his fist to reveal the brown leather belt in his hands. It looks like the one he had on just a couple hours ago.

“K-kento-”

“And you still haven’t apologized to Gojo. Are you going to take your punishment like a good girl, or do you still want to be difficult?” With a sidelong glance, he doesn’t give you much time to consider. Reaching over, he grabs the collar by the metal and tugs you onto your hands and knees to face him.

His eyes dip down to the front of the shirt that’s drooped considerably off your frame, exposing your breasts to him. Tearing his eyes away, Kento unhooks the leash and forces you to lay across his lap, ass perched up as your stomach digs into the tops of his thighs.

“Kento-nii…” You whine high in the back of your throat, fingers curling around the blanket in fearful anticipation of the pain about to come. Kento doesn’t say anything, wordlessly pushing up the shirt until it’s pooling on your mid-back.

“You have to count them or I’ll start over.” Smoothing his hands over your ass, he curls your tail around his fingers and runs it through them.

“No, please.” Trying to shuffle out of his lap only earns you a hard smack on the ass from his hand. “Ow!” Lurching forward, you nearly slide off him and onto the floor before he catches you by the hips and puts you back in place.

“You don’t get to say no to this.” Kento almost sounds angry, the usual apathetic tone in his voice slipping away. Wrapping the belt securely around his hands, Kento delivers the first smack swiftly, his other hand making sure to hold you in place.

“Ow!”

“What do you say?” There’s already tears brimming in your lashes and you’re struggling for the words, and Kento spanks you again. “Don’t test me, kitty.”

“One!” You shout, looking over your shoulder at him pathetically. “K-kento-nii, I-” He cuts you off with another spank, quirking his brow as he waits for you to speak. “T-two.”

“So you can follow directions.” There’s a barely there roll of his eyes and he does it again, giving you two smacks in a row.

“Three, four.” Dropping your head to the mattress, your voice warbles as you continue to count. There’s no method to how Kento spanks you, sometimes doing multiple in a row and spreading them out over your ass and the tops of your thighs.

“That makes twenty and we only had to start over twice.” Kento is pleased with the achievement and there’s a soft smile on his face as he watches you sob into the mattress. Letting go of you, he unwraps the belt from his hand and rubs his palm over your hot, stinging skin.

His hand squeezes the aggravated flesh, digging the tips of his claws into the growing welts in your skin. Pushing apart your shaking legs, Kento runs a finger through your slit, the tip of his claw grazing your opening making you clench around nothing.

“Maybe I could give you a reward for being such a good girl.” He’s speaking to himself at this point, you’re too distraught to listen or care. You just let your thighs be pushed to accommodate the size of his hand between them.

Finding your clit, Kento presses firmly on the bud, circling his finger around and gauging your reaction. He holds his breath to hear even the slightest moan or whine from you that’s not out of pain, and even though you don’t want to, you give it to him.

The lingering pain in your body has clouded your mind, confused you to what other feelings you should be having in this moment. The pleasure Kento is giving you, rubbing your clit quickly with two fingers, is a feeling you greedily drink up.

Arching your back, you turn your head to look at him. Kento catches your gaze, raising his other hand to cup your cheek and wipe your tears away with his thumb. Even though he’d just inflicted so much pain on you, the tenderness he showed now had you reeling.

“What a good little sister.” He coos as you cum with a few hiccuping moans. His fingers slow down as your body relaxes but he doesn’t fully withdraw his hand from your cunt. Swirling his fingers around and collecting your release, he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Kento-nii.” Wiping your eyes childishly, you groan as he moves you off his lap and back onto the bed.

“Sshh, I’ll bring you dinner.” Giving you a kiss on the forehead, Kento grabs the discarded belt and leaves the room. Laying alone in the bed, you try to calm your racing heart and the hiccupped cry that just won’t seem to stop.

When Kento returns, he feeds you slowly. His cooking has never been one to disappoint and you gladly devour it, the warmth spreading in your belly pushing you to fully calm down. Rubbing his hand on your back, Kento calls you little sister freely and tells you about his day at the office. It’s almost like before, when he’d seat you on his lap while he was having a late night cup of tea and talk to you about how boring working was.

“Love you.” Kissing both your cheeks, Kento leaves almost thirty minutes after your plate is cleared. He’s rubbed lotion on your skin, not apologizing for his actions but helping you feel better about them.

There isn’t a clock on the wall but you can tell it’s late at night. You were engulfed in darkness now, Kento having turned the light off before he left. Crawling under the blankets, you’re tired after your punishment.

The sliding of the lock pricks the edges of your senses and you hold your breath. You already know who it is that’s coming to see you. Old habits die hard, especially when you make no move to break them.

“Sugu-nii.” You whine in protest, already shuffling over to make room for the large fox. Closing the door softly, he’s practically vibrating with happiness as he climbs into your bed.

“I heard you took your punishment well.” Wrapping his arm around your middle, Suguru forces you to turn over and face him. With the weight of his arm back around your waist, it’s like nothing has changed. It’s just like before when he’d crawl into your bed after a long night of studying and pass out.

“Yeah.” Too tired to truly put up a fight, you keep your eyes closed. You can find solace in the darkness behind your eyelids, not your older brother staring at you and grinning like a fool.

“Good girl.” Pulling you closer, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips before he kisses you. He’s never kissed you fully on the lips before and it has your eyes widening in shock.

“Sugu, wait-” Pushing against his cheek, you break the kiss for only a second before he’s pushing you to lay on your back. The pressure from the bed on your sore backside has you scrambling. “Ow, please not there.”

His face says it all, whatever plan he has in his head is working just like he wants. With a knowing grin, Suguru lays on his back and hauls you to lay on top of him. Pushing his hands under your shirt, he cups your ass softly, barely laying his hands on the still angry skin.

“Kiss me.” He whispers into the dark, easily finding your lips again. Kissing you softly, the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip makes you purse your lips together tighter. Pinching right on a welt, Suguru shoves his tongue into your mouth when you yelp.

You can feel his sharp teeth grazing your lips and bumping into your own teeth as he pushes his tongue in, invading your mouth and claiming it for himself. His heart is beating hard underneath you, his tail lazily slapping against the bed.

His hands skim down your legs, parting them and wrapping them around his hips. In only a pair of loose sweats, you can clearly feel the bulge of his cock in them. It only takes one uncomfortable shift of your body to have him rocking up against you.

“Little sister…” He sighs against your mouth, pecking the corner. Planting a firmer grip on your hips, Suguru pushes his feet into the mattress and begins to hump you, soft pants falling from his mouth.

“Sugu-nii, stop.” You whine, balling your fists and gripping his clothes as he moves you. Dragging your sex against the front of his pants, the fabric brings rough friction on your clit, making you wet despite yourself.

Suguru ignores your little whimpers telling him to stop, they only spur him on if anything. Stopping for just a moment, he yanks his sweats down his thighs so you can hump against his underwear.

“Fuck-” Suguru nearly shouts the word. He can feel the heat from your cunt on his clothed cock, your lips molding around the shape of him without him having to do much. Throwing his head back into the pillow, Suguru sets a steady rhythm.

Dropping your head into the crook of his neck you squeeze your eyes closed, a shameful burn washing over you the same time pleasure shoots up your spine. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, he was your kidnapper, your adoptive brother, and yet here you were moving your hips in tandem with his.

