#cw bad caretaker
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[ an apple | a day | (keeps the doctor) away ]
couple month old 3 part story i conjured up! i came up with this concept and thought it was pretty cool so yknow. wrote it and now here we are <3
content warnings: implied/referenced abuse, emeto, bad/reluctant "caretaker," starvation, begging
It’s his first day being tasked with watching Villain.
He arrives half an hour early, signs in, and sits in the lounge to pass the time. This promotion may not be due to his competence— it's no secret the heroes’ main facility is becoming understaffed after their public support started dwindling— but he’s not going to let that disprove it. The heroes need all the loyal supporters they can get. Guard can ignore a couple of rumors to prove he's worth their time.
He triple-checks his sidearm before he rounds the corner and exchanges a nod with the guard already there, then takes her place. In five hours they’ll bring him Villain’s dinner to slide under the door and then three hours after that he’ll switch out with the night shift guard and go home. Easy as that. He just needs to ensure Villain eats and check the barred window every few minutes to make sure Villain is still chained up.
He is, upon Guard’s first glance in. The chains are longer than he expected and the cell is also much smaller than he expected. Villain is slumped against the wall, so still Guard can't quite tell if he's still breathing, but he decides that even if he's not, so be it. His job isn't to keep Villain alive. His job is to make sure he doesn't escape.
Things get boring quickly. He starts out looking in every dozen seconds or so, just out of curiosity and amazement that he’s this close to a completely helpless Villain, but nothing ever changes. Minutes and hours drag on and he thinks a strand of hair shifted out of place, but even that could be his imagination. Maybe Villain is just asleep. Guard passes the time counting the cracks in the wall. Then counting them again, just to make sure he didn’t miss any.
Finally, someone brings him Villain’s dinner tray. It holds a couple spoonfuls of what looks like mystery meat, half a cup of water, and a limp carrot. Guard frowns, then shrugs and slides it under. They must intentionally keep him weak. It doesn’t matter to him anyway, just makes his job easier. He's a little hungry too, in fact— maybe he'll bring a snack with him tomorrow.
He checks on him again a few minutes after sliding his lunch in. Villain still hasn’t moved. The chains must be as long as they are so that he can reach his food, but if he’s tried, he left no signs of it. Guard’s starting to think maybe he is asleep.
“Hey,” he calls, knocking on the door with a knuckle. “Wake up and eat your lunch before the rats get to it first.” He doubts there are actually rats, but it makes for a marginally meaner command.
Villain doesn’t show any signs of life. Maybe he’s just dead.
“Hey!” He slams a fist into the door this time. “Wake up!”
He flinches and his head lolls just a bit. Guard frowns, annoyed. So he is alive. He’s just ignoring him.
“Eat your lunch or I’m coming in there,” he shouts. He was instructed to avoid unlocking the door but he is authorized to use force if he deems it necessary.
Either way, that seems to get his attention. Villain’s eyes snap open and he scrambles for the tray of food that Guard isn’t even sure is fully edible. Just to be safe, he watches as Villain takes each painstaking bite. Each one comes slower than the last until he stops completely, with half the tray still untouched. He downs the water, stares at the rest of his food like it hurts to look at with a hand clutching his stomach.
“Stop wasting time and finish your food,” Guard says. Villain has survived this long on this same food. What makes this particular tray so awful?
“I…” He drags in a ragged breath. “I c-ca…”
And then he retches onto the floor, just beside his tray of food.
Guard doesn't know what to do. He watches Villain heave the undigested contents of his stomach onto the floor he now realizes has stains from previous incidents like this and he just stands there because he wasn't told what to do in this situation. He stares in shock as Villain coughs up the last of the chunky vomit and then drags himself back over to the wall, where he collapses again. He doesn't even bother to sit upright, just lies down on his side.
It's fine. They'll probably bring him something new to eat tomorrow. He did eat, technically, and he won’t die from one day without food. Guard knows that doesn't count as eating, but something twists in his gut at the thought of making Villain choke the food down and swallow back his vomit. So he leaves it at that.
He lets Villain sleep for the last hour of his shift, even though the next guard shouts and bangs on the door to wake him up the moment Guard steps away.
—
He brings his own food the next day. A sandwich and an apple. He doubts he's supposed to be eating on the job, but he doesn't exactly have a lunch break and Villain is in no shape to try anything funny.
Things go about the same way they did the day before. He looks into the cell every couple of minutes. There’s a fresh new stain on the floor now, no doubt from yesterday. It seems the janitors didn’t clean it up very well.
With nothing else to do, Guard nibbles on his sandwich. Villain only moves once and it’s to curl up on his side with his arms around his abdomen like he’s still in pain even though it’s been a day. He’s completely silent, though, so Guard leaves him alone.
Five hours have never felt so long. At least yesterday standing in the same place while glancing through bars on a door was new. Now, the minutes drag on and he recounts the cracks in the wall but when that gets old, he starts counting how many times he needs to nibble his sandwich to finish it. When it's gone, he still has three hours left. He could’ve sworn it’s been longer.
He’s bored. He’s tired of standing here. And his only source of entertainment is Villain.
He checks in on him again. Villain is still lying on the ground curled up in a ball. Vomiting should’ve solved whatever was upsetting his stomach, right? What’s still wrong with him?
“Hey,” Guard calls. “Something wrong?”
Villain curls himself tighter. “No.” His voice is strained. It’s a boldfaced lie.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“M’fine.”
He shouldn’t pick a fight with him. He knows it’s not worth it. But he’s bored out of his mind and maybe he shouldn’t just resign himself to letting Villain die, if just because he needs something to do.
He pulls out his key and unlocks the door. The click of the lock catches Villain’s attention immediately and wide eyes meet his as he steps into the room.
“W-wait,” Villain stammers and holds up a thin pleading hand, “wait, wait, I’m sorry, I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”
“What’s the problem?” Guard snaps at a cowering Villain. He didn’t exactly expect him to start grovelling, but he just needs to know what’s wrong with him.
His eyes flick between Guard and the door, but then drop to the floor fast. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at the, um, I just— my… my s-stomach…”
“Throwing up didn’t fix it?”
Villain winces. “No, no sir, it happened, um… after.”
After? “What happened after?”
“...Nothing. Nothing. S-sir.”
“Spit it out,” Guard says, annoyed. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. What is it?”
Villain looks torn and terrified. Guard doesn't understand why it's such a big deal. He lifts a hand to gesture “well?” but Villain only cringes away from him.
“Well, it’s something with your stomach, right? And it’s not a digestive issue,” he says. Villain doesn’t respond. That’s a yes. “Lift up your shirt.”
He freezes. Understandable, but annoying nonetheless.
Guard frowns. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me to figure it out a normal way, so lift up your shirt.”
“No, wait, just— I-I’ll talk, I’ll talk, okay?” He sighs and mumbles shamefully through grit teeth. “I… it was a punishment. For throwing up. Okay? That’s— that’s what happened. They, um… beat me.”
“They beat your stomach?”
He nods. He doesn’t lift his gaze from the floor.
“Why?”
“My stomach’s why I threw up,” he shrugs. “So, that’s… that’s what they beat.”
Guard hums in acknowledgment. He sees the reasoning, he supposes, but beating his stomach won’t make him vomit any less. Isn’t the goal to solve the problem?
Villain raises his head just a little bit, daring to glance up. “Am I… are you done now?”
That’s when he remembers he originally just came in here to harass Villain and entertain himself. He almost feels bad. He does feel bad. But he’s already established that he isn’t here to be nice to him, so he just gives him a curt nod and lets him suffer in peace. As close to peace as he can get, at least.
Villain doesn’t move again for the next two-and-a-half hours, save for painstakingly shifting back into the same position on the floor he’d been in before Guard entered the cell. He doesn’t know how Villain is going to stomach his dinner if he threw up last night and now his stomach is in pain. Guard doubts the food will be any better tonight.
He receives the tray on schedule and slides it in. It holds the exact same food as yesterday, only the mystery meat is replaced with beans. It’s not enough to sustain him, not when he didn’t eat last night’s dinner and probably couldn’t eat any meals in between. But what can Guard do?
Thinking about food starts to make him hungry again too, which reminds him— the apple. He’ll just snack on that until his shift is over. He pulls it out and brushes it off and goes to take a bite, then stops. He takes a second to check on Villain. Villain hasn’t moved.
“Hey,” he says. “Uh…” How does he say this without being weird about it? “Are you gonna be able to eat that?”
Villain looks up at the tray of food and his eyelids droop warily. “Yes sir, I will, I’ll… I’ll eat it. I'll eat it. Have to.” He mutters the last bit hoarsely like the knowledge that he needs to eat it to survive is painful.
“I told you to stop lying to me,” Guard snaps. He’s trying to help Villain this time. “I’ve got an apple. If you couldn’t eat that I was gonna give it to you.”
At that, Villain’s eyes light up with hope and desperation. “Please.” He doesn’t even hesitate to beg. “I’m sorry, please. Please, I-I need— I won’t lie to you again, I swear I won’t, I swear, please!”
Part of him relishes in being able to make Villain beg. The better part of him rolls the apple through the slot under the door to get him to stop. “Here. Just don’t throw up again.”
“Y’sir, I won’t, I swear.” He practically lunges for the apple and bites into it. He still winces when he swallows, likely due to his stomach pain, but he gobbles up the apple twice as fast as he tried to eat his dinner last night. “Thank you— thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says, then adds, “Really. I doubt I’m supposed to be giving you food. Don’t say anything to anyone or you’ll regret it.”
It’s a bluff— he isn’t actually going to do anything about it, not really— but Villain either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care because he nods vigorously nonetheless. “Yes sir.”
“Good.” He looks down at the untouched tray of prison food beside Villain. “An apple isn’t enough to make up for a day’s worth of missed meals. Try and eat that too. Just don’t eat so much you throw up again and the apple ends up not doing anything for you.”
Villain eyes the tray painfully but at Guard’s command, he steels himself. “Yes, sir.”
He doesn’t make it past three bites, but at least this time he doesn’t vomit. Guard counts that as a win.
#writing#original writing#whump#cw implied/referenced abuse#cw emetophobia#cw bad caretaker#cw starvation#cw begging#guard caretaker villain whumpee dynamic bc i lov it
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Stop Fighting Me
Cw: emeto, noncon drugging, blood, mcd
As the car sped down the winding road, Hero began to retch.
Looking back in the mirror, Villain said “Not on the seats!” But they were too late as Hero spread an ocean of bile across the suede upholstery.
Wiping their mouth, Hero groggily began to cry out in apology. Tears running, snot bubbling, they felt so awful. If not for the poison and antidote battling it out in their system for dominance, Hero would have made a stronger effort to get their head out the window. If they would’ve lost their composure at all at that point.
Focusing back on the road, Villain tsked to themselves before grumbling “it’s ok, you can’t help it but you’re damn well gonna be cleaning it up after you’re better.”
12 hours earlier:
Villain slunk back into their living room with an ice pack, turning on the television to the local news. “-once again, Team Super has defeated Villain. Will Villain EVER learn?” The broadcasters chuckled. Villain chuckled back mockingly but watched like a hawk for Hero’s big moment. After all, they were the one that delivered the devastating blow to Villain’s pride.. and face.
After seeing Hero accept their valor medal, they sent a text from their burner cell to Hero, fuming.
‘Do you think you could’ve hit me any harder today? That fucking hurt.’
‘I’m sorry, the Team has been getting suspicious of why I never bring you in. I had to make it believable and you’re a terrible actor. Love you. xoxo’
Sighing, Villain laid back and let the pain killers take effect as their face changed to shades of purple and blue.
Back at Team Super’s base, Team Leader stood at the head of the table looking at all but one of their teammates. Hero was on their way to the debriefing of the morning fight. Late, again.
“Let’s start.”
“Hero’s not here, Team Leader.”
“I know. Hero really surprised us out there today and with it being caught on the news, we can’t kick Hero off the Team now.”
Team Leader held up a small vial of clear liquid.
“I propose-“
Hero burst through the door apologizing profusely, something about needing to text their mother, wouldn’t happen again, couldn’t leave mom on read again.. they stopped when they didn’t receive the usual jeering responses. Looking around, they saw their peers’ eyes darting back and forth.
“Wh-what?”
Quickly palming the vial to the closest Team Member, Team Leader turned to Hero and said “well, you proved you can certainly save the day! We were planning your congratulatory party as the newest member of the Team. Great job out there today.”
Hero blushed and took their seat as the Team resumed their meeting. They hoped that their poor excuse of defending the town with doling out a single black eye would be enough to keep the waters calm for now.
“-and Hero?”
Embarrassed for being caught off guard, their eyes shot up at Team Leader.
“Don’t be late to your own party. It starts at 5pm sharp.”
They were all smiles as they left for their dorm to tell Villain.
‘Ok but just be careful. I don’t trust them not to do something to you.’
‘You’re just jealous you’re not getting a party thrown in your honor lol.’
Villain rolled their eyes. Ouch, that hurt actually. They sighed in discontent as they dragged themselves to their closet to pull out their nice clothes. Something wasn’t right. Weeks of complaining to Villain about bullying and borderline abuse to now having a party thrown for them all for giving Villain a black eye, this wasn’t Villain’s first rodeo. Something was wrong. The Team Super THEY knew was definitely up to something.
At 5pm on the dot, Hero stepped in front of a crowd and was handed a drink by Team Leader to give a speech. At 4:57pm, Villain watched a member of Team Super secretively pour a vial into Hero’s cup as people mingled.
Following from a safe distance, they watched Team Member toss the vial into the trash and circle back to the group. Snapping on nitrile gloves, Villain pulled out the vial carefully to read the label. “Oh thank goodness I have the antidote to that.”
The crowd began to cheer and Villain hurried over to see Hero lift their glass and take a large swig.
Villain knew time was running out as soon as the poison hit Hero’s mouth so they bustled over feigning excitement to congratulate Hero for their victory.
Trying to get Hero away from everyone was going to be a problem. Team Super was surrounding Hero. Ok deep breath, here we go.
“Hero!! Hero I’m your biggest fan!” Villain flailed their arms around, garnering everyone’s attention. Hero blushed and looked at their team for help. Team Member turned towards Villain, not recognizing them without their mask, and quietly asked them to step aside.
“I want to talk to Hero! They saved my LIFE today! I must THANK them!”
People were starting to stare as Hero pushed through, sweat starting to bead on their forehead. Through labored breathing, they focused their eyes on Villain, trying to smile genuinely. Villain pushed a drink containing the antidote into Hero’s hand.
“HERE Hero, a drink on me! For SAVING me!”
The crowd cheered. Smiling with a dopey expression, they knocked back the entire thing.
Ok, good, good. Now for an exit strategy… Villain was interrupted by Team Leader who politely smiled, took Hero by the shoulders, and said “I think Hero has had one too many. Thank you and goodnight!” The crowd cheered once more.
Shit. Ok, where are they taking Hero? Villain stayed back but watched Hero be escorted out to the back of the building to a waiting car. Perfect! Villain took off toward a side exit.
Sneaking around the building, they saw Team Leader shoving Hero into the back of the car as Hero weakly pushed at them to get off.
“Nnnno I-I wanna stay.”
“Sorry Hero, you uh-heh you don’t look that well. I’ll take you home. Look, I warmed the car up for you and everything.”
Sending Team Member back in, Team Leader said “it’ll kick in soon, I’ll drop them outside city limits in the woods. We’ll tell them Hero went on to bigger better things.”
As they exchanged words, Villain scurried around the car, opened the door, and took off as the teammates parted.
“HEY!” Team Leader and Team Member took off after the car for 15 feet or so before Team Leader grabbed Team Member’s arm. “Keep the party going, no one is to know about this. I will handle it.”
Team Leader took flight, high above the trees and looked for the taillights.
Present time:
Villain checked the rear view mirror to check on Hero again when they saw two glowing eyes closing in.
“Crap. Team Leader is almost on us. Evasive maneuvering, hang tight!”
As Villain sped down the road, they came up to a red light. Without thinking, they passed through the intersection leaving honking cars in their wake.
“hEY! That was a RED LIGHT!”
“Keep your focus on NOT vomiting on my seats, thank you.”
After taking a few quick turns, they pulled into Villain’s driveway.
Throwing open the back door of the car, Villain grabbed Hero from under their arms to hoist them up only to be met with flailing arms.
“NO! NO! Those were my FRIENDS!” Hero belched, tasting bile and felt it rise in their throat. Seeing them turn green, Villain dragged them to the grass. Hero tried to push Villain away again once they were done. Desperate, Villain shook them by the shoulders gently.
“Stop fighting me, Hero, they tried to kill you.”
“W-what?”
“Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll tell you more inside.”
“No! You tell me now!”
“Please, Team Leader will be here any minute. Let’s just go inside.”
“W-We should ask Team Leader for their side of the story.”
“How stupid are you?! Team Leader tried to poison you!” Villain was losing composure. Tears threatened to fall as their voice wavered. Hero was their person. Their love. How could they not see the team was acting against them?
Hero stiffened at the insult. Villain reached for their hand only for theirs to be slapped away.
Staggering, Hero tried to stay upright but was doing poorly.
“Please, my dearest, I’m sorry. You’re not stupid but you’re very, very sick. Let me help you.”
Weeping openly as snot dripped, Hero gagged and vomited for the third time. Having enough of waiting, Villain escorted a weak Hero into their home and down to their basement.
