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tiyoin · 8 months

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pt. 1 | 📍pt.2 | pt. 3

hmmm

i like to think that the other yuu (y/n) would also somehow befriend kalim

like- listen.

maybe they’re wandering around campus while everyone is in class. they were skipping, yet again, because of their anxiety. yuu gave them the advice of walking around the school while everyone was in class so you could get to know the school on your terms.

so you here you were, roaming around the outside portion of school, forcing yourself to walk slowly and take in your surroundings. each footstep followed the pattern of black and white tiles; left white, right black. if your toe went over the black tile your other toe would have to match. if your foot skidded on the tile, your other foot would have to follow in suit.

it was an old habit you had in your old world. you never knew what possessed you to do it, but you couldn’t stop once you started.

‘tsking’ at the fact that half your foot went over the white diamond, you were preparing to have your other foot follow suit when you felt a sharp jab in between your shoulder blades

“AGHH” you cried out in pain as you tripped over your feet. with the short time you had, you braced yourself onto your side, where the side of your arm took most of the impact. letting out a shaky breath at the pain, you felt tears escape as you kept your head down looking towards the floor.

fuck. what luck huh.

first the scene in crewels class last week, now this???

the universe is really trying to humble you

there was a crushing weight on top of you that kept pushing your side into the floor. you were debating rolling on your back to cradle your arm, but you didn’t want to cause you and the boy to shift positions…

your face started heating up. just at the thought of anyone seeing you like this made your tummy clench. you can imagine it, the bell ringing, indicating the end of class. all the boys in the classrooms would thunder like wildebeests into the hallway, only to see you pinned to the floor by the mystery man.

oh could you could just kill yo-

“ughh- oh sevens! ae you okay?”

the voice cried out from above you, immediately getting off of you. your relieved sigh from the weight being taken away was short lived as you were yanked by your wrist upwards.

you gasped, pain shooting through your ankle as you toppled into the strangers strangely strong arms.

his skin was tanner with white swirls and patterns running up his muscles arms- no stay focused. your ankle? probably broke-

“hello? anyone home? i oh no, i hope you didn’t hit your head, ahh im so sorry, let’s get you to the nurse!!”

a soft hand found your shoulder as he set you upright, and there you were forced to meet you assailant.

of course you knew who kalim al-asim was. you’d hear him from classrooms away, and jamil too, the latter usually chasing after the former.

“huh, that’s weird, i’ve never seen you before” he tilted his head in confusion, a split second later his face lit up like a thousand christmas lights as he connected dots.

“oh! you must be a new transfer student!

(i said he connected dots, i never said he connected the right ones)

i’m kalim al-asim! im the housewarden of scarabia! and you are…”

he looked at you expectingly, his scarlet eyes honing in on yours. you would’ve thought he was trying to peek into your soul if it weren’t for the ever growing smile on his face.

“uh… y/n” you didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t new.

you shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to his crest as you fiddled with your hands behind your back. despite your nervous deposition your mind was racing.

what if he was there to bully yiu?

if you kept pressure off your foot then just maybe it won’t be black and blue and swollen like a pufferfish.

oh god what if a camera crew jumps out from behind the corner telling you you just got fucked

oh god what if the entire school is in on it-

“hey, you okay there?”

snapping your head up, you met kalim’s worried expression. his eyes no longer like that of a predator’s stalking its prey, but of someone who was genuinely worried about you.

was this the leap of faith yuu was talking about?

1,2,3 fuck it

“uh, no actually” fuck you wanted to run. yet like an anchor at the bottom of the sea, your foot stopped you from setting sail. you were stuck in your own situation.

“oh sevens, i knew it! here i’ll take you to the nurse!”

“OW”

you yelled when his hand tugged you in the opposite direction. you thought he got burnt by how fast his hand detached itself from yours.

“sorry” you mumbled, rubbing your brushing arm firmly. you weren’t sure why, but a little pressure made it not hurt so much- you winced, rubbing motions stopping immediately as you cursed yourself mentally.

“there’s no no reason to apologize, at the most i should be the one saying sorry, you did get hurt by me after all” his face shifted to a guilty one as he eyed your ankle, then your arm, and back to your face.

you sighed, running your free hand through your hair as you let out an exasperated sigh. “how about this, we call it even if you can take me to the nurses” you pointed to your ankle “think i sprained it” you mumbled out once you realized you were ordering THE house warden of scarabia around.

you were gonna get snipped, weren’t you?

bye bye y/n! died before they could live!

“nonesense!” he shouted, causing you to flinch slightly at the closeness and loudness. he let out a small sorry as he smiled sheepishly “i knocked into you while riding this guy” he pointed behind him as his expression quickly grew to one of amazement.

“oh! you haven’t seen my magic carpet! he’s-“

“not behind you” you muttered, peeking behind him left and right. and yet, there was only him and you in the deserted hallway.

(you checked behind you as well just to confirm your claim.)

“WHAT” kalim shouted, again. this time not apologizing as he was too busy freaking out about his lost carpet.

“jamil’s gonna kill me” he whined.

“if you want i could help look” you pressed your nails into your fists as you asked. boy were you talkative today!

“nah, you’d only be dead weight with that ankle of yours, don’t worry about it!”

… this is why you don’t talk…

“oh! how about this, when i find it i’ll let you ride it so you can go to the nurses office!”

…you were getting dizzy, first he calls you dead weight now he’s offering to ‘carry’… carrying? said weight on his so called carpet.

you couldn’t keep up with him.

nodding dumbly, you hobbled to the door side of the corridor as kalim jumped through the hole that acted as a window that outlooks the courtyard.

searching high and low, you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the heir turn into an acrobat as he climbed trees, jumped over rocks and somehow managed to climb on top of the gazebo’s roof.

“don’t fall! i don’t want us to having matching ankles!” you mused, laughing lightly as he turned to you, waved, almost fell off, and flailed to get his balance back all in the span of 10 seconds.

a few minutes passed when you heard him yell out. prying your attention from your nails, you were face to face kalim.

“shit!” you flinched as kalim almost ran into you a second time. although he tried to keep it hidden behind his back, the large carpet peeked over his shoulder at you, before folding in on itself.

“this is my friend, y/n! c’mon don’t be shy buddy. they’re shy just like you, see?” kalim encouraged the carpet from behind his back. yet every-time he tried facing it, the carpet would stay glued to his back until they started playing an intense game of “peek-a-boo”

laughing at their antics, the carpet unfolded its wings and with a flap, it flew into the sky, effectively knocking kalim over and onto his butt.

“HAHAHSHAH” you threw your head back as you slapped your good leg’s knee.

what felt like a few seconds must’ve been a few minutes of you laughing none stop that you didn’t even notice the two in front of you.

calming down from your ab inducing fit of laughter, you started fanning yourself as you had a nasty habit of blushing when you laughed. your eyes were closed in concentration as you let the last of it out of your system.

“boy you guys are sure a riot, lord i can’t remember laughing that hard in a long time- what”

kalim, with his ass still on the floor was just staring at you. you didn’t dare name the emotion as you tensed up again.

“i’m sorry for laughing-“

springing up like a rocket, he celebrated with his carpet. what the fuck.

“there you go! no longer doom and gloom! you should laugh more! “

extending a hand to you, he grinned, his face flushed and breathing slightly erratic that the normal eye wouldn’t have been able to spot it. yet you did, you always did.

you looked at his hand for a moment, then to his face, then to his hand, which he opened a bit more towards you to get you to take it.

what felt like a pause in time was probably more of a minute as you just looked between the two.

“fuck” you growled out lowly, closing your eyes as you thrusted your hand into his. you kept your eyes shut as he yanked you up to the point your feet touched off the ground.

bracing for another hard impact, you were met with the soft, fuzzy fabric of the carpet.

“oh” you said lightly, ungracefully fixing your positioned to where your good leg was extended and your bad ankle was resting over your good leg. your arms keeping you up right.

“neat huh” you looked at kalim as the front carpet dipped a bit to let him on. he sat in front of you as he shifted his position to face you.

“do you mind” he looked at your ankle as the carpet started flowing. too impressed with that fact that you’re on a giant fucking carpet, you shook your head no.

the light touch onto your sore ankle caused a hiss to escape you as your head snapped towards an apologetic kalim.

he wasn’t sorry for too long as he kept softly poking your ankle, before he dramatically sighed. shaking his head, he said “yep, it’s sprained alright.”

groaning, you leaned back in annoyance. but with the lack of personal awareness made you forget that this is in fact not! a car.

so down you went. your world turning upside down as you felt your legs lift. and soon enough you would nose dive into the concrete.

welp this was it ladies and gentlemen. you’ve had a god run.

our father who art in heaven-

a hand lashed out and gripped your arms before pulling you back up. where you were met, once again, face to face with the al-asim heir.

breathing heavily, you stared at him wide-eyed through the tresses of your hair.