“I love you.” Suguru says breathlessly, his voice tilting into a high whine at the end. “God, I love you so fucking much.” The bed is creaking loudly underneath him and you just know the other two can hear as well. “J-just wanna- I’m gonna breed you-”

“Sugu-nii, we can’t.” It wasn’t possible between you two, the difference in biology was too great. But Suguru didn’t care, as evident as him thrashing his head against the pillow.

“Yes! We- we can! I’m gonna breed you! My little...little sister.” One of his hands comes up to hold the back of your head against him, raking his nails against your scalp almost lovingly. “I love you so much I want you to have my- my-” He can’t even get the words out anymore.

But it’s not like you can really hear him over the sounds of your own whines, the bed creaking and his incessant panting. Your thighs are starting to burn the longer you go on, but chasing your high has made you delirious, pushing through it to get something nice out of this.

It only takes a few more drags of your clit against him to get you to cum, your balled up fists beating against his chest a little as you do. Suguru keeps going, a sobbing moan racking his chest as he hears you cum.

“So beautiful- m’little sister so perfect.” His words are slurred and his hips are moving overtime trying to prolong the moment. But he can’t stave off his orgasm any longer and it hits him like a train.

A few loud choking gasps fall from Suguru as his whole body tenses up and you feel the warm rush of cum shooting out of him and seeping into his underwear. He’s holding you so tightly it’s like he’s going to break every bone in your body.

When he finally calms down, you can hear him crying softly.

“Sugu-nii…” Pulling your head away, it’s shocking to see the display of emotion on his face. There’s a gentle stream of tears from both eyes, his lips quivering violently as he looks at you with so much adoration it makes your heart ache.

“I’m sorry, I just- I missed you so much.” Rubbing the back of your head now, Suguru sniffles childishly.

“Sugu-nii, don’t cry.” It’s unknown what possesses you to do this, but you lift a hand and wipe his tears away gently. For as long as you’ve known him, your brother has never cried in front of you. There had been times where you heard him crying after a particularly hard day at university or if he got physically injured, but you never saw it.

“Don’t cry, please, it’s okay.” Whispering into the dark, you kiss the corner of his lip and then his damp cheek. He chuckles through his crying, catching the hand still wiping his face.

“I should be doing that to you, not the other way around.” Lacing your fingers together, Suguru kisses your hand. Taking a few deep breaths, he slowly pushes you off of him and sits up. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

Silently, you watch him leave the room. The sheets are hot from the friction your bodies had created and you’re suddenly aware of the light layer of sweat sticking to your skin. The distant sound of a faucet running can be heard as you fix the pillows and blankets.

Suguru comes back a few minutes later, tears dry and in a new pair of underwear. Immediately cuddling up to you as he lays back down, he sighs contently and rests his hand right above the curve of your ass, playing with your tail between his fingers.

“I love you so much, (Y/N).” He whispers into your ear, giving a kiss at the base of it. You can’t find the words to say back to him, you’re not sure what would happen if you said them and you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t mean them if you did, so instead you push your head into his chest and hum.

“Goodnight, Sugu-nii.”

“Goodnight my love.”

When you wake up in the morning, you’re alone. There’s not a sound in the house, not even the creak of floorboards downstairs to alert you to someone else's presence. Your collar is still on as tight as ever, the leash hooked onto it and wrapped around the bed post again.

Sitting up on your elbows, there’s a note on the bedside table waiting for you. It’s folded up so neatly you can tell Kento left it.

‘Gojo will be by at lunch. Be good.’

His handwriting is crisp and neat, the last two words punctuated with a bold underline. There’s a threat behind those words, one that your body still remembers from the other day. Folding the note back up you put it where it was left and hobble to your feet.

First trying the door, it’s unsurprising that it’s locked. Jiggling it a few times does nothing but rumble the frame. Quickly giving up, you set your sights on the rest of the room. The desk is a brand new pristine white, the chair a plush pink little number should you ever choose to sit on it.

There’s a few knick knacks from your old room, things you recognize surrounded by a sea of unfamiliarity. The drawers of the desk are empty, not even a single pencil left for you to play with.

Trying the windows next, they’re locked just as tightly as the door is. Looking down at the backyard, it’s pretty spacious with fresh cut grass and some lawn furniture spread out. The second window sees out to the quiet suburban street below where not a single person is walking by.

This isn’t just not the house you grew up in, the whole neighborhood is foreign to you. The street signs you can see aren’t registering in your head, no location is coming to mind when you read them. Suguru said he was taking you home, but where exactly is that?

Left with little choice, you pace back and forth in the room. There’s nothing here to really entertain you, just an obscene amount of plushies and some frilly clothes in the wardrobe.

“(Y/N), I’m here!” Satoru shouts as he opens the door. He always loved announcing his presence to you because he’d trained you to come running and hug him tightly whenever he came over to the house.

You still felt that urge today, walking closer to the door in anticipation before catching yourself and lightly slapping your cheeks. It was embarrassing that they’d managed to instill such behavior in you so well that it pervades your mind even now.

Waiting by the window, your skin tingles with goosebumps when Satoru opens the door. Dressed in what he called ‘boring business attire’ Satoru sauntered in and swiftly closed the door.

“How is my little sister today?” He cooed at you like you were a baby, wiggling his fingers cutely. His eyes flick to your collar, absent of it’s leash, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Fine.” Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you don’t know what to say. Usually you’d be hugging him right now, asking how his day at the office was and if he wanted to play a video game with you before dinner.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” Answering him quietly, you expect him to leave the room to go get food, or maybe take you with him to the kitchen. But Satoru is just standing there with his fluffy white tail swinging back and forth, his sunglasses perched atop his head. “What?”

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” He asks, raising a brow and waiting for you.

“What-” You’d almost forgotten about drugging him, but as you take a step back and your ass grazes the wall, you’re suddenly reminded. Satoru grins when your eyes raise a fraction and he waits smugly.

“Go on, say it.” He’s got an easy smile on his face, yet the way his body is tensed up is giving another signal.

“I…” Swallowing thickly, the longer you looked at Satoru the more you were reminded of the things he said at the club and how nonchalant he was about describing your parents murder. Biting your lip, you shook your head and his tail drooped.

“Hm, you won’t?” Tilting his head with a hum, Satoru looked you up and down. “I’ll give you another chance, kitty. Apologize to me or I might just have to take what I want.”

“No.” Shaking your head again sealed your fate.

“You really are something.” Backing you fully up against the wall, Satoru pushed his chest against you and smacked his hand down on the wall next to your head. A thick silence settles between you as your breath mingles. The goosebumps on your flesh prick harder now out of fear and your hands come up in front of you to try and keep some semblance of personal space.

“Toru-nii!” You gasp as his other hand comes up to rest heavily at the base of your throat, pushing the collar up so his fingers can wrap around your neck. Satoru chuckles darkly, his sharp teeth poking out from behind his lips.

“You always did sound cute when you were afraid.” Satoru loved to make you watch scary movies with him just to hear you whine and complain in his lap. His hand squeezes your throat lightly, just enough pressure to make you squirm uncomfortably.

Shoving his knee between your legs, Satoru presses his thigh firmly against your sex. Taking off his glasses and tossing them onto the desk, he leans down and kisses you, immediately sinking his teeth into your lower lip.