At that moment, Team Leader flew overhead and stopped, taking notice of the car and vomit. “You thought you could get hide,” Team Leader chuckled to themself as they broke the back door open. Knowing neither would be in top fighting shape, they entered without care.
Villain apologized profusely as they set up an IV line for Hero. “This will only hurt for a second-“
They never finished their sentence. They were shot across the room in an electric blast coming from Team Leader’s open hand.
Slipping into a coma, the last thing Hero saw was Team Leader standing over them.
Alt ending A (Villain and Hero die)
“Tsk, tsk, poor Hero. How could Villain do such a terrible thing to you?”
As Villain watched from across the room, blood spilling from their mouth onto their dress clothes, Team Leader took a nearby syringe and injected air into Hero’s heart. They waited a minute for Hero’s breathing to stop. An unusually clean death on Team Leader’s part, but hey. They can’t be caught for murdering someone, now can they?
Turning to Villain, they smiled wickedly. “Looks like you two can be together after all. In the afterlife.”
Team Leader left after delivering a swift kick to Villain’s chest.
Villain’s eyes glazed over as death took hold of them. There, they would stay, gazing at their love until some poor, unfortunate soul disturbs their tomb.
Alt ending B (no one dies but Team Leader wins)
Villain picked themself out of a hole in the drywall. Spitting out blood, they turned a murderous gaze onto Team Leader.
“Step. Back.”
Team Leader smiled pleasantly.
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll-“
“You’ll what. Kill me? You won’t. Actually. Because you’re under arrest.”
Cops swarmed the basement in riot gear and overtook Villain immediately. Hero was removed and airlifted to the Team Super Headquarters where a med bay was prepared.
Villain was sentenced to life in prison. They may as well have died that day, they would never know if Hero was ok and they would never be the same.
Hero was kept in their coma with no attempts to wake them. It was better this way. The public was outraged at Villain, Hero couldn’t testify, no one had to die. That was the end of it.
Alt ending C (happy ending)
A warm sensation. It traveled up and down Hero’s arm. They opened their eyes to see Villain absentmindedly rubbing their arm. They squeezed Villain’s hand to let them know they were present.
Villain pulled their eyes away from the news station reporting the most recent update from the current court case City vs. Team Super to give out an excited yell.
“You’re back!”
Smiling, Hero nodded.
“You kept fighting. I knew you would.”
#whumpee#whumpblr#whump blog#whump ideas#whump#whumper#caretaker x whumpee#bad team leader#bad team members#team whump#hero x villain#hero whumpee#cw emetophobia#emeto tw#emeto#cw blo0d#tw blo0d#tw blood#cw blood#cw vomit#tw vomit#cw mcd#cw major character death#noncon drugging
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Whump Prompt #1248
Submitted by Anon - thanks!
TW: Emetophobia
Have you considered: clumsy caretaker who jostles whumpee's wounds. Clumsy caretaker who makes jagged stitches. Clumsy caretaker who holds up a bucket for whumpee to puke in and then drops it. Clumsy caretaker who somehow manages to say or do the wrong thing to set off whumpee's triggers. Clumsy caretaker who means the best and tries so hard but is just a hopeless fuckup (affectionate).
#i had not!#thank you for bringing this idea to my attention#i love this so much#whump#writing#prompts#ideas#angst#emetophobia cw#emeto cw#clumsy caretaker#bad caretaker#sort of
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This Death That I Chose: Chapter 2
1613 words
CW: fear, panic, fever, bad caretaker, derogatory tattoo, pet whump
First, Masterlist, Next
~~~
Tao sat in Faye’s “waiting room,” a once-upon-a-time mudroom, long since cleared of the previous residents’ boots and jackets. He kept his arms crossed tightly to keep from fidgeting them, but that left his knee to bounce instead.
On either side of him sat Vic and Becca. Becca had understood quickly, of course. She had taken a single scan through the Conservatorium report before nodding up at him, her eyes dark and fierce. Vic took a little more explaining, but once Tao got over his squeamishness and uttered the phrase sexual slavery Vic had joined them in sitting solemnly, silently, waiting for Faye’s verdict.
When Faye finally did appear, stepping out into the waiting room with a grim expression, the three of them watched her with bated breath. She kept them on their toes a moment longer before she spoke, wiping her hands on a flowery dish towel.
“Whoever released him from the Conservatory was a fucking idiot,” she announced, “He needs to be on IV antibiotics for a couple more days. Back to pills after that. A couple weeks and he’ll be fine. I mean, his arm will still be broken, but… relatively speaking.”
“Thank you, Faye,” Becca said, “I don’t know what we would do without you.”
“Aw, shucks.” Faye’s tone was sarcastic, but the praise brought a slanting smile to her face.
“When can we talk to him?”
“He’s still pretty delirious, but that might actually make things easier if you want to try talking to him now.”
“That feels…” Becca shook her head, “Dishonest, I don’t know if I want to do that.”
“Screw honesty,” Tao stood, “I want to know what this guy’s deal is, and I don’t think he’ll tell us if he has a choice.”
“Tao…” Becca warned.
“You heard him in the interrogation room!” Tao argued, “He thinks his presence is putting us in danger. He isn’t going to tell us anything about himself, not willingly. What if he’s from nearby? What if he has family and friends that are still alive? What if they’re here?”
“The chances of that are so slim,” Becca pointed out.
“I’m with Tao,” Vic cut in, “We should use this.”
“Faye?” Becca looked to the doctor for her opinion.
Faye shrugged. “I’m a surgeon, not a shrink. As far as I know, talking to him won’t kill him, so,” she stepped aside and waved to the door behind her, “Have at it.”
~~~
Lark lay in a bedroom upstairs. Faye had removed his shoes, but nothing else, and covered his legs with a light blanket. To avoid overwhelming him, Becca and Vic agreed to wait outside the open door while Tao talked to Lark. He approached slowly, and Lark stirred at the sound of his footsteps. He opened glassy, feverish eyes and they rolled around the room before finding Tao sitting at his bedside. He stared at Tao, his expression blank.
“Hey,” said Tao softly, “What’s your name?”
“Lark,” the young man whispered.
“Okay,” Tao decided to test a theory, “What’s your real name?”
Lark inhaled and his mouth opened and closed, about to form some word – before he stopped and frowned a little.
“Lark,” he echoed.
Almost.
“Where are you from?” Tao took a different approach.
“The Capital.”
“Where did you live before that?”
Lark’s eyes drifted closed.
“No, no before.”
The Capital was only eight years old. ‘No before’ was impossible. Tao sighed. He had another idea. A cruel one.
“Lark,” he deepened his voice, and picked up just a hint of a southern accent. Imitating the voice came disturbingly easily, given how many propaganda videos he’d seen. “It’s me. The Commander.”
Lark’s eyes snapped open and locked onto Tao, and he sucked in a breath.
“Yessir, m’sorry sir,” he mumbled.
Tao’s heart twinged, but he continued.
“I need you to tell me where you lived before you came to the Capital, Lark.”
Lark’s breath came fast, and his good hand twitched where it lay on the covers.
“Poverty. Ruins. You saved me,” he whispered fervently.
“Tell me what your name was back then.”
“Didn’t have one.”
Tao frowned.
“What made me bring you to the Capital?”
“Your grace,” a weak, crazed smile crept onto Lark’s face, “Your gen… generosity, your kindness…”
Tao sat back. Propaganda. It was all propaganda. He needed to dig deeper. He stood up and leaned over Lark.
“We’re going to play a little game.’
Lark’s devoted smile quickly dissolved into a twist of fear, but Tao continued, convinced his idea would work.
“I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer as fast as possible, alright?”
Lark nodded hastily.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Tao took a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he began.
“What’s your name?”
“Lark.”
“Where do you live?”
“The Capital.”
Who do you serve?”
“You, Commander.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Y-yellow!”
“Faster! What’s your name?”
“Lark!”
“Where do you live?”
“The Capital!”
Who do you serve?”
“You, sir!”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Yellow!”
“What’s your mother's name?”
“Mari-” Lark’s breath hitched as he caught himself.
“Marie? Did you say Marie? Tell me!” Out of excitement, Tao unintentionally raised his voice and leaned in closer. Lark pressed back into the pillow and a heartbreaking mewl of terror escaped his lips as he clutched at his broken arm.
“Please don’t, I’m sorry, please!”
Tao jerked back, immediately awash with guilt. “Shit, I’m sorry-”
“Stop it!” Becca marched in. “You’re terrorizing him!” She grabbed Tao by the arm and pulled him away, taking his place.
“Lark?” she spoke gently, sinking down into the chair, “My name is Becca, you’re safe.”
Lark’s eyes stayed trained on Tao, bright with fear, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. Tao pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, feeling ill. He should have known it was a bad idea. It made sense in the moment, but if he had just stopped to think…
“That’s not the Commander, the Commander is far away from here. You’re with the resistance, we’re going to take care of you,” Becca soothed, “We’ll keep you safe.”
Her words only agitated Lark more. He shook his head.
“No, no, he knows where, he’ll come for me, I can’t stay-” Lark started to laboriously push himself upright with his good arm, as if to get out of bed. Becca pressed a hand to his shoulder.
“No, Lark, we’ll protect you, you need to rest now.”
Lark flopped back onto the pillow, but he didn’t stop struggling. He weakly thrashed his legs, kicking off the thin blanket.
“He’ll kill you all,” he sobbed, “He’ll kill you all!”
“Shh, shh, he can’t find us,” Becca tried to soothe him. Meanwhile, Tao was frowning at Lark’s legs. The boy’s kicking had caused the hems of his loose pants to ride up, exposing his calves. There were odd dark lines running up the sides of his legs. Tao reached out and caught a flailing ankle. Lark gasped and fell still and silent at the touch, his feverish stare finding Tao again.
“What are you doing?” Becca snapped.
“Just looking…” Tao frowned. The line wasn’t just a line, it was dense, half-inch-tall text that started just above Lark’s ankle and ran up the outside of his calf, on both legs.
I AM A GOOD PET. I DO WHAT MASTER SAYS. I NEVER TALK BACK. I LET MASTER FUCK -
Tao yanked the pant leg back down, covering the heinous words that followed, and fixed the other leg as well. When he looked up he saw Lark was flushed bright red and looking away; so he knew it was wrong, at least he wasn’t that conditioned.
Becca stood and moved to Tao’s side, concerned by his horrified face.
“What is it?”
Tao lifted the pant leg and turned Lark’s ankle to reveal just the first sentence. Becca’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Is that a tattoo?”
“Yeah,” Tao confirmed grimly.
“Shit!” Becca turned her back on Lark, hiding her face in her hands. “Bastard, bastard…” she mumbled.
“M’sorry,” Lark’s bright eyes were back on Tao, “Please, I’m sorry, please don’t break it.”
Tao dropped Lark’s ankle like a hot coal.
“No one’s… breaking anything,” he growled. He grabbed the blanket and threw it back over Lark’s body.
“Stay. Rest,” he ordered. Lark nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Becca shuddered and grabbed Tao’s arm, dragging him out of the room.
“That was a fucking disaster!” she exploded as soon as they were out of earshot, on their way down the stairs. “I can’t believe you two talked me into that!”
Tao and Vic, following behind, exchanged a glance.
“I’m really, really, sorry Becca,” Tao said earnestly, “I didn’t mean to scare him that bad, I just… I had a dumb idea and I ran with it.”
“‘Dumb’ is an understatement!” Becca whirled to face him in the once-living room, now-intake room. “That boy’s been through an unbelievable amount of trauma, and you used it against him!”
“He did find out the mother’s name,” Vic pointed out.
“Oh, yeah, ‘Marie,’ that’s super helpful,” Becca said sarcastically, “We can just look up all the Maries in the phonebook and call them, ask if they’re missing a son.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Tao was getting a little desperate. “It won’t happen again.”
“Fucking promise me Tao, right now,” Becca raised her voice, “That you won’t pull any shit like that, ever again!”
It was sinking in, just how badly he’d screwed up. Lark’s terrified face flashed through Tao’s mind, causing painful twinges of guilt in his stomach.
“It won’t,” he said, his voice low and deadly serious, “I promise.”
“Good,” Becca huffed, “Because if anyone fucks with him again, I’m bringing down hell.”
~~~
First, Masterlist, Next
Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps
#whump#whump fic#whump writing#this death that i chose#pet whump#bad caretaker#cw fear#cw panic#cw fever#cw derogatory tattoo
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Gone, gone
[masterlist]
CW: accidental self-harm-like actions, suicidal ideation (NOT acted upon), blood, emeto, loss of a friend, mental breakdown, referenced: substance abuse, pet whump recapture
The plates are the first thing she sees. She had set the table and prepared dinner. The sauce is still in the pot, now cold. Aveline should put the pot aside, clean away the remains of what was supposed to be their meal. She doesn’t.
The plates are the first thing she sees, and she tears them down. She swipes over the table, not stopping as they shatter on the ground. Gone.
The glasses are next. Intricate, little designs that once belonged to her old landlady. Aveline pushes her palms into the glass, crushing them until shards dig into her flesh. She doesn’t feel anything. Blood seeps into the tablecloth, that's how she knows, the knowledge just barely grazing her mind but leaving no impact. Gone.
Tears blur her vision, as the grabs the cloth. A breath, then two. With a jerk, she rips and tears, cutlery clattering to the ground. Aveline claws at it. She wants it to hurt. It can never hurt, she can never hurt, but she wants to.
This is pain, she thinks, this must be pain.
A scream wrenches itself from her throat. Her voice cracks. She cracks. She is in her body and she is not. The sight of her home disgusts her, it destroys her. If she is loud enough she won’t have to hear herself.
A glint of the sun against one of their pictures catches her eye. Aveline whirls around, cloth in hand, disoriented. She stumbles against the wall, the cloth getting caught on the frame, and she tears and tears and tears.
The photo falls to the ground, breaking on impact. There is a crack over his face, there is a crack over Atlas’ face and he’s gone. Aveline stares at it, at the ruined picture, at what she’ll never have again. Gone. He’s gone.
The thought settles over her like a fog, taking over. Someone is screaming, she is screaming, and she’s breaking apart at the seams. Aveline yanks at the coffee machine and throws it across the room. It collides with a cabinet, the booming sound ringing through their empty house. Filling the silence between her screams, her sobs. Gone.
There are still shards stuck in her hand as Aveline lurches forward to retch into the sink, her ears filled with a deafening ring. Nothing but bile comes up but she feels like she can see pieces of her very soul laying exposed to the world, ugly and rotten, with fraying edges. Fat tears roll down her face, dripping down and mixing with droplets of blood. Gone.
Aveline crumbles to the ground, falling hard on her knees, barely registering the impact that will leave her with bruises she will never be able to feel.
It doesn’t make sense!
Atlas was supposed to go out for a short walk, he was supposed to come back just in time for dinner. He didn’t even take his phone with him.
They told her he’d run away, like he did before, from his old life. But Aveline knows, she knows, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t run without preparation, he’d take money with him, or a proper jacket or anything at all.
They don’t trust him, they say there is no evidence. They say it’s to be expected of someone like him, someone like her Attie, especially with his addiction.
He is six months sober now, but they don’t believe him or they don’t care. To them, it doesn’t matter how hard he worked to get to this point, how much blood, sweat and tears went into this. Atlas had fought to get bits and pieces of his life back, that his old Master had stolen from him. It would be all for nothing now.
Atlas is gone, he was taken.
And no one will do anything.
It hits her then, all at once.
There is nothing.
There is no hint, no message, no reason. No evidence and no case. No one to turn to, no one to lead the search.
He’s alone, she’s utterly alone and he’s gone.
Gone.
The moon rises. It takes a while for Aveline to notice the shift in light, to notice that the taunting sunset has given way to the cold moonlight. Distantly Aveline thinks her knees must hurt, her joints must be stiff. Time simply passes by her without touching her and it’s not like her body can tell her otherwise.
The blood has started to dry, sticking to her skin and clothes in clumps. She is barely there, her mind moving through a swamp of numbness. This must be pain and it will kill her.
It will eat her from the inside out until there is nothing left and Aveline will welcome the bliss of nothingness with open arms. She can’t do this, she simply can’t. She can’t continue on with her life, as if nothing happened, can’t imagine a life without him, without her Attie.
She wishes him back, begs for him, even if in his darkest days, high or drunk, she doesn’t care, she’d take it all if just to get him back. Having him back, anything would be enough.
Maybe she will die like this. Aveline contemplates never moving again, it has nothing left to give anymore. Maybe she will starve or die of thirst, maybe her heart will just mercifully stop beating. If it doesn’t, she could help, doing nothing but accelerating a natural process.
Then he’d be gone and she would never have to feel this torment again because she’d be gone too.
Still, something inside her fights the thought, sending a spike of urgent desperation up and down her spine.
Atlas, her Atlas isn’t dead. He is gone for her but he isn’t gone gone.
He would be if she gives up. He’d be gone, in the sense that he could never be there again if there isn’t someone fighting for him.
Someone has to do something.
It won’t be any law enforcement and it won’t be the Pet Lib shelter Attie told her about either, the one that had helped him become who he is now, doesn’t believe her or in him. Maybe she could ask around in Pet Lib groups but it’s not like Atlas ever gave her access to their resources and Aveline knows they are notoriously impossible to find for outsiders.