“not gonna lie, i thought you were gonna let me fall” you joked, gulping as you looked behind you at your almost murder scene.

pushing down the sudden dread, you looked back to kalim who wore an almost serious expression

“only a fool would drop a girl like you”

he smiled slightly, cheeks growing in hue as he looked away from you shyly. his back was now towards you as he told the carpet where to go.

the complete one-eighty left you gagged as you you just stared at him, gob-smacked that he had the AUDACITY to use that moment to quote a meme.

shaking your head slightly, you looked behind you as you extended your arms back, hands trailing through the carpet. stopping once you thought it was a suitable distance from the edge. leaning back, you enjoyed the ride

—

i was gonna write this sooner but i had to finish my assignment el oh el

i love this y/n sm🫶

y/n is actually me

yes i did that on purpose

#hope y’all realize the carpet could’ve saved y/n #tiyoin 🔎#twisted anxiety 🌀#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst kalim #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #scarabia x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader

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lexapro-princess · 2 months

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Ultimate Girlblogger Movie List

1. Ballerina

2. To Catch a Thief

3. The Swan

4. Barbie In The Pink Shoes

5. Rhapsody

6. The Seven Year Itch

7. Thirteen

8. Mean Girls

9. Clueless

10. Girl, Interrupted

11. Marie Antoinette

12. Love In The Afternoon

13. Breakfast At Tiffany's

14. Roman Holiday

15. Barbie and hers sisters in a Pony Tale

16. Barbie of Swan Lake

17. Barbie In The Nutcracker

18. Barbie and the Diamond Castle

19. Barbie and the magic of Pegasus

20. Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

21. Barbie: a Fashion Fairytale

22. Barbie In The 12 Dancing Princesses

23. Pride and Prejudice

24. Barbie as Rapunzel

25. Pearl

26. 13 going on 30

27. Funny Face

28. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

29. Charade

30. Black Swan

31. Niagara

32. The Virgin Suicides

33. Priscilla

34. Sabrina

35. Emma

36. How To Steal a Million

37. Enchanted

38. Some Like It Hot

39. Lolita (1962)

40. Lolita (1997)

41. The Crush

42. American Psycho

43. The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement

44. Monte Carlo

45. Legally Blonde

46. Confessions of a Shopaholic

47. The Devil Wears Prada

48. Valley Of The Dolls

49. Jackie

50. Jennifer's Body

51. Barbie: Princess Charm School

52. The Tourist

53. Abzurdah

54. Riding In Cars With Boys

55. I, Tonya

56. Buffalo 66

57. Girl

58. Heathers

59. Scarface (1983)

60. Gone Girl

61. Corpse Bride

62. Sense & Sensibility

63. Persuasion

64. Little Miss Perfect

65. Changeling

66. Gia

67. Uptown Girls

68. Suicide Squad

69. Last Night In Soho

70. Mirror Mirror

71. Birds Of Prey

72. The Beguiled

73. Palo Alto

74. Speak

75. Leon: The Professional

76. Prozac Nation

77. Red Eye

Let me know if I missed one, leave your suggestions by commenting or reblogging

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 2 months

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You know that feeling when you want to make a good impression and eveything you do feels low-key humiliating

Or when you're just perpetually mortified about every word that leaves your mouth by default regardless of what's happening or who you're talking to like I am—

ANYWAY HERE'S SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT THE BOYS BEING EMBARASSED OR SOMETHING—

Oooh Nooooo

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

Needless pointless fluff with the tiniest bit of hurt-comfort or something

Live-action or anime/manga canon, either or both

I don't think there are any TWs?

Sorry for wasting all of our time with this silliness

Anyway here's some Nu.

Zoro

He just pushes himself much too hard sometimes.

Sitting down and "taking a nap" after training, when he's clearly well beyond his limit.

Or rather "passing out from utter exhaustion with his swords unsheathed across his lap."

It could have ended a lot worse than a rogue wave washing across the deck and a gash on his arm.

Grumbling about how he's fine and doesn't need any help the whole time you're wrapping bandages around his arm and chiding him.

Going silent and tense for a moment when you wrap him in a tight hug and softly ask him to be more careful.

No, he's not blushing, he's never blushed in his entire life, shut up

Hugging you back? What are you talking about?

Gives a little growl of annoyance, refusing to let you go for longer than he's willing to admit, and will probably say it was for your benefit if anyone asks.

Sanji

The old *whoops* with the pepper shaker.

It had already been a long day, he was just trying to wind down in the kitchen.

Trying to season a very simple, very straightforward sauce.

And the entire lid falls off of the pepper shaker, and into the pot, along with a massive pile of ground black pepper.

And he just lets out a groan of defeat, dropping to his knees and letting his forehead fall against the edge of the stove with a weak little thunk.

But no no no, you're already hurrying over to help scoop out the excess pepper, reassuring him that it'll definitely be fine.

Your rush to assist him is enough to make him smile in itself, to let out a small affectionate chuckle as he watches you grimace at the taste the ruined sauce, before you meet his eye and try to fake a smile.

Decides to repurpose the sauce in question, to get back at the idiots that loosened the pepper shaker lid in the first place.

The two of you are left snickering to yourselves while the rest of the crew fights over the nearest jug of fresh water after tasting it themselves.

Shanks

Man could probably drop a knife and sever three of his toes and still manage to laugh it off, what is "embarrassment...?"

Well, it's a little more subtle.

It's having to relearn how to use both a sword and a pen after losing half of his dominant arm.

It's laughing off how his handwriting looks like a child's now.

It's getting mildly annoyed at trying to button a shirt one-handed and simply tucking it into his belt instead.

It's refusing help with simple tasks that could be made far simpler if the stubborn idiot would just let you help already—

It's hearing him chuckle and agree when you call him a stubborn idiot for refusing any help, settling his hand in your hair and pulling you close.

The whole process is embarrassing in itself, but he's got you, and he's got his crew, and that makes it all so much easier.

Mihawk

What on earth could he possibly have to be embarrassed about?

World's Greatest Swordsman, one of the seven Warlords, with a sense of wit as devastating as his blade.

And yet, despite all his efforts to hide it, he's just a big softie.

As if it wasn't already evident from how he allowed Zoro to live after challenging him and subsequently trained him, with the convenient excuse of wanting a worthy rival.

He's going to glare at you with a sharpness that could slice clean through diamond if you suggest out loud that he did any of it out of kindness, much less fondness.

But he's also going to sigh in an irritable sort of defeat when you kiss his cheek and compliment him for finding such a perfect balance between mercy and murder.

And mumble just as irritably about how you're lucky he finds you endearing enough to keep around, begrudgingly proving your point without even realizing it.

Buggy

Lives in a perpetual state of embarrassment that he tries to mask with haughtiness and aggression.

It mostly revolves around the elephant in the room.

The very red, very round elephant in the room, attached to the very center of his face.

The one he might just slaughter anyone for mentioning in front of him.

Who nose what that could possibly be *wink-wink*nudge-nudge**stupidest-pun*

But the second you plant a kiss there and say how cute it is, in a way that makes it clear you're not condescending or taunting him about it, he's too busy blushing and sputtering over his words to remember what he was supposed to be angry about in the first place.

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redwinterroses · 1 year

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It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

#decked out #tangotek #hermitcraft #redwinterwrites #it's my birthday so maybe reblog this if you enjoyed? 👉👈#long post

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paradlselost · 3 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

Black Noir II x female!reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ spent way too long on this; but I kept picturing him in the piledriver position and omfgggg. also I drank so sorry if the ending sounds strange, this isn’t beta-read at all lol

⎨ 𝐂𝐖⎬ 2.9k words , second person point of view , noir II , s4 spoilers , smut : fantasies of sex , oral ( m receiving ) , p in v , piledriver position , mentioned size difference , stomach bulge , cream pie , aftercare .

A few heavy breaths came from behind the mask, his lips outlined by the black balaclava he wore. A few punches here, dodging and rolling there; just like a real hero would. Did he mind the sweat that rolled down his top lip? Tasting the salt from his overexertion?

His gloved hands reached out, one grabbing the wrists that fought against him to pin them, the other grabbing at the exposed neck as he pinned the black clad body against the glass jewelry container.

“Get off me-! Motherfucker!”

Kicking and shouting wasn’t the best tactic now was it? Not when you were attempting to rob the jewelry store. It was so cliche, a cat burglar going after overpriced diamonds and gems. You’d think the stars themselves had been crafted into the finest necklaces by the way you had been shoving them into your bag.

How were you to know he was on patrol when you happened into the closed jewelers? Maybe it was fate, past misdeeds finally catching up to you in the form of this armored reaper. It certainly felt like a dance with death, the knowledge of his super strength in the back of your mind as you managed to wiggle out of the hold he had on you.

Slipping down against the cracked glass case and through the room left to crawl out from under his legs in a last ditch effort to escape. You were graceful, smooth like a cat slinking away with the pickings it had gotten from a dead bird. But his hands caught your legs like a mouse in a trap and your heart dropped in your chest.

A gloved hand grabbed at your hair, pulling you up enough to get you on your knees in front of him, craning your neck to look at his soulless mask as a peasant would look at a god; and maybe in a way you were, was this being that could kill you in a second really a man anymore? What power did a worldly being have in snuffing out a life so fast?