“Toru-nii, that hurts.” You manage to pull your mouth away from him just long enough to feel the metallic tang of blood on the tip of your tongue. Grunting in reply, Satoru forces your mouth on his again, lapping at your irritated lip before pushing past it and tangling his tongue with yours.

Overtaking your senses, you struggle to keep upright. Between the jerky movements of his thigh between your legs and the sheer volume of his upper body leaning over you, it’s too much to take in. Pushing against his chest to try and create distance between you doesn’t work, and Satoru smacks your hands away.

“You’re gonna make it up to me, little sister.” Satoru’s tone of voice scares you, makes your ears stand on end from how low it is. His eyes are clouded over with lust and something else just beneath the surface, something that makes your knees lock up.

“What’re you-” Stumbling forward as he moves back, Satoru stops you from falling by catching you by the collar.

“Since you won’t apologize with words there’s something else you can do.” Flashing you a sadistic grin, Satoru all but tosses you onto the floor and leaves you there. Taking a seat on the bed with his legs stretched out onto the floor, he leans back on his hands and looks at you.

He’s looking at you expectantly with a bulge in his pants that’s impossible to miss or ignore. Flicking his chin down towards it, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling even bigger when you fumble to stand on your knees.

“C’mere little kitty, I know you know what I want.” Satoru hooks his finger at you, beckoning you closer. There’s no amount of pitiful looks or desperate little whimpers you can give him that will change the situation you’re in, and making him wait too long would only end badly.

Biting your tongue, you crawl to him and sit between his open legs. Resting your hands on his thighs, you rub up and down to try and soothe the nervousness in you.

“I’ve never...done this before, Toru-nii.” It truly was your first time, Suguru had made sure of it. He stopped any potential romances you ever could have had, even ones where you didn’t see any romantic potential yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’m a great teacher.” Taking one of your hands off his leg and onto the front of his pants, Satoru doesn’t need to tell you to undo them. Shimmying his pants down his thighs, Satoru lets his cock free as well.

As soon as it’s out, it slaps against his stomach. Already dripping precum, the length makes you swallow thickly. There’s a trim patch of white hair at the top of his pubic bone and his cock is the same color as the rest of him, only the tip is a nice rouge.

“Go ahead little sister, take a lick.” Satoru grabs your jaw, already impatient and rushing you to put your mouth to use.

“Okay, okay.” You can’t shrink out of his hold, his claws dig into your skin too much. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth and flick the tip of his cock.

There’s an immediate reaction to your action: Satoru twitches and his cock jumps, bouncing against your lip as his stomach contracts. It feels kind of good to know that such a small thing made him react that way, and it bolsters you with enough confidence to do it again.

“Now open your mouth a little more and suck on the tip.” Letting go of your jaw, he leans back to watch you work. Nodding, you do as you’re told and open your mouth. Taking the tip of his cock past your lips, you know enough to keep your teeth away.

Hollowing your cheeks, you keep your eyes locked on Satoru’s face to see his reaction as you suck. Your tongue rests against the tip, the unfamiliar taste of his precum coating the slimy muscle and making drool pool in your mouth.

“Take a little more in baby, it won’t hurt you.” He says it so gently, rubbing a hand at the base of your ears, that it almost feels like you two are dating. With an encouraging hum, Satoru helps you go down on him, putting a little more in your mouth until his length fills you and you have to stop him from hitting your throat.

“Shit, is that all you can take?” Satoru grunts and it’s unclear whether he’s happy about it or not. You don’t even have half his cock in your mouth yet and you already have to stop, reminding yourself to swallow so you don’t soak him completely in saliva.

Sitting up a little, Satoru quickly grabs something from his back pocket with his free hand: his phone. Pushing you down as you try to remove your mouth from him, you can’t stop him from taking a few pictures of you in the compromising position.

“Toru-nii, don’t!” He finally lets you up after a bit of struggling and you immediately try to take his phone away. “D-don’t take pictures of me!”

“But I want to save the memories.” He whines like a child, taking a few more and then tossing the device onto the bed.

“Delete them!” Reaching for the phone, you barely get a few centimeters towards it and Satoru is grabbing both your hands and pinning them to the mattress.

“Do what I tell you and maybe I will.” He squeezes your hands in a crushing hold for a few seconds before letting them go. Your fingers throb painfully but you have no time to soothe them; Satoru is already dragging you back to his cock.

You give him a lasting look before putting your mouth back on him, sucking the length of his cock you can fit comfortably in your mouth. Resting your hands at the base of his cock, you were content with the pace you set.

But Satoru wasn’t. He quickly grew bored of only seeing you take half of his cock. Grabbing his phone in one hand, he angled it down to your face as he put the other hand behind your head.

“C’mon little sis, you can do better than that, can’t you?” He asks softly, starting to push your head further down, the tip of his cock hitting your throat and trying to push past it. You start choking immediately, nostrils flaring as you try to pull away and breathe properly.

Satoru keeps a firm grip on your head however, only letting you get a few inches of reprieve before he pushes down again. Unused to the sensation you’re already feeling lightheaded, barely remembering to breathe through your nose.

“Be a good girl for me.” Satoru huffs, forcing you up and down his cock much faster than before. Unhinging your jaw doesn’t let much air flow into your mouth, if anything it only makes him go faster.

Tears blur your vision and drip down your face in messy lines, snot beginning to materialize at your nose. Satoru doesn’t take notice of the way your claws are digging into his skin, either that or he just doesn’t care. He especially doesn’t care after he forces his cock as far as it’ll go and you start to beat on his thighs.

“Fuck-” Drawing out the word, Satoru nearly drops his phone from the ripple of pleasure going up his spine. The click of your throat against the tip of his cock is enough to make him think he’ll cum early. “Kitty, you won’t mind if I…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, only leans over and props his phone on the nightstand. The blurry outline of you and him shines on the screen, and you'd knock the phone down if you weren’t struggling to focus on breathing. With both hands free, Satoru holds your head with both hands and sits up properly, back slightly bowing so he can look down on you.

The first thrust up into your mouth takes you by bitter surprise and your stomach lurches in turn, the fear of potentially vomiting on Satoru coming to the forefront of your mind. The second thrust, you still aren’t prepared for and just barely keep yourself from clamping your teeth down onto his cock.

By the third thrust you’ve learned to give up what little control you’re trying to salvage. Letting your mouth hang open, you can’t care anymore about soaking the front of Satoru’s pants in your spit. All you can think about is breathing, no matter how hard that might be.

“Fuck, what a- a good girl you are.” Satoru can barely breathe himself, but for a different reason. His stomach is tight, all the muscles in his body are tensed painfully as he fucks your mouth. This is something he’s been dreaming about ever since he met you, ever since you sat on his lap for the first time and told him how much you loved big brother Toru-nii.

The strain in your neck is nearly as bad as your jaw as Satoru uses you for his own gain. Your fingers are cramping as they continue to dig into his thighs, the smooth expanse of skin threatening to break from how hard you're gripping him.

“Shit-” Cursing angrily, Satoru holds you down on his cock. There’s no warning from him as he shoots cum down your throat, only slight thrusts up as he does it. You have no choice but to swallow it all, the motions of your throat making Satoru grind into you a bit more.

As soon as Satoru lets you go, you’re collapsing onto the ground and gasping for air. Throat fucked completely raw, you can’t even make a sound as you sob and try to wipe away the snot that’s dripped down your face.