And what can a girl like her do anyways? She has nothing but her mind and her body and that can never be enough when all the world demands is money and power.
But there is no alternative, is there? If Aveline doesn’t do anything, then no one will, and then Atlas will be left all alone in whatever hell has claimed him.
She is nothing without Atlas and maybe these feelings will pass but Aveline hopes they don’t. She holds onto the longing, the desperation, making her frantic, making her shake.
In the end, Aveline has everything to give. If she loses her mind or loses her body, it will be no different from now. And for now, it’s enough to help her get up, to help her move, even if she is just a tool to get her Atlas back.
taglist: @octopus-reactivated
let me know if you want to be added or removed :)
#oh look it's the start of The Bad Arc#if ava is already doing this bad... you can imagine that atlas is doing even worse#and they will continue to suffer for a while :)#Holding Up The Sky#aveline king (oc)#atlas/mutt (oc)#caretaker turned whumpee#cw self harm like actions#cw emetophobia#vengeful caretaker#referenced substance abuse#emotional whump#hurt/no comfort#angst#self sacrifice#in a way?#blood#pet whump#recapture#whump#whump writing#whumpee and caretaker#cw suicidal thoughts#honey's writing
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6. Impatient They Start, Fearful They End
CW: Flogging, fear of flogging, verbal abuse, attempts at compliance training, stress positions, fears of injury, references to beatings, begging.
The night is one of the longest Evan has ever experienced. Each minute passes at a painful crawl. Evan shifts his weight from one foot to the other, trying desperately to get his arms to feel comfortable as the blood drains from them. His feet ache. They feel like he’s spent the evening running across a kingdom. His calves ache from standing only on the balls of his feet. It takes a few more hours for his legs to begin to give out, as his entire body weight moves onto his, now very numb wrists.
Sleep makes endless attempts to claim him, only for the boy to be jarred awake by the sudden and sharp pull on his wrists and shoulders. The adrenaline fades and all he is left with is the sickly aroma of fear at what the morning might bring.
The night breaks, as it always does. The light shines through the curtains. It douses the room in a warm, orange light. A few more hours pass, before the Lord begins to stir.
Slowly, very slowly sleep manages to claim him. The boy’s eyes drift shut, just for a few moments as his body goes limp.
***
Cold water soaks his body, leaving Evan gasps and scrambling to stand properly. In front of him stands Lord Maynard. The man has a far too pleased expression on his face. Maynard holds an empty jug of water as it drips onto the floor. “Good morning.” He bids the boy cheerfully.
Evan quivers slightly after the unwelcome wake-up call. He stares back, unsure what to say, as his mind catches up with him.
“I said. Good. Morning.” Maynard repeats, his tone far harsher than before, as he moves to yank Evan’s head painfully to one side with the boy’s hair, waiting for an answer.
Evan gasps “G-good morning…” he quickly spits out, desperately praying for the man to fuck off and leave him alone.
Maynard smiles, releasing the boy’s hair “Good. You are learning.” He pats the boy’s cheek faux-lovingly, before walking to put the jug down on the table. “Now what do you say to me?”
Evan blinks. The fuck does he say?? Wait no. What would he want to hear? “Thank you… for teaching me about...” Fuck. He blanks. “Kneeling and being… polite?” He responds, trying to make it sound like he isn’t saying this through gritted teeth.
Maynard wanders back over with a smile and a pocketknife, as he cuts the cord, that suspended Evan from the bed, down.
Immediately Evan’s legs give. There’s a thud and a sharp intake of breath as his knees painfully hit the stone floor.
“Much better. I see you now know your place. Good boy.” Maynard praises, in a sickly, greasy manner, that leaves Evan feeling unclean. “Right. You are going to stay exactly there until I come back. And then you can face the consequences of your decisions yesterday. Understood?”
Evan’s stomach turns as he is reminded of the flogging. He speaks anyway, pushing through the fear. “Yes...My…Lord…”
Maynard nods, clearly pleased before turning on heel and leaving the room.
Evan kneels there. The exhaustion makes him more scared and the hunger for not eating since the night before burrows into him. The hunger makes his body tremble, and the nausea worse. He needs to eat something… before… they take him out and…
Evan quickly shifts his focus to the nearby fruit bowl on the table. He holds his breathing to make sure he can’t hear the bastard lord anymore. He then looks at the ground, making a mental note of where he’s knelt. The second tile, which is parallel to the cupboard. He shifts from his knees to his feet, stumbling slightly before dashing to the fruit bowl on the nearby table.
He grabs an apple, quickly sinking his teeth into it. It doesn’t take long for the boy to devour it, core, and all. He lets out a small sign as the hunger pangs begin to fade. He grabs a pear from the opposite side of the bowl and eats that too. It’s not quite enough to fill him but fuck it. And! Two things balance out the bowl as well. The apple’s absence is less noticeable. Maybe if he rearranges that bottom apple to there, the missing fruit is unnoticeable? Perfect!
Evan maneuvers the bottom apple to where the original was, making the pile look just as tall as it did before.
Evan takes a quick step back, focusing on his handiwork rather than on what is to come. He hears footsteps. That same methodical marching.
He moves back as fast as his legs will let him. It was the…. Second tile. Parallel to the cupboard that he was on before. The boy drops to his knees and catches his breath just as the door swings open again. He holds his breath and slowly exhales. His lungs demand more air, but Evan forces himself to hold it and breathe like normal. Smooth out his breathing. Good. Like that.
Wait. Shit. Evan’s brain catches up to his body, as the realization that he’s on the third tile, not the second hits. Shit.
Maynard looks at Evan for a moment, assessing whether the boy has moved.
He then shrugs and continues to move around his chambers.
Evan releases the breath and his body sinks in relief as the realization that ‘he got away with it’ hits. He kneels there. It’s okay. He’s fine. He pulled through… which means he can get away with more… right?
***
Midday moves to meet them, faster than Evan would like. He spends most of the hours in one position on his knees. Only moving to relieve himself, after asking his ‘master’ oh so nicely.
Finally, there’s a knock before the doors to the chambers open. Two guards stand there looking at their lord. “All the preparations are ready Sir.”
A ball of panic moves into Evan’s throat. He fights to keep his breathing normal and level. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to swallow that dread. It’s not going away.
The Lord stands from his paperwork at the table. “Excellent.” He clasps his hands together. “Take him to the square. I’ll be right with you.”
The two guards walk over and grab Evan by his shoulders. One seems a little rougher than the other. As it slowly dawns on Evan that this is the same guard that had beaten him the night before, he begins to struggle harder.
Evan is dragged to his feet by a vice-like grip and is marched through the manor until they reach a courtyard. The courtyard itself is lightly cobbled with a well to one side of it. There seem to be a few entrances to other parts of the house that Evan has yet to explore. Opposite the well is a set of wooden stocks and not too far away from there is an old wooden post with rusted metal manacles dangling from it.
Fresh terror begins to kick in.
Evan digs his heels into the cobblestone as best he can. But the strength of the guards is greater than him as he is forced forwards.
“Please… fuck. Please no… I’ll… I’ll do anything…!”
The guard from the night before, the bastard with the belt snorts “Should have thought about that before trying to run.”
Evan’s eyes are wide as he struggles to keep himself away from the restraints. His hands are shoved into the metal handholds. There’s a screech as the clasps are tightened. The pressure relinquishes from his shoulders.
Evan tries to look around to see what’s happening, but he only hears shuffling around him and chatter. The people are too far out of sight. He feels his breathing speed up.
His breath hitches as he feels a sharp point at the base of his neck. A sharp knife pokes into his flesh for a moment, holding just long enough for tears of panic and terror to form. The knife begins to cut slowly through the fabric of his shirt. The tearing of fibers against metal is the only sound he can focus on. The open fabric is then less than gently pulled to one side, exposing the flesh on the boy’s back.
Evan squirms to try and see what’s happening to no avail.
Someone calls something out and there’s chatter behind him as if a group of friends were just leaving a bar.
However, out of the corner of his eye, Evan notices the movement of green skin and hears nervous footsteps. Trygve. The orc moves quickly over to him, maybe on someone’s orders? Evan feels an attempt of a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.
“I don’t have long…” the man squats next to him, with a mirrored look of empathetic fear. “Okay. Look at me.” He moves his hand as discreetly as possible to Evan’s forearm. “You are going to need breath, okay? Deep breaths. And here.” He pulls out a small chunk of leather.
Evan moves his head away, trying to smooth over the terror with disgust.
“Hey… hey. It’s… to bite down on… better this than… your tongue. I promise.”
“I-” Evan’s words are interrupted by someone shouting for Trygve. Evan nods quickly “Please…”
Trygve gives the boy a nod, leaning over and helping the leather bit into Evan’s mouth. The half-orc man gives Evan’s arm another light squeeze before dashing back to his master’s side.
Evan uses his tongue to maneuver the leather, grimacing at the taste, before clenching his jaw. He breathes slowly through his nose. Resisting the temptation to panic as he hears the commotion behind him, quietens to a hush like a crowd before the start of the theater performance. He swallows, as saliva pools into his mouth around the bit.
The silence is excruciating. There are footsteps, but Evan doesn’t dare turn his head around. Potentially losing an eye would make this so much worse…
The steps stop. Evan strains to hear what comes next. The sound of leather being flicked.
Fuck…
The leather whip is flicked and jostled a couple of times.
A sudden and horrific crack echoes next to Evan’s ear. He flinches, dropping his head, expecting pain… nothing. The laughter behind confirms that that was a purposeful miss.
Evan stares at the train of the post. Breathe. Maybe he can be one of those brave men he’s seen in the streets, who don’t make a sound? Yeah. That he’s not going to scream or give them the satisfaction of knowing they hur-
The next crack rings through the boy’s core as a stinging line is ripped through his flesh. All breath is knocked from him. His jaw muscles clench as he bites into the leather. 1.
He isn’t given time to catch his breath or reset as the leather torture implement rives its way through the skin on his back. His body arches and tries to move away from the burning, ripping sensation, but his hands are held firmly in place. The metal digs into his wrists as he tries desperately to wrench himself free. Rubbing against the already abused skin of his wrists. 2.
The next strike cleaves its way, sideways through the other welts. He cries out, dropping the bit from his mouth. Stop! Make it stop! 3.
Each new strike tears through his body. The rhythmic cracking draws screams from the boy until his throat is raw and his cheeks are sodden from tears. Any energy is drained from him by the sleepless night. His body slumps, only to twitch each time a strike rips its way through him. It doesn’t take long for him to lose count. The pain is the only thing he’s aware of.
He's finally grateful as a wave of unconsciousness takes him under, around his 15th lash.
-------
AN: Hey folks! Hope you enjoyed! I've been organizing my plans for this. Turns out that song lyrics give great whump inspiration! Who'd have thunk!?!
Anyway! If you wanna be notified do shout! I'll add you to the taglist!
Masterlist Next
Taglist:
@sunshiline-writes @kixngiggles @pumpkin-spice-whump @ivycloak
#whump#whump blog#dnd whump#whump writing#whumpblr#fantasy whump#defiant whumpee#beating#cw: violence#flogging#sadistic whumper#stress positions#kneeling#begging#attempts at conditioning#whump community#whumpee#whumper#caretaker#caretaker is doing his bloody best in a bad situation!#whumper is a prick
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Whump Recovery Prompt Warm Stew
"Here." Caretaker slid a bowl of steaming beef and potato stew over to Whumpee. "Eat this."
"I don't deserve to eat," Whumpee insisted.
"Are you disobeying me?" Caretaker asked with one raised eyebrow.
"N- no master," Whumpee stuttered. "Of course not. Please don't punish me. I didn't mean anything."
"I know," Caretaker said soothingly. "I want you in the best condition possible."
"Pets don't eat human food," Whumpee stated.
"Well, mine does."
Playing into Whumpee's conditioning was bad, Caretaker knew this.
But Whumpee had panic attacks whenever Caretaker tried to insist they were a person, worthy of respect and care.
After Whumpee's second time passing out from hyperventilation, Caretaker had decided that their first priority was getting Whumpee physically healthy.
The mental damage could wait.
Whumpee bent down to lap up the stew like a dog.
"No," Caretaker ordered. "I cant stand the sound or sight of that. Eat with a spoon. Or a fork for the bigger pieces of potato and meat. You have both next to you. Use them."
Whumpee slowly picked up the spoon. They dipped it into the stew and brought up a small amount of broth and a few corn kernels.
They put the spoon in their mouth, then pulled it out. Chewing the corn seemed to take mental effort, but they managed to swallow.
"See?" Caretaker asked. "It's good, isn't it? You need to eat like a human from now on. I won't accept anything less."
"Yes master."
Whumpee continued eating, and picked up the pace as they realized that they weren't going to be punished.
Caretaker smiled. Yes, Whumpee's physical health was more important than their weird pet training.
The mental issues could wait for another day. For right now, Whumpee was finally eating, and nothing else in the world mattered.
#Whumpee#Caretaker#Deconditioning#Questionable deconditioning#Bad deconditioning#Pet whumpee#Ex pet whumpee#Cw food
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Higher Pay (1)
Content: Whump Writing, Intimidating Whumpee, Somewhat Bad Caretaker
CW: Captivity, Violence, Restraints, Blood Loss
The whumpee's chest heaved up down as they struggled to position themselves anything near comfortable. A hiss escaped from them as they finally gave up, relaxing against the restraints. The chains connected to the thick metal collar around their neck relaxed too, bowing towards the ground, visibly shaking as the whumpee shuddered. The last of their energy leaving through a frustrated huff of breath.
Their hands behind their back felt foreign underneath the thick fabric of the oven mitts, and no matter which way whumpee turned them, they never seemed freed from the binds.
Exhausted whumpee finally stopped wasting their pinch of energy left on it all. So this is what losing feels like.
Rusted metal creaked. A shrill squeak whistled, followed by a slam. Whumpee was only partially relieved to see someone other than whumper. Partially.
Caretaker despised this part of the job every time. They mumbled to themselves, reminding them of the money that "patrons" always paid. Often times it was more than enough for caretaker to lay back and not lift a finger for months.
Of course they would risk their lives to rescue some random, nurse them vigorously back to life, and in exchange, hand the rescue over to whoever hired them for such a mission in return for lots and lots of money. Still caretaker gritted their teeth, and scowled at the dingy environment.
Then halted in their tracks
So this is why they were offering so much
Whumpee wasn't the norm that caretaker came across. Caretaker was used to scared scrawnier rescues, who looked at caretaker with bewilderment and awe. They were always wounded, weak, and disgustingly puppy-like. They would latch onto caretaker. Easily every word caretaker spoke was what they wanted to here.
Although these rescues were heartbroken every time, caretaker never minded dumping them off to their families, colleagues, and more. Usually once they caught sight of their loves ones, caretaker would exit their thoughts graciously, and exit the situation with cash for the season. They needed to use all that medical knowledge of theirs somehow but...
Whumpee was none of that. The block integrated into the brick wall, the other end of whumpee's collar, was half way out of it's placement. It was ready to fall out at any sharp tug. The binds keeping their arms tied behind their back looked ready to snap. Despite the blood everywhere, exhaustion wasn't exactly what caretaker was reading.
Whumpee? They were glaring at caretaker. They were larger than caretaker. Scrawny, scared, puppy-like were opposites to describe whumpee. Maybe just maybe their patrons were wrong, and whumpee didn't need any rescuing after all. Maybe that would make this job 10x easier. Maybe.
"Hey? Whumpee?"
A growl more attune to a snarl came from whumpee. They begun to pull on their restraints again.
"Hold on. Hold on. I was sent by some- Hey stop moving. Listen. By some friends of yours."
Whumpee slowed giving caretaker a window of their attention. Caretaker could now spot the bandages wrapped tightly around whumpee's abdomen. Blood pooled at the surface, dark and all too recent. Something caretaker was finally used to.
"Yeah uh Simeon sent me?"
Whumpee sighed, and grumbled, "Simeon?".
Great that bewilderment and awe. Whumpee hung their head as if showing caretaker that were accepting the help. Caretaker stepped past empty painkiller bottles, and slung the backpack of their shoulders. This needed to be done quick. Caretaker did not want to see the size of whumper, if this was whumpee.
Clang! The metallic ending fell out of the wall, scraping against the stone flooring. The oven mitted hands broke the binds keeping them stuck close-knit behind whumpee's back. Stumbling to stand, the world spun. Loud than quiet, ears ringing, black flashes. Their feet faltered to find their standing.
Whumpee thought they were doing fantastic, but caretaker watched them sway. Whumpee shared them a nervous smirk. As caretaker rummaged through the bag they balled up their oven mitts.
"Okay whumpee we're goin-"
Caretaker awoke a few seconds later pawing the back of their hand at their face, smearing blood from their nose all over their own face. They sputtered, wheezing as the pain radiated throughout their face.
They glanced back just in time to watch whumpee drag their new chain accessory over the window sill, a splotchy trail of blood leading after them.
"What the fuck?"
Whumpee tripped upon landing, but crawled to back to a standing point. Their hand instinctively patted the dampened bandages, and they grinned at the wonder of painkillers. Simeon? They scoffed. Simeon is dead.