So you sat at his mercy, begging for forgiveness and looking like a sinner at an altar. How small you looked below him, what penance did a lowly criminal like you get? So you waited for the hand that would tear your heart out or the sirens that would wail… but nothing. He simply looked blankly down at you.

“Fucking-… Cut!!” The bell sounded somewhere in the studio, sighs falling from the directing team under the knowledge that this was the best shot they were going to get, and the ‘mute supe’ had forgotten his next line. One job, really.

“Damn it, I’m sorry. You did great, though.” His hand his outstretched for you to take, helping you get to your feet. He’s kind, behind the mask he wore, would you ever get to see his face? Probably not, being just an actor; but it was cool being able to work with a Supe, especially one in the seven.

“It’s no problem, honestly. They’ll probably just go from the shot of me on my knees, anyways.” You watched as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, gloved hands creating an odd sound against his balaclava. His job was on the line; Homelander had told him they could always find a replacement for Noir just as they had with him - but he couldn’t help it.

Had his cup always been so strained against? He shifted ever so slightly, trying not to make his discomfort obvious as an assistant stepped over and handed you both a water bottle. Silently, he was happy his face was obscured as his eyes didn’t leave your lips, watching them part to welcome a swig of much needed cold water.

Was it his fault he had stuttered and broken the immersion? In his heart, he knew it was; but how could he not have? He could feel your warmth radiating through his armor and seep into his skin, how those pretty eyes looked back and then up at him, how your lips had parted ever so slightly. He was being an idiot.

This was your job; you’re an actress so why did he think those looks you gave him were exclusive? He was probably an idiot in thinking your on screen chemistry could mingle behind the scenes. He jumped every so slightly when the bell rang out again.

“That’s a wrap for now. We’ll pick up again tomorrow. Noir, make sure you fucking practice.”

A pointed look from the director was quickly overshadowed by your soft touch to one of his shoulder pads as you walked past him. A shiver running down his spine as his eyes followed you, watching you. Your delicate fingers had not done him any favors as his heart pounded in his chest. Secretly, he was glad shooting was done for the day.

The door to his trailer shut quickly, the lock turning as he leaned back against it. The curtains had already been drawn shut from this morning; is it in Noirs character to like his privacy? It certainly isn’t to sprawl out on the couch and fist his cock to thoughts of his co-star. And yet.

His head tilted back against the couch, helmet taken off but the balaclava had stayed on; he enjoyed the way it made everything a little harder to breathe, how he could feel the fabric against his lips. Besides; he wouldn’t take off his mask to fuck you the first couple of times, anyways, that’s a kind of trust that’s earned.

His hand traveled up and down his cock, slow at first as he traced the veins that pump blood to his darkening head; imagining that this is what it would be like with you the first time. Certainly, you’d take your time in getting to know every intimate part of him. His thumb swiped over his tip like your tongue would.

A groan fell from his lips, wetting them after a moment. He could imagine how warm your mouth would be around him, how you would look up at him as he pushed the head of his cock to the back of your mouth, how your hot breath would feel coming out of your nose against his groin.

He felt himself throb against his hand, desperately needing a release when there was a knock on the door, shaking him out of his private moment. How unlucky he was, thinking he had more time than he actually did. Noir grumbled as he fixed his cup back over himself, his dick uncomfortably straining against the cool metal.

He fixed his helmet over himself and stepped over to the door, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting him like a supe should do. He should be allowed to have a power trip every once in a while; should he? A god against a mortal.

“Hey! Sorry I hope I’m not bothering you, I was just wondering if you wanted to practice? I got a bit of free time.” How could he yell at you when you looked so pretty standing on the steps to his trailer? Head tilted to the side, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh uh.” Part of him wanted to say no, to shut the door and hide himself away against his silk sheets and pump his hand over his aching cock, but he couldn’t shut you out. Not when you were the object of his fantasies. “Yeah, sure. We don’t need a lot of space, we can practice in here.”

Noir nodded, moving out of the way to allow you to enter his abode, to get a glimpse of what little the man below the mask could add to a trailer belonging to a dead man. Not that you knew, of course; finding it strange that he could talk but not prying further. It wasn’t your place to ask silly questions like that.

Still, you took in what you could. A picture frame with people you couldn’t quite make out from a distance, a few books and magazines he hadn’t bothered to clean up. The kitchen was tidy, though everything had a black color scheme and it felt a little… draining. Was that really all there was to him?

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of him moving the table out of the way to allow more space to practice your scenes together. He bunched up the carpet, just kind of tossing it against the couch before he looked over at you. A soulless mask, but the way he tapped his fingers against his armor was endearing.

“So- do you want to go from the fight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

God against man, a mortal who had incurred the wrath of a far more powerful deity; you find yourself on your knees once again. No cameras stuck close to your face this time, no lights to make you sweat, just you and the being who could crush your windpipe below his gloved fingers.

The fabric against his hands is audible as it squeezes a bit, your own moving up to grasp onto his wrist; silent pleas for your pathetic life falling from your lips. This is where he messed up before, the sight of you below him being too much to handle. His cock throbbed uncomfortably against his cup.

“You have to handcuff me now.” You look up at him, a different kind of gaze from being terrified for your life. You’re a good actor, he’ll give you that, but he prefers this moment - how you look vaguely confused as to how he could mess up a second time. His dick hurts now, he can feel pre-cum leaking against his armor and god does he need a release.

“Can I fuck you?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been… thinking about you. I like you like this.”

“Oh.”

You’re quiet for a moment and he fears he’s blown his shot with you. His hand still rests against your neck albeit loosely, and your eyes travel from his crotch up to his mask, obscuring any kind of expression you might be able to make out. Is he messing with you? Why would someone as strong as him decide you’re the one he wants?

“Okay, yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

A nod is just what he needs, his hand leaving your neck and moving to tangle into your hair, firmly placed on the back of your head while the other moves to quickly undo his crotch armor and throw it somewhere on the couch.

He leaks pre-cum from his weeping slit, far too dark of a color to be comfortable for him. The groan that falls from his lips as you move to place yours against his head is almost heavenly. Like you’re a godsend, the only one who can make him feel like this. His gloved fingers tighten in your hair, an encouragement.

Noir is proved right in his theory of you; that your tongue dances over his head and flattens against his slit, your pretty eyes flutter shut and your hand rubbing the base of his cock. You must think he’s a poor baby the way you hum as you squeeze him slightly, hard and dripping against your tastebuds.

He reaches a hand against the back of the couch you two were beside, gripping it till his knuckles ached below his gloves. He’s swift in his movements, calculated and for the first time he feels closer to the old Noir. Would this be how he would act? Grabbing ahold of a woman like this - like you’re something to be manhandled? He’s usually shy, anxious when with women but you don’t seem to mind so he doesn’t lighten his grip.

Pushing you back against the ground, head resting on the discarded carpet like some sort of pillow below you. You’re an actress; doing your own stunts against him so he’s seen the way your body curves and flexes. He knows you can handle him, even if it takes a few tears.

He grabs your hips harder, shimming sweatpants you had changed into earlier, running his fingers over the growing wet spot in your underwear before he too removed them like they were a barrier to something most precious. His lips press against your thighs through his balaclava, breath hot and fast in anticipation for what is to come.

The angle is awkward and strenuous, but he seems to take great joy in seeing you like this. Not quite missionary, your body is arched below him and your silently grateful for the makeshift pillow because you’re sure your neck would be even more sore tomorrow had it not been for the carpet bunched up. Your legs are pushed back as he moves around you, hand gripping his cock to line up.

Noir inches himself in, letting you take deep, shallow breaths in your position as he tries his best to stay patient and not bottom out. The stretch hurts a bit; you can’t remember the last time you’ve been with a supe in such an intimate display and he’s thicker than most you’ve been with.

His breath his hard and hot against his balaclava; hands resting to keep both your legs out as he finally bottoms out inside of you. You can hear the groan that leaves his lips at the feeling of your walls constricting against him - in such a position they pulse and push around his still aching cock. Your warmth is welcome to him, driving him crazy.

His thrusts are as rough as he is with you on the set; barely giving you time to catch your breath between pumps as the air leaving and entering your lungs is sharp and almost painful. Wanton moans fall from your lips, hands reaching to grasp the underside of the couch in order to keep from moving below him.

“Fuck- Noir…”

“Is that good? You’re such a good girl, staying in this position f’me.”

You barely have the strength to respond, neurons firing in your brain in an attempt to string together words but all that comes out is a few unintelligible babbles. He pushes impossibly deep inside of you; he had reached a certain bundle of nerves quite a few thrusts ago, now he was abusing that spot. It seemed he was trying to get these reactions out of you.

Tilting his head back slightly, he groaned as you tightened around him; one hand falling from your legs to press against your stomach. He took pride in feeling himself inside of you - a large ego boost that his cock was thick enough to create a faint outline inside you. He would certainly have to fuck you more after this, see what other angles could excentuate that bulge in your pretty flesh.

