#voice in your ears...~ ♠

[an-ithacan-princess]

*Kaliza, whom had been minding her own business, paused. Her eyes turning to him, and they instantly narrowed faintly.*

"Sir Silas. It is great to be seeing you as well."

*She said, through gritted teeth.*

Solo Roleplay: The Darling Princess!

*Silas walked, his hands folded behind his back, and he said hello to anyone passing. He eventually came to a pause.*

*Someone caught his eye.*

"Ah, princess! How lovely it is to see your beautiful face..."

*His tone was a false sincere one, and condescending.*

[daphwritesworld]

#11 k. mccabe— LUNCH.

content: pussy eating (both receiving), face humping (k receiving) lots of kissing and making out lol, fingering (r receiving), public/beach sex, groping, drinking wine, tattoos, grumpy morning! reader, top!Katie, bottom!reader

warnings: mentions of tattoos, tabloids posting personal info/photos, mentions of a dvd player bc I'm old and still use them

synopsis: A much needed rest day has finally come for you and your girlfriend. She's got everything planned out for you both, from a secret appointment, to a movie date, and finally treating you to a nice lunch on the beach.

requested: yes

word count: 5.6k

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

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An arm sliding around your waist is what you notice first in your daze of slumber. Your mind still hasn’t caught up yet, too focused on how cozy the bed is. But suddenly you’re being pulled to the middle of the mattress, your back hitting a chest as you snuggle into the warmth. You swear you could pass back out even easier now, the new heat source making you even more comfortable. It had been a long night celebrating your anniversary, especially since you both had a game first. You’d won 4-1 Arsenal, so the girls gladly helped you party the night away…but today is about doing all the things you weren’t free to do alone yesterday. 

“Time to get up, my darling.” Katie’s voice is always so thick with her accent first thing in the morning. The raspiness always gets to you, and she knows it, too. She’s often taken full advantage of your weakness for her morning voice. She loves whispering the dirtiest of things into your ears at the crack of dawn and letting her hands roam across your body, teasing you until you’re begging for her touch. Then she’ll flip it on you, clicking her tongue as she scolds you for running you both late to practice. “What am I gonna do with you, pretty girl? Always making us late.”

You turn around in her hold, burying your face into her neck as she starts to rub your back. The early ambiance of the outside world slowly creeps inside, like the birds chirping and cars starting to fill up the streets. You can still smell the body wash she used last night on her skin, taking in a deep breath of it as you exhale in a sleepy sigh, “Five more minutes, please baby.”

“Okay, hun..but only five more. Then we gotta get ready for the day, alright?” She’s met with a small snore from between your lips. Already back to being dead to the world in her arms. Her chest shakes with a silent laugh at that, trying not to disturb you before your times up. Katie slowly pulls your head back, resting it on her pillow so she can examine your face. There have been many days where she’s watched you sleep. Not in a creepy way, but in an endearing way. She’d often wake up before you and just admire how beautiful you look while deep in slumber. You’re like a piece of art lying perfectly in motion, her personal Mona Lisa who stepped out of the painting. Gripping the canvas as you pulled your way to be in the world of the living and took refuge in her heart. You’ve burrowed your way into her soul, carved out a spot there, and made a permanent home…but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She knew you’d be trouble for her the first day you attended practice after signing with Arsenal. Strolling right in with that perfect smile on your dumb gorgeous face, and effectively distracting her for all of warm-ups. She’d gone pretty hard on you that first day during drills, taking the frustrations of her attraction out on the pitch. And after all the teasing, slide tackles, and pushes she’d sent your way, that still didn’t stop you from coming over in the locker room and telling her she played well that day. A hand extended to shake hers and that stupid smile appeared back on your face, making her heart almost burst out of her chest (for about the tenth time that day). Katie swears to this day that her brain short-circuited at that moment. You were standing in front of her covered in grass and dirt stains, and she had been the cause of them….but you still looked like a goddess standing before her, reaching out an olive branch in the shape of your perfectly painted nails. 

For the first time in her life, Katie McCabe was rendered speechless. Blubbering her mouth silently like a fish out of water before jutting her hand out to take yours. As you shook hands all Katie could concentrate on was how soft your skin was, like an invitation to never let go. You giggled while watching her, “You’re cute.” 

As you slipped away from her, she stood frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights. You turned at the door before you left, shooting her that paralyzing smile one last time, “See you on the pitch, McCabe…and close your mouth. Wouldn’t want our star defender catching any flies now would we?” And just like that you were gone out of the room, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her frontal cortex shattered onto the floor below her. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been a little over five years since then, and only four months since the proposal. You’re both currently living in your little bubble of love. Deciding together to keep the engagement to yourselves for at least two more months. The secrecy of sharing such an exciting and intimate moment from everyone in your lives has been fueling A LOT of sex between the two of you. In the locker room showers, the club meeting room, and numerous bathrooms or broom closets of whatever establishments the two of you have occupied. 

Katie sighs looking back at the clock, she’s already let you sleep an extra 10 minutes now. She knows how you are though, especially first thing in the morning. You’re usually her walking sunshine, radiating light off you everywhere you go. But you’re always her frumpy grump in the morning (as she likes to call you.) A frown and a furrow between your brows settle into your features as your sleepy eyes try to shut at any given moment. You’ve run into many, many walls that way..so Katie came up with a solution a few years back when you started living together: carrying you around like a koala bear until you can walk and function on your own.

Her arms secure you in her grip, hoisting you up as you stay sound asleep in her hold. She starts walking to the bathroom, knowing when she sits you on the counter it’s gonna wake you up. She turns the hot water in the shower on first, letting it warm up as she gets you up enough to hop in with her. The cold marble lights goosebumps across your skin as you jolt alive wakeful, your eyes snapping open to the bright lights above you. Your hips go to lift your thighs off the freezing countertop, but Katie’s hands stop you, pushing you to sit back down. Her hands slip under your shirt as you shiver at the feeling of her ring sliding across your warm skin, leaving a tingly feeling behind in its wake. 

A kiss graces the pulse point on your neck, Katie’s lips lingering as you start leaning into her more. The soft sucks and nips from her teeth start warming you up slowly. Like a fire brewing in your belly the more she teases you. She leans back for a second to pull you into a searing kiss, her nails digging into the skin of your waist now. It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, leaves your face red, and panting for some fresh air when you pull apart. Katie pulls back enough to speak against your lips, “Time to get up and shower, sleepyhead.” 

Your face drops back into those distinct telltale signs that you’re frustrated. That’s made even more apparent by the way you cross your arms over your chest and let a scoff out into her face. Katie just smiles at you, used to your stink of an attitude in the morning after so many years. Honestly, at this point, if you ever woke up this early with a smile on your face she’d be racing you to the ER for a full workup of your brain. “You did not kiss me like that JUST so I’d get in the shower,” you narrow your eyes at her as you say it. “Are you saying I stink, McBabe?” you push her shoulder lightly with a pout on your lips. 

“Only your tude, darling….but your hair is looking a little doolally,” she says with a grimace on her face. The little smirk at the corner of her mouth gives way to her joking nature underneath though. You open your mouth to say something else all prickly, but she cuts you off with her fingers wiggling across your middle. Then she starts attacking you in flurry of kisses, all over your face as you struggle to get away from her.

“K-Kate! Katie s-stop!” Your hands come up to push at her stomach and chest, loud laughs ripping from your mouth as she relentlessly tickles you on the counter. “Pl-Please baby! Ok-Okay! I’ll get in t-the shower!” 

She pulls back at that, her infectious grin mirroring your own as she starts taking your clothes off. Leaving little kisses on your body as she concludes stripping you. She reaches for her shorts, but you slap her hand away. “Let me, love. Only fair that I repay the favor.” 

Your lips slot onto hers as your hands slip down her toned abdomen and start pulling her sleep shorts down her legs. No time is wasted as you instantly reach back up and take the band of her underwear into your fingertips. You rub the material through your fingers for a second, admiring the softness before they follow the path of her bottoms around her ankles. 

Then you’re gasping into her mouth as she’s backing you up into the counter you’d just been plucked off of. The articles of clothing that had taken home around her feet now kicked to the side, ironically right in front of the laundry bin. Her grip on your now bare hips disappears as she pulls away from your makeout. Using her now free hands to pull her sports bra off and toss it somewhere to be picked up later from the floor. 

She picks you back up, letting you wrap your legs around her waist as she leads you both to the now steaming shower. “I’m making you drive if all the hot water’s gone.”

Katie lightly slaps your ass as a response. The warm water surrounds you as she closes the door behind you both. She lowers you to stand on your own, hugging your back to her front as you both submerge under the downpour of the showerhead. “I’m always gonna be the one driving anyways darling, we both know that.” 

“Oh yeah? Says who?” 

“Says you miss pro passenger princess! I can’t remember one time you’ve ever sat in the drivers seat while we’ve been together…unless we’re counting when you’re on my lap while you let me–” 

“Okay! I get it, I get it!” You turn around and place a hand over her mouth, laughing as you come to terms with your new title. Deciding to tease her back a bit for causing the blush dusting your cheeks, “Don’t have to do a play-by-play for me. I know you love those, but leave our sex life out of your pregame rituals- EW KATIE!” 

She’s the one laughing now, smirking as she flicks her tongue back out at you. “That’s so gross, babe! My poor hand with your morning breath germs all over it!”

“Oh shut up! Acting like that same tongue wasn’t shoved inside your cunt less than 12 hours ago and been in your mouth ever since your pretty little eyes peeled open.” 

Your mouth shuts closed at that, the red on your cheeks deepening as you hide your face with your hands. “Okay, I’m not gonna argue with you there,” you breathe out between your fingers. You’re met with a kiss to the forehead as Katie pulls your hands away, chuckling as you reveal a small frown to her. 

“Turn around you goober, I’ll wash your hair. We really can’t mess around now or we’re gonna be late for our appointment,” she says while reaching for your shampoo. 

It’s always so relaxing when she does your hair for you some days. You used to always laugh at first because it reminded you of Charles from Brooklyn99 so badly. She never understood when you’d just burst out giggling like a madman and when she’d ask you’d just reply, “The most intimate thing you can do for a lover is wash their hair!” 

When you finally got her to agree to watch the show about a year after the shower routine started, she almost choked on her popcorn when she heard him say it. Yeah, she definitely chased you around the house before tackling you to the couch and tickling you as a punishment for making fun of her popcorn hazard. She really does love to use it as her weapon of certain surrender…because after five seconds you’re begging for a truce. 

The hints of apple and honey fill your nostrils as Katie’s fingers massage the cream into your scalp, pulling soft relieved sighs from your lips. She can physically see your body relax into hers at the act. She’d never admit it to you, but this really is the most intimate act she’s ever done with a lover…and it’s reserved just for you– promised forever now. 

“All finished, booger!” 

You turn around as she starts loading up her loofa, taking it from her grasp as you start doing it for her. It starts out innocently– it really does, okay! But like most things with Katie, they don’t stay that way for long. You can’t help but fall to your knees as the loofa runs clean water down her body now, the last of the suds swirling down the drain. “What are you doing, doll? I told you we can’t waste any more time messing around,” her hand comes to rest on the top of your head.

“And I told you I’d repay the favor last night, and I think we’ve established I don’t like leaving empty promises, baby.” Your hands run up her legs, stopping to run your nails up her inner thighs. The hand on your head turns into fingers in your hair as she lets a growl out, pulling your head up. “Stick your tongue out, darling.” 

You do as she says, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Her hand moves more towards the back of your head as she pushes your face into her cunt, her shoulders hitting the cold tiles as she guides your head. Her nipples get hard from the contact off the wall, a shiver running down her spine as you start sucking on her clit. Your hands go up to grab her hips, trying to ground yourself as you get lost in the taste of her. 

“Just like that, fuck babe.” She’s gritting her teeth now, planting her footing before grinding her pussy down onto your mouth. “Open your– fuck! Open your eyes for me, love.”

And Jesus fuck you had to fight the urge to let them roll into the back of your skull when you do. She’s staring down at you with those alluring eyes, her long wet hair thrown onto one shoulder, and her abs flexing as she grinds down onto your eager mouth. You moan just at the sight, flicking your tongue on her clit as you let one of your hands come down to replace it. Then you push your tongue inside of her, desperate for a true taste of what you know she has to offer. 

“Pussy drunk aren’t you, darling?” she laughs out, holding you completely still as she puts a little more pressure onto your face as she humps into your tongue harder. The water running down her perfectly sculpted body is reflecting off the light coming into the bathroom. A sign of the little time you two really have, the rest of the world carrying on as you’re frozen in the spot between her legs. Your knees are aching and your jaws getting sore, but that bleeds into the background noise as Katie lets out a knee-wobbling moan. 

Her eyes burn into yours as her legs start to shake around your head, and you start grinding your face back up into her as she comes down. The roll of her hips bumping her clit into your nose in the chaos, more sweet sounds tumbling from her lips. She cums with a groan of your name falling from her lips, the hand in your hair dragging you up her body.

You let your tongue trace its way up her body as she brings you up to meet each other’s lips in a messy kiss. Tasting herself all over your mouth as she walks back under the main stream of water, you squeal from the chill from the now heatless water. She quickly washes you both up before hurrying from the shower, a new skip in her step for the day. 

It only takes you both about 15 minutes to get ready, you in a nice flowy sundress that Katie had surprised you with last night in the early a.m. hum of London. You’d stumbled in all tipsy, horny, but determined to swap your gifts before bed, and by god, you got it done, too. Like did you look at them for 5 seconds and then instantly sit them on the coffee table and fuck for three hours straight around on different surfaces of the house?...The answer would be yes. BUT hey you got the prioritized goal done before going at it like animals and that’s all that matters in your book. 

Katie walks into the bathroom where you’re finishing up your makeup, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. She’s wearing an outfit that throws you headfirst into ovulation early. There she stood in her tight tan crop top and white flowy pants. The glasses you had gifted her two birthdays ago, a gold necklace with your initial hanging from it, and the gold watch you bought her for your first anniversary to match.

It all comes together to make a delicious sight for your viewing. She comes up behind you, arms bulging as she places her hands beside you on the same countertop you’d made out on earlier. “Stop ogling me, we’re gonna be late you perv!” 

You roll your eyes at her before finally zipping up your makeup bag. You put on some lipgloss before tucking it in your purse and moving to go put your shoes on. “Wear comfy ones, I’ve got a surprise for you at lunch!” she calls out across the room as she sees you approaching the shoe rack on your side of the closet. You give her a questioning look, wondering why you’d need comfy shoes for whatever restaurant she’s chosen…but nonetheless, you comply. Slipping on some sandals to match your dress, and to show off your matching nails of course (courtesy of being paid for by your girlfriend). 

You arrive at the tattoo parlour right on time, not a moment to spare. You hop out of the car and rush inside hand in hand with Katie. She leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head after she’s talked with the man at the front, “You’re so lucky we weren’t late or you’d be in big trouble, missy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” you whisper back at her, “but we weren’t, so live a little, babe.” 

She just shakes her head at you, following behind the heavily inked man in front of you until he pulls the curtains back to an empty room. He leads you inside and pats the freshly cleaned black leather chair, “Alright who’s going first?” 

—

When you leave the shop you’ve both got a huge smile on your face, hands intertwined and swinging as you skip to the car. “I can’t believe we really did that, Katie!” 

“Best believe we did, darling! Now you’re really stuck with me forever,” she pulls you back into her arms. Stopping on the sidewalk to take this moment in with you. 

“And always,” you say barely above a whisper, but it’s enough for just Katie to hear. Your fingertips move as gently as ever as they trace along her ribs, right under her left boob where the fresh ink lays eternally embedded into her skin. You’d both gotten matching ones– a cliche I know– but it was something you’ve both wanted for a while. Hers saying, “go deo” and yours, “i gconai” in the same spot. It’s a promise to each other that’s permanently carved into your persons; a pledge of forever and always. As cheesy as it sounds the words hold dear for you both, and the Gaelic spelling gives a deeper connection as well. 

Katie swears she feels her heart stop beating in her chest as the sounds of the city become nothing but white noise, her body leaning into yours as you share a soft, yet passionate kiss in the busy bustle of the city. You almost don’t want to pull apart, but the remembrance of your surprise is what fuels you to break away and start tugging her toward where she parked the car. “Come on, move it McBabe! I heard we’ve got a plan for lunch, and I’m dying to see what you’ve got arranged!” 

After a 3-and-a-half-hour ride, you finally reach your destination. She’s brought you to Priory Beach, the place you went to on your second-anniversary trip. She leads you out to a white tent on the side of the beach, out of the way enough for some privacy between you two. As she leads you closer you feel tears gathering in your eyes at the sight. There’s not just a tent, but blankets spread out, too. A mini table is set up full of your favorite picnic foods, a vase with your favorite flowers, two wine glasses, and your favorite red bottle to accompany it. A little fully charged DVD player is under the table, and the movie you two watched on your first date sits right beside it. But the polaroids of you two hanging from the white tull-wrapped arch is what does it for you, and before you know it you’re crying like a baby. 

Katie pulls you into her arms as she hugs you, a panicked look on your face as she does. “Oh lord, I’m sorry darling! I didn’t mean to make you upset or anything-”

“No! No! I love it!” you pull back quickly, your shiny eyes meeting her terrified ones. “It’s just..no one’s ever done anything this sweet for me. It’s a lot to take in, okay!” 

She throws her head back and cackles at the realization. “Oh yeah? Not even like…oh, I don’t know, say getting a matching tattoo?” She teases as she wipes your tears away with her thumbs, now cradling your face in her hands. 

“Shut up! You know what I meant, babe!” 

She puts a hand on her chest and acts like she’s just been shot at close range, “Not even McBabe? Oh, see you are mad at me!” She lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping down onto the blanket as she gets on her knees and takes your hands into hers begging for your forgiveness. You quickly do, laughing at her antics before she pulls you down to sit with her. It’s a beautiful view to have as you eat. The waves roll in as a backdrop to the movie as it plays. It’s really all just background music to the endless conversation between you two, the wine keeps flowing, and the hours keep ticking by. But it’s barely been 20 minutes to you both. Too busy drowning out the world around you as you get lost in each other’s eyes and voices, retelling the best moments of your love story as you reflect on how you’ve got to where you are today. “Oh, wow! The lights are a beautiful touch!” you gasp as they flick on, lighting up your space as the sun sets before you. The movie’s long been over and the DVD player dead for a while, too. You take a sip from your last glass of wine and lean your head on Katie’s shoulder, taking in the beauty of the scenery that you’re able to see up close and personal right now. The oranges, pinks, and reds reflect off the water. Ripples of incomprehensible vibrant colors all mashing into one to create an unforgettable memory. “Should we take a picture of the sunse– what are you looking at?” you cut yourself off as you look up at her, the last part of your sentence becoming a whisper. She’s just staring at you, with this unreadable expression on her face, it’s truly one you’ve never seen before (at least not awake). 

“You’re just so beautiful. I wake up every day in awe that it’s me you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I thank god every night that I’m holding you to my chest. I get to experience the best parts of life because of you, and I’ll never be able to truly repay you for that, y/n…but thankfully I’ve got the rest of our lifetime together to try.”

You can feel the weight of her words as she speaks them. There’s no smile, laugh, or distraction in her voice. She’s confessing to you, like a sinner in a catholic church. Spilling the contents of her soul out onto the staircase of your heart, and leaving it there for you to either clean it up or let it soak into the deepest parts of you. So you lean up and press your lips against hers. Katie grabs your face, turning you around as she yanks you onto her lap. Your half-empty wine glass goes flying, landing in the sand beside the blanket as the wine leaks into the ground staining it dark. 

You want to say something back to her, but your brain is just mush. It’s like she’s stolen all the thoughts out of your head and you’re just floating in this bliss called her. You’re starting to think she was onto something when she said you fried her brain that one day because holy fuck you’re really humping your fiance’s lap on a public beach right now without a care in the world like you two aren’t famous athletes. “Mmm Katie– someone could s-see us,” you can barely get it out as she keeps her lips on yours. 

“Then let them,” she says it so casually into your lips that you almost listen to her, but one of you has to be the responsible one. So you pull back and give her your best kicked-puppy look, a pout dancing on your bottom lip, “Please, baby. I don’t want to end up on the front page of some tabloid– at least not till I’m officially Mrs. McBabe.” 

She looks at you while biting on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed as she thinks of something deep in thought. You tilt your head at her after a few seconds, placing a hand on her shoulder to check on her. “Baby? Are you ok–OH MY G–” You’re cut off twice. The first time when she manhandles you into the air. The second one is when she continues to manhandle you between her thighs, resting your back on her chest and a hand over your mouth. “Shhh darling! Wouldn’t want to ruin my plan now would you?”

You shake your head no, still not able to use your voice. So she slowly moves her hand away from your mouth, and lets it slide up the inside of your thigh. “Your dress is long enough to hide my hand, and you can hide your face in my neck if you want to, okay? I promise no one will see us” and you nod your head in response. 

“I need to hear you say it. Is this okay with you, y/n?” Her voice is suddenly stern, a hint of her softness peaking out to wrap around the words in a thin veil. 

“Yes baby, j-just please touch me already! God, I’ve needed you since you kissed my breath away this morning.” 

Katie groans into your mouth as she crashes them back together, her fingertips digging into the skin of your upper thighs as they inch up closer to your heat. When they reach your pussy she’s met with instant wetness and a loud breathy moan from you. A laugh rumbles up in her throat and vibrates your mouth as they stay connected, “No panties? Fuck baby you’ve been needing it bad all day, huh?”

You whine out at her teasing, raising your hips up as you search for her touch. Bucking wildly as your body begs for her fingers. “Okay shhh, shhh. I’ve got you now, love. Calm down,” as her digits run up and down your slit. They collect the unfathomable amount of wetness onto her fingers, your pussy leaking like a hydrant for her. She slides a single finger in first, not wanting to overwhelm you before you’re ready. 

“Add another one, please,” you say through a small moan. 

“Only cause you asked so sweet,” she smirks back at you. “My sunshine girl.”

So she slides her finger out and quickly returns with a second one buried inside your cunt. She’s fucking you a little faster now, the reluctance from your tight walls finally letting up. You’re biting your lip, muffled little cries of pleasure audible to Katie’s ears solely. 

Her other hand finds its way into the top of your dress, popping a hand underneath your bra as she starts groping your breasts. She makes sure she gives them both equal attention, switching out every so often to not overstimulate you. Her lips find shelter on your neck, leaving little pecks when and where she wants. But when you start grinding down onto her fingers, she decides to add another one by surprise this time. 

It rips a louder moan from your mouth, especially since her thumb is adding to the mix and rubbing circles onto your clit now. Your body wants to squirm away, but you’re stuck between Katie’s legs, being forced into letting the pleasure wreck through your body. “I’m g-gonna cum, baby!”

You feel a smile against your jaw, “You’re my pretty fucking fiancé, yeah? I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you, darling. Can’t wait to make love to you as my wife– my other half.” 

 she’s starting to ramble and it’s going to be your downfall. The feeling of her curling them to hit right into her sweet spot draws you even closer to the edge, “Let it all out, darling. Cum on and give it to me!”

And so you do. Your hand comes around to grip her wrist through your sundress, your nails digging into her skin as you flail around in her hold. Your back arches away from her chest and your toes curl as they kick out in front of you. Your walls squeeze her fingers so tight she has to stop moving them as she’s biting love marks into your skin, trying to let this orgasm run its course as long as it can. You swear you’ve never cum this hard– positively boneless in her hold. 

You hiss at the slight sting as she pulls them out of you, immediately bringing them up to her mouth for a detailed cleaning with her tongue. Her eyes roll back at the flavor of you that hits her tastebuds, and she’s manhandling you onto your back this time. The soft blankets swallow you up as you lay down submerged in them, “Wh-what are you doing, K-Katie?”