“Made me cum so quick, are you sure this is your first time?” Satoru jokes, tucking himself back into his pants and standing up. Looking down at your crying form, Satoru doesn’t have a lick of remorse on his face.

“T-tor-” Trying to speak is far too painful and Satoru grins at your inability to do it. Scooping you up under the armpits, he pulls you onto the bed with a pleased hum.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just said sorry.”

“M’sorry.” It’s too late now, far too late, but you still say it and Satoru still grins at you.

“I know you are.” Kissing you on the forehead, he stands up and walks to the door. “See you after work, little sis.” Waving goodbye over his shoulder, Satoru leaves the room. Too upset to care about the rumble in your empty stomach, you turn to face the wall and sleep off what just happened.

You don’t wake until there’s a tugging on your collar. Opening up puffy, bloodshot eyes, they follow the line of the leash up to who’s holding it.

“Sugu-nii?” Letting yourself get pulled up and out of bed, the light of the hallway burns your eyes when you enter it.

“It’s time for dinner.” He hums, playing with the leash between his fingers. “Since you were so good for Toru-nii, I thought it’d be a nice reward for you to eat with all of us.” Taking a pause, Suguru looks at you over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t that be nice, (Y/N)?”

“Yes.” Your voice is still a little rough and your hand flies up to rub at your throat. Suguru doesn’t say anything, only chuckles under his breath. Leading you down the stairs, he keeps a tight hold on the leash as you go from the bottom step to the dining table.

Kento and Satoru are already there, Satoru waiting at the set table while Kento does a few finishing touches on dinner in a plain black apron. There are only three chairs at the table, and Satoru doesn’t offer to have you sit on his lap.

“Where do I…” You trail off, looking at everyone in the room as they avoid your curious gaze.

“You’ll sit on the floor until you prove you’re a good girl.” Kento is the one to answer your question as he sets the last of the food on the table.

“But-”

“Don’t argue. Only good little girls get to sit at the table, and you’ve yet to prove you can be good.” His voice is firm, dripping with authority that you wouldn’t have dreamed of challenging before.

“Kento-nii, I-”

The rebuttal you had was snatched away by the sharp yank of the leash, cutting your air off as Suguru pulled high up by his head.

“Little kitty, listen to your big brother please.” He sang the words but the way Suguru was looking at you and choking you with the collar told his true nature. Loosening his hold once he was sure you wouldn’t speak again, Suguru led you to a corner of the wall by the table where a cushion was waiting for you.

They were at least nice enough to give you a plate and utensils instead of making you eat out of a dog bowl like Satoru jokingly suggested. None of them addressed you as the meal progressed, not sparing you a single glance or second thought.

Your plate was cleared long before theirs and although you wanted to get up and put your plate away, maybe attempt to either go back to your room or slide into the conversation, you sat completely still on the cushion, fiddling with the edges of it and simply waiting.

“(Y/N).” Kento snapped his fingers, catching your attention as he stood up. “Help me with the dishes.” Standing up slowly, you gathered the empty plates Kento put into your hands and walked to the sink.

You only stood alone at the sink for a few minutes, filling the sink with hot water over the dishes and gathering soap on the sponge, before Kento came and slinked in behind you. Putting his arms around you, he slid his fingers through yours and held them tightly under the water.

“Missed you.” He whispered in your ear, laying his cheek atop your head and nuzzling into you. His whole body wrapped around you, his chest greatly expanding with air as he inhaled your scent and rocked you slightly. “Everything will go back to normal soon, promise.” You weren’t sure if he was saying that for you or for him, but you didn’t get the chance to answer.

“Aw, look at you being all soft.” Satoru giggled behind you, going up to the fridge and grabbing two beers.

“Fuck off.” Kento growled, whipping his head around to glare at the intruder. Slinking away with a vicious giggle, Satoru could be heard talking to Suguru about what he just saw. Heaving an annoyed sigh, Kento unwound one hand from yours and started to clean the dishes.

Working quietly together, Kento kept himself pressed against you the entire time. He didn’t speak much, occasionally giving you a kiss on the head or taking a dirty pan from you to leave it to soak. When the sink was clear and your fingers were properly wrinkled, he stepped back and grabbed the leash you’d managed to forget about.

Following him out of the kitchen, you glanced at Satoru and Suguru sitting together on the couch playing some game you could never quite get the hang of no matter how many times they tried to teach you.

“Oh, time for a bath already.” Suguru glanced at the two of you and tossed his controller onto the couch. Standing up and cracking a few bones, Suguru took the leash from Kento and led you up the stairs.

Ever since Suguru’s interest in you turned more obsessive, bathing yourself became something you grew to detest. He would often find some way to barge in while you were taking a shower, trying to sneak peeks at your naked body all lathered up and sometimes trying to join you. Even after locking the door, he still found ways to pick it when he could and leer at you through the crack in the door, and you were pretty sure he installed a few hidden cameras as well. And during the times he didn’t actively snoop on you, he would be waiting in your room for you to come in clad in only a towel.

This time was no different. There was already a clean towel waiting for you in the bathroom, and your favorite products all lined up on the counter that Suguru was leaning on. Unclipping the leash, he was gentle in undoing the collar.

“Would you rather take a bath or a shower?” He whispered, already grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off.

“Bath.” Folding your arms over your chest did little to truly preserve your modesty, but it was better than nothing. Nodding, Suguru turned the tap on and the roar of the water filled the air. For a brief moment, you hoped he would just be content with sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching you, but you should have known better.

As the tub was filling up, Suguru began to take his clothes off as well, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Steam clouded in the air, making the fur of your tail and ears damp and clump together.

“I got you something from that store you really like.” Suguru digs into the medicine cabinet for a moment, pulling out a deep purple bath bomb with specks of gold glitter. He grins widely at you before dropping it into the tub where it sinks to the bottom with a ‘thunk’.

When the bath is full enough and the powder halfway dissolved, Suguru nudges you gently into the tub. You’ve tried to stay out of his line of sight as the water poured into the tub, but now you were on full display as you climbed in and he followed suit.

Holding your breath, Suguru climbs in after you. His fluffy tail immediately soaked up the water, the fur getting weighed down and heavy. Pulling you flush against his open legs, you can feel his soft cock resting on your lower back.

“Isn’t this nice?” Suguru whispers, the only sound to offset the silence is the occasional drip from the faucet. Swishing the purple water between his fingers, Suguru wraps an arm just under your breasts.

The gold glitter sticks to your fingers when you move them through the water and bring them up to the surface. The scent of the bath bomb is nice enough, truly one of your favorites, but it didn’t bring you any peace like it usually did.

You couldn’t relax and Suguru could tell. You refused to lean your back onto his chest, and whenever he tried to intertwine your fingers together you slipped out of his grasp. Leaning your head away from him, the water just barely brushed your collarbones.

“You’re awfully quiet, little sister. Something on your mind?” Running a wet hand down your back, Suguru lets his claws graze your skin and leave goosebumps.

“No.” The word slips from your mouth and for a moment you’re not sure he heard you because there’s no immediate response. But Suguru is always listening to you and he definitely heard you.

“Hm, then why don’t you try and relax?” The arm under your breasts tightens and Suguru yanks you effortlessly back onto him. Pushing your head to lay on his chest, Suguru peers over your shoulder down the expanse of your naked body.