“Gonna-“ Your gasp is harsh, though you don’t need to speak; he can feel it. The way your walls spasm around him as he pulls out and pushes back inside of you. He draws it out, slowing down a bit and cocking his head to the side - blacked out mask taunting you in your state.

“What? Are you gonna cum?”

A nod, breathless ‘yes’s falling from your lips as your hand not grasping the couch for dear life reaches up to grab onto his armor. Tears prick at your eyes, proof of how good he was making you feel. Your head lulls back against the carpet; white toying at the corners of your eyes.

Bliss washed over you quite quickly after that, gushing around him. He can’t help but chuckle at the sight, though it’s marred with a soft moan at how you squeeze. His hips continue to move, stuttering and the trailer fills with the unmistakable sound of sex. Wet, sloppy now as he nears his own climax.

Another thrust, then another before he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and spills his seed against your walls. He could die at the feeling of you milking him, drawing spurt after spurt of hot cum from his throbbing cock. He feels lucky, in his euphoria, that he could have this experience. A god with a mortal, how funny it was.

He pants as he withdraws himself, letting your legs lay back down as he colapses beside you. Head spinning, body aching from the position and the ceiling of his trailer suddenly looks as beautiful as the starry night outside. You two share the air, share your breathing and as you lay there for a moment longer; you can feel him get up.

He’s as silent as a ninja, but you know his presence is no longer beside you and honestly? After the position you had just kept? You were far too tired to move to see where he happened to go. Besides, the sound of the faucet running is enough of an indicator that he’s just moved the kitchen.

He returns after a moment, crouching in front of you as you finally move your head to look at him. He hasn’t taken his top helmet off; not allowing you a peek at the face he was hiding behind the balaclava, but the gentle kisses he places to your trembling legs are more than enough to take your mind off whatever he might look like.

“ ‘m surprised you don’t wanna watch your cum drip out of me.” You earn a chuckle from him as he moves the now wet and soapy washcloth he had gotten in the kitchen over your thighs and, gently, over your sensitive core. Cleaning you up as gentlemanly as possible.

“I’d rather see you tangled in my bed sheets, if we're being honest.”

“Sounds nice - even though I should be heading home after this. Guess you’ll have to fuck me again to be able to see that.”

“I was planning on fucking you again regardless.”

#black noir #black noir x you #black noir x reader #the boys season 4 #the boys #smut #x reader #black noir x female reader #female reader

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mysunshinetemptress · 3 months

Text

Unseen, Unwanted, Indifferent

Leah Williamson x McCabe!reader

Warnings: Pure angst

Read part 1&2 here-You see me Wanted,Unwanted

The makeup wipe snagged on a stray eyelash, leaving a black streak against your cheek. Frustration bubbled up, mirroring the turmoil in your stomach. Leah's birthday party was in two hours, and doubt gnawed at you like a hungry rat.

The vintage Thiery Henry jersey framed in corner of your room, the one you didn't even debate on gifting to Leah, suddenly felt childish, a relic from a past life before Leah. A life where "pretty enough" wasn't a constant mantra echoing in your head.

What if she didn't like it," "What if she wanted you to buy her a fancy necklace...a ring...a bracelet, not a jersey that had been hanging up in your bedroom since you were seven." You shook your head "She'll love it her Mam said so."

You forced a smile, the reflection in the mirror unconvincing. Leah's Mam might have said it, but sometimes moms sugarcoated things, especially when it came to their precious daughters. You gnawed on your lip, the familiar metallic tang a grounding presence.

The jersey, a faded crimson with the legendary "14" emblazoned on the back, held memories. Memories of childhood afternoons spent glued to the TV, mesmerized by Henry's lightning-fast runs and audacious goals. It wasn't just a jersey; it was a symbol of a passion you shared with Leah, a connection forged over the love for a team, and the idolisation of the same player.

Taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't a diamond necklace, but it was genuine. You weren't some sugar daddy showering Leah with trinkets, you were her girlfriend, someone who understood the pure joy of a perfectly placed volley.

Suddenly, a different fear pricked at you. What if you weren't good enough to attend her party as her girlfriend, you were quite and happy to fade into the back with your small circle, Leah was a social butterfly, someone who didn't mind attention and fed off it well, were you good enough for her.

You rang out your hands shaking your head, of course, you were you had to be she wouldn't be dating you this long if she didn't think you were good enough for her, pretty enough for her, right?

"She loves me, she said so herself," you whispered to yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror again before turning to the clock.

The pep talk you delivered yourself wasn't entirely convincing. You grabbed the frame, the crimson a little duller under the harsh light, and held it against your chest. It felt reassuringly familiar, the worn fabric whispering stories of epic matches and shared cheers.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled through Leah's social media. Pictures of her beaming next to the girls, all perfectly styled and radiating confidence, filled the screen. Each one felt like a tiny jab of doubt. But then, tucked between selfies with the Arsenal, Lioness and Milton Keynes friends, was a picture of you two, arms linked, celebrating a goal during a recent match. Leah's smile was genuine, her eyes crinkled with laughter, focused solely on you.

"She loves you," you breathed, a mantra against the storm brewing inside.

Taking a deep breath, you messaged Leah. "On my way! Can't wait to celebrate with you." A heart emoji followed a small gesture that felt significant right now.

Arriving into the private room the music thumps loudly in your ears as you search for someone you might know, your sister or Leah preferably.

The door swung shut behind you, plunging you into a cacophony of pulsing music and excited chatter. Strobe lights cast the room in a dizzying array of colors, momentarily obscuring the faces in the crowd. The vintage jersey felt heavy against your chest, a symbol of your anxieties more than a birthday gift.

A knot formed in your stomach as you scanned the room. Faces blurred together – a sea of unfamiliar laughter and flashing smiles. Panic clawed at your throat. Where was Leah? Where was anyone you recognized?

Just as despair threatened to engulf you, a familiar figure emerged from the throng. Your sister, clad in a brightly colored dress that clashed spectacularly with the club's dim lighting, spotted you and waved enthusiastically, a beacon in the sea of strangers. Relief washed over you as you hurried towards her, the pounding music muted by the whoosh of returning confidence.

"Hey you!" Katie greeted you with a hug, her voice barely audible over the music. "There you are! I was starting to think you got lost."

"Almost did," you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. You cast a glance around the room again, searching for Leah amongst the dancing bodies. "Have you seen Leah?"

"She's over by the food table," your sister pointed towards the opposite corner of the room. "Looks like she's being swarmed by admirers." She gave you a knowing wink.

A pang of insecurity flickered within you. Images of Leah's social media feed flashed in your mind – the dazzling smiles, the effortless coolness of her friends. Would you be overshadowed by the crowd? Were you good enough for her world?

Taking a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders. You weren't here to compete. You were here for Leah, for the shared passion that transcended the glitz and the noise. With a newfound determination, you thanked your sister and weaved your way through the throng of dancing bodies, the pulsating music thrumming in your chest, a rhythm that echoed the beat of your own heart.

Katie nudged you "Come on, I've actually got a surprise for you." You looked at her brows pushed together in confusion. Surprise. What surprise ? it wasn't your birthday.

You smiled as you arrived in front of Leah, butterflies erupting as she turned to look at you her own smile seeming to grow ten times bigger, suddenly every doubt you'd had throughout the night had disappeared and was replaced by swells of butterflies lots and lots of butterflies.

Leah moved pulling you into a tight hug "I was starting to think you might never show." You shook your head "I wouldn't miss it for anything." Leah squeezed your hand looking down at the frame before looking at Katie as the Irish girl cleared her throat.

"Before Y/n gives you her present, I thought I would give you mine." Katie paused as Leah felt her heart sink, squeezing your hand to gain your attention you turned still smiling only for it to falter at the look on the older girl's face "Y/n..I...I'm so sorry." You titled your head slightly confusion written across your face as Katie began to speak again.

"I never thought you would go through with it mate, but the fact you have made Y/n fall so hard for you is impressive, what's even more impressive is the fact you've strung her along for this long., so without further a do, here the 100 pounds for holding up your end of the deal, and here's an extra 50 just for keeping it going for so long, fair play."

You flicked your head between Leah and Katie trying to figure out what was going on.

The air hung heavy with betrayal. The pulsating music seemed to mock you, a cruel soundtrack to your shattering world. Leah's hand, moments ago warm and welcoming, felt clammy and distant in yours. You fought the urge to yank it free, the familiar crimson of the jersey a burning reminder of your misplaced trust.

A million questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you. But all that escaped your lips was a choked whisper, "Leah?"

Her gaze wouldn't meet yours. Shame, or maybe something more sinister, flickered across her face before she mumbled an apology, its sincerity lost in the deafening silence that had descended upon the small group.

"What's going on, what is she talking about." Leah wouldn't look at you so you looked at Katie "Katie." Katie let out a laugh at the look on your face "Wow Le you really got her good, she looks so heartbroken."

The world tilted on its axis. The laughter you heard morphed into a distorted jeer, the music into a relentless cacophony. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, mirroring the frantic beat of a trapped bird.