#whump#whump writing#my writing#higher pay series#intimidating whumpee#cw blood loss#cw violence#cw restraints#bad caretaker#whumpee#caretaker#restraints whump#whump restraints#stoic whumpee#buff whumpee#oversized whumpee#muscular whumpee#I was originally not planning to post this as all#I was going to use the concept for a personal writing#but I didn't like it and it didn't match the characters I was working with#so instead I've decided to give it to you guys here#as maybe a short little series#here finally#have a taste of my writing
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Gemma rescues Phoenix AU: Part 2
Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist
Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch
2.8k
CWs: temporary character death, hospital setting, immortal whumpee, presumed dead, accidental misgendering. Despite the nicknames kid/kiddo, Phoenix is 18
It feels like the ambulance takes hours to get to the hospital, hours to get inside, even though logically Gemma knows that the blue lights are on, and this is an urgent case. They try to stop her from waiting in the relatives' area, because she's not related to the kid, but she shows her Hero League ID and they let her through begrudgingly. She very rarely pulls stunts like that, she hates that people who work for the Hero League are automatically seen as trustworthy, they're really not, but for some reason she's become attached to the kid. She's not sure why, but she has, and she wants to know if they're okay.
It feels like forever in the waiting room. Her shirt and the fleece she's carrying are still covered in the kid's dried blood, but she barely notices. She has nothing to change into anyway, and she's not bothering the staff for something. She holds onto the ends of her sleeves, taking deep breaths. Okay. It's going to be okay.
She texts her boss about a family emergency, noticing the amount of missed calls, and then turns her phone off. She can't concentrate on anything else right about now.
The kid has to be okay. They're only young, they have to be.
She waits even longer as people enter and exit, crying and urgent and relieved and everything in between.
A nurse enters the relatives waiting area with a grave expression, and Gemma sits up straight, heart in her throat. She knows that expression, please don't let it be for her.
"Gemma Donovan?"
No. No no no, not that tone as well. She gets to her feet and crosses the room, the nurse leading her to a secluded area of the corridor.
"The kid?" Gemma asks, barely able to speak, and the nurse shakes her head.
"She was dying when we started the operation, and we have a healer on site who tried to fix things up enough that we could save her but it backfired. The patient appears to have her own healing factor which we couldn't pick up, and it reacted with our healer's powers. She doesn't have long. If you want to say goodbye..."
"I barely know them," Gemma whispers, but she follows the nurse anyway, willing her legs not to give out. It seems that all she can do is lose people, lately. "How's the healer?"
"He'll survive. Knocked him out but he wasn't already injured, so he'll be fine."
"Good."
They stop by the door to a private ward. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
She pushes the door open and swallows past the lump in her throat. The kid looks tiny under the blanket, attached to numerous wires and bleeping machines, face grimy and hair still matted. Their hand is clean when it reaches out – it must've been cleaned for the operation. They wouldn't have had time to do everything but clean wounds are important.
Or, they're usually important, anyway.
Gemma takes their hand and sits down beside the bed. They watch her warily.
"Hey kiddo," she murmurs.
"You saved me?" Their voice is raspy, disbelieving, and she nods. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. They don't think you'll survive."
"I will." It's either blind optimism or something else in their voice. Gemma desperately hopes it's the latter.
"Well, you need to. I haven't even met you properly yet. Yeah? You can come stay with me afterwards if you like, if you have nowhere safe to go. Just make sure you survive."
The kid coughs harshly. "Need y'r address then."
"I'll write it on your hand so you don't forget it."
"Mm." They watch, eyes glazing over, as she writes her address on their hand. She doesn't know why. Maybe there's just no harm in indulging a dying teenager. "'m tired."
"Go to sleep, kiddo. I'll be here when you wake."
"Promise?"
"Promise. If I'm not in here, I'll be just in the relatives waiting area."
The kid nods, and closes their eyes.
Gemma waits, as the beeping flatlines out and medical staff come rushing in. She flattens herself against the wall as they do their jobs. Only when one of them shakes their head, and the time of death is announced, does she burst into tears.
_
Phoenix wakes with a pounding headache. They open their eyes and slam them shut. It's too bright in here. They've spent the last... however long it was in the pitch dark with that dripping and the pain and this is far, far too much.
Except... for a bit. There was a woman, and softness, and someone holding their hand. They don't remember much though, it's mostly pain and darkness and rough wood and that damn dripping.
They push off the sheet and slide off the metal table, wincing at the stiffness in their hands and feet. Hopefully it'll improve. They need to get out of this room. It's too bright and clinical and it's definitely a morgue.
They hate morgues.
What did that woman say before they died? Something about... waiting? If she wasn't there she'd be in the... relatives waiting area? Well, they can find that. They've been there before.
Phoenix pulls the sheet around themself and staggers towards the door. Time to go. The corridors are bright and loud and nearly too much but they keep going, following the signs. They've been this way once before, and it wasn't pleasant, but... at least there aren't many people.
They take a deep breath and slump against the wall by the lift. Only one floor up, and mercifully, the lift is empty.
The doors to the relatives waiting area are heavy and take a few tries to push open. They scan the room on the other side. It's far, far too loud but– but–
They fall into the arms of a familiar woman with white and purple hair and a familiar warm smell.
Gemma breathes for what feels like the first time since the kid flatlined, clutching them tightly to her. Oh. Oh, god. She's so glad she stayed now. The room's humming with talk, all eyes on them because the kid's dirty and bloody and covered loosely in a sheet, but she doesn't care, half-dragging them to a secluded corner. They're freezing and she wraps the fleece around them. After a moment they pull it close around them, looking surprised, like they didn't expect it or maybe didn't even notice the cold.
_
After the flatlining of the machines comes lots of talking. Gemma doesn't understand any of it, it's a faded blur, the long, unending beep of the machines still echoing in her head.
The kid's dead. It's all she knows, and she can't make sense of it. How can they be dead? They're so young, she should've been able to do something for them. They shouldn't be dead.
The faces of Morfydd and Lian as teenagers, Kai when he first joined, flash through her mind. It's not right that this kid's dead. They should be alive, finding their place in the world, despite the restrictions even Morfydd and Lian got to do that, but instead they've been horribly tortured and are lying there dead.
How long were they being tortured for? How did nobody find them before they were too late to be saved?
She's not sure why she's gotten so attached to this kid, she's had victims die on her before, but this feels more... personal, somehow. Like she could've done something. They remind her of her charges, when they were younger and only had her to stand up for them. Maybe... maybe that's why.
No-one's paying attention to her and she stands, making her unsteady way out of the room, unable to stand the sight of the kid's pale, still form any longer. She promised the kid she'd be in the relatives' waiting area, and somehow it still feels important to do that, be there. No-one interrupts her as she stumbles along, and she ignores the stares of waiting relatives as she collapses into a chair.
The longer she stays, the more out of place she feels. Should she really be here? She has no-one to wait for, after all. But she promised the kid she'd wait, so she stays.
It's a long time later that there's a creak and she looks up. She almost doesn't bother, the door opens so frequently, but this sound is different. Like someone's trying to get in and can't quite manage it. It happens again, and maybe she should go and help but she just can't summon up the energy.
Then the door actually opens, a small, grimy figure slipping inside, and Gemma's on her feet before she knows what's happening. The figure sways slightly, looking around dazedly, and Gemma runs. They're only dressed in a sheet, body covered in blood and grime, but it doesn't matter, she catches them as they fall forward, right into her arms.
Someone will be up to examine the kid soon and she's not letting go until then. She's not sure she ever wants to.
"You're alive. Oh god, oh god you're alive. You can resurrect?"
The kid presses their head into her chest and closes their eyes, nodding slightly. "No-one's ever, um, found a way to kill me permanently."
That nonchalance is worrying. Maybe it's just post-resurrection exhaustion. She hopes so. "So, you're immortal, huh kiddo? What's your name?"
"Phoenix. They/them. 'nd I'm eighteen, 'm not actually a child." They pull away slightly, frowning. "If you, um, didn't know I was immortal, then you didn't know if I was useful. Why did you, um, save me?"
Gemma cups their face in her hands. "You don't need to be useful to be worth saving. You're a person, that's good enough for me."
The frown doesn't leave their face, but their eyes well with tears, and Gemma thinks that their life can't have been good up until now if just that is enough to make them cry.
#immortal whumpee#hero whump#hero whumpee#hero caretaker#temporary character death#presumed dead#misgendering cw#(accidental)#whumpee and caretaker#immortal cannon fodder#phoenix oc#gemma oc#i cannot emphasise enough how much phoenix hates morgues#they had a Bad experience there and they Do Not want to see one again
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[ an apple | a day | (keeps the doctor) away ]
and the trilogy is complete!
content warnings: starvation, begging, panic attack, bad caretaker (but he's trying!)
They’re out.
After spending an hour painstakingly convincing Villain to swipe the keycard off the doctor, speeding through the city as far as they could get from the Heroes’ headquarters, they finally step into the apartment, Guard securely locking and deadbolting the door shut behind them.
Villain looks distant, not quite grounded in the reality of his newfound freedom. His knuckles are turning white from gripping the keycard so tightly, as if letting go will put him right back in his cell. He stands by the door motionless but just the sight of Villain in front of a wall not made of drab concrete makes Guard finally realize how far they’ve gotten.
They did it.
“We did it,” he says aloud just to let it sink in. “Holy shit. We did it.”
Villain’s eyes stare blankly ahead and he fidgets with the keycard, turning it over in his trembling hands without ever looking at it, bending it harshly. He doesn’t even seem to notice until the card snaps apart.
“Sorry,” he mutters, the first word he's said since they got in the car. “I’ll… I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You don't want dinner?”
Villain starts toward the couch. “No, sir.”
One day Guard has to tell him he doesn't need to call him that. Today, though, Villain’s malnourishment is the bigger issue. “You look like you're going to collapse any minute. You need to eat.”
Villain doesn't respond as he lies down.
“I'll start dinner and let you know when it's ready.”
He comes to the table when called but only sits there staring down at his food, poking idly at it with his fork. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t excuse himself from the table. Just sits there.
“What’s wrong?” Guard asks.
“Nothing.” Yeah, he expected as much.
“Come on. You’re finally getting a good, non-prison food meal, and you’re not eating it but nothing’s wrong?” He crosses his arms. “I don’t buy it.”
Villain’s fork stills. “Sick,” he mumbles.
“You still feel sick?”
He gives a small nod. “‘M sorry. I’m… I’m wasting your food.”
“No, I don’t mind. I get it, you’re still used to tiny rations of prison food,” he says. “The only thing I have a problem with is the lying.”
Villain shrinks into himself, head hung pitifully. “S-sorry. I’m— I’m sorry, sir.”
Maybe he should’ve saved this conversation for later. Confronting him now is just making him more anxious than he needs to be. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. I just… don’t like being lied to when I’m trying to help you, you know?”
“Yes sir,” he answers shakily. “Yes sir, I understand.” He manages to fork one bite of food into his mouth like that’ll be enough to satisfy Guard. “Can, can I go now?”
Villain can’t possibly be full but Guard has caused him enough anxiety tonight. “Yeah. Sure. You don’t need permission.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He doesn’t look up once as he makes his way back to the couch. Guard doesn’t end up eating much of his dinner either.
—
Guard wakes up to the sound of the door jiggling and his first instinct is to jump out of bed and rush downstairs. Someone’s trying to break in. He should’ve changed out those millennia-old locks ages ago, he knew they wouldn’t have held up much longer.
When he flicks on the lights, however, the supposed burglar turns out to be Villain, frozen in place as Guard stares him down.
“What are you doing?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Villain stammers, taking a step away from the door. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to try and sneak out, I didn’t, I just, I—”
Sneak out?
Guard steps forward but Villain stumbles back, hands searching behind him for somewhere to hide. What he finds instead is the shelf in the corner that holds Guard’s video games. “Please,” he says on the verge of tears, “please, I’m sorry, I-I should’ve, I should’ve asked permission, I s-should’ve—”
His breathing grows erratic and Guard realizes— he’s hyperventilating. “Hey. Shit, hey— it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m not mad. Slow down, breathe, it’s fine.”
He steps toward Villain but Villain only steps backward into the shelf, seeming to not even notice the wooden ledges digging into his back. It’s only when he finds nowhere else to go that he makes a run for the stairs.
“Villain!”
Guard starts to chase him but Villain yanks a chair behind him and clumsily jumps the dining table, knocking the vase on top over with a crash before scrambling up the stairs. Guard only stares at the mess of ceramic shards and water.
God damn it.
He’s torn between going after him and cleaning up the mess to avoid either of them slipping or getting hurt, but only for a moment. Upstairs he can hear frantic footsteps and a door slamming. Now he’s mad. It’s two in the fucking morning and he has neighbors and now a mess to clean too, but that’s not going to help calm Villain down and if he doesn’t calm him down he might just hurt himself.
This is stupid. He should be asleep. But he still sidesteps the broken vase and the chair on the floor and dashes upstairs to the only room with a closed door.
It’s blocked off. It opens maybe an inch but something heavy on the other side stops it. “Villain, I know you’re in there! Move this out of the way, I just want to talk.”
Villain sniffles between sobs on the other side of the door. Footsteps patter back and forth. He’s pacing. A bang sounds out, something hitting the wall. Mumbles Guard can’t make out.
“Villain, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you. Promise.”
There’s a loud, plasticky squeak and Guard realizes— this room has a window.
“Villain!” He bangs on the door and tries to shove whatever’s on the other side away. “Villain, I’m serious! Don’t do whatever I think you’re about to do! Villain, I swear—”
Silence. Almost so much that Guard thinks Villain really jumped out until he hears a sniffle behind the door. Wood drags on wood and the door falls open with Guard’s weight. He catches himself just in time.
The window is open and Villain is nowhere in sight. Guard has to turn around to find him cowering on the floor behind the closet blocking the door. He’s trembling so hard Guard can see it from where he stands and his face is hidden in his knees.
“Jesus,” Guard breathes. His heartbeat begins to slow with relief. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I-I’m sorry.” He doesn’t lift his head but his voice shakes with fear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t stop apologizing, almost robotically. Like he thinks if he proves he’s sorry enough he’ll be spared whatever punishment he thinks he’s going to receive. “Look, just— don’t worry about it. I accept your apology. You’re good.” He grits his teeth only a little bit. He’s just tired, he tells himself. “I was just scared you were going to jump out the window.”
Villain doesn’t stop apologizing. “I shouldn’t have run, I, I’m sorry sir, I should’ve, should’ve been g-good, should’ve… I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry…”
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks. It comes off as snappy but he doesn’t mean for it to. Maybe it’s good, though— it catches Villain’s attention fast. “I accepted your apology, okay? That means you don’t need to apologize anymore.”
He lifts his head just the tiniest bit. “...You’re not mad?”
Guard considers lying. It won’t do either of them any good, though. “I am mad. I’m upset that you made a mess in my kitchen and woke me up and probably my neighbors too.” He can see how much Villain tenses. “But I’m also tired, and it’s not that serious. I’m just worried about you and I haven’t slept enough to have my shit fully together yet.”
“...Oh.” He stares in disbelief. “I, um… I’m sorry. Sir. For making you worry. I-I’ll clean up the mess downstairs, I won’t do it again, I’ll be quiet even if you— if you punish me now.”
“No punishment, Villain. It’s not that bad,” he says. “Just get some sleep. If I’m tired, you must be exhausted. I’ll clean up.”
“But I made the mess. I… I b-broke your, your vase.”
Guard frowns. “Cleaning up isn’t a punishment for either of us. I just don’t want anyone to slip or get hurt.”
“Then I’ll help,” he perks up, then hesitates. “If— if you allow it. Sir.”
“You sure? You can go to sleep if you want. I won’t be mad at you for that.”
He nods. “I’ll help clean up.”
—
“Can I ask something you might not want to answer?”
Villain looks up from where he’s cleaning up the spilled water. “Yes, sir.”
“Were you really trying to sneak out?”
He averts his eyes back to the wet paper towels on the floor. “I, um…”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just… want to know if something’s wrong. So I can help.”
“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to lie about that, sir,” he mumbles. “I just— I was s-scared, I didn’t, I didn’t want to be, um, in t-trouble, for trying to…”
“I get it. It’s fine, I’m not upset,” he says. “It’s just that I don’t understand why. It’s not safe for you outside. Why do you want to leave?”
Villain wipes up the water. He pretends to be too focused on the task at hand to answer just yet. Finally, he shrugs. “I’m still a villain.”
Oh.
It's guilt.
“Where were you going to go?”
There’s only one possible answer to that question. Only one place would ever actively want him. Villain doesn’t even need to answer.
“You can stay here as long as you want, you know. You’re safe here.”
Villain doesn’t respond so Guard leaves it at that. A reassurance of his safety. He empties his dustpan into the trash can, ceramic crunching as it falls, and leans it against the wall with the broom. “You gonna be okay finishing up on your own?”
“I guess.”
“Okay.” Guard picks up the fallen chair and makes his way to the stairs. “Call for me if you need me, okay?”
Villain nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Night.”
#writing#original writing#whump#cw starvation#cw begging#cw panick attack#cw bad caretaker#didnt know how to end this im ngl#but the concept and the dynamic are really interesting to me#would come back to this in the future but uhh i'd have to figure out the legal ramifications of#guard literally breaking out a citywide threat directly from the heroes' hq#we'll have to see if i feel up to that
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Tinder
Cw: mcd, death by fire, weaponization of mental health, threats of violence
Caretaker had been doing what their name suggested for years and was placed by the Caretaking Organization on a large property that they kept their whumpees safe on. They loved each and every whumpee they cared for and even kept in touch with graduated whumpees.