“I just need to clean you up a bit, baby. I’ll be fast, I promise. Can’t have you all messy the whole ride home, now can we?” You should’ve known at the sight of her smirk right then…that it was going to be anything but speedy, but alas you have fallen victim to the tongue game of Katie McCabe once again. Your legs thrown open wide, back arched off the ground, hand on her head as it disappears under your dress, and a brand new tabloid with a picture of that exact scene on the front page the next morning. But one detail does stick out enough to add it to the headline..the shiny diamond ring on your finger, only visible from the light off of the set up she made you. 

“You can’t even tell that’s us, darling! It’s too dark, we’re fine. Just gotta deny deny deny,” Katie says like she’s a genius. A proud smirk on her face as she tries to pry you out from underneath your fortress of the duvet. 

“THEY HAVE PHOTOS OF US IN THOSE EXACT OUTFITS ALL OVER THE CITY THAT SAME DAY!” it’s shouted from under your mound of protection..not for you– but for Katie. If looks could kill she’d of been dead 10 times before now, all hell breaking loose after you woke up, and not five minutes later you’re getting bombarded with texts of screenshots and links. 

“Okay your right…this is serious, baby, I'm sorry…So should we start the onlyfans on our honeymoon? I could retire ear–”

“KATIE!” And if that wasn’t enough to know you didn’t like that joke, then the pillow to the face should definitely get your mood across.

[devdozes]

♠ Double package of tits and wits

i swear tge title is a joke okaya 💔anwyays, maybe innacurate medical knowledge and reader yaps about spiderverse theories tw- description of surgeries, gore (not much), surgeon mydei and reader.

The first time you met Mydei, he was standing in the middle of the ER, clipboard in hand, reading over a patient file with the expression of someone who had just been assigned to clean a crime scene with a toothbrush. He was new, fresh from a high-end medical program, and carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made nurses whisper and interns both respect and fear him. He had an air of efficiency, crisp in both movement and demeanor, like a man who had everything under control.

Naturally, you had to mess with him.

"Oh no, another serious one," you fake gasped, leaning against the nurses' station, balancing a cup of coffee precariously on a stack of patient charts. "You look like you're contemplating life choices. Did you lose a bet to end up here?"

Mydei slowly looked up from his clipboard, unimpressed. "No. But I assume you did, given your current posture and general air of irresponsibility."

Your smirk widened, tapping your fingers against the cup. "Ah, he's got claws. Good. You'll need them here."

Before he could reply with what you were sure would be a clinical-level roast, a nurse rushed over. "Dr. [L/N], emergency surgery. Chest trauma. OR 2. Now."

Your entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Gone was the playful teasing and casual posture. The coffee was discarded onto the counter, forgotten. You pushed off, face tightening with focus as you nodded. "On it. Let's move."

Mydei watched as you strode off, barking orders at the surgical team like a general leading an army. The contrast was stark—one moment, you were a chaotic sister figure of the hospital, the next, a razor-sharp surgeon whose presence commanded the room with no room for erorr. The ease with which you transitioned between those two states intrigued him. It was impressive.

It became a running joke in the hospital that you never walked—only sprinted. Due to the absurd number of trauma cases flooding the ER, you had been dubbed the "Marathon Runner" by the staff because you were always dashing to the emergency room or the OR, barely catching your breath between surgeries.

One particularly chaotic evening, yet another murder victim was rushed into the ER, the fifth in five days. You were already running before the announcement had finished crackling over the speakers. "Where's Mydei?! I need extra hands!" you yelled over your shoulder.

You caught sight of him further down the hall, walking at his usual composed pace. Not fast enough. In one swift motion, you grabbed his ear and yanked him along, continuing your sprint toward the ER.

"Move it, newbie! We don't have all day!" you barked, barely sparing him a glance as you dragged him with you.

Mydei stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, shooting you an exasperated glare. "Is this how you usually recruit your surgical team? Physical assault?"

"If it works, it works! Now stop whining and keep up!"

By the time you burst through the ER doors, Mydei’s expression was a mix of mild irritation and resigned acceptance. The staff barely batted an eye at the scene—just another day in the war zone, and just another mad sprint for the infamous "Marathon Runner." ♥♥♥

The patient was already prepped by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in. Gunshot wound to the underside of the thoracic region, severe internal bleeding, possible liver damage. Time was not on your side.

"Scalpel," you said sharply, hand outstretched as the instrument was placed into your palm.

The moment you made the incision, the world outside the operating table ceased to exist. The chaotic, joking version of you disappeared, replaced by a laser-focused surgeon with only one objective: saving this patient’s life.

"Retractor," Mydei instructed, his voice calm but firm, matching your energy perfectly. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, he worked with the same level of intensity, sharp eyes scanning for complications before they could escalate. "The bullet's lodged near the hepatic vein. High risk of rupture."

You nodded, steady hands navigating the delicate area. "We'll need to remove it without causing further damage. Hold traction here."

He complied without hesitation, and for the next hour, the two of you worked seamlessly, the tension in the room thick as you maneuvered through the critical steps. Nurses exchanged glances—rarely did a new surgeon adapt so well to your pace, but Mydei was holding his ground.

Finally, with careful precision, you made the incision, gently extracting the bullet with forceps. Mydei immediately clamped down on the bleed as you worked to close the wound. "Hemostasis achieved," he confirmed, voice still level despite the high-stakes procedure.

You exhaled sharply, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge the strain in your muscles. "Good work, newbie. Maybe I won't have to drag you by the ear next time."

His mask couldn't hide the slight quirk of his lips. "A relief, truly."

The nurses stifled laughter as the tension broke, and you smirked beneath your mask. Just another day in the war zone cod mentioned

Over the following weeks, the emergency murder victims didn’t stop. If anything, they became more frequent. More victims, more emergency calls, more all-nighters in the OR. You barely had time to breathe between surgeries. The staff was growing anxious—talks of a serial killer floated through the hospital halls, whispers of patterns, speculation about who the next victim would be.

One night, after finishing another back-to-back surgery, you leaned against the break room counter, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. Mydei sat across from you, arms crossed, his usual composed expression marred by something contemplative.

"You notice it too, don’t you?" you muttered, cracking open a cold energy drink. Mydei inhaled slowly, "Mhm. Yeah, I did, it is truly concerning. Who could be doing all this? and why are these happening to only those who are connected to the hospital in some way or the other?" "As much as I would like to say that it's a conspiracy theory although this seems too..well planned," You reply before taking a huge gulp of your energy drink, and cringing out as the brain freeze kicks in "OH FUCK BRAIN FREEZE!!" "Good lord"

Surgery after surgery. Shift after shift. Barely enough time to breathe.

You were used to this—the endless flood of trauma cases, the sleepless nights, the way your body screamed for rest but never quite got it. The hospital never slowed down, and neither did you. And with the murders increasing, the ER had become more of a war zone than ever.

But if there was one silver lining in this chaotic, bloodstained mess, it was that you had a new plaything—Mydei.

He had only been here for a couple of months, but the poor bastard had already been roped into your whirlwind pace. Every time another trauma case came barreling through those ER doors, it was like clockwork—you and Mydei, sprinting through the halls, elbow-deep in someone's guts five minutes later.

And to your shock? The guy was handling your bullshit.

Mostly.

♥♥♥

Surgery #1 “Another one?” Mydei muttered as he scrubbed in, glancing at the case file.

You huffed, aggressively tying your mask. “Yup. Because life is fair and normal and totally not a complete joke.”

“It is, in fact, not fair or normal,” Mydei agreed dryly, stepping into the OR beside you. “We just had back-to-back stab wounds two hours ago.”

“Welcome to the life of an average surgeon,” you shot back, holding out your hand. “Scalpel.”

The instrument was placed in your palm, and you immediately got to work, making the first incision. The moment the skin parted, blood surged up like a dark tide, and you barely resisted the urge to curse.

“Gunshot went clean through the left lung,” Mydei noted, his hands already moving to assist. “We need to clear the hemorrhaging before we can close it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, newbie. Talking like a real trauma surgeon.”

“Unlike you, I actually paid attention in medical school.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to function on three hours of sleep and an energy drink,” you retorted, maneuvering the forceps with ease.

He didn’t even dignify that with a response, focusing instead on securing the ruptured artery. The monitors beeped wildly as the patient’s vitals dipped, and for the next hour, it was a brutal game of tug-of-war with death.

But eventually, after what felt like forever, the bleeding was controlled, the lung repaired, and the incision closed.

Another one survived. Another round of exhaustion settling deep into your bones.

As you peeled off your gloves, you nudged Mydei with your elbow. “Good work, newbie. You only looked mildly horrified this time.”

“I was not horrified.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you said, smirking behind your mask.

♥♥♥ Surgery #5

Mydei had just sat down in the break room, a cup of coffee in one hand and his sanity barely intact, when you kicked the door open, with the most tired, zombie-like eyes ever, but your energy said otherwsie.

“We have another stab wound victim,” you announced dramatically, pointing at him like you were accusing him of a crime.

He stared at you for exactly three seconds. Then, without breaking eye contact, he calmly put down his coffee, stood up, and walked past you.

“You coming?” he said flatly.

You grinned and followed after him, practically skipping.

By the time you were both in the OR again, hands scrubbed, gloved, and ready to operate, you could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. But at this point, exhaustion was just another permanent state of being.

“Another day, another stab victim,” you muttered, making the first incision. “I should start keeping a tally at this point.”

“I assume you already do,” Mydei said without looking up, using a retractor to hold the muscle layers apart.

“I do, actually. I carved it into the back of the break room door.”

He blinked. “You did what?”

“I’m kidding.”

“… Are you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath about unprofessionalism and ‘why do I work with you’, but his hands never faltered.

And as always, you and Mydei worked seamlessly, patching up yet another poor soul and dragging them back from the brink of death.

♥♥♥

Surgery #9

It had been twenty hours since either of you had properly rested, and you were running on nothing but spite, lemon-flavored energy drinks, and questionable life choices.

“Did you seriously just chew a lemon before scrubbing in?” Mydei asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and vague disappointment.

“Yup,” you said cheerfully, barely suppressing a yawn.

“Unbelievable.”

“You say that like this isn’t my standard operating procedure.”

“… That is the problem.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before shaking his head and focusing on the patient before you. It was a nasty case—multiple knife wounds across the abdomen and thigh, excessive blood loss, risk of sepsis.

The moment you started cutting, it was pure chaos. Blood loss was extreme, the heart monitor was fluctuating wildly, and the nurses were scrambling to keep up with the damage.

Through it all, you and Mydei moved in perfect sync—suctioning, stitching, clamping arteries before they could burst.

“Patient’s BP is dropping,” a nurse warned.

“We need to move faster,” Mydei said, his voice sharp.

You didn’t hesitate, maneuvering the forceps with expert precision, your breathing controlled even as tension mounted. The OR was filled with nothing but the sounds of beeping monitors and the relentless rhythm of your hands moving against time itself.

And then—

Stabilization.

The vitals steadied. The bleeding stopped. The worst was over.

You let out a long, exhausted breath, finally stepping back. “Oh my fucking god. That was hell.”

Mydei, equally exhausted, glanced at you. “At least we’re still alive.”

“For now,” you muttered, tossing your gloves into the bin.

♥♥♥

After nine surgeries in less than two days, the exhaustion finally hit you like a truck.

As you walked into the break room, Mydei following behind, you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, draping yourself over the armrest. “I am dying. This is it. Tell my story.”

Mydei raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “No.”

“Rude.”

He ignored you, instead pouring himself another cup of coffee with all the grace of a man barely holding himself together.

You peeked at him from the couch. “You know, newbie, for someone who acts all serious, you’re weirdly good at keeping up with my insanity.”

He took a slow sip of his coffee, meeting your gaze with a look of complete indifference. “Because someone has to make sure you don’t actually die from your own bad habits.”

You grinned. “Aww. You care.”

“I don’t.”

“You totally do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re looking out for me. Admit it.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I regret working here.”

“No, you don’t.”

He took another long sip of coffee, not answering.

And despite how exhausted you both were—despite the blood, the chaos, and the looming shadow of the unbelievably many cases—you couldn’t help but laugh. You then stand up, stretching your arms upwards and bending down until you feel a sense of relief. "Alright, I'm going to go in the dorm to rest now, call me if anything happens" You sluggishly say while walking outside the door, not giving Mydei a single look as you slam the door shut.

The hospital was never quiet.

Machines beeped, nurses murmured in hushed voices, and somewhere down the hall, the steady rhythm of footsteps echoed against the tiled floors. It was a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and urgency.

But for once, you weren’t in the middle of the chaos.

You had crashed in the break room after nine surgeries back-to-back, running on caffeine and pure adrenaline. The moment your body hit the couch, you were out—four hours of deep, dreamless sleep. It wasn’t enough, not even close, but at least you could function again.

You groggily blinked awake, stretching slightly as your stiff muscles protested. Something felt different.

Lifting your head, you noticed the dimmed lights and the faint chill of the air conditioning. And then—your gaze landed on the figure at the desk.

Mydei.

Fast asleep.

His arms were folded on the surface, head resting on them, his usual sharp posture completely gone. His strawberry-blonde hair, with its signature faded red tips, was a little messier than usual—strands falling over his forehead, some brushing against his closed eyes. Even the normally well-hidden red tattoos that curled faintly along his collarbone and neck were just barely visible beneath the slightly loosened collar of his uniform.

You stared.

It wasn’t like you’d never seen Mydei exhausted before—you practically lived in the trenches together, spending ungodly hours in the operating room, barely catching breaks between emergencies. But this?

You’d never seen him this unguarded.

His sharp golden eyes—usually keen, unwavering, always calculating—were closed, his breathing deep and steady. Without that intense gaze, the usual tension in his expression had softened, leaving behind something… calmer.

… Honestly? He kinda looked like a big, overworked tiger curled up for a nap.

Which made the urge to mess with him even stronger.

Still groggy, you dragged yourself off the couch and plopped down beside him. Instead of waking him up, you mirrored his position—arms folded, head resting on them.

And then—you just watched him.

Not in a creepy way, of course. 🤨

You were just… admiring.

The way his hair fell over his face, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, the faintest crease in his brow like even in sleep, his mind was still running through checklists and surgical procedures.

It was rare to see Mydei so… still.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head slightly, and without really thinking, you reached forward—lightly brushing a stray strand of his hair out of his face.

His hair was softer than you expected.

Not fair.

“… Damn,” you whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know you could actually look peaceful.”

No response.

“… Or that you had a soft side. Thought you just ran on stress and stubbornness.”

Still nothing.

You chuckled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Maybe you’d just sit here for a while.

The break room was quiet—a rare thing in a hospital where chaos never took a break. The distant hum of machines and the occasional muffled voice from the hallway were the only reminders that the world outside was still moving.

But here, at this moment, it felt like time had slowed down.

You had only meant to sit beside Mydei for a little while—maybe tease him when he woke up, maybe just steal a moment of peace. But the exhaustion that had been dragging at your bones for hours finally caught up to you.

Your breathing evened out, your eyelids grew heavier, and before you even realized it… you were out.

Your head tilted slightly, resting against your folded arms—barely a few inches away from Mydei’s.

For a while, the two of you just slept there.

The break room remained undisturbed, the dim lighting casting soft shadows over the both of you. The warmth of exhaustion settled in, and despite the hard surface of the desk, despite the stress of the hospital, you slept soundly.

It wasn’t long before Mydei stirred.

His sharp golden eyes fluttered open, blinking away the haze of sleep. It took him a moment to register where he was—the familiar scent of antiseptic, the low hum of hospital equipment, the faint chill of the AC brushing against his skin.

And then—he noticed you.

Still fast asleep.

Mydei froze.

You were so close.

Your head was resting on your arms, your breathing slow and even. Your hair was slightly messy from the way you had collapsed against the desk, a few strands falling over your face. Your usual smirk and teasing remarks were absent, leaving behind a rare, peaceful expression.

For the first time since he had met you, you looked completely relaxed.

His gaze lingered.

Longer than necessary.

The way your eyelashes rested lightly against your skin. The way your lips were slightly parted in sleep. The way your entire presence, which was usually so chaotic, loud, and restless, was now quiet and soft.

Mydei’s fingers twitched slightly—as if resisting the urge to reach forward.

He swallowed, looking away for a brief moment, but his eyes inevitably found their way back to you.

Why did you always manage to surprise him?

Every day in this hospital, you ran on energy that should’ve been impossible, pushing through sleepless nights, impossible surgeries, and the constant storm of emergencies with a smirk and a sharp remark.

But now?

Now you were just a person. A tired, overworked person who had finally given in to exhaustion.

Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“… Idiot.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no bite in it.

Just something quiet.

Something unspoken.

Something fond.

His golden eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

♥♥♥

Not even after a few minutes, his sharp golden eyes fluttered open again. And Mydei remained still, his sharp golden eyes lingering on you as you slept—your breath slow and even, lips slightly parted, exhaustion weighing heavily on your features.

It was rare to see you like this.

Usually, you were everywhere—a constant storm of motion, teasing remarks, and sharp wit. You sprinted through hallways, laughed in the face of pressure, and dragged him into surgeries without so much as a warning.

But now?

Now you looked… adorable.

A rare sight. One that made something tighten in Mydei’s chest.

Without fully thinking, his hand moved on its own.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, featherlight—hesitant, almost uncertain.

His touch was gentle, warm despite the callouses from years of steady-handed practice in surgery. He traced the faint warmth of your skin, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing, the way your eyelashes barely fluttered in sleep.

Soft.

You always carried yourself with a reckless energy, a chaotic presence that burned like an uncontrollable fire. And yet, here you were, fragile in a way he’d never seen before.

Mydei swallowed, pulling his hand away reluctantly.

You needed rest.

And if he knew you at all, the moment you woke up, you'd be right back to running through the hospital like a madwoman.

With careful movements, he shifted forward, sliding his arms beneath you.

His hands settled under your back and legs as he lifted you effortlessly—your body light in his grasp, head naturally falling against his shoulder.

You stirred slightly.

A soft murmur left your lips, barely coherent, but you didn't wake.

Mydei stiffened, pausing for a second as his heart gave a single, unexpectedly loud thud.

Then, when he was sure you wouldn’t suddenly snap awake and make some kind of smug remark, he continued moving.

Crossing the break room in a few quiet steps, he carefully lowered you onto the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath your weight, and Mydei took his time ensuring you were comfortable. He adjusted your arm so it wasn’t awkwardly twisted, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before pulling the blanket over you.

He watched for a moment.

The way your lips parted slightly in your sleep. The way you instinctively curled into the warmth of the blanket.

Then, finally, he exhaled—stepping back.

His gaze lingered.

Just a little longer.

The next day, the emergency room was in chaos again.

Another murder victim had arrived—stabbed five times across the torso. But this time, it was different. The victim was one of the kidney donors for an upcoming transplant surgery.

"Damn it," you hissed under your breath, already sprinting down the hallway. "Where’s Mydei?!"

Just like before, you spotted him walking toward the ER. Without hesitation, you grabbed his arm, dragging him along at full speed.

"Another one?" he asked, voice edged with something colder this time.

"Yeah, and it’s bad. Let’s go."

You burst into the OR, scrubbing in faster than you ever had. As you pulled on your gloves, the sight before you made your stomach drop. The victim was barely hanging on, the stab wounds deep, organs likely compromised. fuckfuckfuckfuck.

♥♥♥

The operating room was already a bloody fucking battlefield by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood. Nurses moved with trained precision, hooking up transfusions, adjusting monitors, and preparing for what would undoubtedly be a long, grueling surgery. The overhead surgical lights cast harsh illumination over the patient’s torso—five deep stab wounds, oozing dark crimson with every weakening pulse.

Heart rate: dangerously unstable. Blood pressure: crashing.

Your jaw tightened as you surveyed the damage. Stabs this deep weren’t meant to be survived. Whoever did this had aimed to kill.

“Damn it,” you muttered, snapping on your gloves. “If we don’t stop the bleeding now, he’s going into irreversible shock.”

Mydei, standing opposite you, let out a slow breath, already tying his mask over his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—scanned the wounds just as fast as yours. “Five stab wounds. Two to the upper left quadrant, three to the lower right. If the knife went deep enough, we could be looking at a perforated intestine or a renal artery injury.”

Your pulse spiked. A renal artery injury was a death sentence without immediate intervention.

“Massive transfusion protocol,” you snapped. A nurse responded instantly, prepping units of blood and plasma. “We need volume replacement now.”

Mydei nodded. “We’ll clamp first, repair later. If we go straight to suturing with this much blood loss, he’ll code on the table.”

No arguments. No wasted time. You were already reaching out.

“Scalpel.”

The cold metal handle was placed into your palm within seconds. You made your incision with expert precision, cutting through damaged tissue with just enough force to expose the internal injury without worsening it. Blood immediately welled up, pooling at the edges, but you ignored it.

“Suction,” Mydei instructed. A nurse responded instantly, clearing your field of vision.

You leaned in, eyes narrowing as you inspected the worst of the damage. “Wound number three tore straight through the abdominal muscles—there’s internal bleeding near the right kidney, but no penetration to the organ itself. Wound number five is the real problem.”

Mydei adjusted his grip on the retractor, carefully exposing the area. “It’s deep. Arterial involvement is definite.”

You exhaled sharply. “We need to clamp the renal artery now. If we don’t stop this bleed, the kidney’s gone.”

Without hesitation, he reached for the vascular clamp and maneuvered it into place, securing the artery just enough to slow the hemorrhaging without cutting off circulation completely. The heart monitor beeped erratically, a sharp, nerve-wracking rhythm reminding you both that time was running out.

Your mind worked at lightning speed. A clean suture wouldn’t be enough. The artery needed reinforcement.

“Vascular shunt,” you ordered.

The nurse handed it over, and Mydei carefully inserted the temporary tubing into the laceration, allowing blood to continue flowing while preventing further hemorrhage. It was a calculated move—buying you time to stabilize the patient before a definitive repair.

The surgery stretched into hours. Each stab wound presented a new set of complications—layers of muscle damage, ruptured capillaries, tissue trauma that required intricate repair. At one point, the patient’s vitals dipped dangerously low, sending a wave of tension through the OR.

“Heart rate’s dropping,” a nurse announced, voice tight.

You snapped your fingers, already moving. “Increase fluids, push epinephrine if needed.”

Mydei’s voice remained steady despite the pressure. “The renal artery’s secured. Moving on to muscle closure.”

You nodded, exhaling sharply as you reinforced the sutures around the artery and checked for residual bleeding. “Alright. That’s the worst of it. We’ll leave the abdomen open with a temporary closure—he’s too unstable for a full close-up now.”

The next steps were grueling. Stitching up torn muscle, ensuring no internal bleeding remained, placing protective barriers to prevent sepsis. The process required patience and absolute focus.

By the time you secured the final surgical dressing, the monitors had stabilized. The heart rate was still weak, but steady. The kidney function was preserved. Against the odds, the patient had survived.

The room was silent for a moment—no words, just the heavy weight of exhaustion and relief pressing down on you.

Then, finally, you leaned back, stretching out your stiff shoulders. “Well,” you said, voice hoarse, “that was an absolute nightmare.”

Mydei removed his gloves with that same composed expression, though there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—something unreadable. “But he lived.”

You huffed out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. He did.

The second you stepped out of the OR, the weight of the past few hours slammed into you all at once.

Your legs felt like lead, exhaustion pressing into every joint and muscle. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway blurred at the edges of your vision, and your pulse drummed sluggishly in your ears.

The moment you made it past the door, your knees buckled.

You barely had the energy to curse before your back hit the wall, and you slumped down onto the cold tile floor. Your head lolled back against the surface, eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled sharply.

“Shit.” The word came out as more of a breath than a complaint.