Leah's silence was an accusation in itself. The warmth of her hug just moments ago felt like a cruel mirage. You clutched the jersey tighter, a shield against the icy tendrils of betrayal that snaked their way through you.

Finally, forcing your voice past the lump in your throat, you rasped, "Leah, please... tell me it's not true." You yearned for her to deny it, to laugh it off as some elaborate, misguided prank. But the hollowness in her eyes confirmed your worst fears.

Shame burned hot on your cheeks. How could you have been so blind? The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night morphed into a monstrous realisation – you hadn't been paranoid, you'd just been too trusting.

Anger, hot and fierce, bubbled up within you. Katie's smug laughter grated on your nerves. "A bet, You were a bet." The words tumbled out, laced with laughter and a humour that surprised you.

Katie's words hung in the air, a cruel punchline to a terrible joke. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend. You were a pawn in some twisted game. The vintage jersey, a symbol of shared passion moments ago, now felt heavy with the weight of a lie.

Heat flooded your cheeks, a burning tide of humiliation. You wanted to curl up into a ball, to cry to disappear from Leah, Katie, and the entire room that seemed to be closing in on you. But there was no hole to swallow you up. All you could manage was a choked laugh, a pathetic sound that echoed your shattered heart.

Leah, her face now pale, stammered something, an apology maybe, but it was lost in the roaring storm of emotions within you. You didn't need to hear it. You saw the truth reflected in her eyes – a truth far uglier than any betrayal. Pity, perhaps. Regret, at most. But no love.

“I mean come on pal hardly you actually thought that.” Katie smiled at you "Why would she choose you, for crying out loud she didn't even know who you were till you came off your loan, that's how how unseen you are."

You straighten your back, the framed jersey suddenly feeling foreign in your hands. Mustering all your strength, you meet Katie's gaze, your voice surprisingly steady. "A hundred pounds? That's all I was worth to you, Leah?"

Leah flinches, her eyes welling up. You wait for a denial, an explanation, anything. But there's nothing. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the throbbing music that seems to mock your pain.

The familiar metallic tang of blood filled your mouth as you bit down on your lip. You needed to escape. The pulsating music, the flashing lights, the throng of oblivious dancers, it all felt suffocating. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

With a strength born of desperation, you shove the frame into Leah's hands muttering a small happy birthday before pushing past her, ignoring her outstretched hand, ignoring Katie's voice calling after you. Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you weaved through the crowd, the thumping music a dull counterpoint to the storm raging inside.

Reaching the doorway, you stumbled out into the cool night air, the sudden quiet a physical blow. Gasping for breath, you leaned against the wall. What were you meant to do now.

Inside Amanda came pushing through the Arsenal girls before reaching her daughter “Where is she off to then we are about to do the cake.” Leah turned to look at her mum cheeks blotchy and tears in her eyes “Mum….i.”

The words poured out of Leah's mouth like a waterfall as she explained the horrible bet to Amanda, who began to feel nauseous at the thought of her daughter being so cruel, to you, the girl who was so scared to meet them, you who felt to unimportant to sit in the living room with them you would prefer to hold up the doorway, her daughter had just broken the heart of the most genuine kind girl she had met, in the most horrible way possible.

"I'm sorry you did what." Leah's eyes dropped to the ground unable to look at her mother's disappointed face. "I.....Leah of all the things and to Y/n.....Y/n she god Leah she was it she was your one....she's the one we all wanted the one we were all gunning for how.....how could you be so cruel and to Y/n I'm so disappointed, I actually can't even look at you." Leah turned “Mum…I.” But Amanda was gone.

The cool night air slapped you awake, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the club. Tears welled up again, blurring the neon glow of the street signs. A hundred pounds. A bet. The words echoed in your head, a relentless drumbeat drowning out everything else.

Suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder. You flinched, expecting Leah, but it was your sister, Katie, a worried frown etched on her face. "Y/n, wait!"

You glared at her, the anger a hot coal in your chest. "Don't even try it, Katie."

"Look, I know this is messed up," she began, but you cut her off.

"Messed up? That's an understatement." Your voice trembled, but you held her gaze. "How could Leah do this? How could you?"

Katie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It was stupid, a stupid bet. I never thought she'd actually go through with it."

You scoffed. "Right, because Leah is Miss Perfect, incapable of making bad choices." The sarcasm dripped from your voice.

"She is a good person, Y/n," Katie insisted, but the conviction was lacking.

You shook your head, the betrayal cutting deep. "No, she's not. Not if she can treat someone like a pawn in some sick game."

"You're supposed to be my sister, I thought when I finally got to Arsenal you might love me as much as the others, that we could be actual sisters." Katie looked at your face full of regret "I do love you Y/n." You shook your head "No you don't, if you loved me you wouldn't have ever done this to me, you would never do this to Ella, or Lauryn would you?."

Katie reached out, but you flinched away. "Don't touch me."

Katie felt the guilt begin to eat away at her "Let me at least bring you home." You shook your head stepping away from her a single tear running down your cheek "No need I already called Mam."

Katie's eyebrows pushed together in confusion "Mam's at home." You smiled sadly at her "No she's not she flew out last night, i thought it was time she meet my girlfriend."

Katie felt nauseous as she began to realise just how far this sick joke had gone, you really fell in love.

“You really love her.” Katie said surprised, you nodded as tears began to roll down your cheeks “She is the first person that saw me, in the chaos of our lives she saw me, She wanted me for the first time in my life I was wanted, picked by someone who wasn’t my parents or my siblings because the felt bad, or so I thought turns out she’s indifferent, I’m nothing to her but 100 pounds.” Katie went to step forward again but turned at the sound of your Mam shouting. “Leave her alone right now Katie McCabe or so help me god.”

“Mam.” Your Mother shook her head “I don’t want to hear a word from you do you understand.” Katie shut her mouth nodding as she dropped her head.

You threw yourself into her arms, the dam breaking as you sobbed into her shoulder. The betrayal, the humiliation, the pain – it all came pouring out in a torrent of tears.

Your mom held you tight, her voice a soothing balm. "It's okay, love. Let it all out."

Katie watched from a distance, the weight of her guilt crushing her. The prank that started as a harmless joke had spiralled into a devastating betrayal. She had hurt you, her own sister, and she knew she might never be able to make things right.

Your mother held you for what felt like hours, whispering reassurances as you choked out sobs. The city lights blurred through the veil of your tears, each flicker reflecting a shard of your shattered heart. Finally, your cries subsided into hiccups, leaving behind a raw ache and a dull throbbing in your head.

Pulling back, your mother cupped your tear-streaked face, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Why they did this, sweetheart, is because they're cruel and shallow. But their actions don't define your worth. You, Y/n, are strong, kind, and deserving of real love. Don't you ever forget that."

Her words, laced with love and unwavering belief, were a soothing balm to your wounded spirit. You leaned into her touch, finding solace in the familiar warmth. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped at your eyes. "I just...don't understand. Why would Leah do this?"

Your mother sighed, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. "Sometimes, people make terrible choices, honey. But Leah will have to live with the consequences of her actions, just like Katie."

You head straight for your room when you get home, ignoring the buzzing of your phone you mutter a quick goodnight to your Mam before shutting your door and crawling under the covers, before beginning to cry again.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless. You should've known. The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night wasn't paranoia, it was your intuition screaming unheard. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend, you were a punchline in a cruel joke.

Anger, hot and fierce, flared within you, momentarily pushing back the tide of sadness. You grabbed your phone, the need to confront Leah burning in your gut. But what was there to say? The silence at the club spoke volumes.

Your thumb hovered over Leah's name, then hovered some more. Finally, with a deep breath, you deleted her contact. A small act of defiance in a night that felt like a complete and utter defeat.

Exhaustion settled over you like a heavy blanket. You curled into a ball, the hollowness in your chest a constant ache. Sleep, when it came, was a restless affair, filled with fragmented memories of flashing lights, pulsating music, and Leah's cold, emotionless eyes.

You awake the next morning to your Mam at your bedroom door saying there was a woman at the door who wanted to talk to you.

You let out a huff tearing off the covers before heading to the kitchen. You stop dead at the sight of Amanda sitting in your kitchen having a cough before your bottom lip starts to wobble.

Amanda jumps up from her seat before wrapping her arms tightly around you "Oh darling I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." You shake your head "I'm sorry too Amanda, I'm so sorry I wasn't good enough for her."

Amanda pulls back, cupping your face gently. "Sweetheart, you are more than good enough. Leah's actions are a reflection of her own shallowness, not your worth. You have a kind heart, a brilliant mind, and a passion that shines brighter than any trophy."

Her words sink in, a flicker of warmth battling the lingering chill of betrayal. You nod, wiping away a stray tear. "Thanks,Amanda."

"Can I get you some tea, love?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

You nod gratefully, sinking into a chair at the table. As Amanda bustles around the kitchen, you steal a glance at the woman who, until yesterday, was your girlfriend's mother. The sight of her fills you with a mix of emotions – anger, sadness, and a flicker of curiosity.