“Stop.” Scrambling to clench your legs closed and cover yourself, the heat from the water only adds to the burn in your cheeks.

“Shouldn’t I get to see how my little sister grew up? You’ve become quite beautiful, you know.” His other hand rests on your knee, fingers splaying out and, if he really tried, he could wrap almost your entire leg in his hand. “But, you’ve always been beautiful, ever since we met.”

Giving you a kiss on the side of your head, Suguru wrenches your legs apart with one swift motion. You barely have time to make a sound let alone react, and Suguru is already shoving his hand between your legs by the time you do.

“Sugu-nii!” Clutching his wrist, you try in vain to yank him away from cupping your sex with his hand. “Don’t- don’t touch me there!” Digging your claws into his arm, you let out a low whine.

“Don’t be so shy, I need to check down there. You were gone for so long, who knows what you were up to.” Laughing softly at your discomfort, Suguru slips two fingers into your slit, the warm water helping his fingers glide along your cunt.

“I’m still a virgin if that’s what you’re worried about.” Craning your head up to the ceiling, you can’t stand to look at his hand moving between your tightly clenched thighs.

“Mmm I still think I should check.” Keeping you untouched was one of Suguru’s life missions. He was distraught when you told him you’d had your first kiss, utterly shattered when you mentioned potentially having a crush on the person. After that singular moment, he vowed to ruin any potential romance and to stop you from ever having sex with someone he didn’t approve of.

Swirling his fingers around your clit, Suguru chuckled as he made your legs twitch. He knew the motion was purely automatic, but he still took it for all it was worth. Pressing more firmly against it, his other hand snaked up to wrap around one of your breasts.

A soft sigh escaped your lips and you clenched them tightly together. Suguru heard it, how could he not? It was all he needed to keep going, not that he would have stopped even if you asked.

“Pretty little girl you are.” He hummed, tweaking your nipple gently in his fingers. Prodding your entrance with one finger, he quickly retracts it when you let out a pained whine. “Just checking, just checking.”

“I wasn’t lying.” You huff, once again trying to squirm out of his hold.

“And for that you deserve a reward, don’t you think?” His fingers are already rubbing your clit under the water, sloshing and splashing some of it onto the ground. Keeping his lips firmly pressed against your head, Suguru groans deeply in his chest.

“Sugu-nii...please…” Screwing your eyes closed, you’re not sure what you’re asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? Based on the way your hips are grinding against him, you can easily find the answer.

Suguru’s ministrations are deft, like he’s done this countless times before. And perhaps he has on other women, and that thought bitterly crosses your mind for a moment, but it’s dashed out just as quickly when he pinches your clit.

“Moan my name when you cum.” His breathing is ragged, almost as if Suguru is going to cum as well. Nodding drunkenly, only a supply of soft moans fall from your mouth. The hands that were gripping his arm have fallen slack and to the wayside, one of them gripping the side of the tub.

Turning your head to bury your face into his neck, you inadvertently press open mouthed kisses onto him as you pant and moan. Your sharp teeth graze Suguru’s neck every so often and he leans into the touch, fingers working overtime on your clit.

“Su-Sugu-nii!” Pushing your face into him, you cum with a short, high pitched cry of his name. With a long groan, Suguru works you through your orgasm and presses kisses to your head.

“Good girl.” He sighs when you finally come down, relaxed and pliant in his hold now. Slowly withdrawing his hand from your cunt, Suguru leans back against the tub contently. Laying in silence for a moment, you try and push the shame away that’s creeping up from the base of your spine.

Silently, you lean forward to grab the other products still waiting untouched on the counter. Opening the body wash he’d set out, you take the cloth he’d left as well, intent on scrubbing yourself raw and cleaning away the moment you just had.

Freshly bathed, moisturized and dressed in a new oversized shirt you didn’t own an hour later, the weight of the collar put back around your neck was starting to become familiar. Back in your room, you and Suguru laid together, the soft sound of evening rain helping you fall asleep.

Waking up to the sound of a blaring smoke alarm, the previous relaxing night was ripped away from you. Bolting upright and stumbling out of bed in a dazed panic, you try the bedroom door. It’s still locked, not budging as you attempt to force it open.

“Hello?!” You scream, anxiety rising the longer the alarm goes off.

“It’s okay!” Satoru calls back to you, voice muffled and distant. He’s clearly downstairs, hopefully dealing with whatever set the alarm off. “Just cooking!” As soon as he says that, you immediately relax.

Satoru wasn’t known for being a good cook, or even a very decent one. Whenever he tried, he always ended up burning something or making the food taste horrible. Letting go of the doorknob, you were right in assuming he hadn’t changed; the smell of something burnt wafted through the vents and up to your room.

Ten minutes later, Satoru unlocked and flung open the door with excitement brimming on his face.

“I made breakfast, come on down.” Quickly clipping the leash to the collar, he practically drug you down the stairs in his eagerness for you to eat his food. Whatever was waiting for you on the dining table looked less than appetizing, your stomach churned just looking at it.

Taking a seat, Satoru wound the leash around his fingers, drawing you closer and closer until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Resting a hand high up on your thigh, Satoru pulled the plate closer.

“Doesn’t it look good?” He asked, a childish giggle behind his words.

“Sure.” You fought to keep your face neutral, but it was hard when you took the first bite and wanted to spit it out right away. Knowing Satoru though, he wouldn’t let you cook anything for yourself, wanting you to eat what he made you with a big smile.

“Do you like it?”

“Sure.” Nodding through clenched teeth, you quickly changed the subject. “Toru-nii, why aren’t you at work?”

“Took the day off. Wanted to get reacquainted with my little sister.” Squeezing your thigh with a big grin, Satoru grabbed your utensil from your hand. “And maybe later we can go to the corner store and get ice cream!”

Even though you knew you’d have to jump through some hoops before going outside, just the mere mention of leaving this house making your stomach erupt in butterflies. You ate Satoru’s bad cooking with vigor, offering to wash the dishes as soon as you were done.

Retiring to the couch, Satoru laid a blanket over the two of you as he flicked through the TV channels. Just as Satoru picked some random shitty movie to play in the background while he got down to the true fun, the mailman came.

“One sec.” Shifting you off his lap, Satoru dragged his feet grabbing the mail. There were quite a few envelopes in his hand when he returned, and a few of them you recognized from the insurance company your parents used and signed you up for.

“What’s this?” Forcing your way to his side once again, you read over the first letter. It was from your parents life insurance, stating that you were the sole inheritor of all the money in the policy.

“Looks like you got a pretty penny, baby.” Satoru grinned as he read over the next letter, one from the bank stating that all the money from your parents accounts would be transferred to you. There was also one from their will, naming you the only one that gets money from the meager stocks they’d invested in.

“Did- did you all set this up?” Remembering what Satoru had said about Kento setting up a trust fund for you, your stomach twisted into knots.

“Oh yeah, Kento is pretty smart when it comes to forging signatures and insurance documents.” Flicking the open letters onto the coffee table, Satoru opened a thick envelope, and the words at the top made your heart stop.

“Why uh, why is this letter talking about a house fire? What is this payout?” Snatching the letter from Satoru, you didn’t blink as you read over it. “Why is my address on here? Why are they talking about a fire at my address?”