The sheer amount of adrenaline, focus, and precision that the surgery had required had drained you completely. Even though you’d done longer procedures before, something about this one had left you bone-tired.

Maybe it was because the patient shouldn’t have made it. Maybe it was because you’d spent every second fighting against the inevitable.

Maybe it was just the way your body was finally giving out.

A pair of footsteps stopped beside you.

You barely cracked an eye open before a shadow loomed over you.

Mydei.

Still in his surgical gown, mask pulled down, golden eyes sharp and alert. He stood over you, arms crossed, brows pinched slightly—though whether in concern or exasperation, you couldn’t tell.

“You look pathetic,” he noted, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

You gave him a half-hearted smirk. “Flatter me more, tiger.”

His expression barely flickered, though the faint twitch in his jaw told you he was holding back a sigh. Instead of responding, he simply crouched down beside you.

“You should get up.”

“I literally can’t feel my legs.”

“Tch.” A beat passed before Mydei exhaled through his nose. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and—

Grasped your wrist.

His fingers curled around your pulse point, firm and steady, grounding you to reality.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you didn’t have the energy to react beyond that.

“Pulse is weak,” he murmured.

“No shit,” you mumbled, head lolling slightly to the side as you closed your eyes again. “It’s almost like I just performed a life-saving operation or something.”

There was a long pause.

Then—before you could fully process it—you felt warmth press against your forehead.

Mydei’s hand.

His palm was broad and slightly cool, pressing against your damp skin in a way that was almost soothing. And his scent—you may have just come out of a 12-hour surgery with him but god he smelled good, a hint of raspberry, vanilla, and pomegranate? You almost leaned into his touch before stopping yourself and tightening your body.

Checking your temperature. That’s all it was. Just routine.

Still, your stomach did a strange little flip.

“You’re burning up,” he muttered. His voice was quieter now, softer, but still carrying that same weight of irritated concern.

“I’ll live,” you said, though your body very much disagreed.

He didn’t move his hand away immediately. He stayed there for a second longer, studying you. Then, finally, he pulled back, exhaling sharply.

“Come on.” He pushed himself up to his feet, then—without warning—reached down again and grasped you by the forearm.

“Wait—”

He hauled you up.

Too fast. Your body protested instantly, knees nearly buckling again.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto his coat for support.

For a moment, the two of you were far too close.

Your forehead nearly brushed against his collarbone, and in that brief second, you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slight heat radiating off of him, the faintest scent of disinfectant and something vaguely warm—like ginger and cloves.

Your fingers tightened on his coat for just a second.

His grip on your arm lingered.

Then—Mydei cleared his throat.

“You’re impossible.” His voice was gruff as he steadied you properly, making sure you could stand on your own. “I swear, if you collapse again, I’m dragging you to a bed myself.”

You forced out a weak, tired smirk. “That a promise, doc?”

He stared at you for a second. Then, with a huff, he turned on his heel.

“Break room. Now,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Before you actually pass out.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck.

With how heavy your limbs felt, you had no choice but to obey.

The break room was dimly lit, the overhead lights turned down low to keep the atmosphere calm. A faint hum from the vending machine filled the space, along with the occasional soft beep from someone’s pager in the distance.

You were lying on the couch, one arm lazily draped over your stomach, feeling much better after your forced rest. Mydei, on the other hand, sat on a chair nearby, long legs stretched out, one arm resting against the table.

He had forced you to rest. You had technically obeyed. You closed your eyes. You stayed still. You didn't pass out from exhaustion. Success.

…But now you were bored out of your goddamn mind.

Which led you to this.

“So technically, in ‘Across the Spider-Verse,’ Miguel’s entire logic about ‘canon events’ is flawed because the entire idea of a multiverse means infinite possibilities. You can’t have a strict set of events that must happen in every universe, because that would contradict the whole ‘infinite variation’ thing—”

Mydei was actually listening.

Despite his usual deadpan demeanor, he hadn’t told you to shut up or leave him alone yet. Instead, his sharp golden eyes were fixed on you, brows slightly furrowed as he processed your rant.

“…That’s assuming the multiverse follows a quantum branching system,” he said, voice calm and thoughtful. “But if we apply a more structured framework—like the Many Worlds Interpretation—then it’s possible that only specific variations of events can exist while still allowing divergence.”

You blinked. “You’re actually engaging in this conversation.”

He gave you a look. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. I expected you to roll your eyes and tell me to sleep.”

Mydei shrugged. “I don’t mind listening.”

You stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Damn. You’re a nerd.”

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips.

Undeterred, you continued.

“But Miguel is literally contradicting himself,” you argued, shifting slightly on the couch. “He says Miles wasn’t supposed to be Spider-Man, meaning he technically never had a ‘canon’ to begin with. So why would the universe force him into one now?”

Mydei tapped his fingers idly against the table. “It could be that the multiverse adapts, forming new constants based on anomalies.”

“But that would mean anyone could be Spider-Man.”

“Perhaps.” He tilted his head slightly. “Or perhaps Miguel’s mistake was believing he could control a system that was never meant to be controlled in the first place.”

You stared at him.

“…I’m actually impressed.”

He raised a brow. “You thought I wasn’t capable of holding a conversation?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to willingly entertain my Spider-Verse nonsense.”

Mydei let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly.

“…You like talking about it,” he murmured. “So I don’t mind.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart do a weird little flip.

You quickly covered it with a smirk. “Careful, doc. You’re gonna make me think you enjoy my company.”

He simply looked at you.

A pause.

Then—

“Go to sleep.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. “You were doing so well, and then you just had to ruin it.”

Mydei huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re exhausting.”

Mydei sat at the table, flipping through a patient file, but you knew he wasn’t really reading it. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, had that half-lidded, exhausted look—the kind that screamed I have five minutes before my brain shuts down.

You weren’t much better.

Despite your fake nap, sleep still refused to claim you, leaving you restless and annoyingly aware of how much your body ached from standing in surgery for hours. Your stomach twisted—not in pain, but in that weird way that told you hey, dumbass, maybe eat something before you actually collapse.

But…you’d ignored hunger before.

It’d pass.

Probably.

Then, Mydei spoke.

“Change your clothes.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze. “Huh?”

He barely looked up. “We’re going out.”

You raised a brow. “Since when do you voluntarily leave the hospital?”

“Since I realized you’re just as bad as me when it comes to taking care of yourself.” He finally met your gaze, golden eyes unwavering. “Neither of us has eaten anything real in over twelve hours. If we don’t fix that now, we’ll both be too dead to function tomorrow.”

You wanted to argue. Really, you did.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had both been running on caffeine, adrenaline, and sheer spite for the past…God, you didn’t even know how many hours.

“…Fair point.” You let out a slow breath, pushing yourself up from the couch with a groan. Holy shit, your muscles were stiff.

Mydei had already stood, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the last few hours. His hair—normally somewhat neat—was slightly disheveled, the faded red tips a little more pronounced under the dim lighting. You caught a glimpse of the faint tattoos along his neck when he stretched, but—as usual—he made sure not to expose too much.

He didn’t like drawing attention to them.

Not that you’d ever ask why.

“Alright, doc,” you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go eat before we actually drop dead.”

Mydei simply nodded, grabbing his coat.

And just like that, the two of you left the hospital behind—two overworked, half-dead surgeons, finally taking care of themselves for once.

♥♥♥

The rumble of Mydei’s bike beneath you was oddly soothing, the crisp night air rushing past as the two of you sped down the empty streets. The hospital was long behind you, and for once, you weren’t drowning in the stench of antiseptic and blood—just fresh air, neon-lit roads, and the low hum of the engine.

You leaned back slightly, arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket. He was solid. Reliable. Steady.

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“You always drive this fast?” you teased over the wind.

“Faster, usually.”

You snorted. “Damn. And here I thought you were the responsible one.”

Mydei didn’t respond, you roll your eyes and then you suddenly a hear a slow, deep amused chuckle from his side. Fake ass scary wannabe

The place Mydei picked was a small, cozy restaurant—dim lighting, warm colors, and the scent of something freshly baked lingering in the air. Definitely not the high-energy bar you half-expected him to take you to.

You slid into the booth across from him, propping your chin on your hand as you lazily glanced over the menu.

“So,” you mused, “what’s the Mydei Special?”

He barely hesitated. “Strawberry ice cream shake.”

You blinked. Paused.

Then you burst out laughing.

Mydei just stared, unimpressed. “What?”

You tried—tried—to hold back your laughter, but the mental image of this tall, buff, scary-looking man sipping on a strawberry-flavored ice cream shake like it was the most normal thing in the world was sending you.

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “you have the biggest sweet tooth, don’t you?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t deny it either.

“…It’s good,” was all he said, as if that was enough of an explanation. And you swear you see a small pout on his stern face along with a slight blush on his cheeks.

You grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re telling me, out of all the drinks on this menu, you saw ‘strawberry ice cream shake’ and went yep, that’s the one?”

“Yes.”

Your grin widened. “No regrets?”

“None.”

You shook your head, still grinning, before waving the waitress over. “Alright, alright, respect. I’ll take a limoncello.”

Mydei nodded at her. “And I’ll have the strawberry ice cream shake.”

The waitress smiled politely before walking off with your order.

You still hadn’t stopped snickering when she came back a few minutes later—with your drinks.

Only…

She placed the limoncello in front of Mydei and the strawberry shake in front of you.

Because, of course, everyone assumed the big, brooding man with golden tiger-like eyes was the one ordering alcohol, and the chaotic, snarky, sweet you was the one drinking something soft and sweet.

There was a beat of silence.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh again.

Mydei just stared at the drink in front of him.

Slowly, he looked back up at you. “Switch.”

“Wait, no, this is hilarious.”

“Switch.”

“I should take a picture first—”

“Switch.”

Now you were full-on laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually embarrassed.”

He wasn’t. Not really. But the flat stare he gave you made it so much funnier.

Eventually, you relented, swapping the drinks properly. But as Mydei sipped his strawberry shake—totally unfazed—you couldn’t help but admire just how effortlessly him he was.

Big, intimidating, and secretly soft as hell.

Yeah. You were keeping this information for blackmail later.

The ride back to the hospital was uneventful, but there was a strange sense of dread lingering in your chest. Maybe it was the way Mydei’s grip on the handlebars felt a little tense, or maybe it was the way the city lights seemed too quiet for this time of night.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was intuition.

When you stepped off the bike and walked back inside, the sterile white halls of the hospital were as cold as ever, humming under dim fluorescent lights.

But then—

You saw her.

Standing in front of the breakroom. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, piercing blue eyes locked directly onto the both of you.

Aglaea.

The hospital director.

Your stomach plummeted.

“Oh. Shit.”

You felt Mydei stiffen beside you. Not visibly—but you knew him well enough to notice.

Aglaea wasn’t like the other directors you’d met in your life. She was meticulous. Calculated. Sharp as a scalpel and just as dangerous when she wanted to be.

And right now, she was staring directly at you both like a mother catching her kids sneaking in past curfew.

“…You’re back,” she said smoothly, voice as cool as ever.

You cleared your throat, nudging Mydei slightly. Say something, idiot.

“…Yes,” Mydei said simply.

Silence.

Aglaea’s gaze slowly flickered between you and Mydei.

Then, she sighed. “Do I want to know where you two have been?”

“…Cafeteria,” you blurted.

She raised a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “The hospital cafeteria closes at 8 PM.”

“We took the long route.”

Mydei shot you a look. The ‘seriously?’ look.

Aglaea, to your absolute horror, looked vaguely amused.

“You took the long route,” she repeated, clearly not buying a damn word of it.

“…Yes,” you said again, just to commit to the lie.

For a long moment, Aglaea said nothing. Just stared at the both of you with that air of quiet superiority, as if she already knew exactly what happened and was merely giving you a chance to embarrass yourselves.

Then, finally, she sighed.

“I assume you both at least ate something?”

“…Yes,” Mydei answered.

“And slept?”

You and Mydei hesitated.

Aglaea closed her eyes briefly, as if resisting the urge to scold you both like children. Then, after a moment, she just exhaled slowly and rubbed her temple.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she muttered to herself.

You exchanged a glance with Mydei.

Then, cautiously, you asked, “Are we… in trouble?”

Aglaea opened her eyes again, looking utterly unimpressed.

“No, but you will be if you keep this up.” She gave you both a look. “Surgeons are only as good as the state they keep themselves in. If you start making a habit of neglecting your own health, I will personally ensure you take forced leave.”

You grimaced. Forced leave meant staying at home, doing nothing. Which was actual hell.

“Noted,” Mydei murmured.

“Good.” Aglaea turned, stepping aside. “Get some rest. I expect you both back on duty in four hours.”

Four hours. That was generous.

You exhaled in relief, muttering, “Understood.”

Aglaea shot one last glance with her sharp yet cool cyan-green eyes at the both of you before walking away, leaving you slumping against the breakroom door.

“…That was terrifying,” you muttered.

Mydei hummed. “She went easy on us.”

“That was her going easy?”

He didn’t answer, just pushed open the door to the breakroom. You followed him inside, stretching out with a long, tired sigh.

“Well,” you huffed, flopping onto the couch. “That went better than expected.”

Mydei didn’t respond—he was already shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto a chair before sitting down beside you.

For a long, comfortable silence, you both just sat there, the exhaustion slowly catching up.

Then, finally, you nudged him with your foot.

“…Strawberry shake,” you murmured with a teasing grin.

Mydei didn’t open his eyes. “Sleep.”

“You like cute things—”

“Sleep.”

You snickered. Maybe you’d get some rest. But only after you finished teasing him about this for another ten minutes.

♥♥♥

You didn’t even bother changing into something more comfortable before dragging yourself to the breakroom. If Aglaea was going to forcefully make you rest, you might as well do it on your own terms.

And by ‘rest,’ you meant laying on the small bed with your phone, zoning out.

Mydei followed in after you, shrugging off his coat before sitting down near the sink, his sharp golden eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

The restroom was dimly lit, the overhead fluorescent lights buzzing faintly, mixing with the hum of the hospital beyond these walls. It was quiet here. Too quiet.

You sighed, taking out your phone, plugging in your earphones, and scrolling through your playlists before finally settling on something slow, dreamy, and detached.

The soft, melancholic strum of the guitar filled your ears as you leaned back, closing your eyes. The aching tiredness in your bones was undeniable, but sleep wouldn’t come that easily.

And then—

A warm hand suddenly plucked an earbud out of your ear.

You opened one eye just in time to see Mydei casually pop it into his ear, settling beside you like he owned the place.

Your brain lagged.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.” His voice was smooth, as unreadable as ever. He leaned back slightly, his expression neutral as if he didn’t just steal your music.

You blinked at him.

Then, without thinking, you muttered, “…Double package of tits and wits.”

Silence.

Mydei slowly turned his head to look at you. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to determine whether he actually heard that right or if he was simply too tired to process it.

“Excuse me what the fuck?” "Erm.. that was a compliment"

anwyays hi i have math exam next killl me credits to my sister to helping me with all the medical knowledge 💔

[cautious-soup]

Bully?(I don't need you.)Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Part 6

Part 5 | Part 1

CW// mentions of non-con, mentions of mei mei's relationship with her brother (because jesus christ those two)

Summary: Satoru tries to find a suitable substitute for you, then gets real horny over the outlet by his bed.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤

"Ooouuu, what an adorable dog," you say, scratching under the neck of a husky with snow white fur and blue eyes. It barks amiably, licking your hand and spinning around in excitement.

"Such a good puppy," you coo when it plants its paws on your chest, looking up at you, "Yes you are," you smile and scratch behind its ears.

The dog barks and barks, until it stars to growl. You step back, but it steps towards you. You step back again, watching in horror as it starts to grow in size, bones craking and skin stretching beneath its fur as it transforms into a vicious wolf. It's foaming at the mouth, maw reared back to reveal razor sharp teeth, eyes flaming blue, and your breath is caught with fear.

You try to run, but you feel a heavy weight at your back, like the wolf lunged at you. You feel teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and cry out. The teeth hurt, yes, but something goes deeper, you can feel it curl around your spine, your heart, your soul, y/n…Y/N? Y/N!

Your eyes slowly open, and your chest is rising and falling heavily like you just ran a marathon. You look up, expecting to see Satoru since he's the only one who wakes you up like that, but it's just your friend.

"Nobara," you wince as you sit up, the pain in your ribs still sharp at times, "Sorry,"

"Don't be sorry—are you ok? You were having like sleep paralysis or something…" Nobara looks up and down your body as if there's traces.

"I'm ok I just had a bad dream, I talk in my sleep too it's no big deal," you say, voice coming out dry and toneless.

It had only been a day, but you were terrified of Satoru finding you somehow. You blocked him and the other number he'd tried texting you on, and checked your phone to make sure he didn't download any tracking apps because that's exactly something he'd do. But you don't find anything. Still, it's hard for you to breath easy.

You get up abruptly, startling Nobara and walking to the window, "Uh, if you could just keep the blinds shut while I'm here—I'll try not to stay long it's just," you turn, and sigh when you see the concerned crease of Nobara's brow.

"Y/N, what the hell is going on?"

You laugh mirthlessly, "It's no use saying, really."

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Unknown Number: did u really think blocking me would work

Unknown Number: u really got me good btw lolol my head still hurts

Unknown Number: and im happy to reciprocate lol

Unknown Number: where r u

Unknown Number: if u apologize now and run into my arms i wont do anything

Unknown Number is calling. . .

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system-

"ffFFUCK—" Satoru jetted his phone across the room, watching it slam into a trophy. Both clattered to the floor. He walked over and picked it up with a sigh. He paced back and forth, holding a bag of peas to his head, continuing to text you.

Unknown Number: yk what

Unknown Number: ur a nobody anyway

Unknown Number: i can bang way hotter than u lololol

Satoru scowled. He could do way better than you, and his current obsession with you made no sense. Nothing about you and him together made sense. He nodded to himself, swiping his thumb across his phone a few times and combing through his contacts.

"Wha'ts Mei Mei up to?" he said to himself, taking all of the thoughts about you at the front of his mind and cramming them as far back and as deep as he could manage.

Yeah, he was better than this—better than you. It was time for him to move on.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤

You spend one more day at Nobara's apartment before returning to your dorm. You peek around corners and look over your shoulder, spine stiff and hands balled into fists, waiting to see a flash of white hair.

But he isn't there.

And he isn't waiting for you outside of your class buildings.

And he isn't at the cafe, and he hasn't texted you, and he hasn't called.

So, you go back to your dorm. The coast seemed clear enough.

Eventually, you settle back into your routine, the one you'd almost forgotten about before he showed up. Instead of waking up covered in bruises, hickies and teeth marks, aching all over, you wake up feeling normal. You shower and brush your teeth without anyone hovering over you. You wait in line at the cafe without a hand creeping around your waist, you walked without being shoved froward or yanked back into him. Before you know it, it's nearing finals, and there hasn't been a sign of him.

It was all good, and you waited for the tension in your shoulders to dissolve, but it never did. You feel it constantly, biting down on you, and it drives you insane.

You swear your bed wasn't this cold before.

It's only later when you're at the cafe that you overhear a conversation.

"I dunno who I'm more jealous of," one of the two people sitting behind you says, "I mean, it should be illegal for two people that good looking to be a couple."

"I know right, Gojo's such a dick—like leave some for us yeah?"

"That Mei chick's probably just a gold digger,"

"Is that really such a bad thing though..."

As you listen to the conversation, the tension in your shoulder tightens. Looking around, like someone would be watching over your shoulder, you download Instagram. You had it for a brief time in freshman year, but it just didn't click with you. You can at least remember your password though.

It doesn't take long to find Satoru's account, he's tagged in one of the university's posts about March Madness. You bite your lip, looking around one more time before pressing your thumb on the profile.

You aren't sure what you feel when the first post you see is a picture of Satoru cozied up to one of the most gorgeous women you've ever seen. It should be a relief. He accepted the terms of the bet after all, and he was gonna leave you alone forever.

But the jaws on your shoulder just clamp down even harder.

You check, and the picture was posted a few days ago.

Satoru hadn't wanted to post it to begin with, but Mei Mei insisted. It was her brother who took the photo—good god he was always around, it was the worst. She cuddled with him more than she did with Satoru.

But, he didn't really care. Mei Mei smiled at him sometimes; she never scowled at him, or called him a dickhead or anything like that. It was more than a little obvious that she was dating Satoru for his prospects in the NBA, but he didn't mind. She wasn't dishonest about it or anything—who didn't like money after all?

The sex was good too; Mei Mei gave as good as she got, or rather, as good as Satoru allowed himself to give. In his sex life, you were an anomaly. He'd never raped anyone before, never choked or bitten anyone—mostly because the people he wanted to have sex with wanted him ten times more than he ever wanted them. He considered himself a giver until he met you. No, with the anger he felt after losing his scholarship, he wanted you to hurt. The fact that you didn't want him at first made it better. But then, it was so hard to pull away…

He didn't know what happened. Something came loose inside of him when he met you, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't fit it back into place. The place it was lodged into had changed shape. He had different needs now.

Now, Satoru was looking a couple of nudes that Mei Mei had sent him earlier. Her body was incredible, but Satoru but didn't get hard looking at it, mechanically stroking himself for 15 minutes. He sighed when he noticed his phone was at 9%, and got up to plug it in. He dug around in his bag for the new charger he'd bought, and got on his knees to plug it into the outlet by his bed.

The outlet was weird. Unlike the other ones in his apartment, it was harder to plug things into this one, stubborn. It was like it was a tighter fit than the others, but the things he plugged into it never fell out at least.

Satoru reached up to turn on his bedside lamp to see, then pushed the charger into the outlet. He had to flip it around when it wouldn't go in properly. It was the same resistance as usual, he had to push with a steady force until the charger was flush against the outlet.

His breath was heavy for some reason, and when he looked down at himself he let out a small, "What the hell?"

He was hard.

Satoru looked back up at the outlet. Swallowing, he reached forward and pulled it out of the wall. It took just as much force to pull it out. He looked down at the plug, then at the outlet. He plugged it back in again, swallowing down a groan at how difficult it was to push it all the way in.

Such a tight fit…

Before Satoru knew what was happening, he was on his knees, resting his forehead against the wall and looking down at the outlet, one hand around his cock and the other repeatedly shoving the charger into the stubborn outlet and yanking it out. He whined, tugging at himself harder and slowly pushing the charger back inside. But it wasn't enough. Satoru yanked the charger out and lowered himself a bit more, pressing his tip against the outlet.

"Fuuuck, Y/N," he panted, rutting it against the white plastic, "Ngh fuck, oh my god,"

It was just like you, really, to manifest in his mind like this, in the form of a stubborn little outlet that resisted being plugged.

"Such a tight little—Y/N…shit," Satoru squeezed his eyes shut, fumbling for the tissue box on his nightstand but not making it in time, instead spraying ropes of cum over the outlet, whispering your name like a prayer. Out of breath, he fell back onto his ass, and again onto his back.

He never even plugged his phone in.

Groping along the carpet, Satoru grabbed his phone and thumbed at the screen, sending a text to Mei Mei.

Satoru: yeah so

Satoru: im not really feeling us, mb

Satoru: you left a bra here so come get it whenever

He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Part 7 (Finale)

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A/N: yeah this is gonna need one more part, but I'm usually quick aren't I?

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love.

Chapter: VIII-Wings-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 4.4k+

♠︎Warning: blow job, indirect mentions of rape (not from jk's end!), ghosts.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

Lost. That was all Coronis knew. She lost her life. There were chains around her ankles, wrists, and neck. The hold was in the hands of one of the Royal men who rode the horse with the other four walking like pillars.

Her hair was sticking to her face, her sweat was running down her face and dropping on the ground. Even in this ungodly winter, she was burning.