They were a shepherd of safety, security, and self progress for these compromised individuals. There was only one problem: Caretaker was lonely. They went online to make a dating profile after being egged on by their whumpees who only wanted their dearest Caretaker to be happy.
The reception wasn’t great at first. Whenever Caretaker mentioned what they did for a living, they were turned away and told they must be broken or weird to want to house broken people.
Caretaker was ready to accept the fate of lifelong loneliness when Lover messaged them one night, late, and Caretaker told them up front “listen you seem charming but I want you to know this is what I do for a living. I’m not ashamed of it and will not stop.”
Expecting to be scorned once more, they went to do dishes. Coming back to their phone, they opened a message praising them for their gumption and the love they must hold in their heart to want to do such a difficult job. This surprised Caretaker so they cautiously asked Lover on a date.
They actually had a great time. Lover seemed interested in what Caretaker did for a living. No one ever was. This was new and exciting!
A few dates later and Caretaker agreed to date Lover. Months flew by in bliss. Caretaker wasn’t neglecting their whumpees but the Whumpees definitely noticed a sense of head-in-the-clouds from Caretaker as they seemed to be far away in their own dreamland. One who was brave enough to ask received a loving hug and was told “I’ll tell you all at dinner tomorrow night. It’ll be special.”
The next night, the whumpees gathered around the large oblong table, whispering to one another about what this special event would be; great smells were coming from the kitchen.
Caretaker came through the swinging kitchen door and greeted everyone. “Hello my dears, tonight we celebrate something very special. I want to share a new person in my life. This-“ Lover emerged with a huge pan of food, “is my new partner, Lover.”
“Lover helped make this incredible dinner for you all, and supports my endeavors to take care of all of you. I hope you love them like I love them.”
Cautiously, carefully, the whumpees tried this new food and slowly began to ask personal questions. Lover answered every question and held all of their attentions like an inspirational coach. At the end of the night, Caretaker and Lover sent all the whumpees to bed and dispensed medicine before doing the dishes.
Over the span of two months, Lover was a regular at the house and a fan favorite amongst the inhabitants, old and new. Caretaker asked Lover to move in and take a job with the Organization and Lover happily accepted.
All was well until after the night they moved in. The facade seemed to fall slightly when one whumpee didn’t like the dinner Lover made. “You will eat your dinner and you will thank me.” Lover responded sternly when told it could use more garlic in one’s opinion. The room became startlingly quiet as all eyes shot down and spines straightened. Caretaker said “Lover, that was really intense. Are you ok?”
Lover fixed their smile and publicly apologized to the whumpee blaming a long difficult day of training for work and that they were learning and listening and would do better.
The table dispersed with a varying sense of distrust. Dependent on the level of trauma and awareness, some whumpees accepted the apology and some were suspicious.
The suspicion grew into the second incident and the one Distrusting Whumpee snuck into Lover and Caretaker’s sleeping space. DW found a secret stash of pictures and magazines in a suitcase that definitely were not meant to be found. As they gasped and dropped the contents of the suitcase, they backed up into Lover who was silently watching them.
“Uhhhh what’s that?” DW asked accusingly but was terrified inside.
Lover stepped closer and towered over DW. “Those are not for your eyes. And if you’d like to keep yours, you’ll go back to your room and we will never speak of this again.”
“You wouldn’t. You, you COULDN’T!”
“Do you want to hang around and see?” Lover smiled and opened another suitcase full of metal instruments.
DW ran from the bedroom and slammed the door behind them.
Caretaker was dragged back to the bedroom later by DW followed by a parade of whumpees all atwitter over what happened.
DW became more and more frustrated when the suitcase containing the metal instruments and the pictures and magazines could not be found. DW threw Lover’s clothes around the room as they tried to find the damning evidence.
“Honey,” “I KNOW WHAT I SAW!” “H-honey, I know that what you experienced must have been very startling but maybe you’re misremembering. There are no tools and no magazines, no pictures, nothing. Why don’t we go have a cold glass of water and I’ll walk you to your room?”
DW sobbed because they knew they seemed crazy. Were they? Was this all a figment of their traumatized mind? They, they were prone to hallucinations.. maybe they had another episode.
Caretaker sighed as they handed DW a Xanax and a glass of cool water. They looked out the window to hide their tears when they saw Lover chopping wood for the fireplace for the upcoming winter. Lover turned around and waved as they knew they were being watched. They could feel it. The tension. It was growing.
That night, Caretaker approached Lover as they were stepping out of the shower. “Sweetheart, did you say anything to DW today?”
“I caught them looking through our things earlier, frantic for something. I’m not sure what. I tried to ask them if they were ok, tried to redirect, but they were determined to find something. Then they ran out. I still have no clue what it is they wanted.”
“Oh, oh ok,” Caretaker chuckled nervously. “They said you threatened them. Maybe their meds need adjusted. That’s one of the risks with this line of work, sorry Love.”
Lover brushed some hair out of Caretaker’s eyes and gave them a long, deep kiss. “Nothing could drive me away from you.”
Caretaker went to bed pleased, as did Lover.
Lover asked to talk to DW’s psychiatrist to pass on the story of DW’s strange encounter so the doctor could really understand what happened. DW’s medication was strengthened.
DW walked around with a blank look on their face and Lover could tell there were no thoughts going on behind their tired eyes. Caretaker said they would likely stay in their care until the medical team could get the hallucinations under control.
The third incident came when one of the most sensitive whumpees followed Lover into their private shed and was chased out. SW cried and cried because they were so scared. They started losing continence again and had to wear diapers to bed again. They hadn’t had to do that since they were rescued originally due to the constant fear.
“Lover, why would you scare SW like that? You know I have to make a report.”
“Dearest, there are so many sharp tools in there. I would feel terrible if they got hurt. Don’t make the report.”
Uncomfortable with this answer, Caretaker knew they had to report this but it would be the second report and cause Lover to be investigated by the Organization. DW was almost the third report but it was noted that their progress had diminished significantly and their medication change was significant as well, and that made Caretaker look bad for not noticing how “bad” things had gotten with DW apparently.
That night, after the report was made, Caretaker admitted to Lover that they would be called in in the morning to be interviewed.
“Oh, ok. Thanks for telling me.” Lover smiled. With the same smile, they took the pillow and smothered Caretaker.
As they slept, Lover pumped chloroform into the air ducts, putting everyone into a deep, deep, drug-induced sleep.
Lover walked to the shed and emptied their tools of torture into their car and dragged the body of an unhoused person found locally into the burning house before speeding away into the night.
They walked out of the house in their gas mask with a bag of clothes and collected tinder from the front yard. Lighting it, they ran back to their car to watch from a distance as the large whitewashed house burned, flames licking the walls.
The next day when the Organization Interviewer drove to the property, they found a tragedy. They counted 30 whumpees all in their beds and two people who seemed to be the caretakers.
A report was filed by a new member of the investigation team on the cause of death - faulty wiring. In fact, that report seemed to go along with the many reports made since Lover moved in. But no one noticed how similar the new investigation team member and Lover looked to one another. And no one bothered to ask what happened when the new Investigation Team member quit.
#whumpee#whumpblr#whump blog#whump ideas#whump inspiration#whump#whump tropes#whumper#bad caretaker#secret whumper#tw fictional death#tw fire#death cw#tw mcd#cw mcd
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"Why can't I go?"
It's the wrong question to ask. Kido knows it even before Auntie Cecili sighs. He winces as she turns to him from where she's remaking one of the down beds, 'cause now he's gonna have to sit through the same sort of lecture he gets hit with every time the grownups bring him back from Hebra's mountains or Tabantha's tundras.
He's right.
"You can't go because we can't trust you not to throw yourself back out there," Auntie Cecili says, quiet and deliberate, but not gentle. Like she's reminding him of something for the hundredth time and trying to be real patient about it. "You can't keep doing this, Kido. How many times has it been?"
He doesn't know. He hasn't bothered to keep count when none of his attempts have gotten anywhere. "I just wanna go home." He fixes his gaze on the wooden beam behind her, a little over her shoulder. It's a deeper brown beneath the light of lanterns. "I promise I won't leave."
Auntie Cecili sighs again, heavier. She makes a slicing motion through the air with her wing, the one she gives Uncle Verla when she wants him to stop talking, before she returns to her bed-making. "You're staying here. You're not changing anybody's mind on this."
Kido looks down at the blanket draped over his legs, at the wingtips clenched and hidden in its folds. It stings more than all the aching in his muscles. More than it should.
"You can't keep me here," he tells her, voice barely louder than a whisper. It rushes outta him like a nasty secret, harsh and annoyed, and he almost doesn't want her to hear him.
She does, though. "I can, actually."
"No you can't."
"Yes, I can."
"Nu-uh."
"Don't push it—"
"You can't!" He lifts his head, eyes blazing. "You're not— you're not—"
"You're not leaving," she cuts in, not even glancing back at him as she moves onto the next bed, "until I say you can."
Oh, so pretty much never! Yay. "When's that?"
"Not now."
"When?"
"Kido."
He doesn't screech 'cause he knows better, knows it won't do him any favours when he's stuck here, but the sound lurches in his throat: dense and thickened with want. He sits there for a few seconds just to breathe through everything, and swallows it down with a practiced ease. He tries a different path. "I can't even go play?"
Auntie Cecili pauses. "You can," she carefully says, "but the other children aren't awake now, are they? And Fyson should be free tomorrow, I'm sure he can watch over you then."
Wh— really? Fyson's fun, but he's so old now he doesn't feel like a kid anymore, and he's not afraid to complain about exactly that sometimes when the grownups make him do stuff with Kido and the others. Besides, Kido hasn't needed any watching over in ages — not since he fledged. "M'not a hatchling."
"You aren't," she agrees, lifting a blanket to flare it out. "Keep flying headfirst into danger like one, though, and you have to prepare to be treated like you are."
That—! "That's not fair!"
"You think so?" Auntie Cecili asks in low tones. She sounds like rumbling thunder on the horizon — and that isn't fair, either. It's not fair how she can make him feel tiny with just her voice. It's not fair that he suddenly feels like the worst kid in the world for talking back. "If it keeps you here where you're supposed to be, safe and sound, then I'm sorry, Kido; you'll have to get used to us being unfair."
He falls silent.
Here? Where he's supposed to be?
The boiling beneath his feathers nearly has him tossing himself out of his roost purely on principle.
Each single time he leaves these peaks for the colder Windlines of the outside, Kido's doing what she and all the other adults aren't doing — what they should be doing. He's— it's their job, it's their responsibility as flocklings to never, ever leave anyone behind, and he's getting in trouble for doing it for them. Why's that? Why's that? If they're not gonna search for Dad for him, why do they get to say anything about it? Why do they get to stop him?
Why do they get to try to make him give up, the way they did winters ago?
"My dad's still out there," Kido whispers, wings squeezing his blanket so hard that they're quivering.
Auntie Cecili stiffens.
"He's still out there, and I'm— here. You're keeping me here."
Why? Why had they— what suddenly made it okay, all that time ago, for them to give up? To strand his dad to the ice, to let him go: drifting further and further away from Kido?
"You're keeping me here."
He was— he was a good boy about it. He's being a good boy about it, 'cause searching for his dad is lots better than what he could be doing, what he could be feeling about everything and everyone. And they won't allow him this. Why won't they allow him this? Why?
"He needs my help out there and you're just—!"
All of a sudden, there's a warmth surrounding him, wrapping him up in white-maroon wings. The bed dips at his side beneath Auntie Cecili's weight, the tang of old fabrics and crushed herbs wafting along his next breaths. His heartbeat rings in his head. When did she get so close?
She murmurs, gentle now, soft and strained like her heart's hurting too: "I'm sorry."
Kido feels it like stones dropping out the bottom of his chest into his stomach.
There it is again. Sorry. Like it's some amazing word that magically makes everything better. And maybe it does for Auntie Cecili — maybe it does for every other grownup who says it to him, who've only ever heard pretty things from Kido in response. Who've only ever gotten his encouragement, his reassurance, his permission to stop feeling so bad. It's okay. You'll find him next time. I'm not mad. You can talk about this. It's alright. You don't need to say sorry. I'm not upset.
I forgive you.
And now, here, he has to do it once more.
He—
He...
Kido lets her push his face into the crook of her shoulder. He does not lift his wings to clutch at hers. He clings to the blanket under his touch with a wobbly desperation, to the silence that tumbles over them like clumps of snow shaken loose from tree branches.
He can't. Not this time.
#* plumule / study.#( woe! another edition of kido's story be upon ye!! [puts off things i need to get to AGAIN]#sorry sdfkjdlf the kido brainrot suddenly overtook me#this is...pre-bo.tw! his first time being grounded. except it's more like house arrest to him#so obviously Issues Abound. sorry i write more about his bad days than his good days kfsdjfl#if i were writing a fic it'd be properly balanced out i swear!!#'why has nobody grounded him earlier than this ray' it's a little confusing trying to decide who gets to do the disciplining when none of#you have been assigned as primary caretakers okay ksfjdlf#ahhh.......posting oc content always makes me a little anxious...but!! SEND POST!!#kido things are the only things i may srb and this is no exception sflkfjd )#* reprise / ic.#* ic / para.#* v / songs of the yonder.#long post cw
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singlemom!reader x neighbor!Sukuna. You and Sukuna have been dancing around each other for weeks, and when you tell him you've found another apartment for you and your daughter, he decides he's had enough.
cw: smut, breeding kink(heavy emphasis), Sukuna is a bad dude but you know that already. Your daughter's nickname is Bug but she's given no official birth name.
Sometimes, Sukuna remembered how much he felt like he would die if he didn't touch you back when he first met you. Now, he wanted to go back in time and punch himself in the fucking face because that him, that him did not know what it meant to suffer.
The past few weeks since the birthday party where he felt like you had finally, finally seen him had been the worst, but somehow best, weeks of Sukuna's life. On the surface, not much had changed. You still were crashing at his place, he continued to take on more and more caretaker duties with your daughter and the two of you were continuing this dance where you participated in the outline of what a relationship between the two of you could be but for some reason, you still seemed hesitant to embrace it completely.
Sukuna could be patient, he had been patient, but the fact that you two still weren't together when he was positive now it was what you both wanted, it was driving him insane.
You looked at him more than you did before and sometimes he would catch these quick glimpses of a desire that burned him, that made him want to show you just how much he had been wanting you. How he was never going to want anyone but you. But then, he would look again and you were back to feeding your daughter or cleaning a dish and just continuing with this facade where you were just crashing temporarily at his place.
Sukuna could feel the tension tighten across his back and shoulders as the three of you finished dinner. Your daughter was telling a story about something her and her "Uncle Uuji" had gotten up to when Sukuna's brother had been babysitting that afternoon, and you were smiling and giving the right "oohs" and "aahs" when you had looked over at him.
You looked so content and happy that Sukuna felt his shoulders relax in response. The waiting was killing him, but he reminded himself it was worth it, he was so close he could almost taste it. Soon, he wouldn't need to hold himself back and he could hold your hand and kiss you anytime he wanted, while his daughter monopolized the dinner conversation. You were both so clearly meant to be his and if he needed to give you some more time so you were comfortable, then he would give you more time.
Feeling at peace with his decision, Sukuna took the lead on bedtime duty that night. He read your daughter a story-"Do the voices 'kuna!" "I am doing the voices, kid"- and then tucked her in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she was struggled to keep her eyes open.
"Night, Bug."
"Night, 'kuna."
Sukuna finished tucking her in while you watched from the doorway. He was about to leave when the little girl grabbed his wrist.
"Love you."
Sukuna felt something catch in his throat and all the sudden he was a scared kid again holding a little Yuuji to his chest so the roaches that were all over the floor of their apartment didn't touch him. A fierce protectiveness lit up his chest and he promised to himself, for not the first time, that his little girl would never know experience any of that. It had taken him years to get Yuuji out of there, and Bug had already lived a few years without him, but she was home now and it was clear she knew that too.
"Love you too, Bug." He couldn't resist pressing one more kiss to your daughter's forehead but the kid was out like a light already. You moved aside so Sukuna could close the door, which he did very gently.
"Took her long enough tonight, huh? I think I'll still be able to recite 'Goodnight Moon' when her grandkids ask for it."
You don't smile and he knows you're aware he's joking about the time. There's a reason you're co-owning story time now, Sukuna isn't developing his voice actor repertoire for nothing.
He goes to put his hand on your shoulder but you move back a little as if you're trying to avoid his touch. Now he's concerned.
"You okay?"
You shake your head and gesture your head towards the living room. Sukuna follows, not appreciating the uncertainty he's feeling at your strange mood.
When you get to the living room, you hesitate and take a seat on the armchair. Usually, you only use it when you're reading or doing something on your laptop. Whenever you're together, you always share the couch with Sukuna and he notes the decision to distance yourself with distaste. He's sure the wariness shows on his face as he goes to sit on the side of the couch closest to you.
"Alright, what is it?"
You bite your lip and he's about to ask again, with less patience ,when you take a deep breath and begin. Your eyes trained down on your lap.
"I found an apartment for me and Bug. It's close to the daycare and it's a little smaller than we're used to, but it will work for now. A friend helped me find it and there isn't even a creepy landlord! I'm going to sign the lease Monday and we should be able to move in next weekend. So, I just wanted to thank you for everything."