Amanda returns, placing a steaming mug in front of you. You mutter out a small thank you before clearing your throat "How is she?." Amanda's face softens "Y/n we don't have to..." You shake your head "Please."

She hesitates, her brow furrowed. "She's a mess, to be honest. She told me everything last night, and I was… well, let's just say I'm not happy with her. Not one bit."

Relief washes over you, a small comfort amidst the wreckage of your heart. "What did she say?"

Amanda takes a sip of her tea, her gaze distant. "She said it was a stupid bet, that she never meant to hurt you. But frankly, intentions don't matter much when the result is this much pain."

"A hundred pounds. That's all I was worth to her?" Your words come out in a chocked sob.

Amanda reaches across the table, squeezing your hand. "Honey, you are priceless. Don't you ever let anyone tell you differently.

Later that day, your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You open it cautiously, your breath catching in your throat when you see the name: Leah.

The messages are all the same, short and to the point: "Y/n, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

You stare at the screen, a war raging within you. Part of you wants to unleash a torrent of anger, to make her understand the depth of your pain. But another part, a smaller, wounded part, aches for her.

The next few days are a blur. Ignoring your teammates who all seemed to know about the bet, you couldn't help but question if they had been part of it too in opening up and getting to know you, including you in things. Your mam becomes your rock, offering endless cups of tea, movie marathons, and fiercely supportive silences.

You're asleep on the couch when you begin to hear shouting, you sit up rubbing your eyes before going to stand before moving more quickly as you here your Mam let out a shout for someone to leave

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you bolted towards the front door. The shouting was unmistakeable - your Mum's voice laced with anger, and another, muffled voice pleading its case. Bursting into the hallway, you skidded to a stop, taking in the scene before you.

There, on the doorstep, stood Leah. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her hair a mess, a stark contrast to the composed figure she usually presented. Your Mam, arms crossed and face thunderous, stood blocking the doorway. Amanda stood behind Leah tugging on her arm trying to get her out of your driveway.

"Absolutely not, Leah!" your Mam boomed, her voice echoing in the small hallway. "You had your chance, and you blew it in the most horrendous way."

Leah flinched, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I know, Mrs. McCabe, I know. I was awful, and I deeply regret it. But please, just let me talk to Y/n. I need to apologise properly."

Leah's words die in her throat at the sight of you standing behind your Mam so small, so sad, so broken "Y/n" Your Mam turns immediately and Amanda's hands seem to grip Leah's arm tighter as she goes to step into your house.

You step back as Leah steps forward again "You haven't answered any of my texts...I..." You can't help but laugh internally at Leah's lack of words, but it also feels even more crushing than the night of her birthday party, that's all she can say, that you haven't answered her texts.

The cynical part of you snorts. You clench your fists, the anger threatening to bubble over. But before you can unleash it, your Mam speaks, her voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness.

"Leah, honey, I understand you're sorry. But actions speak louder than words, and yours spoke volumes. Y/n needs time to heal. She trusted you, and you betrayed that trust in a cruel way."

Leah hangs her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know, Mrs. McCabe. I was an idiot. A terrible person. But please, believe me when I say I never meant to hurt Y/n like this. It started as a stupid bet...a dare, really. But it spiraled, and I…"

"And you let it go on," your Mam finishes, her voice colder now. "You let it go on for who knows how long, playing with Y/n's affections. That's not a mistake, Leah. That's a conscious choice."

The truth hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating weight. Leah opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You see a flicker of something in her eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps just a glimpse of the pain you're feeling mirrored back at you.

Amanda looks at you sadly as she tugs Leah's arm "Come on Le." Leah pulled her arm out of her mum's grip "I love you." You felt your heart sink as your eyes welled up with more tears, shaking your head you stepped out from behind your own mam, "No you don't." Leah shook her head "I do." you stepped forward this time within arm's length.

Leah doesn't hesitate to step closer before putting her hands on your waist and pulling you in, you don't fit it, you can't this is all you've wanted since her birthday so you sink into you wrap your arms around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

Your voice, laced with a quiet strength that surprised even yourself, cut through the tension. "Love isn't a word you throw around after breaking someone's heart, Leah. Love is about respect, about trust, about building something real together. You built a house of cards on lies, and now you're surprised it crumbled?"

Tears streamed down Leah's face, her voice trembling. "Y/n, please. I know I messed up. I was stupid, and I let pride get the better of me. But the time we spent together, the way you made me laugh, the way you understood my passion for the game... that was real. I never meant for it to go this far."

You scoffed, a humorless sound. "Convenient, isn't it? To pick and choose what parts were real and what were just a game. Because let's be honest, Leah, that's all I ever was to you, wasn't I? A pawn in your little bet."

Leah flinched, but you pressed on, your voice gaining momentum. "Maybe you never meant to 'hurt' me, but you did. You shattered my trust, made me question everything I thought we had. And for what? A hundred pounds and a cheap thrill?"

Silence descended once more, heavy and suffocating. You pulled back seeing the flicker of shame in Leah's eyes, but it did little to ease the ache in your heart.

Leah's lips trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I... I care about you, Y/n. I really do."

"Care isn't enough, Leah," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within. "You had a chance at something real, something special. You threw it away for a hundred pounds and a cheap laugh. How can I ever trust you again?"

Leah opened her mouth to protest, but your mother's hand on her shoulder silenced her. Amanda gave you a sympathetic smile before ushering a defeated Leah towards the car. As they drove away, you retreated back into the house, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily upon you.

You stood there for a long time, the weight of the encounter settling on you. The betrayal still stung, before you could turn to your mam and begin to cry into her shoulder once more you felt another hand on your shoulder turning, you didn't hesitate before throwing yourself into Mary's arms.

The tears came again, a torrent of hurt and confusion released into Mary's embrace. Mary held you tight, whispering soothing words that did little to penetrate the fog of pain.

"It's okay to cry, love," she murmured. "Let it all out."

You clung to her, the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo grounding you amidst the emotional chaos. The image of Leah's tearful face lingered, her declaration of love a discordant note in the symphony of your heartbreak.

Pulling back slightly, you wiped your glistening cheeks. "Do you think she really cares?"

Mary sighed, a deep breath that spoke volumes. "Honey, sometimes people say things in the heat of the moment, especially when they're trying to win someone back. True remorse takes time and action, not just empty words."

Her words were a balm, a dose of reality amidst the swirling emotions. You hadn't expected Leah's sudden appearance, nor the raw vulnerability she displayed. Part of you ached for the connection you thought you shared, the spark you felt whenever you were together. But the other, more sensible part, echoed your mother's sentiment. Actions spoke louder than words, and Leah's actions had spoken volumes.

You don't return to Arsenal, instead, you attend a meeting with your agent, Jonas and the board at Arsenal, you inform them of your wishes to be transferred this summer and when asked why you tell them everything, from the unwelcoming atmosphere your teammates have had from the start to a stupid bet that destroyed two relationships you really thought you had made since joining.

The air in the sterile conference room was thick with tension. Jonas, your agent, sat beside you, his jaw clenched tight. Across the table, the Arsenal board – a group of stern-faced men in expensive suits – listened intently to your story. You spoke with a quiet strength, your voice betraying a tremor of lingering hurt as you recounted the events of the past week.

From the initial awkwardness with your teammates to the cruel betrayal orchestrated by Leah and Katie, you held back nothing. You even explained how the constant feeling of being an outsider, someone tolerated but not truly welcomed, had chipped away at your confidence.

When you finished, a heavy silence descended upon the room. One of the board members, a man with a salt-and-pepper beard, finally broke it. "This is a serious allegation, Ms. L/N. Do you have any proof of this 'bet' you speak of?"

You shook your head. "No, sir. It was a private conversation. But the way Leah and Katie acted, the way they looked at me… it all adds up."

Another board member, a woman with a sharp bob and piercing blue eyes, leaned forward. "And you believe this… bet… is the reason behind the strained relationship with your teammates?"

"It could be a part of it," you admitted. "Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't. But the overall feeling was… unwelcome."

Jonas cleared his throat. "Look, Ms. L/N has a very successful record on the pitch. But a player also needs to feel comfortable off it. This situation clearly isn't working for her."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the board members. The man with the beard steepled his fingers. "We understand your concerns, Ms. L/N and Mr. Hernandez. However, a transfer is a significant decision. We need to explore all options."

The next few minutes were a blur of discussions – potential solutions, alternative clubs, and the financial implications of a transfer. Finally, the woman with the bob spoke up.

"Here's what we can do. We'll launch a discreet investigation into these allegations. If your claims are substantiated, we'll take appropriate disciplinary action against those involved. Additionally, we'll work with the coaching staff to ensure a more inclusive environment for all players."

You exchanged a surprised glance with Jonas. This was more than you expected.

"As for the transfer," she continued, "we understand your desire for a fresh start. We're willing to consider loan offers from reputable clubs, provided they meet our financial requirements."

Relief washed over you. A loan deal wouldn't be ideal, but it would give you a chance to escape the toxic environment at Arsenal and prove yourself elsewhere. You looked at Jonas, silently seeking his advice.