The soles of her feet were bleeding down the path. And the muddy stones were clinging to her wounded feet, deepening them, reminding her of the gore of her life that it turned into.

Life has never been forgiving to anyone and it only took and took and took. It was a game of time, where only those who survived cheated their ways. And those who died, who died every day.

The grey of the sky and howling of the wind didn't scare the woman that Coronis had become. Instead, they showered the comfort of the fact that she was not the only one having the deeper turmoil of fucked up emotions. All of them grey and thunderously howling.

Harder, it always got harder. And now it was the hardest to even take a step ahead. Knowing that death was waiting behind those tall walls of the hell called the castle. Waiting for her in the craving of lust… the lust of blood.

Hours had passed since they started dragging her like a dead cow on the muddy lanes of the village. The people took the greatest pleasure in seeing a woman being humiliated.

It seemed like it was in the human nature of men to humiliate, degrade, and bury a woman who stood a chance in class. A woman who was more intellectual than them. They hated it. And took them down until no respect was left for their poor feminine name.

An object. That's what a woman was and is and will remain for a chunk of men. A woman whose religion is her man and her holy scriptures is her man’s order. They live under their horrid boots and get stepped on by many others under that boot.

As they took Coronis away the men looked. Some smirked and threw names at her and some made up fucked up stories that were nowhere near her fucked up truth.

Only if they knew.

The anger erupted inside her head and her face twitched as the events of the day echoed in her burning head.

~

“No, my love. You must know what it costs for your actions. For your betrayal.”

The King smirked under his mask and took Coronis's hair in his fist, pushing her out of the alley. “No one disregards what I say,” he whispered in her ear, the roughness of his voice stood out. “If they do indeed do that, they are met with the hell of their eternities. Now be a good fucking bitch and walk to your little shack.”

His hold on her hair tightened, making her yelp in pain before he released and pushed her.

Her breath was shallow, and coming in pants. There was no way out of such commotion. And she had to run through it. At least, to protect those who were close to her.

Coronis took heavy steps, trying not to break down in front of the man who got on his horse to see the drama unfold for his pleasure. This was the beginning of the sick pleasure. She knew it.

People gathered around as Coronis arrived at her shack, looking paler than before. There was a tremble in her shoulders and unshed tears in her eyes. They, too, took pleasure in seeing the drama.

She was the puppet and he was the puppet master. Coronis scoffed, thinking that everyone in her vision was his puppet. He played them all and dropped them when their wires broke or joints didn't move as swiftly as he wanted.

And what happened after?

They burn.

They all fucking burn.

They all burn in despair. They burn in hell. They burn in vengeance.

And then they fall on the ashes of the poor and become one with them.

This is how His Majesty's world worked. And anyone who disturbed the cycle shall meet the same fate.

The King, with his head ever high in the sky, got off the horse, “Tell me, pretty thing. Where did you keep it?” he asked as he played with a lock of her hair.

Circe was inside. There was no way in hell she wanted her to see him. So she stood on her grounds. The silence ticked the king’s patience. His jaw clenched as he wrapped his fist around her hair and pulled her ear close to his mouth. “You either be an obedient little birdy and show me where you kept it or be a bitch and I look for it myself… and remember, little birdy, if I do… I’ll finish whoever steps in front of me. Get it?” He said as his lips brushed her ear.

Coronis felt her anger consuming her. Finally, she stepped inside her shack with the dark shadow following her through. She quickly went inside her slot and opened the trunk where she had kept the damn thing away.

Her shaky hands fumbled around in the trunk and took hold of the dainty chain. The bone locket rocked side to side like a pendulum in slow motion. However, a big hand wrapped around it and snatched it from Coronis’s hand.

The king looked at the bone with strange emotions in his eyes. It was almost like he thawed and showed a human beneath the monster. But it was gone in a blink.

Maybe she hallucinated. He wasn't capable of that. He had no emotions in his blood.

His eyes snapped at her. They were cold and ruthless. No emotion. No sign of life. Just as good as the eyes of the dead.

“You called it upon yourself, little birdy,” his voice was low as his eye twitched. “Say goodbye to your little family… but when the sky will loom with wrath, they will take you to me,” he whispered as his eyes grew psychotic with each word. “Don’t fight if you want your family to live.”

~

Coronis was thankful for one thing. They, who were taking her to her death, didn't put a hand on her. She had grown up seeing these men putting their bloodied hands on women they took to their deaths and humiliating them in front of everyone. No shame for anyone just dripping in lust and taking the sole respect of a woman away before she could die. They stained their souls. Souls… if they could, they would catch those mourning souls and humiliate them, too.

A sick reality that wasn't just bound to this hell of His Majesty but everywhere on this round living hell of a world.

No one was safe. Children, women, men, older… they were all puppets. A pawn in His game.

Through the dense fog, she could make out the house of horrors. The tall, black, and gory castle stood high up. Its pointy peaks pierced through the sky.

Coronis had heard about this. It was a place better not seen. This was the place where the hell formed, where The Monster lived…

The narrow-staired bridge came down the way. The captors aligned themselves. Now they were in a straight line. Two ahead of her and two behind her. The pathway was narrow, one mistake and she could fall below.

Who knew what lived down there?

As she followed them to the inferno, her burning skin got a cold whip of air. The cold. That's what she thought it was. Until… the whispers echoed—

Come on pretty girl, come down here. It said.

Look! Look here, it's so pretty here and- and so peaceful! The other one whispered.

Don't cross the door. You're gonna die! Someone whispered, crying. It was the voice of an old lady. A shivering old lady.

He is going to ravage you… kill you. You won't even acknowledge your own face! They laughed.

You are going to end up here anyway, pretty thing. Come! Just come down here already! You will save him time. A sweet voice whispered.

What a waste of that pretty face, they said, sadly, what's the point of such glassy skin and those black hair and eyes when there is no regard for that? A snarky voice chirped.

Coronis looked around, eyes wide open. Have I gone maniac? She asked herself.

Oh! She hears us! Sweety, we were once in your position. A voice giggled.

How are you so pretty? Why so little blood on you? Huh? Some of us here were already dead by the time we reached this bridge.

They threw me here because I was half dead.

You should jump off right now!

How could she? She is protected by them. Look! They have her tied securely. Even if she did jump, they would catch her.

She must be someone important to Him.

Shut up! No one is important to Him!

The whispers evaded her head as they grew louder and louder. The one, very precisely, stood out from the rest…

Get away. You are going to die horribly.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The hysteria rose within her and the adrenaline rushed through her blood. It was only when the captors stopped she realized they had crossed the bridge and were in front of the humongous metal doors.

The adrenaline blinded her throughout the journey. She looked back and could not see more than a few meters. The fog was too dense and it seemed as if the other side didn't exist at all. As if she entered a whole other world. Even worse from where she came.

The captors got off the horses. The horses were escorted back as the metal doors creaked open. The guards passed, tugging her in with them.

The inside was steady. As if no one lived there. However, she could see some men standing in their positions. All dressed in black, holding their swords or axes. Their half of the faces were only covered with sheer cloth. Not as much as they wore while lurking in the village.

The front was a huge garden, filled with black, white and red roses, and dried shrubs. It looked abandoned. Lifeless. An illusion of death around the thorny beauty of roses, one could say.

The guards pulled her through the thorny path and took her in through a much smaller door.

The inside was dark and eerie. Huge black chandeliers, barely reflecting the orange of the mashal, were hanging down the path they took. The Gothic design followed throughout. If she wasn't bleeding and brought here like an object, she would have been amazed. It was unlikely, she had never seen something remotely as beautiful as this.

“She is here,” a guard spoke with another guard standing outside of another set of doors. This was distinguishable from the others. The rest were metal but this was a black, velvety door.

The four guards removed their masks as the doors opened. “Now, when we go inside, you need to bow down to His Majesty,” one of the guards said, tugging her inside.

Court. It was the court of His Majesty.

The scent of roses filled her nose as she stepped inside. She saw six women standing there, three on each side, with their heads lowered. They wore black dresses that left very little to the fantasy. Although, they were draped with mesh cloth.

They walked in, and Coronis’ feet left bloodied imprints on the floor.

Coronis slowly took in what was in front of her. There were big, black seats. What appeared to be the members of the court, were sitting on them. Every man sat was accompanied by two ladies dressed the same as the six others. There were three on each side.

Her eyes came back to the centre. Royal stairs were leading her eyes up and up and up until her eyes fell on the lady kneeling between long legs. Coronis followed those legs. She noticed a large hand clutching the hair of the lady and pushed and pulled on it.

She could see his big chest through the opening of his robe blouse. His chest was defined and she could see the pointy bits poking through the silky material. His chest was moving up and down as he breathed heavily.

Following the path of his thick glassy neck as it bobbed when he groaned hoarsely, her eyes fell on The Creation of the Devil. Her mouth fell open when she saw His face. It was the art of the devil. Sinfully sculpted monster. He had a chiselled jaw, clear skin, and a perfect nose. His eyes were closed as his head was resting back on his high chair. The big crown was held high on it, signifying his power over his kingdom.

She gasped as her eyes snapped to the whole scene, realizing what he was doing to her.

Nobody seemed to care but no one wanted to disrupt his euphoria either. But her gasp did.

The King's eyes slowly opened as his smirk grew. He looked at her with those same piercing eyes that she had been having nightmares about.

No way he was so sinfully beautiful. His cunning features were sharp, reflecting his influence and his confidence among his people. He was breathtaking and clean.

She had always envisioned Him to be an older man. With a dirty self and skanky looks. But oh was she wrong. But the monster living under his skin was all of those things. He was the Satan who lured innocents with his ethereal handsome looks to manipulate them to hell.

The monsters come in good faces, Coro. Never forget that, her mother has said once. She was right.

His Majesty let out a breathy moan as he chuckled. “Oh, we are here, aren't we,” he hummed as he shoved his cock deeper into the lady’s mouth, feeling ever so aroused in his Birdy's warm presence. This time, his satiny voice was not muffled behind the mask he wore.

The guards bowed down, pulling her along them and made her kneel in front of Him. Her forehead touched the ground roughly.

The King groaned, not liking how his pretty little birdy was bowing making her pretty little face hide behind her dark black hair.

“Let me see that pretty face,” he rasped. The guards pulled her up by the chains until she was standing again. “Hm,” he hummed as his cock twitched inside the lady's mouth. He was about to finish down her throat by just looking at his little birdy. “So, pretty but a fucking bitch. Can't even obey one thing I asked her.” he tsked, shaking his head in disappointment.

Coronis was scared, who wouldn't be when you are surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty wolves? But she tried to not let it slip. She stood on her ground and looked into his hazel, burning eyes.

The King's gaze darkened as he shoved the lady's head deeper, holding her there until she was unable to breathe. “You shall obey every command I give you. Nobody has the power to deny it. And you did! And you shall now pay the price,” he darkly said and let go of the lady. “You must remember your place, little birdy. Or you might get in trouble with the unspeakable. Now tell me, will you obey your lord?”

Coronis looked at him, panting with boiling rage. Forcefully, she nodded.

“Words!” He snapped, making her and the lady flinch. “You use your goddamn words!” he sneered.

She took a deep breath and muttered, “Yes, my Lord.” She looked like the words physically pained her. “I will obey.”

A dark smirk flashed on his face. “We will see that. Now take her away and lock her up!” He commanded his men.

The guards tugged her with them after bowing once more. The last thing she saw of the king was him shoving the lady away from his lap as his eyes stayed focused on hers with a dirty smirk dancing across his thin, sinister lips.

…

The slammer was small. It barely had any space to move. One Mashal was burning in the corner of the box. There was no gap in the wall for a skylight. No sign of day or night. No sign of the outside world. No sign of life.

Coronis’ body was aching. She had been sitting here for days as it felt. The only interaction she got other than talking to herself in her mind was when the guards brought food. The food was one stale bread. Sometimes with mold on it. She kept the count of the meals served. If she wasn't wrong, it had been two days since she was brought here.

Her clothes were the same one from that horrid day. She couldn't even use the hole for a toilet at the corner as at least one guard always kept an eye on her. Her insides were hurting but she refused to show them any more of her skin.

Their smirks and scoffs were humiliating her enough.

She missed her home. Her mother's delicious food. Circe's warm hugs. Her father’s quirky remarks. And her brother’s protection.

It felt lonely and depressing. Never did she realise how much she relied on them until now when she was far away from them. All this time she kept whining about them relying on her but she was the one relying on them for sanity.

She wondered what they were doing, whether they were missing her or considered her dead. She didn't even get to properly say goodbye to them.

~~~

Circe clung to Coronis. She was numb, knowing her sister would never come back. She just sat in her lap and took all the comfort she had to give to her.

“I will miss you,” the little girl whispered.

Coronis hugged her tight, “Me too…” she kissed her forehead. “Promise me you won't disobey Mumma and Papa and our brother. Okay? See what happens when you go out? You get in trouble that costs you your life. Don't repeat what I did,” she patted her back for comfort. She wasn't even sure who she was comforting more, herself or her little sister.

Circe nodded and a soft sob escaped her throat. “I won’t.”

“Take care of everyone. Don't let them fall, okay? And you are going to look after yourself, too, for me,” Coronis found it hard to let go of the tiny being in her arms. Nothing could ever prepare her for this.

Her father and brother were away for work. They couldn't even meet her before she left for good. She could only hug their belongings, filled with their scent to her heart and feel them with her eyes closed.

Her mother was a mess. She had fainted when she came to know about the whole deal. She blamed herself for this. The moment she woke up, she prepared Coronis’s favourite food. She wanted her to go with her stomach full. She sat her down and fed with her own hands.

“Coro, we love you, okay? You are loved, my child. Never forget that,” she kept repeating.

Coronis found it hard to look into her eyes but she did, for the last time before they dragged her away from them.

She didn't look back, knowing her mother and sister were not fine. If she had, she wasn't even certain if she could leave them like this. There was no choice but to leave.

The dark beauty left her heart behind in the shack with her family.

~~~

Tears of despair tracked down Coronis’ scratched face. She felt cold. Not the one because of winter but because of the distance between her family.

She had nothing left, except these tight walls of hell. She was ruined, destroyed and left to rot. If one thing she could change, she would have. She would have stayed in her shack that day. She could have kept her head down or gone inside of some seller. Anything but looking into death's eyes.

Silent cries were all she could afford here in this dark place.

Two shadows loomed outside of her space. The guards. She curled in a ball and hid her face from them. She couldn't bear looking at them.

“What do you say? Should we use this fucking thing?” one of them said in a low voice.

“Are you fucking quipping me?! If He finds out, He will skin us alive and drink our blood like a bloodthirsty hound,” the other one screeched.

“How would he know? We won't leak a word to anyone. Just look at that fine flesh. I bet she is nice and tight,” the guard moaned.

Coronis closed her eyes tightly, wishing that it was just a sick nightmare that would end soon in death. The final piece.

“She is His prized possession. I won't take a chance with her…” the second one said. “Maybe just let Him have his merriment and then when he gets what he wants, we can take over.”

They scoffed. But quickly rushed away when the main door to the slammer banged opened. The heavy boots thumped against the concrete floor and stopped right in front of Coronis’ space. She assumed it was one of the guards.

The gate of her slammer opened and the tiny space was consumed by a heavy presence.

There it was, that unique musky scent. Her eyes shot open and looked above her. And there he stood, His Majesty.

His lips curved into a thin smirk, deepening his little dimple. The broad chest was bare for her eyes. She could make all eight pecs on his abdomen very precisely. His long luscious hair was half-tied behind and his shorter loose hair fell on his eyes.

There was a wickedness in his glint. Menace. That's how it came across like. He was hungry and he came down to devour her.

It looked like her time finally came to an end.

“My little birdy has never looked so dirty. We shall change that, shouldn't we?” he cooed.

Coronis shifted and tried to sit up straight, but her body wasn't shifting how she wanted. She ended up limping against the dirty wall.

“I don't like you here, my birdy. I think you belong in an amenity, next to me like my pretty little birdy. Isn't that right… little birdy?” he crouched down, His finger lightly grazing her cheekbone.

She was shivering like a leaf in a storm as she hurried to the far corner, not wanting to have His hands on her. But he was fast to hold her bruised ankle and pull her closer to his sickening warmth. Her pretty little feet were swollen, bloodied, and- and needed care. His care.

His pretty little birdy was in pain, he realized. He told them not to hurt his birdy but here she was, all bruised and wounded. Her pretty little face was scratched, and her eyes were dull and swollen, aching from crying.

What else was she hiding under her dirty white gown?

“My birdy…” he whispered. “My little porcelain doll, they broke you? Poor thing,” he kissed her ankle, making her flinch.

“Y-you can't b-break something that has been turned into ashes long ago,” she sobbed. She hated that she got so weak in front of Him. He was nothing but a fear of destruction. He held authority over her and she hated that she let him.

“Why do you think I brought you here, hm? I shall heal you, my little birdy,” he whispered as his hand caressed her hair. He was gentle with her. Just as he said– his porcelain little doll. “We shall heal together,” he quietly whispered, not letting her know his silent words.

His Majesty looked around in the slammer, he saw how the bread had not been eaten and was rotting near the toilet. He looked pained, his thick eyebrows narrowed together. As if he could feel her pain.

In a sick, twisted way, she felt comforted. His touches were gentle and meant no harm. As much as she was scared, she yearned for this, a bit of warmth.

But her rational mind took over, making her aware of the menaces of this heartless tool. “Please,” she begged.

He cocked his head to the side, “Please what, little birdy? What are you begging for?” He gently held her jaw and made her look into his eyes. “I think I should be the one begging for you to give me yourself,” his thumb played with her trembling bottom lip.

Coronis shook her head vigorously to get his hands off her face, “please let me go,” she begged again. “I won't say a word to anybody. Just let me go back to my family. I want to go back!”

“I am your family!” He snapped. “I didn't bring you here to let you walk out. I brought you here to keep you and nourish you like the doll you are!” the understanding of the situation was out of Coronis’ reach.

She wondered why she was so different in his eyes that he wanted to nourish her. She wondered why she was His little birdy or a porcelain doll that he didn't want to break.

Oblivious of her blinding beauty, she questioned His thinking.

“You belong here, Coronis,” He said, sternly with softness at the edge of His rough voice. “You belong right next to me.”

She shook her head as tears poured out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“This was your punishment,” He whispered, looking around the dingy slammer. “I hate to keep you here, little birdy… you need to be reminded that my command is your obligation, your duty and that you must fulfill it with all your heart. I think now you won't ever forget that. And if you do…” He shook His head, His expression as if He was scared. “It won’t be a bearable punishment,” the faces of all of his convicts who were punished by his hands. He didn't want to paint a picture of her in that dungeon of slayings. She was too pretty and too precious to be in that picture. His Majesty's heart squeezed thinking about it. He shook his head, “you can not be in there. I won't take you there for your punishment. No no no,” He whispered to himself.

The thought of losing this beauty was far too dreadful to be having.

Coronis looked at the King dealing with his own commotion deep down his hazel eyes. She gasped when he pulled her in his embrace, her cheek against his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating like a storm.

“I can't let that happen,” He whispered. “I can't lose you, too. I will protect you,” He kissed her hair as he kept whispering to himself.

Coronis realized she was not getting out, not alive, not dead.

She couldn't figure out if this was the end or the beginning of her tale.

Perhaps, this was going to be the beginning of an end.

Her fate was sealed with His. She was bound to serve him in this lifetime.

She accepted her fate and melted in His chest. Her tears stopped and her mind numbed. The last thing she heard while she felt faded kisses on her head before, out of strain, she lost consciousness was—

“I'm going to keep you under my wing forever, my little birdy.”

…..

Sanaa's note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs @crazy-eight17 @jesshujk @sadxaries @fantasticwarl @catlove83 @iveivory @lippynabiii @igotnojamsz @deadgolgibody

Have nice day/night💓

[junnylunny]

𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞? ♠

! pairing- byeon wooseok x reader

! synopsis: byeon wooseok, a growing model, has been crushing on y/n, a famous photographer, for about a year now. He wants to confess his feelings but isn't sure how to ...

! word count: 769

! now playing: "do you like me?" by daniel caesar

"last shot," y/n yelled while focusing on her final shot for the day.

y/n had taken a long journey to reach her success. this made her not only an inspirational person to other growing photographers but to her models as well. she easily attracted those around her and was a smooth person to talk to. y/n always gave her one hundred percent whenever she was working and took interest in her models for both work and personal reasons.

"good job everyone. thank you for your hard work," y/n shouted again as the camera finally uncovered your breathtaking face.

"are you ready for your blind date, y/n?" her coworker asked excitedly as they both packed their belongings.

"i am kind of nervous because it's been so long, but I can't be too sure if we'll be compatible. you know how high my standards are," y/n said with a slight concerned look.

"i'm sure you guys will click. he's a really nice and talented man," her coworker assured.

"hopefully... we'll see," y/n answered.

all the coworkers began to leave as y/n stayed for a bit to look over the small buffet set for the workshop. as she glanced over the food options, a gentle breeze of men's cologne swished behind her.

"hi, y/n. i'm sorry to ask you this, but can i please get a couple more shots? i don't feel as satisfied as i normally do."

y/n turned around to the familiar voice. it was byeon wooseok. everybody knew him to be a perfectionist. he wanted all his photos to look good and some considered him to even be egotistical. however, his personality was far off from that. he was truly a friendly and outgoing guy everybody could love.

"i do have to leave soon, but we can take some," y/n hesitantly replied.

"of course, thank you so much," wooseok said with a bright smile on his face.

"here. we can take some photos on this couch over here. it'll look nice. should we go for a more boyfriend style?" y/n said, directing him.

"yeah, that sounds good," he replied.

y/n began to take her photos, instructing him on small details as she went. wooseok was already a natural model and didn't need much directing. he knew he was good looking and found himself to correctly find his angles without much help. this made y/n enjoy taking photos of him. all she had to do was to show her talent and he'd be ready with his.

soon, they were done with the shooting. y/n and wooseok carefully looked through their photos and discussed their favorites.

"wow, they all look good though," wooseok said with an approved tone.

"yeah, they do. i can email these to the editor and you'll have these soon," y/n said while feeling accomplished after her picky model approved of her work.

she walked over to the side table where her camera case laid and stored her camera away. as she closed her zipper, wooseok came behind her and trapped her from moving. y/n felt her back touching wooseok's front torso, and his arms on the edge of the table, trapping her, but not touching her entirely.

"can you not go to your blind date?" wooseok quietly mumbled into y/n's ear.

"what did you say?" y/n replied with a shock. she didn't expect this from wooseok.

"i said, "can you not go to your blind date..." he said again looking sadly down at her camera case and putting his chin on her shoulder.

y/n turned around in the tight space he gave her and looked at him in his eyes. she leaned against the table with her hands at the edge while he continued to stay established.

"did i hear that correctly or am i going crazy right now," y/n asked, puzzled and blushed.

wooseok avoided y/n's eyes. he couldn't look at her anymore after confessing his feelings. he didn't want her to go on the date nor talk to other people.

y/n noticed his expression to be sincere yet shy. she did find Wooseok cute, but never realized that he would ever have a crush on her.

"i like you Y/N..." wooseok mumbled as he broke the silence. he changed his gaze from the ground to her eyes. his cheeks slightly turned pink and he began to nervously play around with his thumb against the table. "not just as a photographer, but as a person. do you think you like me too?"

[demxters]

☆ for blurb night requests; Ace's parents promising to visit for some reason and then standing her up, so Jake rallies their friends for a day of activities and just hanging out, to get her mind off it

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

wc: 1.5k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), family abandoment, absence of parental figures, angst

catch up with jake and ace here!

a/n: i could write about them forever (and i will)

»»————- ♠︎ ————-««

Jake’s eyes light up at the sound of your ringtone going off on his phone. He wasn’t expecting you to call today because you were meeting with your parents for lunch. Despite his initial surprise, he picks up, just in case something was wrong. “Hey, baby,” he greets with a small smile on his face. 