Sukuna thinks he's stopped breathing and he feels a wave of anger so intense he can taste iron against the back of his teeth.
"You're leaving?"
You take another deep breath and nod while Sukuna's world continues to fall apart.
"I think it's time. You know, I appreciate everything you've done for me and bug. The past few months have been amazing and we never would have gotten through them without you."
Sukuna doesn't have it in him to let the pause you leave sit there long. "I keep telling you, you don't have to thank me. It's really fine. I like having you here."
You look down at your fingers where he sees it looks like you've been picking at them. He gets a bad feeling, worse than what he was already feeling.
"I know and that's-it's really nice, really."
"Great."
"But, I think it's starting to get confusing."
"Confusing? What's confusing?"
You go on, ignorant to, or ignoring the rage that's rising in him.
"It's just, when we were at that party a few weeks ago and everyone kept asking about us and if we were together, and about our situation, it's obvious that what we're doing isn't normal."
"Not normal, how?" Sukuna prompts and he's going to snap if you keep refusing to even look at him.
"You don't just crash with your neighbor for months on end because your apartment flooded. They don't help you with chores and spend all your time together. Neighbors don't babysit your daughter-"
"I like spending time with your daughter, that's not a favor I'm doing for either of you," Sukuna finally snaps, annoyed that the special moment he'd shared with Bug earlier was being overshadowed by you denying the relationship he'd been so careful about building with her. "I told you, I care about both of you and I don't give a fuck what other people think about our situation. I chose to let you both come and stay with me and I like the life we've built here."
You finally look up at that last part and your eyes are full of tears. Sukuna is able to hold back some of his anger at the sight of you in such clear distress.
"That's the thing, we're not building a life here, this is temporary and I think we've been forgetting that." A tear slides down your cheek. "A few days ago, Bug brought home a picture she drew in daycare. She drew the three of us as a family, Sukuna. She thinks you're going to be like her new dad and how am I going to explain to her that you're not going to be in her life when this is over? She barely understands what happened with her dad, I can't do that to her again."
Sukuna seethes. "Don't compare me to that piece of shit. He hasn't even tried to contact you or Bug since you moved in."
"Well, he's still her dad-"
"No, he fucking isn't," Sukuna is done and you're crying freely now and he doesn't understand where he went wrong with all of this. "In a few years, she won't even remember that bastard. I'll be the only father she's ever known because I'll be the one that's actually here."
You laugh a little and wipe at your face but it just exacerbates the mess. "What are you even talking about? You're her neighbor, Sukuna and when we move you won't even be that."
"Is that all I am to her? To you?"
"What else are you supposed to be?!"
Sukuna is so pissed, he doesn't know how he's going to recover from this. This is not what he wanted at all and here you were now-
Crying, you were crying.
The pieces started connecting and Sukuna realized that he wasn't being left. You weren't rejecting him or what he was to you or to your daughter. You were panicking. You were doing what you had been taught to do by everyone else in your life, to leave them before they could leave you.
You were right, after all. You were confused.
Sukuna was going to fix that.
You must have noticed the abrupt shift in Sukuna's mood because you seemed puzzled as Sukuna started to smile. You didn't have time to ask any questions before Sukuna stood up and walked over to your chair.
"Sukuna?"
"I see now, I wasn't clear with you. That must have been so frustrating, sweetheart."
You'd stopped crying in your bewilderment. "Sweetheart? Sukuna, what are you doing-"
Sukuna shushed you as he leaned you so you were face to face, his body almost shielding you from the rest of the room. You blinked a few times to adjust to the lack of light as he blocked everything else but himself from view.
"I'm going to help fix your confusion, sweetheart. You seem to think I've just been doing this all out of the kindness of my heart and I want to assure you, that's not the case," he says, leaning his forehead against yours. "See, I'm actually not that kind and if you were anyone else, I wouldn't have given you a place to stay, even with a brat."
"You don't mean that-"
"Yes, I really do. I don't help people, I don't give a fuck even whether they live or die. The only people I give a damn about are Yuuji, you and the kid and that's it. When I say I would have left anyone else to tough it out on the streets, I fucking mean it."
"You don't give yourself enough credit," you argue and Sukuna finds it adorable. "You're making it sound like-"
"Like what, princess?" Your breath hitches at that one and his grin turns predatory. "Oh you like that one, I'll keep that in mind princess." You gulp and he watches the way your throat moves and can't resist pressing a kiss to it.
"S-Sukuna-"
"No, no, go on princess, you were telling me what you thought the reason must be for me doing all these things. Go on, tell me your theory. You're a smart girl, I think you've figured it out."
"You like me," and the way you say it as almost a question is so endearing Sukuna can't hold back the trail of kisses he plants up your throat until he gets to your jaw.
"No, I don't like you princess." You seem to accept this and you're nodding, opening your mouth to probably say something stupid when Sukuna cuts you off. "Like isn't enough to describe the way I feel about you."
"Really?" You're so hesitant and sweet as Sukuna presses kisses up and down your tear stained cheeks. A new one slips down your cheek and he holds your face with both hands as he licks it up before it can fall all the way. You're almost panting now and he loves it.
"Trust me, I haven't gone to all this effort just for some lousy date or to get my dick wet." He leans back so he can see your face and cups your face so he can tilt it up to look at him.
"You're it for me, princess. This isn't temporary and I'm not going to let you go. Either of you."
"Sukuna, it's one thing to be interested in me but it's another to just-to just say you're going to parent my kid. I mean, she's a person you'd be tied to your whole life."
Sukuna hums, finding it cute how much you're still not grasping the situation. "All of your children will be mine, that includes Bug."
You laugh. "Children, plural?"
"Definitely plural." Sukuna looks your body up and down making his meaning clear and you seem determined to try to be the voice of reason as Sukuna goes back to kissing your cheeks, your temple, your forehead.
"We're not even dating, Sukuna."
"What do you call the past few months? We spend every day together, go everywhere together, we live together, we're raising your daughter together, what else do you need to know about me?"
"I'm wondering if there's in fact very important things I need to know about you." That's his smart girl and Sukuna finds the suspicion adorable, especially since it doesn't stop you from tilting your head so he can get to your neck.
"Well, you'll have the rest of our lives to get to know me," he nips at part of your collarbone that's exposed by your shirt and you hiss before gently pushing him away.
"Okay, this is nice."
That word again.
"But, just because you're interested in me and care about my daughter, that doesn't mean we should just jump into something. I still think the best thing would be for us to figure this out after Bug and I have our own place-"
"No."
You look confused, obviously thinking you misheard him.
"I'm sorry, you can't just say no, it doesn't work like that."
"But you can just decide to leave our home, with our daughter and for what? So we can do a worse version of what we've been doing? What purpose could that possibly serve?"
"Because this is too fast for me?"
"We already live together," Sukuna points out and knows this isn't the moment to mention he's the one who destroyed your apartment to make that happen.
"That doesn't mean we'll be good together."
"What exactly are you worried about? Do I not do my share of the chores?"
"No, that's fine."
"Do you not enjoy spending time with me?"
"Of course, I enjoy that," and he smiles smugly at that and pulls your arms gently so they loop around his neck.
"Do I not take of our daughter?"
You seem like you want to fight him on the 'our' but he goes back to kissing your neck and the way you tighten your grip lets him know you're getting distracted by the attention.
"She loves you," and that soothes the last bit of anger that had been present in Sukuna. Now, he was just ready to get started on the next part of your lives.
"Oh I see, so it's that I haven't been taking care of you? I'm so sorry for neglecting you. Don't worry, I can fix that right now."
Even if Sukuna kisses you a million times, he's never going to forget what it feels like to kiss you for the first time.
Your lips are soft and so warm. At first you don't react, your mouth still poised as if you're going to argue one last time, but then you're relaxing, leaning in and you give this sigh of relief and Sukuna knows you're hearing the same voice that he's hearing in his head.
This one.
Sukuna has long assumed that love and romance was nonsense shit for weak people who needed to find purpose. Sukuna wonders what it says about him that he thinks his purpose in life might have just been to find you.
You're kneeling on the chair now, Sukuna still hunched over so he can hold you. He's getting annoyed at the angle and how it's stopping him from feeling more of you and so he slides his hands down to your waist and pulls you up to him. With one hand on your hip, he uses his other to wind your right leg around him, you moving your left to follow suit. The new position has your core pressed up against where he's already half hard and you sigh into his mouth so beautifully, that he can't help but use the opportunity to explore your mouth.
It's hot and sloppy and so good that Sukuna moans and your legs tighten around his waist in response. The living room feels hot with every breath you exchange and he can hear the sounds you're making fill the space. Thinking about the child sleeping not nearly far enough away, Sukuna starts to walk you towards his room.
Even when he wants to be responsible and not have his first time with you interrupted by your daughter, he can't stop himself from pressing you up against the wall at least twice before you finally get to his room.
It's going to be your room now too, and he's so happy it disgusts him a little.
Sukuna has you pressed up against your door, one hand holding your waist and the other grabbing your ass so he can control the way you're rocking up to meet him. He angles you down a bit and you both moan at how the position lines you up to grind directly on his cock. There's too many layers separating you still, and it's that thought that pushes him to finally open the door.
He makes sure to lock the door behind you before he tosses you on his bed. On your bed. That's never going to get old.
He crawls over you and is back to kissing you into the mattress before you even have time to fully catch your breath. You're panting into his mouth and he nips at your top lip as you pull away to breath, catching it in his teeth. You don't need any prompting to spread your legs and he fits between them like he was meant to be there, letting his weight drop enough on you so you can feel him.
While he's excited to finally explore your body and see what he's been thinking about for months, he's having a hard time separating from you long enough to move any further than you are. Sukuna usually doesn't care much for kissing, but kissing you is different. He thinks he could kiss you all night even if his hard cock very much disagrees with that sentiment.
Fuck, if you kept grinding your cunt on him like you were, he may just come before he even gets inside you.
It's that thought that finally makes him get up on his knees to take his shirt off. You follow suit under him and he can't stop from kneeling down to kiss at your newly exposed skin. You're not wearing a bra and your tits are too perfect for him to ignore even for the sake of getting to your cunt.
These are the same tits that fed your child and will one day feed his and something about that gets to Sukuna in a way he hadn't ever really thought about before with other partners. It makes him softer, more gentle with his worship and you thread your fingers through his hair when he takes one of your nipples and sucks it gently in his mouth. He releases it so he can leave a few quick hickies around your chest. You're squirming so hard underneath him, he has to press you down with a thigh slotted between your legs to hold you still.
"Sukuna," you whine and he hushes you before leaving another mark under your collarbone.
"I'll get there, pretty girl. Just use my leg for now," he says continuing to leave marks wherever he can while you groan underneath him.
"I want you inside me," tempting but Sukuna is getting greedier the more desperate you are. Maybe if he fucks you hard enough, you'll stop thinking about stupid shit like needing your own apartment.
"I'll be inside you soon, I just want to taste a bit first. The way you are, I think humping my thigh will be enough to get you off," he teases and you whine, embarrassment clear in your voice. If you can still be embarrassed, more proof you're not ready for his cock in you. He presses against your cunt harder and he can feel the warmth of you on his thigh even through your leggings and his pants. He moves in a way more meant to tease than to provide you any relief and your frustration is clear when you start moving your hips to a faster, harder rhythm.
Sukuna smirks against your marked up throat when your whines start getting faster and closer together. You're still holding onto his shoulders when your grip tightens and you let out a gasp signaling your release.
Sukuna laughs meanly as you take in deep breaths, body still shaking from your orgasm. "Wow, someone was really pent up. No wonder you're having trouble thinking straight," he teases as he moves so he can take off his pants and boxers, giving his cock a quick stroke, drawing your hungry gaze down. "Don't worry, I got you. I'll give that tight cunt what it needs."
You pull him down so you can kiss him again and you're uncoordinated now, but Sukuna likes you better like this. Likes the proof that he's making you feel good. He presses down and your fingers scratch where his neck meets his scalp pulling out a moan that vibrates through his chest. He breaks off your kiss because he really does need to get inside you or he's going to come, and while the vision of you covered in his seed is a compelling one for another time, he plans on coming inside you first.
Sukuna pulls on your leggings until you get the hint and lift your legs so he can pull them off, leaving you in a pair of familiar blue panties. He laughs when he sees them and you come out of your daze a little bit, so he pulls them off too and tosses them aside so he can get to where you both want him.
Sukuna lightly touches your slit and smirks down at you when his fingers come away wet. Keeping eye contact with you he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean and holds down your wrists with his free hand when you try to cover your face.
"All this just from my fucking thigh, just from some kissing. I'm starting to worry my cock might actually kill you."
You glare up at him and he grabs your leg as you try and kick him. "If you're so worried, maybe I should just leave then?"
Sukuna laughs and you gasp when he brings his fingers back down to you, slipping in two fingers to the knuckle. Your pussy is tight but you're so wet, he slides right in and he can't wait to get you on his cock. He brushes his thumb against your clit as he stretches you out, your voice leaving you in pants and gasps that are making him feel like a god.
"You're not going anywhere princess, not tonight, not on Monday, not next weekend," he moves so he's covering your body. His lips catching yours mid-moan. "When I'm done, you're going to be too tired to keep running from me."
He pulls his fingers out and you whine at the sudden emptiness but he keeps kissing you as he moves so his cock is touching your entrance. He moves it up and down, wetting himself in your slick. He cuts off your kiss so he can see your face, wants to look at you when he fucks into you for the first time. Finally getting some oxygen to your brain and the feeling of his cock pressing into you seems to bring your thinking back online.
"Wait, Sukuna, a condom," you say and he grins, not even pretending like he's thinking about it.
"We don't need a condom."
"Yes, we do, I'm not on birth control," you say and Sukuna has to tighten his grip on himself so he doesn't come.
"And?" He asks and he slips just the head in, you let out the cutest noise and your pussy clings to him as he pulls out.
"I-I could get pregnant, Sukuna!" He hums like he's actually thinking about as he presses in again, this time moving another inch into your tight cunt. It's teasing you both and he doesn't know how much longer he's going to be up for conversation as he pulls out only to thrust in, again just barely giving you his cock.
"Good, Bug wants a sibling. She was telling me how excited she'd be to be a big sister."
"Sukuna!"
"What? You don't think we'd make a cute kid? I think they'd be as beautiful and as brilliant as their mamma," Sukuna would take your protests more seriously if your pussy wasn't literally gushing. He could swear his balls were wet with your slick and you weren't even really fucking yet.
"This is a big commitment, Sukuna. It's not a joke."
"Good thing I'm not fucking joking then," Sukuna kisses you again and nothing beats the way you gasp into his mouth when his rubs the head of his cock against your clit. "You really want me to stop? Want me to go away? If you tell me you don't want my baby, that you don't want to be my little wife and grow our family, I'll go find a fucking condom. But I'm going to need you to tell me that. Make sure you're loud, princess. I'm a little distracted, right now."
You hesitate and Sukuna thinks he might actually have to try and figure out where he stashed his condoms, since he hadn't gotten laid in damn near six months when he feels your hands move to cup his face.
"And if I want that?"
Sukuna feels his heart skip a beat despite it all, your hands on his face feel just as intimate as all the rest, another way you continued to humble him.
"Want what, princess? Going to have to be more specific for me."
"All of it, the family, the baby, everything." You seem to be drawing on your courage and Sukuna is proud of you despite himself. "I want you, Sukuna."
Sukuna crashes his mouth into yours and you follow him willingly. He uses his hand to guide his cock into your cunt and you move your hips, greedy for him, as he slowly pushes in. When Sukuna is finally in all the way, he feels a warm contentment fall over him. Imagining this, it had always been defined by a frenzy that he finds absent in the actual event.
Maybe it's because you've finally acknowledged him and what he means in your life, but he doesn't feel desperate as he fucks into you slowly, his thrusts purposeful. He feels victorious. The satisfaction curls around his body and makes your lips sweeter, your hips fit even more right in his palms and your cunt wraps around him like it was molded to fit his cock. He doubts you were made for him, you were too good for that, but he had managed to get you anyway and you're recognition of his possession over you made him smile into your mouth.
He kept his pace slow, thrusting deep enough inside you each time that you couldn't stop the way your breath hitched at the feeling.
"Sukuna!"
"Yes, princess?"
"F-faster, please!"
"So polite, how could I say no," his voice is more breathless than he means it to be but he doesn't give a fuck. Not when your pussy is so sweet, or given the way you moan for him as he begins to pick up the pace. Sukuna loves the way you sound but he thinks of the little girl sleeping down the hall and he covers your mouth with his hand.
"Don't want to wake up our daughter, do we?" Something about that makes you tighten up and your eyes roll backwards and Sukuna thinks he knows what it is.
"Gotta make sure I can put this baby in you, right? You did so wonderful with the first one, I just got to see it happen again." You're moaning so loud Sukuna isn't sure his hand is doing much good, but you're both close enough he doesn't think about trying to stop you aside from a throw away thought about gagging you with your panties.
Oh well, thoughts for next time.
And the idea that there would be next times, that you were going to his to fuck anytime he wanted, had Sukuna reaching down to play with your clit. He could barely stand to pull out of you at all and at this point you two were more grinding than fucking but it was so good, you were so good-
"Come on princess, you're almost there. Be a good girl and come for me and I'll give you a baby, I promise. Just need to feel you come on my cock."