He gave you a quick nod. "That sounds like a fair compromise."

A tense negotiation ensued, with Jonas expertly navigating the complexities of transfer fees and loan agreements. Finally, a deal was struck. You would be loaned to a top-tier Spanish club for the upcoming season, with an option to buy included in the contract.

As you shook hands with the board members, a sense of closure washed over you. This wasn't the fairytale ending you'd envisioned when you signed for Arsenal, but it was a new chapter. A chance to rewrite your story, a chance to rise above the betrayal and prove your worth on the world stage.

You disappear after the meeting, your house is empty you aren't in London or in Dublin, turning down the opportunity to play for Ireland, instead you hide out in Manchester at Mary's, attending solo training as well as Mary's solo training, you don't answer your phone to anyone on the Arsenal squad, Ireland squad, Katie or Leah's no collar id.

When the transfer/loan list is made public your phone blows up once again, you don't answer it until Katie's name flashes up on your screen, you hadn't spoken in weeks but you also knew this was important.

"You're leaving, you're leaving Arsenal, you're leaving." you sigh heading out to sit on the back step "I am." Katie stops for a second before you hear her voice crack "Y/n, I never wanted this, I never wanted you to leave." You shake your head "What did you think was going to happen, that I was going to sit back once again, I've been hurt enough, I have done everything for everyone even if it hurt me and this time I decided not to, I need to stop putting everyone else happiness, their comfortability over my own, I'm done."

There's a small pause before Katie speaks again "Y/n...I never meant for this to happen the way it did, you have to know that." You brush your hands through your hair "I don't, I didn't I'll say the same thing i told you the night of Leah's birthday, you wouldn't do what you did to me to Ella or Lauryn, or any of our other siblings, so I still don't know what I must have done for you to do it to me, what I must have done for you to hate me so much that you thought this would be funny." Katie tried again "Y/n." your bottom lip quivered "I'm tired Katie, so so tired of feeling like this, I don't want to feel like this anymore, I want to be happy, can you just let me go on this loan and let me be happy?" Katie could hear the hurt in your voice and she thought back to every time you finally spoke up and yet still pushed aside for something else, someone else. "Ok." you nod "Where are you going to go." you wiped your tears off your cheek. "I don't know yet, I just need to get out of England." Katie let out a small Oh "You're leaving the league." You smiled softly "If I'm going to give myself the best chance, I need to."

"I'm proud of ya." you laugh slightly "For what." Katie stops "I...I..." You smile softly wiping the stray tear "It's ok, I think I've finally made my peace with that, with this."

Shame burned in Katie's gut. She thought the prank would be harmless, a way to lighten the mood, had backfired spectacularly. You weren't Ella or Lauryn, or any of her other siblings, the ones who could shrug things off. You were Y/n, the quiet observer, the one who carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Seeing your vulnerability, the raw pain in your voice as you spoke of wanting happiness, chipped away at the last vestiges of Katie's justification. The truth, stark and ugly, stared back at her. It hadn't been a prank, it had been a cruel act fueled by a childish need to be funny, a way to lash out at the feeling of you constantly wanting to follow her around, do everything she wanted to do, now she realised you did it for comfort, you idolised her so much you wanted to do everything she did like Lauryn had done, so why had it irked her so much that you did the same.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the ragged sniffles escaping your nose. "I need you to do me a favour, you at least owe me that." Katie nodded franticly before nearly bursting your eardrum accepting "Anything." You wipe your cheeks again cursing internally at how emotional you were.

"When I leave, Leah can't know until I'm gone, she...she can't know until then 'cause I'm not ready to talk to her, please Katie promise me this." Katie agrees, You are right it is the least she can do. "I promise, just go smash it yeah." You let out a small laugh "I'll try."

Arsenal's Y/n McCabe joins FC Bayern Munich.

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maya1525 · 5 months

Text

SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Toge Inumaki & Yuuta Okkotsu ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Toge Inumaki & Yuuta Okkotsu

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, sex in front of others, language, rough sex, group sex, double penetration in pussy

Word count✩࿐2.1k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Inumaki drew 2 of Diamonds♦️ and Yuuta drew 2 of Hearts♥️

A/N✩࿐Fem!Reader X Toge & Yuuta will always be my favorite grouping. Both of these men have a special spot in my heart 💜 I felt inspired to have them share the readers kitty cat due to (my own similar experience). 🤪 Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

You then felt something hot press against your left cheek, and as you turned to try and put it in your mouth you felt another dick poke your right cheek. Surprise caught you off guard, both? At the same time? Maybe they drew the same number card. That was all you could logically conclude in your hazy brain.

You decided to alternate sucking both of your boyfriends' dicks, first the one on the left. You kissed his entire length lovingly while you softly pumped the other cock in your right hand. Your wet mouth enveloped the rod on your left briefly. You held him in your throat for a bit, knowing that it would feel pleasurable. You quickly switched hands and gave the same type of treatment to the dick on the right. You trailed featherlight kisses up and down his dick. Then you beckoned him down your throat, knowing that he’ll enjoy the wet squeeze. Once both cocks were saturated with your saliva, you jerked them off simultaneously. As you pumped them, you brought their tips to your lips. You were able to taste their salty precum drip onto your tongue.

The other men in the room couldn’t help but get even more fired up at what was going on right before their eyes. Yuuta and Inumaki exchanged heated glances with each other while your hot mouth worshiped them at the same time. Yuuta was on the left and Toge on the right, each man had a fist full of your hair gripped tightly.

You dragged your tongue across them both in the most sensational way, earning a muted moan to come from the back of Toge’s throat. Despite being fucked out, you were excited to enjoy Inumaki and Yuuta at the same time. You forced the dick on your left to go down your throat once more, and as you did a small sigh escaped his lips. You then switched to the cock on your right, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You felt him pull your hair tautly, earning a gurgled moan of excitement to come from the back of your throat.

Just then, the timer went off and it was time to guess. Due to the process of elimination, “Yuuta and Inumaki.” You said confidently while lowering your blindfold. Your hazy eyes were greeted by both of your boyfriends standing over you with their sprung and slick dicks in your face. They eyed you longingly and were ready for action.

“So how do you want to take us?” Yuuta asked with a lustful look in his dark eyes.

“I wanna enjoy you in me at the same time.” You sighed, leaning back on the futon seductively. “Yuuta, sit down on the couch.” You instructed, with a perverted idea in your head.

Your black-haired boyfriend did what he was told and sat beside Muta. “Then Inumaki, get on top and face him. Then I’ll sit on you both.” You smiled with a playful glint in your eye.

Toge obeyed your command and settled himself on Yuuta’s lap. You made your way over to them and spun around so you could face your sweet Inumaki. Your dripping pussy hovered over Toge’s dick, but Yuuta had the head of his cock at your ass. You wanted them both in your cunt, so you snuck your hand down and guided his rod up to Inumaki’s so that they were touching. Both men shuddered at the taboo feeling, you couldn’t help but adore the flustered look on Toge’s face. His violet-colored eyes looked at you with deep desire.

You were too caught up in the moment and slipped down onto both dicks entirely. Having both cocks up your pussy felt incredibly hot, you felt a slight sting to being stretched out, but you pushed it aside and focused on having a good time with your boyfriends instead.

“Mmm, you’re too tight.” Whimpered Yuuta from behind you, you felt him lean forward and kiss your shoulders and caress your waist lovingly. You held onto Inumaki for stability while you slowly moved your hips for more friction.

Both men groaned out in pleasure while you ground yourself on them, this caused their dick’s to rub against each other in such an amazing way. Your pussy was incredibly damp due to your arousal mixed with the other men’s cum. Unfortunately, your body was spent, and your thighs burned from Sukuna railing you on your feet earlier. Most of the energy you had was spent on the other men.

You brought your lips to Inumaki’s and kissed him feverishly, “My legs are tired, can you and Yuuta take control?” You asked sweetly.

“Shake,” Toge said affirmatively, he then secured his hands around your waist while Yuuta did the same. Both men lifted you together and then dropped you back down onto their cocks. Feeling them slide back into you sent shivers of delight to run down all of your spines.

“Oh, yes!” You moaned out in adoration, you accidentally cast your gaze past Toge and to Megumi who sat diagonal from you guys. Fushiguro eyed you with acceptance while he and Kamo chatted nonchalantly. You glanced over at Noritoshi, who had a more hungry look on his face. Yuji stared your way with a captivated look in his eyes. While Satoru, leaned back on the couch comfortably, keeping his brilliant blue eyes on you. You amazed him at how skilled you were at taking their dicks. Muta who sat beside Yuuta, had a flushed look on his face, especially because of how close he was to the action. He felt a small sting of jealousy and wanted to be one of the guys inside of you.

You felt Yuuta sneak his hands up your torso and grab ahold of your soft and bouncy breasts. He always loved feeling your boobs. Whenever the two of you would cuddle he’d find a way to hold them sweetly. Both men continued to pump into you simultaneously, each thrust more powerful than the last. You found yourself lost in Inumaki’s captivating gaze, he drew you in almost hypnotically.