The sound of a sniffle reaches his ear causing his smile to fall. His heart drops, knowing you were crying on the other end. “Ace?” 

Another sniff leaves the speaker. “Can you come get me, please?” 

Just by the sound of your voice, he knows you’re about to break. Jake doesn’t even hesitate to slip on his shoes and run to grab his keys at your words. “Of course, sweetheart. Is everything okay? Are you safe?” 

You hum in response, your silence causing Jake to worry even more. 

“Baby?” Jake asks again, prompting a word of response from you to ease his racing mind. 

“I’m okay, Jake, just need you.” Your voice is muffled, but he hears you loud and clear. 

It feels like his heart is being squeezed in a fist. He wishes there was more he could do, but for now he had to get to you first. “Just stay put and I’ll be right there.”

He thanks God for hitting all the green lights on the way to the restaurant. As he pulls into the parking lot, he sees you sitting on the curb in your pretty dress and make up all smudged around your eyes. Even in your disheveled appearance, you still looked as beautiful as ever. Jake puts the truck in park and haphazardly throws his door open, hurrying out to make his way to you. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, seeing your eyes filled with a new round of tears. Within seconds he’s crouched in front of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses your face into the crook of his neck and soothingly rubs gentle circles onto your lower back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here, I’ve got you.” 

That seems to set you off even more. Another broken sob leaves your lips making Jake’s chest tighten at the sound. He desperately wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted to know where your parents were or what they said to you again to make you this upset. He has never met them, only knowing them through the sporadic phone calls you received from them and the tears you’ve shed because of them. He didn’t know them, but he knew that they weren’t the best of parents. Jake found himself afraid of what you were going to say and with good reason. But he knows you need your space and that you’ll tell him in your own time. 

He had made the mistake once of pressuring you into speaking to him when you weren’t ready to and he never wanted to make you that angry again. 

So instead he opts to help you get settled into the truck with your seat belt snuggly across your waist and begins the drive back to your apartment. 

Jake glances at you from the driver’s seat every now and then, just in case you broke down again. He could see the storm brewing in your eyes as you stared out the window, resting your chin on your fist and your forehead on the glass. 

He rhythmically taps his thumbs along to the beat of the Fleetwood Mac song that’s playing from his radio to try to calm his nerves. Which he knew was silly of him, considering you were the one in an emotional turmoil right now. 

He had hardly driven two miles when you finally spoke up and Jake is surprised that you spoke so soon. 

“They didn’t show,” you confess softly. 

Jake turns off the radio as soon as he hears you speak. He gives you a moment to collect your thoughts, taking your free hand that sits in your lap and grasps it tightly in his. When you don’t pull away, he pulls your interlocked hands into his lap. 

“There was no text, no call, nothing. I just sat there like an idiot, waiting for them to show up!” You raise your voice, the pity you felt for yourself turning into hot anger. “I was there for thirty minutes before the waitress asked me to leave because they had other reservations. I mean geez, Jake, how could I be so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid, Ace.” 

You scoff, shaking your head with disappointment. “Naive, then. How could I have been so naive to think they were actually going to keep their promise and show up this time?”

He didn’t have an answer to that question. He knew you weren’t looking for one but he wanted to be able to say something to make you feel better. Instead he presses a kiss to your knuckles and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping his actions could convey some comfort. 

You didn’t say another word after your little outburst, even when you got to the apartment. You just gave him a kiss on the cheek in thanks before disappearing into your room. Jake sat on the couch, folding his hands over his lap and patiently waited for you to come out. When he heard the shower start to run, he knew you wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. 

Thinking about how sad and defeated you looked when he went to pick you up broke his heart. It made him realize that all you really wanted was to spend time with your family. Jake wished he could give you everything you ever wanted. 

Jake’s phone chimes and he pulls it from his back pocket to see the Daggers group chat going off. Lightning struck him then as he urgently opened his phone. 

Your family is what you wanted and Jake knew exactly how to give it to you. 

_______________

The sound of Jurassic Park was playing softly from the living room as you stepped outside of your room. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home other than you and Jake, so you cautiously creeped out to the hall. 

There, the sounds from the living room get louder and you’re able to make out your friends’ voices. Rounding the corner, you see Nat, Javy, Bob, Reuben, Mickey, and Bradley all sprawled out across the room. Each of them talking over one another as if in the middle of an important debate. In the mix of them all, you see Jake sitting on the love seat with a spot specifically reserved for you. When he sees you, his eyes light up and he beckons you over with an open arm. 

“Ace, come help us settle this once and for all.” He smiles widely at you, tucking you into the space beside him. 

You instinctively snuggle into him, smiling bashfully at your friends who have been alerted to your presence. 

“Which is better, the Park or World movies?” 

All eyes are on you, awaiting your answer. “Jurassic Park. Obviously.” The room erupts into chaos once more, everyone’s chatter overlapping one another. 

You laugh, watching as they continue to go off on one another. 

The heavy weight on your shoulders is gone in an instant and you remember the reason for your low mood in the first place. You had canceled movie night to have dinner with your parents. You told everyone they could do their own thing today, so you were wondering why they were all here. 

It was until you looked up at the blond whose arm was wound tightly around your middle as he leaned his cheek against the top of your head. A rush of warmth floods your veins upon realizing that all of this was his doing. You’re overwhelmed by his love and thoughtfulness, so much so that you think you might just cry again. You would never get used to being loved by Jake Seresin. 

Instead, you wrap yourself around his middle, muttering softly into his neck, “You didn’t have to do all this for me.” 

Jake looks down. “Of course I did. You were missing your family, so I thought why don’t I bring them to you?” 

Your family. They weren’t the people who birthed and raised you. They weren’t the people you were related to by blood. They weren’t traditional in any sense that a family would be. However, Jake was right. They were yours. 

Not once has your parents shown you an ounce of care and attention that the group in front of you did. 

Not once did they take you out for important milestones or to celebrate your birthday like Natasha did. 

Not once did they remember your favorite movie like Mickey did, or remember your favorite book like Bob. 

Not once did they take you out for important milestones or to celebrate your birthday like Reuben, Bradley, and Javy. 

Not once did they know every little thing about you like Jake did. 

Not once did they love you like this group did. 

They were never your family to begin with. These people, however, the ones who dropped everything just to help cheer you up today, were. And they always would be.

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @dracosluvbot

[geekusfemme]

Truce

*******************************************

Full story on AO3 — Wattpad 100k+

Astarion x Female OC

Rating: Mature

Summary: What if Astarion was betrayed by the Dark Urge and handed over to the Gur Hunter? And what if another kind of hunter saved him and set his life on a new course, one that would ultimately lead him to cross paths with those who had abandoned him? This story aims to give Astarion his own hero's journey separate to the main party, and will run parallel to the canon story in which Durge will be an antagonist.

*******************************************

Chapter Two: Astarion has just been rescued from a band of Orc raiders—hired by Cazador—who attacked Gandrel and took him prisoner. During the battle for freedom, Astarion ended up trapped in his cage in the river...

—♠︎—

Ashara stared down at the drenched, unconscious vampire sprawled out on the riverbank in front of her, his pale skin gleaming under the moonlight like washed-out porcelain. Beside her, Onyx sniffed at Astarion with a slow, deliberate inhale, his ears twitching back with curiosity.

"He isn't breathing," Onyx observed, his voice a low rumble in her mind.

Ashara raised an eyebrow, casting a sidelong glance at her wolf companion. "Isn't that normal for undead?"

Onyx shook his head, his golden eyes fixed on her. "Vampires are different. They can and still do breathe. While they don't need air to live, it keeps them conscious. He won't die, but if you want him to wake sooner, he'll need air from your lungs."

Ashara's face twisted with reluctance. "Can't we just... wait?"

Onyx huffed. "We could, but if we're to reach the Emerald Grove by noon, we'd best leave now."

She glanced down, her lips pressed thin. "Can you do it?"

Onyx let out a wry, gruff sound that might have been a laugh. "I'm afraid my mouth is the wrong shape for this task."

With a resigned sigh, she knelt beside Astarion, pinching his nose as she took a deep breath. Her mouth covered his, and she exhaled, feeling his chest rise faintly beneath her hand. She paused, bracing herself before taking another breath, and as she breathed into him a second time, she felt him stir. Ashara pulled back as he jerked, rolling onto his side with a shuddering cough, water pouring from his mouth.

"Just breathe," she murmured softly, resting a hand on his back as he gasped and trembled, his chest heaving as he purged the river water.

He coughed, the last of the water spilling free, but before Ashara could react, Astarion twisted around, moving with a speed that stunned her. In an instant, he had her dagger - pulled from her own belt - pressed to her throat, and she found herself pushed against the earth, the cold blade biting against her neck. Astarion's eyes were wide, wild with fear and pain, his hand trembling as he snarled down at her.

"Don't touch me!"

Ashara froze, shock tightening her throat as she stared up at him. Onyx responded with a menacing snarl, his hackles raised, every muscle in his body coiled to spring. Astarion's eyes flicked up at him, the dagger pressing closer to Ashara's neck.

"Call off your dog. Now," he demanded, voice edged with desperation.

Ashara's gaze hardened, her voice laced with both indignation and defiance. "He's not a dog, you ungrateful, stinking bullywug!"

Something flickered in Astarion's eyes, and the pressure on her neck slackened just slightly. His mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Did you just call me... a bullywug?"

Ashara noticed the wild panic in his eyes begin to ebb, softening into something more bemused than hostile. She took a gamble, letting humor edge her voice, hoping to dispel the remnants of his fear. "Yes. Because only a bullywug would threaten someone who just saved their life. I must've made a mistake - clearly, you're not the vampire who begged for my help." She jerked her head toward the river. "I'll just put you back where you belong, then, shall I?"

Astarion blinked, visibly thrown, and finally lowered the dagger. He looked away, seemingly ashamed, and cast a quick, wary glance at Onyx, who remained tense. With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the dagger onto the ground and moved a few steps away, collapsing into a dejected heap on the gravel.

"What's the point?" he muttered, voice laced with exhaustion. "If I kill you, the wolf will tear me to shreds. And after threatening you, you'll probably just end up wanting to kill me yourself."

Ashara sat up, brushing the damp soil from her sleeves as she regarded him. "Can I suggest a third option?"

Astarion looked up, his expression hollow. "If you're about to suggest I join you on some grand quest to cure yourself of an Illithid tadpole... don't bother. I already tried that once. It didn't end well."

He hugged his knees to his chest, bitterness darkening his eyes. "Gods... I can't believe I trusted them."

Ashara tilted her head, curiosity piqued. "Tadpole?"

Astarion snorted, a sound devoid of humor. "Oh, wonderful. You're not even infected. Nice of the universe to rub salt in the wound."

Ashara gave him a perplexed look. "You're not making much sense."

He sighed, the sound heavy with an old, unshakeable weight. "Am I not? Perhaps it's because I don't care anymore. I finally escape Cazador's grasp, only to find that nothing has changed. I'm still just something to be bought, sold, and used."

Ashara's gaze softened as she watched him shiver, his form visibly trembling in the night air. Quietly, she reached into her bag of holding, feeling around its enchanted depths until her fingers brushed a soft rabbit-fur cloak. She pulled it free and approached him, draping it carefully over his shoulders. He flinched at the touch, his eyes snapping up to her, wary and defensive. She quickly stepped back, raising her hands.

"I didn't touch you," she said calmly. "I just thought you might want that."

Astarion blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced down at the cloak now wrapped around him. He hesitated, then muttered, "I... I wasn't actually cold."

She shrugged, reaching out as if to take it back, but he gripped it, pulling it around himself with a determined gesture. "It is a bit chilly though, and I am soaked to the bone..."

Ashara paused, watching him settle into the cloak with something like a fragile relief. "Need it or don't need it - it's yours now."

Astarion stiffened, his gaze sharpening with suspicion. "Why? What do you want from me?"

Ashara's confusion was genuine as she looked back at Onyx, who had settled beside her, his eyes never leaving the vampire.

"Does a gift have to have a reason?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed, distrust plain as day. "In my experience... yes."

Onyx tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he observed the vampire. "He thinks you're trying to buy some kind of service from him in exchange for kindness."

Ashara's eyes widened, a pang of sadness tightening her chest as she looked at Astarion. "Has no one ever given you a gift before?"

A faint, bitter smile ghosted across his lips. "Oh, I've been given plenty of gifts," he replied, his voice a sarcastic murmur. "But they were usually only given after I'd earned them."

Ashara's hand moved gently over Onyx's thick fur as she regarded Astarion with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "So... you've never had someone just do something nice for you, without expecting anything in return?"

He averted his gaze, his shoulders tightening beneath the cloak as he looked out toward the river. "No."

Ashara exhaled, a low whistle of disbelief escaping her lips. "Wow... your life sounds depressing."

Astarion let out a dry chuckle, his mouth curling into a wry, humorless smile. "Depressing doesn't even begin to cover it, darling."

A low, dangerous growl rumbled through the air as Onyx glared at Astarion, inching closer, his golden eyes narrowed with unmistakable warning. The vampire tensed, edging back slightly, his gaze flickering with alarm.

"Why is he looking at me like that?" he muttered, his voice carrying a wary edge.

Onyx's growl deepened, turning into a low snarl. "He should not use such a familiar term with you."

Ashara's lips quirked as she interpreted. "I don't think he liked you calling me 'darling.'"

Astarion raised his hands defensively, caught off guard. "Wait... he can understand me? Is he a druid?"

Ashara chuckled, shaking her head. "No. He's just... really clever."

Astarion glanced at Onyx, skepticism mingling with intrigue, but he wisely held his tongue. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the bubbling river sounds and the quiet rustle of leaves overhead.

Then Ashara took a breath, turning her gaze back to Astarion. "What did you mean earlier about an Illithid tadpole?"

Astarion's expression shifted, a look of disbelief mingling with faint irritation. "Have you been living under a rock for the past few weeks?"

She shrugged casually. "No. In the woods."

To her surprise, a faint smile ghosted across his face, a momentary softening in his guarded gaze. "You sound like a Githyanki I once knew."

As quickly as it appeared, the softness faded as he continued."Mindflayers have been snatching people all over Faerûn, infecting them with parasites that, if left unchecked, turn the host into one of them. I'm—" His words caught, his face paling further as realization struck.

"Oh shit..." He dropped his head into his hands, gripping his hair, as his eyes widened with a flash of fear. "I forgot. It was the artifact that was keeping me from transforming."

A choked laugh escaped him, strained and bitter. "You probably should have just left me in the river... I'm liable to start sprouting tentacles any moment."

Ashara's brow furrowed, her arms crossing as she regarded him intently. "Alright. I'm going to need an explanation for that sentence."

He threw her a frustrated glance, his patience visibly fraying. "I'm infected. So was the group I was originally traveling with. They have an artifact - some sort of relic that holds a being capable of shielding us from the process. Now that I'm no longer with them... I'm probably out of its range."

Ashara's gaze sharpened as she took in his words. "Why aren't you still travelling with them?"

Astarion's expression darkened, his features hardening with barely concealed rage. "Because the Dragonborn bastard leading them is a piece of shit. He knew I was a vampire from the start, even promised to keep it quiet - but then he put on this performance, all righteous and wounded, and handed me over to that Gur, pretending it was for the 'good of the team.' To protect them from a 'monster.'" Astarion's fist struck the ground, sending a small spray of dirt scattering.

"The only monster around was him," he hissed, his voice thick with anger. "I could almost pity the fools following him if they hadn't just stood by, watching, while he betrayed me."

A low, simmering growl erupted from Onyx, his golden eyes flashing with rare, ferocious anger. "To abandon a pack member like that is shameful. This Dragonborn is not a true leader."

Astarion's head jerked up, frowning. "Now what did I say?"

Ashara sank down beside him, crossing her legs and letting her hands rest on her knees. "He doesn't like how you were treated. Wolves don't betray each other. They look out for one another and only travel as fast as their slowest pack member."

Astarion scoffed, indignant. "I wasn't the slowest one."

She rolled her eyes. "You're missing the point. Strong, weak, clever, dumb - it doesn't matter in a wolf pack. Every member is valued. Onyx and I are a pack, and we would never betray each other, no matter what."

Like what you're reading? Check out the full chapter in the link below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60457534/chapters/154330306#workskin

[darcydarlingdabbles]

One Last Round

♠ Hazbin Hotel ♠ RadioHusk ♠ Explicit ♠ 2.8

Husk always says that's the last time, every time the fucking Radio Demon comes to find him long after the bar closes. //I've never written a hate fuck...until now XD //

 ♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠ 

Husker gathered up glasses from the now empty bar in the Hazbin Hotel lobby. His nails clinked against the cups in the echoing silence after everyone had gone to bed for the night, and he was just glad there wasn’t more  clean up to do. 

For a bunch of damned souls and the Princess of Hell, the little get together had been surprisingly calm. 

No brawls, no property damage, barely any debauchery—though he could have done with a bit more drinking.

“Should be fuckin’ happy they didn’t trash this place.” Husk muttered, wiping down the sticky remnants of mixed drinks and cocktails from the polished wooden surface. “Or the radio fucker’d  have me up all night scrubbin’.” 

He longed for the comfort of his bed and its nest of pillows, his mind already on sleep…so he didn’t notice the shadows gathering across the bar. 

The soft clink of ice in a glass made his ear twitch. Husk’s hackles rose—praying it wasn’t exactly who he thought it was. 

Alastor perched primly on the last bar stool like he’d been there all damn evening. With the dimmed light glinting off those shark’s teeth of his. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk yelped, stumbling back into the shelf and sending glasses rattling like bowling pins. “Don’t do that to an old man, you creepy bastard!”

Alastor just chuckled softly behind that never-slipping smile. 

The cat demon’s hair was still standing on end, but he quickly brushed down his arms. Hiding the evidence. As if Alastor needed anymore cause to dig right under his skin. 

Damn smug Radio Demon. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Husk growled. “Party’s over. Go haunt someone else’s nightmares.” 

“Oh, my dear Husker,” his voice purred with amusement, propping his elbow up on the bar and his clawed fingers under his chin. “Is that a confession—you do dream of me?” 

Those red eyes glinted with mischief even in the dimmed light. Husk’s fur bristled and his slashing tail betrayed his agitation. 

“Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself.” He grunted, turning back to drying the glasses, before remembering he hadn’t washed them yet. “Ain’t in the mood for your games, Alastor.” 

The Radio Demon cocked both eyebrows above his smirk. 

“Now, now.” He leaned forward on his stool, his voice taking a sing-song lilt.“You are a bartender, are you not? Fix me a drink, my good fellow.” 

Husk’s ears flatted to his head. Gritting his teeth against the urge to tell Alastor exactly where he could shove his drink. 

“What’ll it be?” He growled out instead. 

The other man’s grin widened impossibly further, leaning over the bar as if he could close the distance that Husk was keeping between them. 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I like, Husker.” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble that shivered down the cat demon’s spine like a prickle of electricity. 

His tail stilled before he could stop it, and he silently cursed himself and his boss. 

“Ain’t happening,” Husk said gruffly, refusing to meet Alastor’s knowing gaze as he reached for rye whiskey and a clean glass.

He poured a generous measure, neat, just the way Alastor liked it. His eyes followed the glass sliding across the bar, picked up with an elegant twist of his wrist, and bringing it to his lips. Inadvertently locking with Alastor’s predatory gaze. 

Husk’s ears flattened to his head. 

“What’s the matter, old friend? Not fond of your own taste in drinks?” He raised an eyebrow before taking a delicate sip of the rich amber liquid.

Husk swallowed as Alastor did. 

The Radio Demon let out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes never leaving the cat’s face as he set down his glass. 

“Intensely bitter.” He licked his lips, too damn deliberate to be innocent. “Just the way I like it.” 

Husk shook his head to clear it. He hadn’t had enough to be this damn cloudy. With a huff, he turned his back on Alastor and found anything he could grab to occupy his hands. 

“Stop fuckin’ around,” he muttered to the imaginary stain in the glass he was cleaning. His wings twitched as he felt Alastor’s eyes burning a hole through his back. “Ain’t you got better people to torment?”

The air behind him crackled with static. 

Husk froze, feeling his hair stand in waves—he knew what was coming, but he was powerless to stop it. 

The Radio Demon’s presence leaned down over his shoulder. His hot breath ghosted over Husk’s flicking ears as he spoke in a deep, dangerous tone. 

“Oh, my dear Husker. I assure you, ” Alastor purred and Husk’s spine curled with shivers. “When I begin to…fuck around, as you so eloquently put it…” Husk felt his heart stutter, waiting on the demon’s next word. “You will most certainly know it.”

The feathers of his wings puffed involuntarily as Husk stumbled forward, ignoring the surge of want that rushed through his blood as he turned around. 

“I said it ain’t happenin’.” His gruff voice was weak even in his ears. 

Husk searched frantically along the bar, fumbling with bottles and glasses, anything to keep his hands busy and avoid that burning red gaze. 

But Alastor never was one to give up easy. 

“Yes, of course,” he drawled, his presence looming right over the cat’s shoulder and his warmth tantalizingly close. “Just like every  time it wasn’t happening, hmm?” He chuckled softly. 

Husk felt his tail sway with interest—and hit into the other demon’s legs. 

“Just like every time it didn’t happen. Right, darling?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Husk snapped back, fighting off the memory of every time Alastor pulled out the honeyed words and sweet names. 

His resolve was crumbling, like it happened, every time. 

Husk opened his mouth to bite out some nasty insults, but the words died in his throat as he felt something terribly, wonderfully familiar. Alastor’s long, slender fingers threading through his fur. 

The demon’s touch was gentle but deliberate, claws drawn perfectly down Husk’s back with practiced ease. 

“What was that, my dear Husker?” Alastor grinned at his ear. 

Husk bit into his lip, desperately trying to stiffle the purr building in his chest, but his back was arching into Alastor’s hands. 

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Husk growled without an ounce of venom. “Y’know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“Of course I do,” Alastor replied, his grin clear in his voice. “I know you better than anyone, old friend.”

Alastor’s fingers continued their ministrations, finding all the spots that made Husk’s resolve crumble. The cat demon’s wings twitched, feathers rustling as pleasure as a soft, rumbling purr escaped his throat. 

This dangerous little habit he’d gotten into. But the high of giving into Alastor was as addictive as booze—a bet he thrilled in losing. 

He should push the bastard off and tell him to fuck off. 

“Dammit,” Husk gritted out. 

Alastor’s ears stood straight up at the sound of the demon’s resolve breaking. His fingers drew up along the cat’s back, pushing the suspenders off his shoulders and letting them fall loose without a scrap of resistance. 

Letting Alastor know he’d won. 

The Radio Demon leaned down, his hand stroking down Husk’s chest and belly as he leaned to his ear, cooing heatedly. “There’s a good kitty.” 

“Fuck—” Husk gasped out as Alastor cut him off with a bite to his sensitive ear. The cat’s body responded in an instant, a wave of arching arousal that nearly burned the rest of the fight out of him.“—you.” 

Alastor simply chuckled, his breath hot against Husk’s neck. 

His long-fingered hand curled around the tent straining at the other demon’s pants, dragging a strangled groan from the old cat. 

“How about one last round for the evening?” Alastor hummed, gripping the nape of Husk’s neck as he palmed his arousal. “You know I will make it worth your while.” 

Husk growled, but nothing in him wanted to resist the wicked treatment Alastor gave. 

“Stop tryna be slick,” he growled as his hips bucked forward. “And get on with it.” 

“Certainly!” Alastor’s grin was impossibly wider as he snapped his fingers. 