You bite his palm as he feels your cunt spasm and he only gets in another few thrusts before he's coming too and he hopes it takes. He presses his lips against your temple as you catch your breath and he continues to kiss your face as he feels himself soften inside of you.
Later, he'll clean the two of you up and finally get you under the covers. He'll get to hold you in his arms and feel what it's like to fall asleep with you. He'll also wake you up for another round so he can make sure Bug gets that little sibling he was now very excited to meet.
********
When Sukuna wakes up to you in his arms, he's debating waking you up for round three when he hears the sounds of sniffling and little footsteps outside. He gently moves your body off his arm and gives you a pillow to cuddle when your body turns to look for him. Your little pout in your sleep makes him feel bad for the trick but there's someone else who needs him right now.
Throwing on his pajamas, Sukuna makes his way out to the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
"Good morning, bug."
"Morning, 'kuna," your daughter is holding onto a little plush fox that Yuuji had won for her at an arcade a few weeks ago and she's still sniffling looking confused. He thinks he knows why.
"Your mom's asleep in my room, kiddo. She's okay, she's just sleeping."
"Why is she in there?"
This is a loaded question and Sukuna knows he should probably ask you on how you plan on introducing your relationship to your daughter, but he feels that same unsettled feeling when he looks at her sad face now that he had felt looking at your tears the night before.
Sukuna leans down and holds out his arms and Bug goes to him, trusting despite her confusion, and he picks her up and carries her to kitchen. He puts her down on the counter so she's as close to his eye level as she can get given her size and he decides to be honest with her.
"You know how I love your mom?" Bug nods her head and Sukuna feels warm. "Well she loves me too, so we decided we're going to share a room from now on."
"Forever?"
"Yeah kid, it's going to be forever."
"Can I sleep with you too?"
Sukuna smirks and then kisses her forehead. "Sometimes, but you're going to want to stay in your new big girl room I think. It's way cooler than the boring adult room."
"Big girl room?" Her eyes widen and there's a familiar gleam of ambition.
He's got her.
"Well now that it's your own room", and her eyes just get even bigger at that. "You're going to need all your own stuff to make it yours."
"All mine?"
"All yours, Bug. At least until you have a little brother or sister, you may have to share then. Would that be okay?"
"Yes!"
Bug jumps on the counter and then into Sukuna's arms and he holds her close to him as she burrows her face into his neck. He breathes in the smell of her hair and he's so relieved now that he knows she's going to stay here forever, that you both are.
"Does that mean we're going to stay with you?"
"Uh huh, you're stuck with me. I'm never leaving."
Bug pulls back and holds out her pinky finger. "Promise?"
"Yeah, kid, I promise."
Many, many years from now, at your thirtieth wedding anniversary, Bug will stand up and tell the story about the day Sukuna became her dad. Her mom, her siblings, her Uncle Yuuji and many attendees will cry, but Sukuna will maintain his dry eyes and his dignity.
Or that's what anyone should say when asked.
He'll still kill a motherfucker.
That's it, it's the end! I may return to this universe in little drabbles but the main story is done! As a fatherless daughter, ending it with Bug was very necessary to me. I also think a big part of this story is Sukuna finding fulfillment in the family he was denied growing up(projecting is the name of the game here).
Much love.
#jjk sukuna#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x singlemomreader#jujutsu kaisen
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The only thing you want to do is... [Price x fem!Reader]
Price broke his hand on the last mission. Fortunately for him, his caretaker is just as adorable as she is eager to help him in every way.
CW and tags: Legal age gap, power imbalance, daddy kink, pervert!Price, obsessive!Price, coercion into sex, handjob (m!receiving)
Word count: 3246
This work on AO3
You’re such a sunshine, it hurts.
John Price never considered himself to be a good man. He did what he had to do to protect his country, to ensure that big bad terrorists are kept at bay, and foreign militaries are ending up where they belong – somewhere in the ditch, with reports stating KIA an anonymous bullet drugged out of their skulls.
His job was just that – a job, something that had to be done because he knew that someone else, someone worse, would gladly take his place in case of retirement. The captain can be considered a fucking angel compared to some people he is working with – no one would ever dare call him evil when people like Graves still exist out there, hunting for innocents.
But you’re so fucking sweet to him, he simply can’t handle it.
When his arm got injured, and he was forced to get on leave for at least a month – he tried to argue for something less, but Lasswell silently pointed out that he hadn’t had a break in the past five years, and she would kick him out of his own Task Force if he’d continue to refuse – he got assigned a caretaker by Kate recommendation.
John was fully expecting some old lady, probably a retired officer or field medic. Maybe some burly man with too much time on his hands and the ability to give really nice massages under flights of bullets. Perhaps, worst case scenario, he would be assigned an actual; nurse that wouldn’t buy any of his shit – that amount of whiskey he drinks is prescribed by his therapist, smoking cigars in the apartment is a nice form of relaxation, and he actually doesn’t need help and can go in service back again less than in two weeks.
But, the Captain got wee ol’ you, all nice and warm, and adorable, and too fucking young to have anything to do with his apartment.
You’re nice, warm, fresh out of college, where you got some recommendations about rehabilitating veterans back into normal lives. Probably was writing a Thesis about something as dumb as “Healing PTSD through flower crowns and little touches”. You chirp your way into his heart and refuse to go out – just like Kate promised to him, you really didn’t allow him to do anything on his own.
God, it was infuriating – how much he wanted to simply grab your shoulders and kiss you. Or kick you out and find someone else to take care of him, someone boring, someone of appropriate age. Without dumb, bright eyes and cute smiles, without enthusiasm, that can only be seen in unpaid interns and college graduates who still believe that the world is fair and nice.
You cook his dinners and clean up his apartment – as small as it is, never having a family or any other reason to make it even slightly bigger – and you do this with such a wide smile on your face it actually makes Price question basically everything he knows about young ladies doing charity work. You must be paid triple because you fold his underwear in neat little cubes and refuse to accept his help. Always chirped something about his hand like he can’t kill a man with his teeth only.
— I can fold my own pants, love.
He presses his body against the doorframe of the small bathroom – looks at your ass so shamelessly bent over the washing machine. You’re folding his dried clothes, and he can only pray that you aren’t slowly resenting him for being such a disgusting old man. He knew he looked good for his age, 37 years in this world molded him into something that many young women would consider hot – even though his beard is unkept and his hair grew a bit longer since he couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it, and his dominant hand is broken.
— We don’t want to sprain your hand even more, right?
— Everythin’ is alright with my bloody hand…
— Lady Lasswell said I shouldn’t listen to you like this, sir. Sorry.
— Little minx.
— Me or Lady Lasswell?
John looks at you, so eager and cheerful, and he just wants to…he can’t, of course, he stops himself before he even forms the thought because it’s dirty and you don’t deserve this, and your shy smile as you laugh softly and push the last of the laundry in the neat pile on the washing machine.
You look too eager to please, and he has an idea – the one he will never act upon. Maybe will entertain himself later, stroking himself in some abandoned base deep in the snowy tundra, trying to remember your warmth as if a sinner like him can even comprehend your light.
God, you got him so bad, he starts thinking about good ol’ Jesus again. You really are a side to behold, aren’t ya.
He looks at you again – you’re so easy to please. You cook for him, the smell of home cooking that he almost forgot, all the ingredients you invited yourself to buy when he left his card for you. You didn’t think it was weird, not a single mischievous bone in your body – if anything, he was casually prompting you to go and buy yourself something nice, something as compensation for all the trouble you endured for him.
Instead, you went out of your way to cook for him, to make him tea like he wanted it – without sugar, but with a small amount of milk poured into a cup that is probably the most expensive thing in this whole place except for his weapons.
The problem is – John Price doesn’t really like it when people are taking care of him. Not because he is shy or insecure, god forbid, but because he knows that if a pretty young thing like you is going to show him kindness, he will take a fucking mile and make you run from him as fast as you can. He has desires, he has needs, something that pretty good girls like you should know nothing about.
You’re so eager to please that you’ll probably jerk him off if he were to whine about his arm being broken and his inability to get himself off because of it. Which, in turn, gives him an…idea.
Price was never a good person – he isn’t the worst guy either. He sees your reactions, that adorable heat of your face when he brushes his knuckles over your cheek in an affectionate manner. How you are biting your lips every time you have to fold his underwear, when you cook for him, and he presses his body against yours, rocking his hips just gently enough to not make his arousal obvious. John knows you like him in more ways than just one – he doubts that such a lovegirl like you would ever agree to take care of a grumpy military man like him.
He wonders where your father is – probably out of the picture if his precious daughter is almost crying from a desire to please a guy like him. He wonders if you have a boyfriend or if you’re seeing someone else – if you’re a virgin or you already had a series of disappointing sessions with blokes that have no idea how to behave with an angel like you.
Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be taking care of a SAS captain – did your superiors forget to tell you just how girl-hungry men like him are? That he didn’t even bother to find a wife, and the loneliness of a single life will make him fucking explode if a girl as pretty as you were in the vicinity of that perverted old dog. You must be stupid – or so insanely naive, it’s not even funny.
He licks his lips, staring at you again. He is certainly isn’t a good guy – not the worst either, but it’s up for debate. He wants to hold you close and say all of those pretty good things he knows you want to hear. He also wants to push you as close to him as possible and just fuck that pretty girl until you’re begging for him to make you his wife. He’d always laugh at the thought of other military commanders and higher rank soldiers having sugar babies – especially the mercs and their fucking inability to keep a girl who isn’t tied to their paychecks. But now…he might just pay for your adorable pout and eagerness.
Might make a call to that one masked arsehole and ask how the hell he keeps his questionably young wife around without breaking her legs. Visibly, at least.
— Sir? Planet calls for Captain Price.
You giggle when you are waving your hand around him. Shit – looks like he zoned out for a hot minute, leaving you free to stare at his face, the fantom red spreading across his skin as if he is actually embarrassed to be caught like this. He isn’t, of course, he is stronger than some girl trying to get a rise out of him. He thinks he is stronger, at least.
You wave your hand in front of his face again, and the insects are kicking in – captain grabs your hand, not even caring that his supposed helplessness stems from the fact his dominant hand is still broken. He has no problems keeping you in place with just his left hand – and you almost look scared when you understand that you literally can’t move.
Your innocent smile turns into a pathetic whimper when he squeezes you even more. Bruises, no doubt, are starting to form already – well, it should be your fault. Good girls are usually smarter than teasing an old dog like him, even if you’re trying to play innocence. He knows what you are.
His future special girl that is. A wife, if he plays his cards right…and the captain was always good at poker.
— Shite, love. Sorry.
His smile mirrors yours – an innocent display like he didn’t almost break your wrist in his hold. He is still squeezing your hand, but not he slowly presses his lips against your knuckles – thin, dry lips gently caressing your skin in a gesture that you should never accept from a guy who kills people as a job. Who saves people, too – but a good guy with a gun is barely an upgrade from a bad one.
He kisses your fingers and finds heaven in the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. You are certainly embarrassed, and this is exactly what he wants – an old pervert trying to get in the pants of a cute girl who just wants to take care of him without any strings attached. He just has to make this whale thing complicated, isn’t he?
— It’s okay, sir. Just thought I lost you for a second.
— Not a chance.
Your smile looks a tad bit mischievous – that is, or he is simply hallucinating from painkillers he is forced to drink every morning because you refuse to let him feel pain even though he is used to it. You are acting like he is a soft doll made out of pink ribbons and soft plushes, not a seasoned soldier with his own thoughts and ideas about what he can do about your desire to please him. He might just use your eagerness – his cock has been pitching for too long without female attention, and he usually doesn’t indulge in shitty one-night stands in some sketchy pubs, but he can make an exception for now. For you.
You smile awkwardly, still trying to get your hand out of his grasp. Little minx, teasing him like he can’t just push you on this exact washing machine and fuck you like a slut you are. Poor girl, you probably don’t even know what kind of thoughts he has in his head – even though your eyes tell him something your lips cannot articulate.
John acts on his instincts, and they usually don’t deceive him.
— If you want to help so badly, I can think of another way.
— Is that so, sir?
You’re going to get him in so much shit with Lasswell, he doesn’t even know how he is going to get out of it after fucking her best little protege. Would have to marry you – like it’s not his end goal, like he doesn’t want to make your care for him a tad bit more permanent. He has done so many good things for humanity, why can’t he be a bit selfish and get himself a little something to make this place feel more like home?
He thinks of a pretty thing like you, heavy with his kids, cooking something nice and hearty in his house – not this crappy apartment, of course, he’d buy you something in the countryside, away from terrorists and public squares, with good schools and greenery all around.
You lick your lips and tilt your head to the side. He is daydreaming again.
— If you want to make me relax so badly, love, there is something I need help with…
Beating around the bush like this isn’t in his character – but he knows that you’re a good girl, maybe way too good and proper. He can’t just shove his dick in your hand, it would be too unpolite.
He has to prepare you, it’s a slow sniper mission where he needs to approach you as gently and quietly as possible – he still holds your hand in his, a phantom of his lips tucked away on the softness of your skin.
Then he places his hand on his growing erection – as awkwardly as he can operate with only using his left arm as a helper.
Price might not be the master of espionage, but he also didn’t get his rank for not being able to do cover missions under pressuring circumstances and lie in the faces of people who trust him. Not be the best person, of course, but he gives you a choice. You have all the power now – even with his weapons safely stashed in his bedroom, he knows he won’t ever try to force you. He won’t have to.
— Help your captain, eh?
You’re embarrassed, shy, scared even – your hands are trembling, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with morbid curiosity he never thought he’d find this adorable. You don’t stop and don’t try to fight him – like a little animal, nervous and terrified somewhat, you’re slowly indulging yourself in something that you actually shouldn’t.
He lets go of your hand and allows you to continue on your own – like a good girl, you only nod and slowly duck your palm in his boxers. He’d say that the way he is rock-solid just from looking at your ass and pouting on your face is weak, but he can afford to be a bit pathetic after so many weeks without the ability to jerk off. With your watchful gaze, he just couldn’t find it in his heart – or the only remaining working hand – to do something to help with his raging crush on this adorable social worker who comes to help him.
John is many things – a war hero, war criminal, the captain, and the butcher of many who may deem his actions irredeemable. He made peace with not being the poster good guy and often dirtying his hands just to keep the world clean – and he knows that, in the end, he deserves a pretty young thing to jerk him off while he kisses your hairline and whispers sweet nothing with that beautiful accent of his.
— This is not very… appropriate, sir.
— Bullocks, love. You’re helpin’, that’s why you’re here.
You’re nervous when your hand, squeezing his shaft firmly, goes up and down on his cock. You’re trying to find the rhythm in his quiet grunts and little moans, not having too much experience with pleasuring men who you like this much. It’s fear of disappointing him that makes you go wild, that approving gaze of his every time you press your soft fingers against the head of his cock and squeeze a little.
He is throbbing in your palm, pre-cum leaking on the small of your fingers – naturally, you lick it as slowly as possible, not breaking the eye contact.
Price moans.
— Bloody hell, luv…so good for daddy.
The name makes your ears burn, the desire growing in your stomach – you fight the urge to drop on your knees and take him fully in your mouth. This isn’t what he wants, you think, so you just continue to squeeze him more, making sure he is satisfied with every little movement your hand makes. You lick your lips and continue, feeble attempts at containing the rhythm with shaky fingers.
— I just wanted to help you with your life, not…this.
He chuckles, unharmed hand presses on the small of your back to fix you in place. You lick your lips, understanding that he is not going to let you go this easily – you don’t want to behave like this, of course, it’s against the terms of your contract and your agreement to help him without feelings attached, but he moans so deeply for you, hips are buckling to fuck the firmness of your hand like he is ready to use your moist, prepared pussy.
God, what are you even thinking about?
You don’t know if you should be doing this, but the captain is not letting you go – and you can’t even do anything against his wishes, can you?
— We really shouldn’t be doing this.
— Quiet. I’ll help you out after my hand is healed, eh?
— This isn’t what I’m talking about, sir.
— Now, let’s not use that here. I’m sir in the field, not here.
He is manipulating you as hard as he can – he can feel the tension in your eyes and the way you’re squeezing his cock, and he wants nothing more but to simply push you harder, make you fall apart in his hold like a precious porcelain vase. You’re sensitive and shy, just perfect for a bastard like him – his only regret is that the dumb cast on his right hand won’t really allow him to relax to have sex with you properly.
He will pay you back later – on your back, on your knees, on your tummy, moaning his name as he plunges his seed deep into you. It was about time he’d settle down with a pretty wife of his own – he can afford you, certainly.
— I can’t call you daddy, it’s embarrassing…
Your shy words are what send him over the edge. John Price was never a good guy to begin with, but your little pleas are enough to make him cum – and it’s certainly one of the biggest sins he has ever committed. Cute girl like you shouldn’t be so embarrassed about jerking him off, but here you are.
Your hands are covered in cum as he continues to release his seed, only sad because he wasn’t able to breed you properly – that’s the agenda for the time when he finally is freed from this dumb cast. Might just ask Lasswell for extended leave.
— You’ll just have to get used to this, love. Not letting you go after this.
You can only whimper when he kisses you – possessive and tender at the same time. A silent promise of making you his dumb little wife.
#cod#yandere price#price x reader#captain price#john price#captain john price#yandere cod#call of duty#cod imagine#cod fanfic
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SKZ as types of doms
Pairings: OT8 x Reader
CW: Straight up smut, degredation, use of ‘slut’, p in v sex, etc.