You knew the answer, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. It was spelled out clear as day on the paper, that the house you’d been adopted into and grown up in had been set ablaze in some random arson attack and that you and Suguru were going to get a very large sum of money for the damages to the now unlivable abode.

You knew the answer, yet you still needed Satoru to say it aloud, confirm what you already knew.

“There might have been a little accident at your old house after you left.” Gingerly taking the letter from you, Satoru read it over himself. “If it makes you feel any better, we didn’t just set fire to your house. We did the whole street ya know, to make it more believable.”

It made sense why you were in a new home in a new neighborhood you’d never been in. He didn’t want you to be familiar with the area or try and contact the neighbors. You didn’t know where you were, all you knew was the house you were currently in.

“Now let’s watch a movie! Kento likes to handle all the file organization!” Hooking his arm around your shoulder, Satoru pulled you to his side. Your body was stiff and unyielding, frozen in shock and mind still reeling.

“T-toru-nii.” Forcing your voice to work, you stared at the opening credits. “Can we go to the store now? I’m in the mood for some- for some uhm, snacks.”

“Yeah, why not. We can have a little movie marathon.” Pausing the TV, Satoru stretched and groaned. “Go ahead and get changed in your room, I’ll wait down here.”

“Okay.” Keeping your legs as steady as possible, you went up to your bedroom. Shaking fingers picked out the least offensive clothing they left for you, a simple pair of leggings and a plain shirt and hoodie that weren’t previously owned by a very large fox.

Walking hand in hand down the street with Satoru, you tried to keep the collar around your neck hidden. He’d been gracious enough to take the leash off, stuffing it in his back pocket as a warning before exiting the house.

Being outside and breathing in the crisp air helped clear your head a little. There was only so much you could do to calm yourself in this situation, and having the wind go by and make your ears twitch was one of them.

It was a short walk to the store in question, and Satoru stayed close by you the entire time you were there. His figure lingered around you, trailing you through the aisles and sometimes keeping a few fingers hooked in your hood just in case.

Standing outside the store, Satoru had a sly grin on his face as he looked at the bag of treats in his hand. He had been unusually quiet upon leaving, and that almost always meant he was up to something.

“Hey, stay out here for a little bit, I need to go back in and get something for Suguru.” The bait was right in your face. Satoru held a lingering gaze with you out of the corner of his eye as he went back into the store. He was practically telling you to make a run for it now. To try and escape him, even though there truly was no hope of outrunning him.

It was painfully obvious what was going to happen, or at least what Satoru wanted to happen. He liked to play chase with you, running after you at the park on warm sunny days, or with snowballs in hand during winter. He always said it was just instinct to want to chase pretty little things like you.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you took one look at the closed doors of the store and ran for it. As you rounded the corner, you swore that the sound of Satoru’s laughter reached your ears. You willingly stepped into his trap, the most obvious one he’s ever set.

But the smidgen of hope you had of hiding from him and getting away again outweighed how stupid you felt for giving into his desires. Running through empty suburban streets close to noon, you felt like you were in a different world. None of the streets looked like ways out to a main road, and as you kept running, it felt like you were going in circles.

“Gotcha.” Satoru announced as he appeared around a corner, a crazed look in his eyes. His fur was standing on end, electrified from the adrenaline of chasing you. Grabbing your wrist as you tried to sidestep him, Satoru laughed and hugged you to his chest. “I knew you would run, I just fucking knew it.”

You had nothing to say, hanging your head limply in his hold. Satoru rocked you side to side, his racing heart struggling to calm down.

“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t do it, that you’d be a little smarter than this and know to stay in your place. But at the end of the day, you’re just a dumb little house cat.” Releasing you, Satoru grabbed your hand tightly. “Now we can really have some fun.”

The fun Satoru mentioned didn’t come when you got back home. Stepping back through the threshold, you were ushered back into your room with a few of the snacks and left to your own devices. Satoru had made a phone call after locking the door, the exhilaration in his voice making him breathless as he walked away and babbled to whoever on the other line.

You weren’t visited for a whole day. No one came to knock on your door to feed you, there weren’t any late night visits from Suguru. It was as if they’d forgotten about you, walking past the locked door with no regard to who lay on the other side.

A full three days of isolation passed before Suguru opened the door. It was the weekend and they’d all been home all day, you could hear them moving around downstairs and Satoru certainly seemed excited about something.

Ravenously hungry, you ate the small meal he brought you immediately. Too focused on eating, you didn’t care about the slightly strange taste or the way Suguru watched you intently to make sure you ate every last drop.

“You need to change.” His eyes flitted over the clothes you still had on from your last outing. A displeased frown graced Sugurus face, and he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled open a few drawers.

You hadn’t really taken a look inside too closely at what they’d left for you. Only briefly digging around to change, there wasn’t a real need to switch up your outfits seeing as you didn’t leave the room.

“Put this on.” Turning to you, Suguru held up a pretty pink lacy bra and panties set.

“Why?” Swallowing thickly, you took the garments that were thrust into your hands.

“You’ll see. Just get changed and come out when you’re ready. You can put my shirt on over it.” Suguru spoke quickly and left the room, leaning on the door as soon as it was closed. Thumbing over the fabric, thoughts jumped in and out of your head at what he could possibly need from you in this outfit.

But something else was taking shape in your mind, a slow drip that wouldn’t leave. The tips of your fingers were tingling and your tongue started to feel heavy. Just standing up to disrobe had you lightheaded, skimming your fingers across your naked skin had you clenching your thighs together.

“Sugu-nii, open up.” You called to him, a concerned whine at the end of your voice. You’d changed just like he’d asked, and you were happy you had because you were starting to get sweaty.

“Let’s go.” He quickly undid the collar on your neck and led you down the stairs, making sure you didn’t trip on your increasingly shaky legs. Coming to the lounge room, you were greeted by Satoru and Kento, and an unknown older third man was leaning against the wall, a long skinny black tail dangling behind him.

“What a cutie.” The man chuckled, looking you over with sharp golden eyes. Planting you in the middle of the room, Suguru left you to stand on your own. Your own eyes looked back at the man, taking in the curved black ears atop his head and his wide chest.

Standing still was proving to be a struggle for you. Whatever was happening had made you delirious, all the blood seemed to be rushing straight between your legs. Just being stared at was enough to make heat burn your cheeks in an embarrassing way.

“So you said I could do anything?” Looking past you and to your brother, the man grins wide when Suguru nods his head. Stalking closer to you, you can see the scar on the edge of his lip and the very large canine teeth inside his mouth.

Speaking was also a struggle, evident in the way you couldn’t properly get any words out, only a few nondescript sounds trickled out. Shuffling back as the man got closer, you were completely enveloped in him when he opened his arms wide, taking up all the space in your vision.

“Hey little kitty-cat.” Putting a large hand on your head, he rubs your head gruffly. The sensation makes your knees buckle, tingling pleasure from his touch spreading across your upper body. “Name’s Toji.”

“He-hello.” Forcing the word out, now that he’s so close you can finally discern what animal he was, a smooth black panther. You hadn’t seen them a lot, only catching a few glances of a couple hybrids when you were at the hostess bar and they always seemed so elusive.

“Who knew you could sound so cute all drugged up like that?” Toji cooed, rubbing your head again. “You gonna introduce yourself to me? I am your brothers’ guest after all.”