Husk grunted as he was shoved forward by the shadow tentacles that had started to pool around his ankles. Suddenly, his bare ass was on the bar top, his pants gone, and his legs spread like a damn invitation. 

The curses died on his tongue as Alastor leaned over him with a predatory grace, dragging his tongue in a hot, wet line down the pink skin of his cock. 

“Slick, did you say?”

“Don’t fuckin’ tease—” Husk’s words dissovled into a choked moan as Alastor took his cock into his mouth. 

The cat’s claws gripped the edge of the bar, leaving grooves in the wood as the other demon worked over his length. He never felt the edge of those teeth—but he certainly felt the slide of that silver tongue. 

“Cocky bastard.” Husk huffed, wriggling against the tendrils that kept him still. Alastor’s laugh vibrated through him, making the cat shudder. 

A slick tentacle materialized between them, sliding up between Husk’s thighs until it found his furled hole. The old man squirmed against the slithering, gasping as he felt the tip press inside and start to stretch him as Alastor continued his ministrations. 

Husk slipped his nails into the demon’s hair, knowing full well he was taking his life into his hands when he pulled at the deer ears. Alastor snarled against him, but never drew his mouth back. 

Even as his claws sank into the shelf behind the bar. 

The tentacle writhed inside Husk—until it hit that spot that put every hair on end as pleasure rocketed through him. His wings flared wide, knocking Alastor’s forgotten whiskey glass across the room. 

A shadow caught it. 

“Careful darling,” Alastor chuckled, taking the glass the tendril brought to his hand. “We wouldn’t want to make a bigger mess for you to clean up, would we?” 

The Radio Demon smirked, licking his lips as he took a casual sip of his whiskey. 

“You’re a real smug son of a—” 

Alastor cut his retort off by dropping his mouth back onto Husk’s cock. Until it and the tentacle were leaving him a gasping, trembling mess on the bar top. Desperate for more than the agonizingly slow stretch. 

“You plannin’ on taking all damn night?” Husk growled, his tail thrashing wildly. 

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he raised the whiskey glass to his lips. “My, my. Impatient, aren’t we?” He took another leisurely sip, savoring Husk’s growing agitation. “Good things come to those who wait, dear Husker.”

“For fuck’s sake, Al,” Husk muttered, his wings twitching with each movement of the tentacle.

With a flick of the Radio Demon’s wrist, the neon green chain materialized around Husk’s throat, making his yellow eyes go wide. 

Alastor wrapped the links around his fingers, and then yanked Husk forward. 

Their lips crashed together. 

The taste of whiskey flooded Husk’s senses, familiar and intoxicating, making him lean in desperately for more. 

 ♠┈┈♦┈┈❤┈┈♦┈┈♠ 

As their lips parted, Husk panted heavily, his breath mingling with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s eyes sparked deviously, and the tentacle within Husk writhed in response.

“Ya gettin’ on off on bein’ a fuckin’ tease?,” Husk accused, his voice hoarse.

“I like it when you’re…feisty” Alastor smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of the chain around Husk’s neck. “And I’d be happy to let you go without, if you’d rather not play my game.” He said, with an air of faux sweetness.

Husk let out a sound of pure irritation, the tentacle still squirming inside him as others held his legs and wings in place. 

He hated the way Alastor could turn him on and then toy with him like this. 

Husk knew he was powerless against Alastor, and his wicked charms. A habit he couldn’t kick. 

The cat let out a frustrated groan, his body tensing as the tentacle brushed his sweet spot once again. He knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come, not yet at least, even as he grabbed desperately for the man’s lapels. 

“I can wait you out, Husker.” Alastor sang to him. 

“Fuck you.” Husk gritted back. 

“You wish.” Alastor intoned as he took another long, luxuriating sip of whiskey. 

Husk hissed, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape. He didn’t want to give Alastor the satisfaction—didn’t want to give in to his game.

But every nerve ending was on fire, and the tentacle inside him was edging into him. As Alastor just sat back, and smiled, and smiled…

And Husk couldn’t take it anymore. 

He grabbed the glowing chain with both hands, and pulled the other demon flush against him. “Fuck me already.” He demanded in a desperate whisper. 

“What was that, old friend?” Alastor taunted, inches from Husk’s nose. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Husk was about to rip his own fur out. He struggled against the shadows holding him, trying to tug the immovable Alastor forward. “Fine! I want ya to fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight. Fuck—please!” 

Alastor’s smile stretched across his face. “With pleasure.” 

The chain vanished, and the Radio Demon’s hand wrapped around Husk’s throat. 

His yellow eyes went wide as his back was pinned against the bar, but he only struggled when he felt the teasing tentacle withdraw—only to let out a low hum as he felt Alastor’s cock slide inside him at last. 

“Fuck…” Husk grabbed at the demon’s wrist, trying to steady himself as the other finally began to move. 

It was slow, deliberate, dragging the bliss from him with every thrust. 

But Husk wanted more. 

“Fuck you and the things you do to me.” He tried to snarl through his husky voice and the hand just holding on to his neck. 

“Always a pleasure,” Alastor chimed, his voice dripping with saccharine charm to Husk’s roiling frustration. “To hear such delightful vulgarity.” 

 Husk could feel his orgasm building, but he knew Alastor wouldn’t let him come yet. Not until he was good and ready.

“Faster,” Husk demanded, his voice strained. 

And he hated the fucking laugh that answered him. 

“Relax Husker,” Alastor purred, “We’re not done yet.”

With a snap of his fingers, Husk found himself face down behind the bar.  Alastor’s cock was back inside him before he could protest the loss. Fucking him hard and fast. 

Husk mewled. And he’d be mortified—if he could give a fuck beyond the feeling of Alastor’s cock hit his sweet spot again and again.

The Radio Demon’s claws and arms were elongate and caging him in, his wings and his legs still bound in shadows, and…ragged, panting breaths were at his ear.

Husk was surrounded. Consumed by Alastor. The sick fuck that owned every inch of him. 

The cat demon cursed the last thought he had before he tumbled over the edge. He let out a low growl, his body shaking as he squeezed around Alastor’s cock. 

Husk collapsed onto the bar, his body spent. 

 There were fingers running through his fur, soothing him as he caught his breath.

Husk lay there, panting heavily, still trembling from the bliss that had just ripped through him. He could feel Alastor’s own release, hot and wet inside him. 

The other’s weight was still on top of him, the radio demon’s chest heaving against his back as he struggled to catch his breath.

Alastor’s fingers were running through Husk’s fur, gently tracing patterns along his spine. It was almost soothing, and Husk found himself relaxing into the touch.

“Don’t get sweet on me now.” 

Husk let out a low growl, too damn tired to flatten his ears to his head—even as his tail curled around the man’s waist from behind. He could feel Alastor’s breath hot against his neck, the Radio Demon’s lips grazing his skin as he spoke.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old friend.” Alastor chuckled. 

Husk let out a huff of laughter. “Get the fuck off me,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words.

Alastor chuckled, his fingers stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle stroking. “Always so charming, aren’t you?”

Husk rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest as Alastor continued to touch him. He could feel the Radio Demon’s length was still inside him, growing hard again—damn demonic powers. 

And he knew that Alastor wasn’t done with him yet.

 For now, he was content to lie there and let Alastor pet him like a cat. It was almost...nice.

And when Alastor was ready for round two, Husk would be ready to fight him every step of the way. 

[k-koriikorner]

DAY 2 - PRAISE

kinktober 2023. - masterlist |

warnings. - gn! reader,, dom-ish!sanji,, french dialogue, reader speaks some french but has no distinguished race,, also some what short

♠︎sanji vinsmoke...

These things were simple, normal nights turned in the nights of pure passion between you and Sanji. You never cease to be amazed at how good he was at these things, despite the well known fact of him being a womanizer. All that stopped though, once he was able to have your warm body against his very own, without the fear of you pushing him away.

A series of events and an intricate collection landed you in the position you're in now. Beneath Sanji, taking every he gives you, as he pushes his pulsing, erect member into the farthest reaches of your canal. ,, hnn, you feel 's good-HAH, right ther' Sanji pleas',,

His length reached into the depths of your canal, dragging deliciously in and you of your tight entrance. The tight pull of your trench sending him nearly toppling towards you, the friction enough to send him into a frenzy. He prided himself at being a gentleman though, and opted at keeping a steady pace unless you so wished him to fasten his pace and increase your overall pleasure.

Sanji laid above you, his lanky but equally strong arms holding him up, his sky blue eyes locking onto your ethereal body beneath him. He loved having you in this position, having you babbling below him, is endearing pillow princex. Your hair, how ever long or short it was and any head covering beginning removed, lay in a halo beneath you, shifting at every thrust he made with his slick hips, covered with the evidence of your and his enjoyment.

A squelching sound began to pick up in volume from beneath your two bodies and so did your whines. The sweet sounds you were making fueled Sanji to speed up his pace, the angle of his member pushed into your gummy walls, the faint rocking on the ship pushing his hips just a little deep.

You reached a warm hand towards Sanji's cheek, he turned his head to the side to catch the hand in a kiss. ,, Mi... amor, lo estás haciendo tan bien,... tan lleno... te llenas tan bien!,, (my love, you're doing so well...so full...you fill me up so good!)

Sanji's member twitched inside of you at the realization of you speaking in his mother's tongue, and once again at the sound of your praise. Yes, Sanji has been praised and complimented for many things, mainly his cooking- but the sound of you praising him during your most intimate moments felt like a angelic hymn from your plump lips. No amount of mermaid melodies could match the enticing chime of your voice, shivers of ecstasy trailed through his abs to his member buried inside of you. A desperate whine leaving his pink lips as he gazed down at you, sky blue pearls locking onto your half lidded ones.

,,encore une fois, ma douce, dis-le encore...s'il te plaît,, (once again my sweet, say it again...please) The increase in his pace did not go unnoticed as you cried out his name at the delicious pace. The feeling of his hips rubbing against your sensitive hips, sending you into overdrive. ,,You're always so good to me- hnm...tu es si grand,, (you're so big)

Bending down to the shell of your ear, warm breath with the scent of faint cigarette smoke and bay leaves fanned the right side of your face. His pace rapidly increased, thrusting a mile a minute, your body begins to rock with every thrust. Subconsciously pulling away from his warmth, his ever encroaching thrusts- but the drag of his cock felt too enticing, the feel of his warm slightly calloused hands on either side of your waist grounded you. ,,encore une fois mon cœur... s'il te plaît, dis-le encore!,, (once again my heart, please say it again)

,,Sanj-Sanji!, tu te sens si bien, trop bien..., close 'm...so close,, (you feel so good, too good)

,,One more time mon amour, je promets que je te comblerai, je promets,, (my love, I promise I will satisfy you, I promise) Your hips began to move in sync with every jolt of his hips, stuttering at times when it became too much. Sanji lowered his face towards you heated neck, your heartbeat practically jumping from your supple skin. For a moment his last request slipped for your mind, the thoughts of you mind seemed to drift away as your lower body began to feel a hot, heavy pressure building up. A hand crept up the valleys of his back towards the nape of his neck, before finally resting, in his golden locks. Before giving them a harsh tug, drawing a pornographic moan from his glazed lips.

,, Sanji I love you, Je t'aime tellement... I... Je ne peux plus tenir,, (I love you so much...I...I can't hold on anymore)

,, Je..Je t'aime aussi ma douce- Hah!,, (I... I love you too my sweet) His voice gave out by the end of his sentence as he left you constricting around him, his member pulsed once more before white sticky ropes began shooting into your canal. You tightened your hold on Sanji as she pumped you a few times, riding out both of your highs.

Sanji gazed down at your spent body, that same otherworldly he loved to see after a night under the sheets, reflecting from your skin. He kneeled down to place a kiss to your forehead before slowly pulling out, softly shushing you at the sound of your soft whine.

Sanji walked to the built in bathroom and drew a bath for the both of you. Returning to retrieve you he blushed at the sight of your and his arousal leaving your previously occupied hole. He slowly walked towards you, gently lifting you up before beginning his routine of after care but not before you greeted his left cheek with a kiss.

[yandecifi]

The Bathroom ♤ Chapter One

♠ masterlist

♠ cw: kidnapping, sa, violence

dabi/reader, psychological, wip shortfic

There’s distant muttering. It’s angry, disturbed. There’s no other voice bickering back. Still, the muttering continues, harsh intakes of breath between every indecipherable word. It feels like it’s coming from inside your ear.

Following sound is touch. Your shoulders, your wrists, the sluggish rolling of your head; it all aches. All of it except for your hands. You feel nothing but tingling in your hands, a buzz, like there are thousands of small insects crawling around inside your palms and fingernails.

You swallow. It feels like you drank battery acid. Immediately, you launch into a coughing fit, your eyes welling with tears. You can’t hear the muttering anymore.

Following touch is sight. You snap your eyes open. You’re met with the glorious, eye-level view of a piss-stained toilet. The lights of the bathroom you’ve found yourself in flicker. You look down and you’re sitting on cracked tile covered in lint and various stains of unknowable origin — hair dye? Jizz?

Black mold climbs up the shower curtain in a fucked up gradient of bacteria. You jolt forward, trying to get up because what the fuck, but you’re just met with a clang and a sharp tug in your wrists.

You’re zip-tied to the sink cabinet door, arms tight behind your back. You squirm and kick, breath rattling in your lungs — why do you sound like that? — but it just makes more noise, more clanging.

The bathroom door flies open with a bang. You’re grabbed by the hair and wrenched up, hard.

“Shut,” the cool barrel of a gun presses against your forehead, “the fuck up.”

You do. You don’t move. You just squint at the man hunched over you, the one with the finger on the trigger, trying to reel in the urge to cough and sputter.

Holy shit. You’ve seen this guy on TV, on the news in your store — he — why the fuck are you in his bathroom? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? You’re just some college kid — like, you always wear your seatbelt, you’ve never even drank before — but one of those bigshot villains is crouched in front of you, gritting his teeth, dressed in a black t-shirt and some sweats, staring at you like you’ve gone and made yourself his worst enemy.

He’s so much worse in person. His skin is peeling like the wallpaper, the staples on his face looking too tight to be able to frown as large as he is. The fingernails on his hands are warped or just plain gone, blistering burns covering his palms and forearms.

“Fuck!” He hits you over the head with the gun, slamming you back into the cabinet. “Fucking fuck!” You curl into yourself while he kicks a hole into the wall. “God fucking damn it!”

He rushes out of the bathroom. Blood starts dripping into your eye. He comes back, gun discarded somewhere outside, you suppose, because he throws both of his hands around your throat and starts squeezing.

“Why aren’t you fucking dead?” His hands are getting hotter, hotter, hotter. “Why couldn’t you have died in there, what the fuck!” You start to thrash, you’re sizzling, you can smell it.

And then he rips his hands off of you. He falls backward, butt hitting the tile, panting. You want to scream but you can’t — you just cough and clang and cry.

There was a fire. You were working, sort of, just sitting in the back on your phone, and there was a fire. You’re still in your work shirt, still smell like smoke.

Dabi — that’s the guy’s name, you remember — pushes himself off the floor. He walks out and slams the door shut behind him.

You breathe. In, out, in, out. Your legs are shaking — where did your pants go? It’s only your underwear and socks left. You lean forward, slowly, slowly, testing your restraints again. They won’t budge. You can’t feel your fingers.

You fall back against the cabinet. Blood trickles down your neck. You can’t move your head much anymore. You lick your lips. It’s just the muttering of Dabi outside and the occasional noises from the vent in the floor.

You catch tidbits as your ears start to ring less. Doors opening and closing, conversations between muffled voices, footsteps, a girl giggling. They’re all somewhere below. You’re upstairs, in a bathroom only that guy seems to use. Does he live in this shithole? He still hasn’t come back. You still haven’t gotten out of the zip-ties.

Do you cut your hands off like that one dude that got stuck in the mountains? Is Dabi going to bond you? He’s an alpha, you know that much from all the news and gossip. What if you die of infection from the burns? What if you got the attention of whoever’s downstairs, or do they already know you’re here? Why hasn’t he killed you? Why you, anyway? You were just trying to stock up shelves and go to class. You weren’t even in heat. Oh, fuck, what if you go into heat?

How are you getting out of this bathroom?

The door opens. Dabi walks inside, shuts the door quietly, and sits next to you at the cabinet. Every muscle in your body tells you to flinch, to get away, to do something, but you can’t, so you just watch him from the corner of your eye. His jaw is clenched and he’s hugging his knees to his chest. He’s staring into the wallpaper, through it, seeing something you can’t.

He just sits with you. He doesn’t shout or hurt you. He just listens to your rattling breaths, to the happy people in the vent.

[takeachancewithchancebaby]

{-"Take A Chance With Chance BABYYY!!"-♠ -} {-I gambled with my LIFE.-▮ "Did u at least win tho." -♠

{-"A little bit a gambling is fun when your with me!"-♠ -} -The gambler said as he flipped his coin infront of you, a cocky small smile on his stupid cocky face, he looks over confident. He then stood up straight after leaning down at you and flipped his coin again, seems like he's waiting for you to maybe say something.- {-"Don't be shy!" -♠}

{-Welcome to a Chance blog.-}

{-Here are some rules and head canons!!-}

{-HEADCANONS-} {-Chance goes by He/They preferably, not liking being mistaken as he is also Pan.-} {-Chance has some bunny ears but they are short and covered by his fedora, he doesn't like it when they're touched.-} {-Chance tries to gamble his life, trying not to deal with reality and pretending that life is all about gambling.-} {-Chance Does remember iTrapped but doesn't hate him entirely. Just a tad bit but he's not one to have grief.} {-Chance does have a big light gray scar on his chest (and back) due to iTrapped stabbing him. He also has a scar on his lower lip and right eyebrow (covered by sunglasses.).} {-CHANCE DOES HAVE HIS BUNNY DON'T WORRY :) -} {-Chance is also in his 20s (he's 28)} {-Chance has a hard time remembering faces, so like for iTrapped's it's a square or a blank black face or like Mafioso, its blank but when Mafioso talks, a mouth appears. Making Chance struggle to remember faces and slightly panic. (He will remember your voice.)} {-Chance can change his height depending on how lucky he is, from 4-7 ft 5'3 being the average.} {-Chance only lets SPECIFIC people mess with or touch his ears, mainly Guest 1337, Elliot, Mafioso and iTrapped (reluctantly for Mafioso and iTrapped.).}

{-RULES} {-PLEASE NO NSFW, it triggers me in a bad way and I will block you.} {-Please do not bully the mod or anyone (such as an anon or other blogs that int)} {-NO SLURS PLEASE, THERE CAN BE SWEARS!! JUST NO SLURS!} {-Please Do NOT ask me to donate, I have no money to give you I'm sorry.-} {-Ships are fine but don't make it too weird 🥀-}

{-"Hey hey! Why so quiet! Somethin' on ya mind kid?"-♠ -} {-TAGS-} {-Take a Chance!: New anon asking} {-Wanna go again?: Same anon asking} {-Ooh, I've seen your face!: Other character blog interacting {-I swear I'll pay them tomorrow..: Continued interaction w/ other blog} {-My luck is unmatched!: End of Interaction} {-Shuffling my deck!: Mod/ooc ask} {-Chance when he wins a bet or Wins in Gambling-}:

{-Thank you for reading.-} {-Dividers by @kodaswrld }

{-Mf he's pan/j} {-Video isn't canon to the Chance thing, just smth as a joke.} {-ANONS (for some reason bc I wanna)-} {-♦ Anon-}

[daphwritesworld]

#22 O. Batlle & #7 S. Paralluelo x Reader— MEDDLE ABOUT. (PART ONE)

(A/N: shoutout one of my Tumblr bestie's for pushing me to write this— WHEW!! this is very very self indulgent but idc. my page my rules lol)

content: American!reader, stripping in front of a crowd, mentions of past sexual encounters, drunk Barca girlies getting crazy at Alexia's house, sexual tension so thick everyone can notice, nothing too too steamy just yet

warnings: intoxication & alcohol use, beer pong ball to the forehead, mentions of secret hookups, public nudity, teasing banter among teammates, and I think that's it for now tehee

synopsis: What happens when you fall into bed with two of your new teammates, and swear on keeping them hidden from each other? Might be harder than you think…especially when they've been hooking up for years before you came into the picture. A team bonding night at Alexia's may be just what you all need to get on the same page.

word count: 4.2K

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sweltering heat of Barcelona beats down on your exposed skin as you step out of the car. You’ve been invited over to your new Captain’s place, a team pool party to break the ice and get to know the girls better. It’s been a flawless transition into the Spanish team aside from the language barrier. You’re learning Spanish and most of the girls know enough English to get through conversations. A light dusting of sweat starts to form on your palms, nerves settling in with each step you take closer to the door. You can already hear the music and mingled laughs pouring out of the backyard. The thoughts swirling in your head do a good job of distracting you, because you don’t even notice the body standing behind the glass door watching you approach. At least not until you reach for the handle and the door glides open before you can blink, a familiar voice filling your ears. 

“¡Hola niña bonita!” The blush can’t help but creep up to your cheeks under her gaze, rosy enough to blame on the heat if you needed to. (Hey pretty girl!)

Ona stands before you, wet hair slung to one side of her neck as a towel loosely hangs from her hips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the water droplets falling down her muscular form, toned stomach so perfect it looks like the Gods chiseled it straight from Tuscan Marble. 

“¿Cómo lo dices? Ehh my eyes are up here,” the smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed. (How do you say?)

“I know,” you finally meet her gaze. “Can’t a girl enjoy the view?” 

She laughs at that, a hand coming up to grab your own as she drags you into the house. “Only if I get to return the favor.” 

The teasing tone behind her words lights a fire underneath you, a need to have her hands back on you growing by the minute. You should probably be using this time to get acquainted with different players— you’re familiar with Ona, comfortable even. Within a week of your arrival you found yourself falling into her bed, but I mean who could blame you? Too much Tequila after your Barca debt was maybe a bad idea in hindsight, but the hangover was so worth the orgasms. Ona had made a perfect pass to you not even 5 minutes out on the pitch, and you took full advantage. Not only did you make the winning goal, but secured the player of the match title as well. It was only fitting that your partner in crime celebrated the night with you. 

You pull out of her grasp and your hands go to the hem of your tank top, a smile gracing your lips as you slowly pull the piece of fabric off. Ona lets her lip fall between her teeth as she watches your little show, your shirt being thrown at her before you move to the shorts covering your bottom half. Goosebumps cover your skin as the air conditioned breeze glosses over your body as you expose it. Heavy eyes following your every move with ease, her hands quick to catch the discarded clothes thrown towards her chest. 

“Eres un problema,” she breathes out with a sigh. (You are trouble.)

“Yeah but you like it,” you start to lean into her body. 

She mirrors your movements, eyes trained on your lips as your face grows closer. You can feel her breath hitting your lips, breathing in the same air as you pause less than an inch away from her. “Come on,” it’s whispered so light Ona barely catches it. “¡Vamos a mojarnos!” And with that you pull away from her intoxicating presence, leaving her to collect her thoughts and sanity alone in Alexia’s living room. The tile beneath her feet is quick to become her new place of solace, a few breaths to steady her heartbeat and then she's out the door after you. Trying to play it cool like she isn’t losing her ever loving horny mind in front of her teammates. (Let’s go get wet!)

“Hola Y/N!” It’s echoed around the pool as you exit the sliding glass doors. You give a smile and a wave, moving around to give hugs and greet the girls as you try and find the cooler. God knows you need a drink after that foreplay inside the house. “Where are the drinks?” You ask your captain. Aside from your pussy making friends with a couple of your teammates, Alexia is one you’ve refrained from fucking so far. She’s been a mentor, a friend, and like a big sister these past few weeks. “Not even a hello? ¿Saludas a todos excepto a tu anfitriona? You Americans are rude!” (Do you greet everyone but the hostess?)