Bang Chan - Daddy/Sadist
I know everybody sees Chan as a daddy dom and I genuinely agree with this
He would genuinely get off on your neediness and how bad you want him, and he would really feed off of being in control
He would be a sadist in the sense that he loves getting you overly worked up, drinking up all of your moans and whines for him
He loves watching you have tears in your eyes, begging for him on the verge of your orgasms
He would be so cocky about it too
“Hmm? Tell me what you want, baby. Go ahead, use your words.”
“Daddy please,” you cry out for him. “Need you so bad. Please–”
“You want to cum on my cock, baby?” He coos at you, teasing your clit with his thumb. You’re pliant for him, worked up from hours of teasing and edging. “Look at my girl, so needy and desperate.”
You cry out for him as he finally gives you what you’d been asking for, delivering with a mixture of praise and degradation.
“Feel so good… fuck, such a needy slut for me. Go on, tell me who’s making you feel this good, then maybe I’ll let you cum, yeah?”
He would also be *so* into the aftercare part of things. He’s such a natural caretaker, it’s in his bones.
He would give you so much praise and reassurance after, as well as cuddles. He would be SO into skinship, especially if he was rough with you.
“You’re mine. You know that, right? I love you so much.”
Lee Know - Brat tamer
One thing about your relationship with Lee Know is that you really like pushing the limits with him, seeing how far you can go or how much you can push him until he reaches his limits
It provides a thrill for both of you, like a cat and mouse game.
He really likes having the control over you, both of you knowing that when you go too far, he will be the one to put you back in your place
When he tries to give you a warning, it’s through a sharp glare, silent exchanges, or a small smirk or shake of his head
If you continue to act up, he says things like, “You’re playing with fire,” or “You know what you’re getting yourself into.” Sometimes he says it with a strong grip on your thigh, eyes staring straight ahead and lips pursed together so you don’t know how much it’s bothering him.
“I gave you three chances, doll, and you still decided to act up. You know the rules, but you just had to go and act like a needy slut, didn’t you?” He spits his words with a tight grip in your hair, right at your scalp with eyes that bore into yours, giving you no room to run from his punishment.
“On the bed, now. Ass up. You’re going to take what I give you. Are we clear?”
Loves punishing you just as much as you love to be punished
His favorite thing would be spanking you, with his bare hands or with a paddle, having you count them out for him. He’s just happy he gets a view of your ass, and when he’s done with you it’s pretty shades of red and purple, and he smirks because *he did that to you*
Changbin - Pleasure dom (Soft dom)
Changbin would be the type of dom who wouldn’t ever be able to really follow through with his threats.
He sort of just expects you to be good for him and follow his rules and you do.
“Fuck, you’ve been teasing me all day, baby,” he says with a grunt. “So bad. I should, fuck… I should really punish you.” His words hold no force behind it, and you can tell by the way that his lips are already on your neck or the way that his hands dig into your hips that he’s just as needy as you are.
“Gonna make you feel so good… Gonna split you open on my cock, babe.”
The most he does in terms of punishment is heavily overstimulates you, but it’s because he literally thrives off of seeing you come apart for him. He LOVES giving more than receiving, which means he’ll have you come apart for him several times… on his tongue, his thighs, his abs, his fingers… far before he even thinks about fucking you into oblivion
He loves it when your brain turns to mush and you’re babbling, spewing nonsense about how he just makes you feel so good and you’re all his
He loves teasing you and making you use your words while he’s cock-deep inside of you, stilling until he gets what he wants out of you. The more vocal you are, the more you get rewarded and he watches you fall apart
He will always hold out his orgasm for yours, fucking you through it for as long as you need… And usually the sight of you cumming all over his cock does it for him.
Hyunjin - Rope top
Hyunjin almost sees having sex with you as a form of art in and of itself
He would totally be into different rope arts and accessories, loving the way that they look on your skin
He would spend so much time just getting you ready for the act and be so gentle about it, the way his fingers trace across your skin as he secures the rope and ties the knots, giving it a gentle tug and analyzing it to make sure it’s to both of your likings
You would be so worked up before you even started doing anything
His favorite part about restricting you is that you are utterly helpless, forced to take what he has to give
He would be *so* attentive, he would know your body and just what buttons to hit more than you know
“You’re doing so good for me, love. You look so pretty all tied up for me,” he says. His fingers glide over your skin, rubbing against your nipples in circles and watching your face contort in pleasure as he gives them a slight tug. You arch your back as far as the restraints allow, and he smiles at how you get so breathless and needy for him.
He would talk and coax you through your orgasms, so sickly sweet and stroking your thighs or your arms as you shake around him
He knows your limits better than you do and he gives you *just* what you can take each time.
“There you go. Look at you. You did such a great job taking it. Come on baby, you can do another. Just one more.”
Han - Pleasure dom
Han would get so so turned on by any noises you make
Like, he would beg to eat you out and this man would be able to spend hours between your thighs, and he would be so desperate for it too
“Please, baby, let me taste your pretty pussy, please. Squeeze your thighs around my head, just like that, yeah…”
He will ask you to sit on his face and if you actually let him, this man is a goner
You know he’s really enjoying it by the sounds *he* makes when you finally let go and put your full pressure onto him, grinding onto his face and using him like a toy…
If you look you would see he’s bucking his hips up into the air, so happy that he’s the one that’s making you feel like this. He will totally make you cum at least four times until you’re sensitive and overstimulated
“You can do one more, can’t you? Yeah, you can… You’re so good for me, so pretty for me, baby. Let me make you cum on my cock just once, please. I promise it’ll feel good.”
His hands would be all over your body, knowing exactly which spots bring the breathiest moans out of you. As he fucks into you hard and desperate with reckless abandon, he’s somehow still working you up and turning your pain into pleasure
Felix - Soft dom
Felix would be a soft dom in the sense that he loves teasing you, getting you absolutely flustered
“You want me to touch you?” He asks, mocking innocence. “But I am touching you. Or are you wanting more? Go on, use your words.”
He would go insane on the praise with you, loving your little moans and vocalizations and he would just have to let you know
“You sound so pretty for me. You can be loud, tell me, am I making you feel good?”
This man loves it when you ride him, bouncing on his cock desperately as your hands run through his hair and on his chest, but he loves the intimacy of it because he can see your face and see how good you’re feeling… and so that he can get a good grip on your tits, running his fingers softly over your nipples to provide that extra stimulation, watching as your movements start to get sporadic
“Shit, you’re doing such a good job riding me, baby. Making me feel so good. You getting tired? Here, let me help. Shhhh jagiya, I got you.”
He would snap his hips up into you and the sounds would just be lewd, the sound of wet skin on skin and your moans and his soft pants
Like this, his hands underneath your thighs and you hoisted up, you can’t move so you’re just forced to take what he has to give
He’s so attuned to your body that you don’t have to warn him when you’re close, he can tell by the way you’re squeezing him and your breathing hitches, so he just coaxes you right through it
“You got it, there you go, fuck, clenching around me so good. You were made to take me. You did such a good job angel. I’m so close, you can take it. You’re being so good for me.”
Seungmin - Service/Reaction-seeking sadist
Once Seungmin finds that you’re into pain, it’s over for you
I think he would start out with a hand around your throat, lightly, barely squeezing, but seeing the way that you react to this brings out a different beast in him
This man would love seeing you cry for him
Anything he can do to get a reaction out of you is what he gets off on, and even more so if you try to act like what he’s doing isn’t affecting you; he likes to play with you and whine you up until you snap, needy, desperate and crying for him
“You like it when I choke you? No? Then why are you smiling, jagiya? Should I squeeze tighter, just to see?”
This man would *love* edging you. You’re on the brink of an orgasm and still trying to act like he’s not affecting you? Watch him rip that away from you. He’ll do it again and again until you’re writhing and begging for him, tears streaming down your face. You both love it though, it’s just a game to see how long it takes to get you to break.
“Are you done pretending? If you could stop being such a brat and just beg for it like the needy slut you are, you’ll get what you want,” he coos. And you do, pent up after being denied an orgasm for the fifth or sixth time? You’ve lost track. And he’s mean and slow with it too, teasing your entrance with his tip and watching you try to buck your hips into him, desperate for friction. When he finally sinks into you he wipes your tears away once, waiting for you to look into his eyes with your watery ones before he fucks you deep and hard like you crave.
I.N. - Primal/Sadist
Innie would be so desperate for you that he almost doesn’t realize at first just how rough he can be
We’re talking biting, scratching…
He would fuck you from behind with a hand wound tightly in your hair, pulling you up against him. All sorts of noises would come out of his mouth that sound like grunts and low moans. A hand grabs tightly at your hip, fingernails slightly embedded in your skin as he ruts himself into you hard, over and over. Hips smack against hips and skin smacks against skin.
He loves marking you. Something about seeing you covered in hickeys and bruises that he perfectly created on your skin drives him crazy.
“So pretty f’me,” he says as he sucks a particularly dark bruise into your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. “Love seeing you like this, letting everybody know that you’re all mine.”
If you cry for him in pleasure he gets off on that–his brain literally short circuits. Especially if you tell him how good he’s making you feel.
He’s making you feel so good that you’re crying? He can’t even comprehend but he knows he wants to do it again.
“Fuck, fuck…” he says. “You feel so good.” His hips smack into yours hard and he’s chasing his own pleasure, not caring about silencing his noises. If your higher-pitched moans get mixed in with his it drives him nuts, and he would do anything to get you to keep making those pretty sounds for him. As he’s about to cum he bites into your shoulder, not hard but enough to leave a mark, and when you moan from underneath him that’s all it takes for him to come undone.
Masterlist Recs
#skz#skz smut#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#bang chan#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#chris bang#christopher bang#lee know x you#lee know x reader#lee know smut#lee know#chan x reader#chan smut#chan#seo changbin#changbin x reader#changbin x you#han#han jisung#lee minho#stray kids jeongin#jeongin#jisung smut#yang jeongin
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YES YAY YAY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN
There was a post a while a back you did where it was a toriel like reader and you mentioned Lucifer becoming your ‘adopted husband’.
PLEASE WRITE ONE ABOUT THAT - aGOUNG FROM PLATONIC TO ROMANTIC WOULD BE AMAZING (or platonic is just fine but I WOULD LOVE ANY VERSION OF THIS SM)
Fem reader I’d love but also I don’t mind if it’s gn reader just. THE CONCEPT OF HIM BECOMING ADOPTED HUSBAND FO SOMEONE SUPER CARETAKING OR LIKE TORIEL IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA
Lucifer x reader - 'Adopted husband'
<< [ Part 1 ]
A/N Plsssss I'm so happy you were so excited for this to be written anon hsjsjdjsj
Cw: SFW, gn!reader, platonic to romantic, hurt/comfort - fluff ensues after depressing stuff, mutually awkward confession, suggestive type territory at one point
- You handle his daughter behind the counter of the kitchen with such care as you put the finishing touches on the baked goods you are bringing out, all the while animatedly talking about things he doesn't know of or understand.
- You, someone who is not even her parent, is acting all so maternal and close to his daughter.
- The gaping hole in his heart aches at the sight.
- He's filled with jealousy and despair that he allowed his daughter to drift so far away from him that she'd had the time to attach to someone else to fill what assuredly existed to Charlie about him and her mother as well.
- But he can't even bring himself to be angry at you.
- You greet him kindly and oh-so warmly. Unlike Alastor, it's clear that you truly care for his daughter like a parent. There doesn't seem to be a bad intentioned bone in your body about his daughter's attachment to you.
- The whole exchange he feels all too distant. Feels like he's just intruding on you and Charlie - an outsider to his own daughter.
- He says goodbye after a cordial afternoon tea, but as he goes to leave he finds himself stopped by you.
- He's snapped out of his depressing reverie as you looked him in the eyes very seriously, hand gently holding his arm.
- "I want to say, I'm not trying to steal her away from you," you preface before your brow furrows. "From what she's told me, you weren't okay either after Lilith left. You weren't okay for a while."
- Lucifer opens his mouth to speak as a conflicting mixture of embarrassment and feeling truly seen for the first time in thousands of years well up in him, but he stops and goes bright red as you pull him into a tight hug.
- His heart goes crazy in his chest, and he fights but can't stop the way tears well up in his eyes. He crumples against you and rests his head on your shoulder.
- Thank God it was a less popular hallway to travel down where you two had some privacy because crying against the stranger who had become a caretaker to his daughter would be a lot even for him.
- After a couple of seconds, you pull back much to his disappointment and tell him with a sympathetic but also stern expression that you wanted him to play more of a real role in Charlie's life alongside you, and that you'd be willing to help him through what he was dealing with in the process.
- And well, he of course agreed.
- It really did not take long at all for him to fall in love with you. It wasn't a slow process.
- He watched how you bridged the gap between him and Charlie, caring for her like Lilith should have and also caring for him like Lilith should have and was stumbling head over heels almost instantly.
- In the days spent with you, he basked in your platonic care of him, gentle encouragement, validation, and helping him take care of himself better where he'd ignored it.
- In the nights, though, he stayed up at night sleeplessly, heart longing desperately for more with you. Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you, what it would be like to cuddle up to you with no sense of it just being in a friendly way, and above all; if you felt the same way.
- He had it bad, and he was terrified.
- His past history of love didn't exactly end well. He fell head first hard, and then they turned out bad in the end. Left him all alone and beaten down.
- This of course changed, however.
- You had proposed a picnic with him and Charlie in a place that was relatively untouched by hell's disgusting burning flesh stench and pollution in the middle of a field.
- The sun had shone brightly on you as you sat on a red checkered rug, not too hot but not cold either.
- At one point, Charlie ran after a group of butterflies with patterns she had never seen before.
- You two were left alone to leisurely munch on buttery biscuits as playful banter was exchanged.
- You laced your fingers together in your lap as you smiled softly at him. Lucifer animatedly discussed something he was trying to make to help demons become more redeemable to push them towards the hotel.
- You normally would just have listened, nodding along, but something slipped out impulsively instead. "You're so cute."
- Lucifer choked on his words, already rosy cheeks darkening further. "I-" Lucifer stuttered.
- He watched you fumble over your words, mutually embarrassed and shocked at what you had blurted out. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-"
- "I think you are too!" Lucifer exclaimed.
- You felt yourself somewhat awkwardly go quiet. You'd come to admire him as he had you, but you didn't wish to push further just in case it really was just him wanting someone like a spouse.
- "I like you a lot (name). And I uh- I have for a long time. I want you to be closer to you-" Lucifer fumbled over his words, adrenaline making his brain stupid.
- "Would you marry me?" He choked awkwardly, panicking.
- You snickered in disbelief, putting a hand over your mouth to keep from openly laughing.
- "Wait, no- that's not - would you be my actual spouse- wait, uh, that's not right either-" Lucifer was just getting more and more flustered, various iterations of marriage requests tumbling from his mouth like word vomit as he grew more embarrassed.
- It came to an abrupt end, however, as you pressed your lips to his gently, closing the space between you.
- Lucifer's hands flew up to your shoulders as if to tether himself as his mind went fully blank as your lips softly moved against his, prompting his heart rate to absolutely sky-rocket.
- You slowly pulled back from him, noticing that he wasn't reciprocating at all and feared you'd made an error in kissing him.
- Your instinct to apologise was stopped short however, as you noticed he had the most pathetic, lovesick expression on his face possible.
- "Please." He whispered, eyes half lidded and red eyes blown out massively.
- You didn't need a second longer to fulfil that request as you pressed your lips against his with a soft giggle, tumbling backwards onto the picnic rug as his arms wrapped around your shoulders to squeeze you closer to him.
- The kiss was slow and deeply passionate despite how gentle it was.
- Lucifer sighed into your mouth as he attempted to deepen the kiss, tongue running over your bottom lip.
- You didn't reciprocate, however, as you watched Charlie come back from the corner of your eye, looking at you two with absolute beaming glee.
- Your hand moved to grip his arm slightly to try to alert him to stop trying to take it further, but that proved the wrong move as he gasped slightly and his wings quickly unfurled from his back.
- You pushed him off before he could misread your body language anymore, him looking somewhat disappointed, but then let out a shocked "Oh!" As he quickly scrambled up off of you at the sight of his gawking daughter watching.
- You looked at him with an arched brow, somewhat amused at his sudden dilemma.
- Thankfully, Charlie didn't pick up on where the exchange was going for her father.
- "Finally! I've been waiting for so long!" She cried happily, clapping her hands together.
- Lucifer awkwardly recovered, face practically burning in embarrassment as he fought to compose him and bring his wings back into his back with a cough.
- Charlie excitedly exclaimed about how long she'd been waiting for the two of you to finally become not just friends as the both of you went to start packing up the picnic stuff while barely making eye contact outside of stealing shy glances at one-another.
- It was very evident that both of you felt the same about each other, and it really was hard to deny the perfection a relationship would be with Lucifer and yourself.
- You really were like a missing parent to his daughter, and you were like a missing lover to Lucifer - yet so much more than just filling up the place Lilith left.
- You weren't a replacement. You were the one. He was sure of it this time.
- And yeah, sometime down the line, he would marry you.
I was sweating trying not to make Undertale references throughout this (I had to stop myself from pulling a 'it filled him with determination' so bad lmfao)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer headcanon#lucifer headcanons
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