“I don’t think she can.” Suguru chuckled from the couch. He, Satoru and Kento were enraptured with the scene before them. Seeing you dwarfed by their size had become something they were accustomed to, but seeing you look so tiny against an imposing figure like Toji stirred something in them.

“Poor little thing.” With a mocking laugh he dropped his hands to his sides and looked down at you. “Lets see if you can follow directions now, hm? Take this off for me.” Flicking his chin at you, he waited with bated breath.

“Sugu...nii…” Scrunching your brows together, you looked at him. Even with your mind full of nothing but the intense ache between your legs, you still had enough sense to try and figure out what was going to happen.

“Don’t be shy baby, do as he says.” Suguru made no move to come and help you or offer any explanation. Looking to Kento and Satoru, neither of them were any help.

“Don’t make me wait all day.” Toji snapped his fingers in your face, bringing you back to staring at him. He took one look at your still concerned expression and rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it for you then, princess.”

Toji wasn’t gentle when he took your shirt off, practically ripping it off your body with his sharp claws. There was a collective gasp from the couch and Toji let out a low whistle upon seeing your body in lingerie.

“You really are something, huh?” Grasping your upper arm, Toji turned you around to stare at your ass, giving your tail a sharp tug that made you keen and arch your back. “So responsive too. Good to see the drugs working.”

Wading through the thicket in your foggy mind, it all made sense now. Why you were moaning so loudly just from Toji hugging you to his body and raking his nails lightly against your skin. Why just feeling the barrel of his chest against your back had your spine tingling with nerves.

“Sugu!” Reaching out for him, you could only lean so far forward away from Toji.

“Be quiet baby, take your punishment like a good girl.” He chided, actively palming over the growing tent in his pants.

“Sugu!” Huffing again, you strained against Tojis hold.

“Hey, didn’t he say be good?” Toji quipped and smacked your thigh. The sound echoed in the otherwise quiet room, making you jump high into the air. It hurt, the force of his smack and the lingering pain after, but somewhere in you, you enjoyed it.

Turning you around, Toji wasted no time in kissing you. Grabbing your chin tightly, he forced his tongue into your mouth. Easily overwhelming you with the strength in his kiss, Toji palmed your ass roughly. Pushing you against his growing cock, he kissed you until you were so lightheaded your legs gave out.

“Ha, this’ll be too easy.” Letting you fall to the floor, Toji peeled his shirt off and cracked the bones in his neck. The cold hardwood offered no reprieve to your burning skin, and Toji quickly descended onto you.

Caging you in with his knees on either side of you, Toji grabbed both breasts, squeezing them so hard tears sprang to your eyes instantly. Your hands weakly attempted to push him away, stop him from pulling at your nipples through the sheer fabric of the bra.

“Hey, knock it off.” The slap across the face was an unexpected sensation, your head turning to the side as his palm went across your cheek. Gasping loudly, the tears that gathered at your lashes began to fall as the pain radiated across your face.

Choking out a sob, you tossed an arm over your face to shield yourself from any more. The painful treatment of your breasts was all you could focus on and you actively had to stop yourself from trying to push him away again.

“She learns quick.” Toji remarks to the group watching you with their cocks out.

“Always has.” Kento replies smoothly, like he didn’t have his pants around his knees with his half hard cock in his hand. Turning back to you, Toji rips your arm off your face.

“Don’t think you can hide from me now, little one.” Pinning your arms to your side, Toji leaned over you and bit down on the side of your neck. Screeching and arching your back, you squirmed and whined from the pain.

You could feel the light amount of blood trickle down your neck and his rough tongue lap it up. Soothing the bite, Toji went down a few inches and did it again, littering your whole neck with bites hard enough to break skin.

Moving down to your chest, he sucked angry marks into your skin, biting down a tad softer here. The drug they’d given you had perfectly done its job in making you more sensitive to touch and the trace amounts of pleasure you were getting from this weren’t enough to outweigh the pain.

“Toji.” Throwing your head to the side as he bit down on your shoulder, your breath left you when he peered back at you with his intense gaze. Leveling you with a single stare, Toji returned his attention to your chest and ripped your bra clean off your body.

“Nice fucking tits.” He smiled maliciously, squeezing them as hard as he could between his fingers. He reveled in your pained squirming and the way you couldn’t hold back moaning in pain.

Letting go of your breasts, he laid a hard slap across your chest, and then another the other way. He slapped your breasts at least ten times, not that you could keep track from the way it hurt.

Pinching and twisting your nipples, Toji wrapped one in his lips and bit down. Your hands slapped against the ground, sharp wails leaving you as he let go and bit the flesh of your breasts as hard as he had done to your neck.

“Fuck kitty, you made me so hard.” Lightly slapping your face side to side, Toji forced you to look down at his cock, now unrestrained and freed from his baggy pants. It looked massive even compared with how large his body was, and when he wrapped his hand around it you could feel the blood leave your face.

Toji ripped your panties off with one swipe, dangling the tattered fabric from his fingers before tossing it to the side where your bra was. Pushing your knees up and nearly hitting you in the face, Toji peered down at your cunt.

“So fucking wet.” He mumbled, swiping a finger up your slit and presenting it to you. “Fucking dripping, huh.”

“Sugu!” Whipping your head to the side, you looked at Suguru with wide eyes. Fear struck a chord in you, Suguru had always drilled it into your head that your virginity was something special, making you promise over and over that you would save it for the right person.

And you had strong doubts that Toji was the right person to take it.

“Calm down baby. I said this was a punishment after all, didn’t I?” Suguru was languidly stroking his hard cock, a cocky smile on his face as he drank in your apprehension.

“But- no, no!” Shaking your head hard enough to make it hurt, you cried unabashedly. This wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be having sex for the first time on a cold hardwood floor with a stranger while your brother and his friends watched.

“Yes, yes!” Toji mocked your frantic voice, landing slaps on the backs of your thighs as you began to cry. “Don’t act all high and mighty now. Your brothers sold you out to me like some cheap whore, now take what I give you.”

“No!” Sobbing now, it only got louder when Toji slapped your cunt with his full hand. Your legs shook violently as he slapped you again, putting more weight into his hand.

“God, I could listen to you all fucking day.” Toji let your legs go, slapping your cunt one last time to see you jump and writhe. Nestling between your legs, he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him. “Be nice and loud for us now.”

Guiding the tip of his cock into your entrance, Toji thrust his cock in with one smooth motion of his hips. Bottoming out immediately, he threw his head back and sighed. This was the first time you had anything inside you besides your own fingers and to say it hurt was an understatement.

Despite how wet you were from the drug, you had no prep for the immense stretch of Tojis cock inside you. You weren’t sure if any amount of preparation would have been enough to take him, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

The slow drag of his cock against your walls as he pulled out caught your attention. You were still sobbing, still shaking and clearly distraught, but nobody cared. They were all getting off on seeing Toji fuck you, all of their eyes bouncing between your face to where you were connected with him.

“Gojo you were right, I think I might cum quick.” They shared a laugh, Satoru echoing the sentiment back to him. Pushing back in, Toji held your hips tight enough to bruise them, digging painful fingerprints into your flesh that would linger for a long while after he left.

Setting a quick pace, Toji bounced you back on his cock as he thrust forward, dragging you across the floor with every motion. The sweat collecting on your skin helped it not to catch on the wood, but the glide was still irritating.