“Ale! Hi hello, now where is the cooler?” You give her your best innocent smile, a pout soon to follow when she still doesn't answer your question. “Over by Ingrid and Frido in the shade,” Alexia can never stay upset or annoyed at you too long. Maybe it’s because you're still new, but the Captain has a soft spot for you that you always play on to get your way. “Thank you! Beautiful home by the way, brick work is amazingly detailed!” you call out as you skip over towards the Europeans. 

You faintly hear the dramatic words spoken by Alexia as you carry about, “¡Ella actúa como si nunca hubiera estado aquí antes!” (She acts like she’s never been here before!)

“Beer me please,” you call out as you approach the girls. Ingrid has her nose in a book, trying to find some peace in the chaotic environment surrounding her. Fridolina is already in the cooler, pulling out a seltzer for herself. “Watch this one Frido, she gets crazy after 6.” Ingrid’s eyes are covered by her sunglasses, but she can’t hide the smile on her face as she says it. She and Mapi had roomed next to Ona that first night you let yourself fall under her spell….safe to say they’ve kept your extracurriculars a secret so far. 

“Don’t worry i’m on a 2 drink limit today, I drove myself here so I can’t get drunk sadly.” 

“Oh what a tragedy,’ Frido laughs as she opens your drink and hands it to you. “I car pooled so I’m limitless tonight. Now go mingle and get to know the younger players. You’re their age and always hang with the old heads– go make friends Y/N!” 

“You say that like you don’t enjoy my presence!” You fake a gasp as a hand goes to your heart, “I’m the life of the party and you know it Rolfö!” 

“Oh I know it, now go show them that!” 

You chug the first half of the beer, nerves settling as the alcohol hits your tongue. You look around the extravagant patio, trying to find where you’ll venture next. You ultimately settle on joining some of the girls in the pool as they start a volleyball game. You walk over before setting your beer down on the side of the pool, “Can I join?” 

“Por supuesto! We need someone to join Salma’s team so it works out perfectly,” Mapi happily agrees. (Of course!) 

Your eyes find said teammate through the net, her hair wrapped up in a bun to keep it out of the water. She’s already looking at you, well your body if we’re being specific. Eyes trained in on every detail of your skin she’s explored with her hands, lips, and tongue. Reminiscing as you make your way over to her side of the water. A hand comes up to help you steady yourself down into the pool, sliding down to linger around your waist as you find your footing. “Gracias,” you swiftly move around her frame to get into position. (Thank you.)

“En cualquier momento, hermoso,” Salma replies. She licks her lips for a second, having to use all her strength just to look away from you and focus on the game at hand. (Anytime, beautiful.)

“I hope you're ready to go down, abuela!” You call out to Mapi as you’re handed the ball to serve from Salma.

“Oh, bring it on chica!” She calls back at you. “La edad trae sabiduría!” (Age brings wisdom!)

“Yeah and brittle bones,” you snap back before raising your hand to serve.

Some of the girls around you laugh at the remark, Vicky too distracted repeating the joke to notice the ball heads straight past her. 

“1-0! ACE serve from Y/L/N!” You cheer out as your teammates exchange highfives.

“Did she mention she played all through school before switching to football?” Alexia says as she slips into the water on Mapi’s side. 

“CHEATER!!” Screams from the other side of the net call out as you stick your tongue out at them, your middle finger sliding up as well. 

“It’s called being multi-talented! You should try it some time,” you give a teasing smile as the words leave your mouth.

“Play nice, Y/N!” Is shouted from Ingrid as she joins the side of the pool, her legs dipping into the water as more players come over to watch the game.

“¡Ella no está acostumbrada a eso!” Mapi responds. (She isn’t used to that!)

“The Ref hates to see her coming,” Ona joins in on the banter.

“Nuestra propia Yellow Card Cutie,” Salma agrees. (Our own)

“Are you gonna keep smack talking or actually hit the ball?” You call out to the otherside of the net. “Losers pay for our next team dinner!”

“Tráelo, Y/L/N!” Patri finally gets in on the action. (Bring it)

Cata goes to serve it  for their side, your eyes anticipating where she’ll try and go. Just as the ball starts to come down in the air you call out to Clàudia, giving her a heads up to block on her side. The water splashes as she jumps up, hands making perfect contact with the ball as it bounces back down towards the other side of the net. Vicky tries to dive to save it, but she slips at the last second. She goes under the water as the ball smacks in the ripples she left behind. 

More cheers sound out as your side celebrates its early 2-0 lead. You turn to congratulate Salma, but she’s already behind you. You bump into her frame and she lets her hands find your waist again to help steady you. “Qué suerte tengo de tenerte en mi equipo, Star Girl,” it's whispered against your ear. Her lips ghosting along your neck as she pulls away. (How lucky I am to have you on my team)

You take a deep breath as you try and steady your heartbeat, body and mind betraying you in ways you wish they wouldn’t right now. You’re supposed to be acting discreet, keeping your flings underwraps– especially from each other. But at this rate you’re gonna be found out before you can even make it to beer number 2. Lord help you. 

“Stop flirting already and get your head in the game!” Pina lands a slap to the back of your head. 

“OW! I-I’m not flirting! It’s called sportsmanship!” You pout at the Spaniard, hand coming up to rub the spot she’d just whacked. 

“¡Pina!¡Sé amable con la novata!” Alexia calls out from across the pool, a motherly finger wagging in her direction. (Be nice to the newbie!)

“Yeah, be nice Clàudia!” You squint your eyes as you say it. 

“And you,” Alexia’s finger now turns towards your direction, “¡Deja de pensar con el coño!” (Stop thinking with your pussy!)

Your mouth falls open at the accusation…really on observation if we’re being honest…which we aren’t. “Ale!” 

“Close your mouth, chica,” Ona’s voice is closer than you remember. “No quiero que atrapes ninguna mosca.” (I don’t want you to catch any flies.)

You feel her touch before you see her, toned abs meeting your back as one of her hands comes up to close your mouth. She lets her fingers linger under your chin, her touch sending jolts of electricity through your nervous system. “Can Kika and I join?” 

“Of course!” You answer a little too fast and a little too eager. “The more the merrier right!” 

You make quick work of separating yourself from the sex on legs behind you, needing the space to get your head back on right. FUCK. Ona and Salma less than 5 feet away from you? This is actually your worst nightmare and ultimate fantasy all wrapped into one. Okay game time. No more accidental strip teases or too friendly of touches for the rest of the night….let's hope. 

— 

The game goes by quickly, your team dominating the match. Not to diminish the other girls' efforts…they got a whole 4 points during the 3 sets. Which is actually pretty good with you on the other side of the net against them. You're now 5 beer pong games deep, taking a win against every team so far. You and Patri teaming up was like the stars aligning just right for an unstoppable duo. Alexia had agreed to let you all stay the night after endless begging to turn the team bonding party into a sleepover, so now you’re well past your original 2 beer limit. With the freedom of your new abode you take the opportunity to have a few cups of the liquor being passed around– and of course it’s Tequila. You know what your national teammates say? Tequila makes Y/N’s clothes fall off. 

“¿Quién es el siguiente?” Patri announces as you two do a celebration dance against Esmee and Jana. (Who is next?)

“¡Tu reinado de terror está a punto de terminar!” Has the hair on the back of your next standing up. (Your reign of terror is about to end!)

You turn around quicker than you’d like, losing your balance as Patri’s quick to help you stay upright. It’s Salma and Ona, water still dripping from their bodies as the setting sun casts a sparkle from the light catching them just right. “¿A menos que tengas miedo?” Ona’s quick to jump in with Salma’s teasing. (Unless you’re scared?)

You recover quickly, attitude a natural reflex you can’t quite seem to tame. “Of you two?” You can’t hold back the laugh that dances past your lips, “Nunca.” (Never.)

“Ohhh,” Patri’s already resetting the cups on the table. “¡Tiene algo de fuego en ella!” (She’s got some fire in her!) 

The two girls across from you smirk at that, sharing a look before mirroring each other’s words. “No tienes idea,” and then they’re taking their spots. Leaving you to ponder what the hell they’re playing at. (You have no idea.)

“¡Apresúrate!” Patri calls for you. (Hurry up!)

It snaps you out of your daze, walking back over to your side of the table. The red cups in front of you become a million times smaller with two girls you can’t seem to stop spreading your legs for placed behind them. It has you glancing anywhere but in their direction, alcohol already clouding your judgement and reservations. 

“Winners first,” Ona calls out across the table. 

You pick up the small hot pink ball, dipping it into a cup of water before taking your stance. You take a deep breath, settling in on the middle cup and letting it fly as you exhale. It sinks into the desired cup and you jump up as you throw your arms in the air. “All air, no cup!” You cheer around Patri as she takes your previous spot. Your partying is put to an end when she misses her shot, a pout quick to reach your face as Salma chases after the neon green ball of Patri’s. “Drink up ladies, I still sunk mine!” 

“Oh it’s on now!” Ona calls out, a smile so big you’d think she’d just won the lottery. 

“Don’t be so cocky,” you roll your eyes. “It’s not a good look on you.” Yeah you are LYING straight through your teeth. In fact it might be the hottest she’s ever looked– but you’d never admit that out loud. Especially not when the sight of the two girls in front of you taking a swig from their cups has your legs ready to buckle. 

She cocks her head at that, a reply on the tip of her tongue as she contemplates saying it aloud. Ona decides on a quick shake of her head, a small smirk working its way onto her lips as she picks up the ball you’d thrown. Salma approaches the table as Ona throws her ball, sinking the same one you’d done to them. You groan at that, hand already lifting your cup to your lips for an unmeasured shot. It was honestly more like 3, but you’re so far gone at this point you can’t be trusted to know. “Oh, what was it you said? All air, no cup, right?” 

You can’t help the rush between your legs as you take in her confidence, thighs slightly squeezing together as you try and be discreet. You hope she doesn’t notice, but of course she does…along with her partner next to her.They once again exchange a look between each other– speaking without needing words. God you wish you knew what the fuck they were saying. Nerves filter into your system, palms starting to sweat as Salma takes her place for her turn. You take this time to stretch, arms going up above your head as you let the stress of the day leave your shoulders…you may also arch your back a little, a pretty sigh leaving your lips with your tits on display as you bat your eyelashes at the Spaniard across from you. 

It seems to work, too. Because her ball goes bouncing off the seam of two cups, a frustrated look shot your way in the process. You match her frustration with a sly smile, sliding into position as you reach for your lucky ball. “Losers have to jump naked in the pool,” you say before tossing your shot– sinking it in the front cup. Your opponents flash you a look you can’t quite place, but agree nevertheless.  

The energy seems charged since your offer– tension so thick in the air you could choke on it. Within minutes both teams are down to their final cup, your heart about to beat out of your chest. “Come on, Patri!” Pina shouts from the sidelines. The other girls crowd around the chaotic scene unfolding, cheering for different sides as the balls keep flying– one missing after the other. It’s like you’ve all lost your groove at the final moment, furrowed brows and curse words slipping from your lips. 

You take your place once more, taking in a deep breath before attempting to finally end this…and see two majorly hot women skinny dip. That’s a pretty good fucking motivator if you ask me. You use all your strength to focus, eyes lasered in on the single cup across from you. Your arm bends back, and just as you go to throw it? You catch the women across from you subtly flexing, muscles slightly bulging as you get lost in the ripples of their forearms. The ball flies straight into Alexia’s face, nowhere near the table and causing even more chaos to unfold around you. 

Your hands go to cover your dropped open mouth, feet moving as you run over to apologize. “Oh my god! Capi, I'm sorry!” Your face is beet red from embarrassment. “¡Lo siento mucho, Ale!” (I’m so sorry!) 

She’s dramatically holding the spot on her forehead, a permanent scowl stuck on her face as she rubs her head. “¡Te dije que dejaras de pensar con el coño!” You smack her on the arm, a pout appearing on your face as you deny the allegations being hurled your way. “Now look what you’ve done!”  (I told you to stop thinking with your pussy!)

She jabs a finger into your chest, “¡Probablemente tengo una conmoción cerebral! (I probably have a concussion!)

You roll your eyes at that, eyes narrowing in on the tiny red spot present. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” You flick the spot with a finger of your own, “¡No hay ni una sola marca!” (There is hardly a mark!)

She pushes you away from her and back towards the table, “¡Estoy cambiando de equipo!” (I’m changing teams!)

You fake a gasp at her declaration, the back of your hand going to rest on your own forehead as you play up the act. “Oh no! How will I ever survive!” 

The girls around you laugh at that, already used to Alexia’s dramatic antics. You make your way back over to the table, Ona having already retrieved the ball in the midst of all the commotion. Patri misses her shot, a mix of boos and cheers sounding out from the peanut gallery. A frustrated noise finds its way out of your mouth, head thrown back as you send up a prayer. Salma is first to throw this time, mixing up the sequence to see if it’ll shake things up. You bite your bottom lip, anticipation enough to make your head spin. Her arm comes up, hand comes back, and she locks eyes with you. She doesn’t even look at the cup, sinking it while a smirk appears on her lips. They don’t even take the time to celebrate, Ona already lining up to finish the game off. 

Her muscles bulge as she takes her stance, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates on the task at hand. She makes quick work of it, making the same cup as her partner mere seconds before her. The girls around you jump up as they explode from the fiery finish, a drunk Aitana screaming out about taking more shots. 

“Las perdedoras pueden decidir,” Salma says. “Shots before or after?” (The losers can decide.)

You instantly know what she means, heat rushing to your face as the realisation dawns on you…DAMMIT. You just had to up the stakes with skinny dipping, didn’t you?! But momma didn’t raise no bitch, so with a sigh and a shake of your head you reach for the half empty Tequila bottle.  “Bottoms up bitches!” You yell out before turning the glass back, so much alcohol already in your system it doesn’t even burn anymore, it’s more like juice now. The cheers surrounding you only fuel the fire, and when the bottle comes down from your lips you’re instantly yelling for someone to put on some music. If they want a show they’re sure as hell gonna get one.

Irene is the one to move first, drunk hands stumbling with Alexia’s ipad hooked up to the speakers littering the patio. “¡Lo rompes y luego lo compras!” Ale calls out from the couch. (You break it then you buy it!)

The blonde defender doesn’t even have a chance to reply before music is blasting out to cover the small talk going around. The familiar chords of Carlos Sanatna floating through the air has your body reacting on instinct. Your hips start to sway to the beat, arms coming up over your head as you let them slowly fall down to start caressing your body. Your hands stop around your neck for a second, fingers untying the bikini string before they continue their journey down. The screams and claps of your fellow teammates only makes you grow more confident as the fabric falls down your chest to expose your tits to the girls around you. It’s not cold but chilly enough to make your nipples harden when the nighttime breeze brushes against them, the string around your midsection still keeping it from fully leaving your frame. You do a slow spin to face towards Ona and Salma, hips still swaying as your fingers slip into the hem of your bottoms as you tease them down, then up, then back down again. It’s enough to get some of the girls to look away from the sheer promiscuity of it all, mouths dropping open accompanied with widened eyes to match. They’ve seen their fair share of crazy shit in their days, but never from a fellow teammate. In the club? Plenty of times. Hell even fans on the street have flashes them a few times, but for one of their own to be the center of all this attention? It’s never been done before, at least not to this extreme. They dance dirty, they’ve participated in shit they’d die if it ever got leaked– but holy fuck. You’re really giving them a strip tease that would even make the most seasoned freak blush, and it’s exhilarating– not just for them but for you, too. 

You’ve always been more on the wild side, your national teammates already knowing too well of your antics. But never on a club level have you truly felt so free and involved. They truly see you as part of the team– no, a family. They dont judge you or give you any reason to feel insecure. You were a rising star back in the states, but with the added support and love from your new team? You’ve been excelling in ways no one expected. That alone has your confidence high enough to feel this free around them…and the liquor definitely helps.

Your national teammates might be onto something…Tequila really does make your clothes fall off. 

[afi-writes]

Of All the Women He Could Have

Pairing: Ikki x MC

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: The heroine spends the girls ’evening with Sawa and Mine when she gets a call from Ikki, who is home alone.

Written for @cresu 💙♠︎

"So, how is it like?" Mine asks, staring at me over her glass. She sits cross-legged on a pillow in her pajamas.

Sawa, browsing on her phone, looks up and glances at the two of us in turn. My hands shake and I hurriedly put the glass I am holding down on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, senpai," Mine replies, her lips curving into a smile as a dangerous gleam comes into her eyes. "Sex with Ikki. I never got my turn, so I at least want to know the facts."

Heat races up my neck to my cheeks in a second, and my heart leaps to pound in my throat. I squeeze the pillow under me and wonder how I can avoid answering. It has been two weeks since Ikki said he would seduce me into his bed in a month, but I have not given in yet. What if he does not like me? He has so much more experience, and I certainly do not know how to please him. There are other women who... know what kind of things Ikki likes.

But I cannot say that to Mine and Sawa. I just cannot!

"Mine, that's a totally inappropriate question," says Sawa.

"There's nothing wrong with a little sharing..."

"You can't just ask people that."

Sawa and Mine's argument continues but does not quite reach my ears. Mine's question keeps rolling around in my mind and leaves a warm feeling in my stomach. I would not like to think about it so much but on the other hand I cannot help thinking about it.

"Senpai, your phone is ringing."

Mine's words penetrate my thoughts, and I realize she is right. My gaze glues itself to the name flickering on the screen.

Ikki.

Why is Ikki calling me?

"Aren't you going to answer?" Sawa asks.

I slip the phone into my hand and glance around.

"You can go talk on the balcony," Sawa continues, already handing me a jacket, which I grab.

I slip out, wrap myself in the jacket and finally press the icon for the answering. It is amazing how long Ikki kept on calling. I would probably have given up by now. The autumn air tingles my cheeks as I lean against the wall and lift the phone to my ear.

"You answered."

His voice is as soft as ever, but with a heavier tone than usual. It falls right into my stomach, which starts to tingle.

"I'm sorry. I was talking to Sawa and Mine," I say. "Weren't you supposed to spend tonight with Kent?"

"He left a while ago..."

I smile in response. I can picture in my mind how Ikki and Kent have been joking with each other all evening, and maybe Kent brought Ikki a new math puzzle to solve. I am sure they had a great time.

"Listen..." Ikki breathes into the phone. "I'd love to have you home..."

"I... I can leave. I'm sure Sawa and Mine will understand."

"No... Don't. I can't promise you now that you'll be safe if you come home..."

"Have you been drinking, Ikki?"

A deep sigh brushes my ear and raises my skin hairs. I recognize that voice. I thought Ikki had already let go of the ghosts of his past. I forgave him for his rude behavior, and he put his fan club in check. There is nothing to be upset about now, but...

"We had a few with Kent. Now that I'm alone, I miss you so much I almost cannot breathe."

I chew my bottom lip and lift my gaze to the dark night sky. I would make the last train if I left now. On the other hand, I have promised a girls' night to Sawa and Mine, because the next opportunity probably will not come for anytime soon, due to the pressures of studying and work. I have been so wrapped up in my own affairs lately that I have not given my friends enough of my time.

"I just wanted to hear your voice," Ikki continues. "Talk about something, anything."

"Mine asked how it is like with you..."

I slap a hand over my mouth as soon as I have blurted out the first thought that came to mind. Why? Why did I say that to Ikki? His laugh makes my knees buckle. If I have been able to resist his eyes before, I could not help the pull of his heavy voice.

"What did you answer?"

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Another chuckle, and I hear a rustle in the background. The same kind of rustle I have heard a few nights, when Ikki have been rolling over on his own futon next to me.

"Didn't you want to reveal to Mine that I still haven't succeeded in my goal? That I still haven't managed to seduce my princess into my bed?"

I do not know what to say. My cheeks are getting hot again, despite the cool night.

"You know it's only a matter of time, right? Maybe tomorrow I'll succeed..."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. When you get home, I'll kiss you immediately. I'll take off your jacket and press you against the hallway wall. I'll keep kissing you until your lips are turning sensitive..."

I press myself tighter against the balcony wall and cannot help the breath that escapes my lips.

"Ikki, that's... a little..."

"Next, I'll kiss your neck. I run my lips along the skin and catch your earlobe between them. I might even nibble a little..."

Ikki has clearly had too much to drink. He is not usually quite so outspoken. But I can imagine everything he says. He has kissed my neck before. Lightly and gently. Finally, he licked me and made me whine.

"You know I won't do anything you don't really want. But you do want me to take off every piece of your clothing in that hallway... Undo the buttons of your dress and drain it off your shoulders, let it fall to your ankles. And when you're in front of me in your underwear, I'll kiss your belly button..."

"Ikki..."

"Yes...?"

"Sawa and Mine are waiting for me back inside."

"Don't you want to know what happens next?"

I swallow and cannot answer. My cheeks are on fire, I am on fire all over.

"I think you want..."

Still the words are a mere whisper, but they still make my skin crawl. I press my free hand against the cold wall and try to calm my heart, pounding against my chest.

"I kiss your belly as I gently pull down your pantyhose. Once I've taken them off, I scoop you into my arms and carry you to the bed. I'd like to do it right now, if only you were here..."

The last word brushes against my ear in a sigh. There is a hot, vaguely shaped lump in my lower abdomen, spreading lower. My breathing sounds as heavy to my own ears as Ikki's sighs.

"We can spend all night tomorrow when you get home. We're in no hurry to go anywhere. I'll go just as slowly as you wish..."

Ikki's voice swims in my ears and makes my knees go limp. I go down along the wall onto the balcony floor. I am burning from places I usually avoid thinking about. Ikki evokes feelings in me that are so obscene I dare not think of words for them. I want everything he offers me, but... what if he disappoints? I do not know anything. I do not know what to do.

"Ikki, I..."

"You want me, don't you...?"

I swallow as Ikki's words make my breath catch in my throat. My own heartbeat almost drowns out his voice as it pounds in my ears.

"I need to hear it. I'll wait, but I need to..."

"I..." I swallow twice. My cheeks are burning hot. Is it even okay to say something like that? But Ikki wants to hear me say it. It is important to him. "I... want... you."

I am sure I cannot breathe.

And at the same moment, the balcony door slides open. Sawa appears at the door and stares directly at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Ikki, I really have to go," I say at the same time as I nod to Sawa and try to get up off the floor.

"I'll wait for you at home tomorrow," Ikki whispers in my ear. "I love you and I want to make love to you in a way you can't imagine anything better."

The heat rushes to my ears as I hang up the phone. Sawa's eyebrows furrow, and she grabs my hand to push me to my shaking feet. The words still echo in my ears as I step back inside under the curious gaze of Mine and Sawa.

Ikki wants to make love to me. Of all the women he could have, he wants to make love to me.

If you like my work, consider reblogging it. That helps more people to find it. Don't feel obliged though. Only do it if you want to, but I do appreciate the gesture.

[ask-noonescity]

[@tricks-n-illusions] Calamity wandered towards the birds with curiosity, "Legendary Pokemon… in mortal forms? How curious!"

"You seem knowledgeable of this world, are you a rival organization to this 'Black Spade' one perhaps? Though you seemed to be only made up of three individuals, that couldn't be right." She shook her head before continuing, "Your role surely couldn't be as important as one made up of various members, correct? Is this 'Black Spade' more powerful than your establishment then?"

"No we aren't 'Rival's " The articuno laughed her mouth covered with her phone before she chuckled darkly "But I dont think we should discuss Black Spade anyway its not importa-" she paused noticing bright light

"Uh Phantasia" thats all she heard before she got almost blinded by another wisp

"I think maybe you should spare some words about the idiots... so we dont lose our eyesight" Evander murmured his face covered in the shadow

"Oh dear fucking gira...." She cursed under her breath before she put up a fake act clapping her hands together

"Alright lesson time for the uneducated ones! You better leave after this so we can do our job" she said happily before hearing a voice from side

"You arent doing anything..." but she decided to ignore it anyway

"Anyway, we aren't related to Black Spade or their mother company Black Jack" she started as she gave a sigh "I dont know much whats happening from Xicfast because we all are here just for business - we all deal with our own part's of Black Jack's left overs" she slightly rubbed her hands in thought nodding along her own words not missing a beat "Like I have at Reim and I have to deal with 'Black Club' instead of Black Spade but it does become a equal problem here when we visit because our energy might make other shadows go...a bit crazy because they probably will want to get blessed by one of us or something to be more powerful..."

"Thats all class over! I dont want to bother anymore! And no we are probably stronger ~ " she said confidently her ears puffing up with the confidence

♠Ask hints

@tricks-n-illusions @ask-team-misfit

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: IV-Secrecy-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 5.3k+

♠︎Warning: murder (decently graphic?), implied smut, good old stalking.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Power. It was something Jungkook loved with his whole heart. He could set the whole place on fire and no one could point a finger at him. He knew what he was and what he could do.

This power was the sole reason why he came this far. What was the use of power if he was not going to use it? He wanted every single breathing thing to know what he held. He loved when they shivered whenever he and his men would go around. There was another type of intoxication.

However… Nothing could reach up to the level of Coronis.

She was his new obsession and nothing was going to stop him from making her his. People felt like venom to him but she… She was the sweetest essence he ever experienced. He was a man who always got drunk by massacring his commoners.

However.

Coronis was not one of those. At first glance, he wanted to take her and just make her sit in his bed and keep on looking at her.

Her black, fierce eyes were looking into his eyes with a burn that he felt in his heart. His world paused and his inner demons calmed down after years and years of screaming. For the first time in his life, he felt that heat. The very heat that made him kill his own guard just for a crying girl who was crying for mercy for her sister.

Coronis.

A content sigh left his lips. His fingers itched to feel her cold skin against them again. He was thirsty to hold her up against his naked self and explore her every inch. His ears wanted to hear her moan his name. Her intoxicating self was enough to make him feel like a stupid virgin who saw a naked girl for the first time.

In the night sky, when foggy stars would dully twinkle, he would see her face carved on them. His heart would run miles, wanting to see his shining moon through those shabby bushes and into her slot where she would be sleeping like an angel.

“When will the day come when I will hold her here in my bed?” he let another exaggerated sigh while playing with her clothes. He was so proud of her. He felt like she would never betray him ever. But what if she did? Would she meet the fate others met?

“Jimin-ah…” he supported himself on his elbow as he looked at the man by his door. “Make sure to keep an eye on my little birdy. Make sure she doesn't fly away from home.” He said in his dulce voice.

“Taehyung along with Lando is already making sure to keep an eye on her grace. Two men, Jay and Stephen are on duty taking care of it. We will make sure nothing out of your liking happens,” said Jimin. “It was heard that her grace doesn't come out of her shack as often. She usually stays back and works.”

“Hm… Is that so,” he smirked. “Isn't she already a good girl… My little good girl.”

Nobody could see her the way he did. No one is no more allowed to touch her anymore. She belonged to him and he loathed it whenever someone touched his possessions.

A knock on the door shook him out of his head. Jimin slightly opened the door. His Highness saw Mingyu whispering something. Shortly, Jimin closed the door and turned towards him. “Your Majesty,” he began. “Amos is caught. They are waiting for your word.”

He hummed merrily. “Dungeon is good, don't you think? The boisterous dungeon.”

Jimin felt his hands sweating. He waited for a moment to see whether this was his final command. When his highness looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat. “As you wish, my lord.”

The guard opened the door slightly and passed on the command before shutting it close. The devil was going to overtake tonight. The one who was worse than he usually was. He was the devil that no one outside of the castle saw.

The sharp smirk on his face as he got up from his bed. His naked form walked towards the door in his room that had his attire. He dressed his lower body, keeping his chest bare. He didn't want to make a mess on his clothes but rather on his body.

Tonight, he was going to play and colour himself with blood.

…

Creepiness. It was crawling up her back like a spider. Our brains are built in a way that we can feel someone staring at us from a distance. When that happens, it gives an eerie feeling in our guts. It makes us want to look around and know the source of it.

That's how Coronis felt for days and there was no end. If it wasn't him, then someone else was constantly watching. She was getting agitated by this constant feeling.

When others watched, it was never as intense as his glare. Others felt ineffectual but his glare made her want to crawl under the ground and never come back.

The day she looked into his eyes was the day she felt like she got herself into something deep but now she realized that it wasn't just something deep but a whole hell hole. She stepped into the way of hell. She just hoped for an exit.

“What do you think would look better on me? Grey or this greenish white?” Nori asked Coronis as she stood with two gowns against her sides.

She looked up and examined the two dresses. It was Nori's cousin’s wedding in a few days. She was going to go to another village to attend it. They both were not happy to be away from each other for so long. So Nori asked her cousin if she could bring someone with her and they agreed.

But Coronis couldn't agree to attend the ceremony because she still had to prepare bread for the king. So it was impossible for her to go. Nori eventually decided to only go a day before the wedding and return after attending the ceremony.

“This green would look pretty on you. It compliments you so well!” Nori smiled and sat beside her. “You can wear anything and it will look beautiful… A dress only needs a gorgeous body to look good and you have that. Your pretty face will look the prettiest of all.”

They giggled. “I wish you could come with me.”

Nori lay down, resting her head on her lap. Coronis threaded her fingers through her hair and admired her soft features. She felt like a sweet dream. In a village full of monstrosities, she was a heavenly wind. Her words were sweeter than honey, and her voice was melodious which made Coronis want her to speak and never shut up.

“His Highness is too ruthless to let me go. He will probably wipe me out in front of your eyes for not providing him with his bread on time… Even though it is for three nights, I will miss you,” she kissed her forehead. “I wanted to see you all dressed up and ready for the ceremony.”

“Yeah? What do you think how will I look like?”

“Hmm… The prettiest of all. You can just go as is and you will look the most magnificent, pretty thing ever. No one can ever be so beautiful as you.”

Nori sat up straight facing Coronis. “You know who I think the prettiest is?” Coronis shook her head. “You. You are the most enchanting person I have ever seen. Your deep black eyes, those jet black long locks… a kind heart. Everything you touch becomes cosmic.”

Coronis chuckled shyly, “It's just because of your attraction towards me. I'm not what you say.”

Nori pulled her closer, caressing her cheek with her thumb and resting her forehead against hers, “You don't realize just yet. But you are the prettiest. Everybody wants a piece of you,” she let out a tiny chuckle. “I don't even know how I got so fortunate to get the whole of you. I just- I feel glad that you are here with me… I never want to let you go… Ever.”

Coronis pulled her chin and softly captured her lips in a warm kiss. Nori hummed and threaded her fingers through Coronis's hair. The moment for them was vehement. Their hands on each other, exploring their love.

The pang of guilt smothered Coronis. She was indeed putting Nori in this situation of vexation even though she (Nori) did not even realize it with the very little knowledge she had of Coronis. But was it really worth telling her about the demon that was breathing down her neck? Wouldn't it push Nori away from her? She couldn't afford that mental strain. It felt like she was her first hope of happiness.

Maybe just a little bit more.

“Coronis…” Nori pulled away. “Please, a little bit more…” she whispered.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Coronis tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You… All of you, please,” she begged her as she guided her hands towards her breasts. “Touch me a bit more.”

Moans and whimpers were all they could hear. For an extent of time, they forgot the horrors of the world and gave in to each other. The lingering touch woke their twisted sides. No matter how forbidden their relationship was, they let it cross the limits within the secrecy of their minds.

Coronis felt that if she let go of Nori's hand, she would lose her forever. Throughout these years, she had only been worrying about things. There was not a single day when she was not selfless. She spent her life taking care of and protecting the people she loved so dearly. At the end of the day, it was all draining. She felt unloved by people. Somewhere deep down, she needed affirmation of love, maybe just someone listening to her would be enough. But that never happened.

Nori was not only a sweet girl she saw on rare walks to the market but much more than that. However, her spiralling mind couldn't stop bothering her. Was it really love or just the vulnerability of the moment she caught her? Could she ever justify the feelings she had for Nori? Though she was forcing herself to figure it out, it still lacked the heat.

But then again, she never felt as assured in anyone's arms.

“Time flies by so fast,” Nori said as Coronis helped to tighten her corset from behind. “I wish we could just stop here and never stop existing together…” Nori licked her lips. “Don't you think- like,” she awkwardly chuckled. “That we belong together?”

Coronis's hands stopped. Her eyes stayed unfocused. “Do we?”

“Mhm,” Nori smiled and nodded her head ‘adorable’. “I think so. We are perfect! We might be so different, but that is what makes us entire. It's like–”

“You are the golden hour and I'm the stormy night,” she said.

Nori turned around, looking deep into her eyes, she said, “No. It's like we are separated swans that are meant to be together. Now, fate is bringing us together because you and I belong together. In the end, we are not that distant. Apart from some minor things, we are alike. I- I don't think that anybody could ever understand how we understand each other. I know that you are hiding so much from me,” her eyes were gloomy, thinking about things to herself for a bit but she shook her head and continued with a smile, “But that's entirely okay! We both have never been so intimate with anyone and now it feels new. And it takes time to open up emotionally. I understand that. I, too, have so much to tell you. That is how it works, isn't it? We wait for each other as long as it takes to be on the same page…”

“How far are we?” Coronis asked. “How far are we from being on the same page?”

Nori's mouth slightly opened to answer but nothing came out. They kept looking into each other's eyes. It felt like forever. What was she even supposed to answer? She didn't know whether Coronis shared the same feelings as her. In the end, their relationship began with being intimate with each other when they both were helpless, feeling the most down. As much as Nori knew she loved her, did she love her or at least like her? Or was it just infatuation for Coronis?

Nori's eyes blinked barely as she answered in a lazy whisper, “Why does that matter? As long as we are together… I think we– we,” tears brimmed her eyes as she looked down, hiding her face from Coronis. “I think we should keep on going like this till we feel like we are on the same page.” Maybe Nori could be a little selfish this time.

It felt like every day was getting trickier and trickier. Nothing made sense anymore. There were only two paths for Coronis but both felt sour. No matter what she chose, she was aware that chaos would happen. Her life was getting darker than the night. This was supposed to make her feel alluring. However, day by day, it became ghastly. It stifled her.

She knew that that man held power above any of them, just a little less than the King. If she betrayed him, which she was doing, he would bring hell to her doorstep and make her feel every inch of it. But if she went with Nori, she was afraid of what could happen. There was no right answer to what he would do to her or Nori.

No matter what she chose, it was going to be tempestuous, causing many inhumane steps to hurt whoever came in the way.

Nothing shall happen to Nori.

But wouldn't she break her heart by giving her hope now and then going away? Could she take it? Was Nori, the oh-so-kind-hearted little flower, able to take her perfidy? Coronis didn't know her own intentions for what they both have. Although, she knew she cherished the delicate lady with her whole heart. But was it possible to share the same sentiment as her?

Coronis shook herself out of her train of thought. “I think I should leave,” she said as she pulled the saddened body into her embrace. “We can sort it out when you come back. But there is still some time left. You must not think so far… Let's just live in what we have right now rather than worrying about tomorrow.”

She later smiled and looked up after wiping her eyes. “Mhm,” she pecked Coronis's lips. “I won't worry.”

Spending a little more time in each other's arms, Coronis took her leave, carrying twice as much burden back. Though she visited Nori to feel better just like before, now her heart was aching for another reason.

The walk back to her shack was a little distant. It took her no time to feel those creeping eyes on her. She looked around and caught a pair of eyes behind her at a decent distance. It was not him. She was getting used to getting stalked all the time. As much as her insides shivered, she didn't let it show outside. She looked like a cold-hearted person.

Keeping these creepers aside, her mind drifted towards another strain that was created.

~

“Coronis? Where did you get that locket from, that you were wearing yesterday?” Martha questioned as Coronis returned after seeing off Nori.

Coronis froze on her spot and looked Martha, dead in the eye. This was not supposed to happen. No one needed to know about any of this so how did she know about the locket? She could not even lie about it knowing it was made out of precious metal. Thinking for a second, she played dumb. “What do you mean? What locket?”

Martha sighed. “Do not act like that, Coronis.”

“I'm not acting like anything!” she exclaimed, already feeling on the edge of her emotions.

“Do you think I'm stupid? I have eyes and I see everything! What exactly are you hiding from me, Coronis?! I saw how you were wearing that forbidden thing around your neck! So please, tell me what is going on,” Martha stressed and held Coronis's arms.

“It's nothing that you should know,” She shoved her hands away and walked towards her slot.

“Coronis, you stay here! I'm talking to you!” Martha was losing her cool.

“And I am done! As I said there is nothing that you should know! Leave me alone!” She did not want to bring her family into her mess. It was already tough for her to go through this and letting anyone know about this would only bring weight to her burden.

“I'm your mother!” Martha screamed. “I deserve to know what you are doing behind my back! Are fucking one of the men?! Why did he save Circe even though he had no reason to save her? Or are you going behind my back and being whore for all?! Is that what it is, right? There is no way things could work the way they did!”

Coronis was tormented after hearing what her mother had to say. Her brain stopped working and all she could hear were her mother's words. They echoed and mocked her over and over again. “Do you really think so lowly of me?” she asked with a low, shivering voice.

Martha scoffed. “What else am I supposed to think of you? Huh? No wonder why people talk about you like a puppet. They must have seen you fooling around.”

Coronis laughed like a maniac. Tears flowed down her cheek as her laughter got higher. “You,” she choked on her words. “You really are something else! This place, this hell of a place sees every single person with a cunt as a puppet that they can fuck and throw around! But you are so wrong about me. I can't believe you call me your daughter and yet you know nothing about me! Even if I don't tell you something that does not concern you, you should have some faith in me. I spend my time making sure you all are not hurt. I even take care of Circe and beg for mercy just to keep this family alive!” her breath huffed. She felt like someone was holding her neck and choking her to death. “Do you want to know what is going on?” She took sharp steps towards her mother. “Do you want to know about the locket? Okay then, listen to me carefully… I won't repeat myself ever again.”

Martha listened to Coronis. She told her every single detail of what she had been going through since the day she made eye contact with him. Mother's heart slowly started to break until it was totally shattered beneath her feet. She regretted every single insult she threw at her daughter. She could not put her voice into words, they were too hurtful. She had never been in Coronis's place. She could not relate to what she was saying.

“Do you even know what it feels like to get watched every moment? To feel someone's eyes on you constantly?! I can't even breathe without someone noting it down. I'm tired! Okay?! I am not being a whore around! I'm just trying to survive without troubling any of you!” Coronis wiped her tears. “You know what? Don't talk to me for a while. I need time for myself.”

With that, she barged into her slot and banged her door closed, leaving no room for any more connections.

~

Since that day, Martha started to overly protect the house. She would cover the windows all the time, the shack always looked gloomy and that scared Circe. This was exactly why she didn’t want to tell her about the whole ordeal.

Martha’s paranoia was making everyone sceptical of things and Coronis was devastated. She had to make excuses on behalf of her mother to justify her actions. She would try to minimize Coronis's outside trips to the market which only made her work lousier. She was limited on material for the bread, too, just because her mother was not letting her out.

It wasn't saving Coronis. She had a feeling that this might end up stabbing her in the back.

…

The loud thud of the dungeon door echoed under the castle ground. The footsteps were coming closer with every second, making everyone around eerily silent.

Boisterous dungeon.

It was a place where his majesty played his wicked games. No one wanted to be called in this place. Only the people working in the castle knew what brutality happened there. This was the core of hell.

“Amos,” a raspy voice of his majesty resounded in the dungeon, making every single soul shiver. “Long time, no see… Hm? Where have you been?” He asked as he stepped in front of the man who was chained up. His hands were locked above his head with heavy chains, and his feet were chained to the ground.

The dungeon was reflecting orange from the flames of the flame torches hanging on the walls. There was no window or anything from where the natural light could come in. Anyone could go crazier than before if they spent a few days in it. It was a death trap in itself. And the king just made it stay true to it.

Amos trembled like a leaf. “L-lord Jeon, f-for-forgive me pl-please,” he begged.

He chuckled at his pathetic words. Circling him around, he held the tied man’s cheek in his hand and caressed it with his thumb. The blood drained from his face. From far away, they might look like a couple into freaky kinks. One was naked and tied up and the other's torso was bare.

“Ah…” his highness sighed. “I have been itching to feel you against my skin, Amos. Finally, I can touch you.” His hand ran down his chest, digging his nails into his skin. “Why are you scared of me, hm? What is it that you wronged? Tell me… I might let you go,” he whispered near his ear.

“Y-you will?” Amos asked.

“Mhm, why can't I make an exception for my best man,” he made a little distance between them, “In the end, you are one of my men… So come on, be a good man and tell me everything.”

Amos thought for a moment before gulping. He looked into his dark, maniacal orbes. There was an odds for him to get away with this. “I… Um, I said th- things th-that I shouldn't have.”

“What are those things, Amos,” his sweet voice relaxed the weak man. “Say it all.” He walked towards a table in the corner of the dingy place and opened it, back facing Amos. The King sounded like a lover with that honey-kissed voice he spoke with.

“I said that his grace l-looked… Looked,” he coughed. “Looked… Like fine meat.”

“Mhm, keep going,” he said. “And tell me why you said that?”

“The day when you checked up on her grace for the first time, I saw her,” he hesitated. “I saw her naked.”

His Highness giggled like a child. “Yeah? I think I brought you with me so that you could keep an eye outside… Not inside.”

“It was a misfortune!” he quickly exclaimed. “I was just checking on you but my eyes fell on her form!”

“Okay,” he sighed and frowned his lips. “I think I heard you say something the day she was begging for mercy.”

Amos's last hope left his body just when his words left his mouth and turned around with a lethal smirk and a hunting knife in his hand.

~

In the light whispers of the village, the painful cries of a child echoed for a person named Coronis. He was on his horse along with his men when these cries distracted him from his work. Though, he would not usually go and check it himself knowing his men are doing their work when someone becomes a hurdle in their way.

However, he caught a familiar figure running towards the crowd and fought her way into the deeper core. His body worked before his mind could and guided his horse there.

The back of his man was towards him and was holding a little girl who was wailing. Then he heard a voice that broke his stone heart a little. He squinted and saw another woman who was begging on her knees and hands folded.

“Please, I beg your mercy! She is a child. She doesn't know much. Please, let her go! Take me instead! Kill me, not her!”

It was her.

All he could see was red. Who had the audacity of making his pretty girl beg such a low caste? He could not bear seeing her beg like this in front of the whole village. He could see how she let herself down for a child that now he felt hostility toward.

He hated the child for bringing this situation to his sweet girl. He wanted to strangle her and make her realize but knew better than that. Coronis would not like it.

So he did a good job as he got off his horse and pulled his sword out. They say when you pull your sword out of the sheath, it yearns for blood. It screams bloody murder and who is he to make his sword pity for it. He would give whatever his sword wants. Just like that, when he took his next breath, he took one away.

The whole village fell silent. Not a single being dared to utter a word. Never in a million years has this happened. But he was not the one to explain himself to anyone. He was about to turn around when Coronis kneeled in front of him and thanked him for sparing that ungrateful girl’s life. And she cried and cried loudly.

Through all of this chaos, he heard Amos say something that made his eye twitch.

“She looks so fine begging like this. I would fuck her when I can make her beg for mercy like this,” Amos had whispered.

~

“You called it upon yourself, Amos,” he chuckled. “I don't care why you hid away from me because it is the least of my worries. But do you really think that you can look at my princess and fucking fantasize about her like this?! See her naked like that and expect me to be fine with it? Thinking about fucking a girl that is mine, do you even realize who you are playing with?”

Amos could not get a word out. He knew he was done for. It was too late to defend himself from anything his useless mouth said or button eyes saw.

The King held the tied man’s chin tightly, “you looked at her with these eyes, right? You saw her naked with these eyes. I don't think you deserve them anymore, Amos.” He whispered.

The utter panic painted Amos's face. The dread settled in much clearer than before. He came aware of what was going to happen and he was sweating out of it. “No, no no. Please, I beg you. Please! I have got a wife and kids to take care of!”

“Where were they when you were thinking about fucking my princess?!” The King roared. “Did you not think of them when you were eyeing what was mine!?”

“Please have mercy on me, I will be better. I won't look around! Please!”

A wicked smirk widened on his face, “isn't it great that I'm the last person you are going to see?” he said as he brought his knife closer to his eyes. “Now let's say goodbye to these.”

“No!” a piercing scream echoed throughout the castle, shaking the hearts of all. They were accompanied by the loud laughter of the King who was enjoying tearing apart every single vein in the traitor's body.

The King wanted him to remember this in his next life. He wanted his soul to fear and tremble every time. Nobody could get away from him. And he wanted this to be copied into everyone's useless brains.

The knife did not show any mercy. Just like other times, it gashed the quavering man again and again. His eyes were gone, his throat was cut open. There were punctures in his heart. But the King did not stop.

“This. Is. What. You. Get. For. Messing. With. Me,” he screamed. His irises were blown out, his eyes were bloodshot, his face red from rage, and body covered in blood. He enjoyed it. He loved the metallic scent on him. He laughed and laughed like a madman that he was.

No one, absolutely no one could stand in front of him let alone think about touching his obsession. His ego was hurt. Even though Amos knew that that girl belonged to his highness, he still dared to think of touching her in ways that only he could. It was a shame on the king and he was rectifying that now.

His men or not, he did not care. The only thing he cared about now was Coronis and nothing else. There was no other being that he cared about. “Fucking remember this for an eternity, you bloody bastard. Never ever raise your eyes towards my princess!” he made sure that the dead man would get nightmares filled with him, haunting every single day and reminding him of his sins. “You let me down, Amos. I thought you were my loyal dog but you just turned out to be a fucking filth who pissed on me,” he stabbed him again and again. “You wanted your useless filthy dick inside of a goddess, now take this. This is what you get for thinking like that. She is mine and only mine. Get this thing into your thick skull!”

After hours, everything fell silent. He was sitting there in the puddle of fresh blood that he drained. He was feeling delighted again. The ego hicked above the skies. He kept looking at the man whose insides were hanging out. He loved it. He loved how pathetic loser was dead and cut open in front of him. He loved how he could see the gashes on his organs and how the blood was draining out of them like water out of bucket. This is what he loved. He wanted to do more but he had better things to do tonight.

He wanted to see how his little princess was doing. She was clouding his mind all the time. Her face would appear in front of his eyes all the time. Regardless of what he was doing, he would think about her and pause every thing. No one had enough balls to make him do otherwise. All he cared for was his little princess who needed to be protected by any means and he was there to do it.

Not a single person could get in between them. Or else he would make sure they met a worse fate than Amos. More painful death than anyone ever before.

“You are only mine, my love. Once I get to keep you, nothing will ever separate us. I'll make sure you love me and I love you till the very end. I'm not playing only to see you walk away. I'm playing to get you and keep you forever with me, hidden away from the nasty world. We are one and you can not deny it, my precious.”

The King walked out of the dungeon and handed his soaked knife to one of the guards. “You know better what to do next,” he said and walked away, his chest painted in blood and a satisfied smile on his face.

He wanted to make sure everyone knew what could happen to those who look at his princess in a way no one but only he could.

“Do not ever dare to reach the thing that is mine.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

It took me a little longer to finish this chapter😅. But it's done now (phew). My flat is about 80% done. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep in my own bed today or tomorrow. But anyhow, how are you guys? Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know! Your feedback motivates me a lot and makes me write even more. I love you all! Feel free to talk to me and send an ask! 😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

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