Putting your ankles on his shoulders, Toji bent your pliant body in half. He met no physical resistance from you, ignoring the way you groaned at the stretch and leaning over to put his forehead against yours.

“For a virgin you sure are flexible, maybe I’ll have to come back and have some more fun with you.” The deep rumble of his voice clouded your senses and you could feel the intensity behind his stare even as you closed your eyes tightly.

Rutting into you, the tip of Tojis cock bumped painfully against your cervix, forcing tears to drip out of your eyes with every thrust in. His entire being had completely consumed you, from the arbitrary way the tip of his tail swished against your bare thigh to the all consuming feeling of his cock pounding into you.

Getting used like a piece of meat, fucked into the very floor you’d have to walk on later, burned you with shame. Distressed moans turning into ones of burgeoning pleasure helped push that feeling even further and when you turned your head to see all three men furiously jerking their cocks, cheeks flushed red and sweat forming on their brows, you couldn’t help but wonder why they were letting this happen.

If they loved you as much as they claimed, why were they letting this man do this to you? He had slapped you all over your body, littered bloody bite marks across every inch of skin he could, and he had taken the one thing you were taught was sacred to you. Toji was nothing like your brothers, he was crass and unyielding, smacking you in the thighs as he fucked you.

He was so unlike them, the difference was astounding. The nasty words he snarled out to you, calling you a worthless little virgin and just a hole to be fucked, hurt you. Your brothers, as mean as they could be to you, would never say such nasty things. Even when Kento spanked you, he made it all better in the end.

Toji offered no happy ending, taking and taking from you until you couldn’t breathe anymore from the weight pressing down on your chest. Forcing you to kiss him, Toji growled into your mouth as he came abruptly.

Warmth flooded you, his syrupy cum smearing and coating every inch of your cunt. Grinding against you, he let your legs fall to the ground as he pulled out, his cock still rock hard. You were nearly unconscious when he finally pulled away from your lips, head falling to the side to see the three men all cumming as well.

“Y-you’re still hard?” Satoru gaped, milking his own cock for the last few drops of cum.

“Why does the little princess here have to be the only one drugged up?” Toji chuckled. Mentally and physically drained already, you were becoming practically comatose in his hold. Flipping you over onto your stomach, Toji peered down at your eyes slipping away. “Looks like she’s all tuckered out.”

Grabbing your ass, he spread your cheeks apart and revealed your puckered asshole. Spitting down onto it, he swirled his finger around it shortly, gathering up the cum and slick between your legs as added lubricant to push his finger through the tight ring of muscle.

“That’s okay, little kitty-cat, just go to sleep.” Pushing his finger all the way down to the knuckle, Toji smoothed a hand on your lower back and purred as he watched you fall unconscious. “Your uncle Toji will take good care of you.”

When you awoke again, you were back in your bed. Back in the room that wasn’t yours, in the house that you hadn’t grown up in, in a neighborhood you had no clue about. The collar was back around your neck, not as tight as before but still weighing just as heavy.

Every part of your body ached. There wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t hurt, all your muscles screamed in agony as you tried to move. There was a sharp, burning pain between your legs, raised teeth marks dotting along all the skin you touched, and your eyes were puffy and dry.

Parched beyond all belief, you struggled to grab the cup of water left on the nightstand. Nearly spilling it from how shaky your hands were, you gulped down the liquid greedily. It wasn’t enough to soothe your aching throat, but it was a start.

The sun moved across the room as you floated in and out of consciousness, casting beams of light in different directions every time you opened your eyes. There wasn’t much your body was willing to let you do, forced to just lay in bed under the fluffy blankets and wonder when someone would come to see you.

“(Y/N).” A soft whisper accompanied the slow creak of the door as it opened. The three men you’d been waiting for appeared, gentle expressions on all their faces. Suguru was the first to reach out and touch you, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your face.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat on your bed.

“It hurts.” You whisper back, wincing as you try and fail to sit up.

“Yeah, I bet. Uncle Toji did a number on you, didn’t he?” Suguru was speaking to you like you were a stupid child, his tone low and even.

“He did.” Barely nodding, your eyes flicked to Satoru and Kento. Satoru looked ready to jump into bed with you, his tail flicking in thinly veiled excitement behind him. Kento remained stoic, his arms crossed but his eyes never leaving yours.

“I hope now you understand how good you have it.” Kento said, the ever present sternness in his voice.

“Yeah (Y/N), men like Toji are all over the place, and one of them could have done something worse to you while you were away in Tokyo!” Satoru couldn’t help but chime in, stepping closer as he spoke.

“That’s true. We only let him have you for one night as a punishment, but think about how much worse it would be if you were still in Tokyo without the protection of your big brothers. This could have happened at that nasty little hostess bar, and it could have been much worse.” Suguru hadn’t stopped stroking your cheek the entire time he was in the room and he wasn’t about to stop now. “You don’t want guys like Toji around you, do you?”

“N...no.” Knitting your brows together, their words rattled around your skull. They weren’t exactly wrong, something much worse could have happened at the hostess bar, and you wouldn’t have your big brothers to watch over you.

Sure, the aches and pains in your body were horrible, but imagining going through the pain night after night, day after day at the hands of some random men at the red light district was much worse.

The longer you looked at all three of them, the more it made sense in your head. They had done horrible things, but the reality was that you were safe here. You didn’t have to worry about providing for yourself ever again, you had plenty of food and three people that loved you so much it hurt them to be apart from you for too long. Out in the world, anything could happen. Recounting the days you spent on the run made your stomach churn, unpleasant memory after memory coming back to you.

“You see now? You need us, (Y/N), just as much as we need you.” Drawing your attention back to him, Suguru swept his arm over to the other two. “We love you so much, we just want you to be the happiest member of the pack.”

“Of the pack…” Echoing the last words, you nodded. Pack life was important to them, it was what kept them safe and feeling secure in life. And right now, you certainly craved that security. “I want to be part of the pack.”

Large smiles erupted on all of their faces - Kento hiding his - at your words. It’s what they’d wanted to hear all along, and now everything felt complete. Sitting you up and wrapping you in a hug, Suguru was careful not to squeeze you too tightly.

“I love you (Y/N).” He said, tail thumping against the bed happily. Satoru and Kento echoed the statement, and they came to hug you as well. With all three pairs of arms around you, their warmth soothed not only the ache in your body but in your heart as well. Hugging them felt right, it felt like you were always meant to be here.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something.” Kento is the first to pull away, a light blush on his face that he tries to hide.

“Yes please.”

“Ooh, I’ll help!” Satoru throws his hand into the air as he pulls away but not before kissing you on the cheek.

“I guess I’ll help too then.” Suguru lingers around you, giving you a series of light kisses on your cheeks. “Little sister should eat well after all she’s been through.”

“We’ll be quick. Stay in bed.” Kento warns. He’s already at the door, the other two close behind him.

“I-” Your voice breaks when you try to use it and they stop before they fully exit the room.

“Hm?”

“I love my big brothers too.” Your cheeks burn a little from saying the words, and a shy giggle passes your lips. Fiddling with the blankets, you can see out of the corner of your eye that they’ve all started to blush a little.

“We love you too, little sister.” Suguru sighs, heart full to bursting. Wishing you another round of farewells, they all leave and Suguru closes the door behind him, leaving it unlocked.

#tw: dubcon #tw: pseudo-incest #tw: noncon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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