“Mmh, both of you feel… so… good.” You whined out between their synced thrusts.

Inumaki felt that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The combination of your slick and tight heat alongside the friction against Yuuta’s dick inside you, was more than heavenly. He pulled you closer and crashed his lips against yours passionately. Toge brought one of his hands up to your hair and gently tugged your luscious locks to deepen the kiss.

Yuuta was in love with how amazing you felt; so saturated and tight, he could stay here forever if you let him. The unique sensation of his lengthy rod rubbing against his friend Inumaki’s was just as pleasurable. He felt honored that he was able to share you so intimately with his best friend. Each time Yuuta shoved his dick into you while Inumaki did, he could tell that he was going to bust soon.

“Inumaki, I don’t think- ahh I can last any longer.” Yuuta groaned out anxiously, sure enough, their timer would be up soon.

“Shake-“ Toge shuddered, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration as he continuously shoved himself inside you.

Yuuta and Toge began to plow you down onto their hot dicks with incredible force. Your pussy couldn’t take any more of it, and you weren’t sure if you were able to cum again. All you could do was whine and babble uncontrollably while they shared you.

“So… mmh. Keep going! Ahh…” you sputtered out, lost in pure ecstasy.

Suddenly, the timer went off, but it fell silent to you three. “Cum.” Inumaki stated while he and Yuuta pushed themselves balls deep in you.

Your forced orgasm hit you hard and your pussy pulsated around both rods inside you. You felt your release drench their dicks in the most appetizing way. Yuuta and Toge released themselves in vigorous squirts, each man held you close to them as they rode out their waves of pleasure. Their cum mixed as one, as they shot their streams of milky liquid into you.

They held you for a brief moment, letting you catch your breath as they did the same. You felt like a limp rag doll and exhaustion quickly overwhelmed you. You tried to maneuver yourself off of your boyfriends, but it felt as if your legs were jello.

Satoru picked up on that and swiftly pulled you up and off of them. Once he did a waterfall of everyone’s cum fell down your thighs, it felt hot and sticky. There was such an abundant amount of release in you that when Gojo carried you down, you heard a few splats fall onto his marble floor. He set you on his lap and draped your tired legs off onto Yuji.

Inumaki removed himself from Yuuta’s lap and began to wipe himself off with Gojo’s blue complimentary towel.

“You’ve got me captivated more than you can imagine,” Satoru murmured against your forehead.

You smiled hazily, but you were too tired to respond. You rested your head on his muscular chest and breathed in his comforting scent. The room around you began to fade away and the quiet conversations amongst the other males felt distant. Sleep quickly grabbed a hold of you and your dreams were peaceful.

Little did you know, the following month you’d miss your period.

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surielstea · 7 months

Text

No one, But you

Based on this request.

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader feels as if she isn’t cultivated enough, Cass comforts her.

Warnings: Slight insecurities | mention of a pregnant reader | pure fluff

2.1k words

The cold wind nipped at my cheeks as I walked along the cobble stones of Velaris.

My mates hand intertwined with mine, the only thing heating me up. Cassian and I were doing some last minute shopping for solstice presents, he had four bags on his right arm and in his left, his fingers were busy being intertwined with mine, refusing to let me carry anything.

Amren is the only person we have yet to buy anything for, so we had one more stop at the jewelers before going home.

It wasn't often the General of the Night Court roamed Velaris so casually, especially not with me. It was rare I went out at all, but with Cassian? That was once in a year. I was a quiet person, liked to mind my business and hated being approached by strangers. So I typically left the house with Azriel or Amren, civilians knowing better than to talk to them. But Cassian, he was a seven foot tall beacon of light practically calling people to gawk at him, and they did.

I was young, only a century or so years old and had nothing on Cassian. He'd had enough stories to fill a library, all before I was even born. We mated nearly a decade ago but still, people were lost on who I was or what I was to any of the Inner Circle. Even if I liked to keep my peace it had some negative sides too; for example, every girl I've ever met thinks Cassian is single.

Which has become glaringly obvious now that I've become attentive to it. The cashier that bagged our gifts wouldn't peel her eyes off of him, even when he was talking to me.

At another store we bumped into a gorgeous female who Cassian supposedly bedded for a few nights in his twenties.

We walked along the streets and people straight up ogled at him, ignoring me at his side. I didn't want the attention, but it'd be nice if I was at least noticed.

Palace of Thread and Jewels sat on the bank of the Sidra that was frozen over this time of the year. Cassian reached out and opened the door for me, letting go of my hand as I entered the toasty shop.

Neve, a dear friend of Rhysand's, stood behind the display of gems and jewels, she was one of the only people outside the Inner Circle who knew of me and Cassian.

"Neve, afternoon." I smile at her. "Hello you two, shopping for Amren I presume?" Her glowing eyes flash with knowing and I shyly smile. "Have the rest of them already been here then?" I tilt my head and she nods. "I'm certain it's your group that keeps my shop in business." She claims and I shake my head with a small breathy chuckle. "Though we did just get a new collection in, the delivery men were just here I have yet to even unpack the items." She admits and my brows shoot up. "We'd like to see those." Cassian's arm slings over my shoulders. She gives both of us a smile before going into the back room.

I look at the display while I wait for her to return, peering down at a pair of tear drop ruby earrings that reminded me of Cassian's siphons. They matched the wedding ring on my left hand, I twisted it subconsciously, fiddling with the red gem. Cassian seems to notice, his eyes trailing to what I was staring at.

Neve returns in a flurry of shadows, carrying a long display shelf filled with large rocks and gems, placing it on the counter in front of us. I take in the collection, eyes glancing over every glimmering stone, freshly polished and gleaming like a star. Then I halt when coming across a black diamond bigger than my fist and most likely more expensive than an entire months’ paycheck. But this is the one.

Cassian seems to get the hint. "We'll take this one." He gestures to it, learning from last time not to touch. "Splendid." Neve smiles and plucks the gem up with a gloved hand before wrapping it and placing it in an ornate box. "Anything else?" She arches a brow. "That's it—" I begin. "Those ruby earrings as well." Cassian interrupts, pointing towards the jewelry I wanted. "Cass, it's too much." I shake my head with creased brows but he only waves me off and nods his head at Neve. She smiles and fetches those from the display, placing them in their own box with a delicate white bow tying it all together.

Cassian paid without so much as a blink while I grimaced in the background, the price far more than I had in mind— and if Cassian is buying me stunning earrings just because I looked at them, it made me wonder what he got me for solstice.

I had yet to tell him I'm pregnant, planning it all out so the last gift he opens tomorrow night will be a small pink pacifier. I was nearly a month in, barely even showing so Cassian hadn't noticed. We had been trying for a child for a few months now. I've had my scent glamoured and Madja told me last week we're having a girl, I was so excited I nearly told him, nearly came home and attacked him onto the floor with the amount of pure joy I was overwhelmed with.

But I maintained it, telling the shadow singer instead— who was the only person I knew could keep their mouth shut, the spy-master happened to be awfully good at guarding secrets. Lucien found out as well, somehow able to see through the glamour on me with his whirring golden eye.

We left the shop with a farewell to Neve and I wrapped my hands around his bicep as I look up at him with a bright smile. "You didn't have to do that." I say and he shakes his head. "It's all worth it for that smile." He hums, not watching where he's going as he mindlessly stares into my eyes. "Thank you—" My words are cut off by Cassian's head whipping up and pulling me back from a group of girls who were about to run into me. "Sorry ladies," He nods, flashing them a polite smile that could easily be mistaken for something else. "We don't mind." A blonde blushes as they pass by us, giggling amongst each other. "That was weird." Cassian mumbled as he continued our walk home, pulling me along.

Was he really so oblivious to not notice that every single one of those girls were prepared to open their legs right then and there for him? So blinded that he didn't even notice the way any of them looked at him?

Something like dejection overwhelmed me, perhaps Cassian should be with girls like that, girls who radiated pure joy and high energy, not someone's who's social life consisted of a close circle of friends and occasionally a shopkeeper.

Every girl I've met who used to have a thing with my mate has always been the sheer opposite of me. Perhaps that's what he preferred, just settled on me because we're cauldron willed, mates. Sometimes I thought that fate got it wrong. He was too good, too fun and upbeat, the life of the party. I couldn't be further away from the Generals type. He needed someone who has just as much experience as him, someone who loves to go out and dance until daylight— not someone who cuddles into bed with a book and a cup of tea.

His hand squeezes mine and he tears me from my thoughts, looking up at him confused. "Did you hear me?" He asks and I curse myself. "I'm sorry," I shake my head no. "Don't be sorry. I said, do you want to grab food or are you ready to go home?" He raises a brow and I swallow. Wondering what he truly wanted.

"Is it okay if we go home? I'm tired." I admit and he nods. "Of course sweetheart." He smiles down at me, I was foolish to think he'd ever want something I didn't, foolish to think he'd ever want someone other than me, but still, those thoughts lingered in the back of my mind at a constant.

Once arriving back to The House of Mist, food is already on the table. The residence seemingly knowing my growing cravings because every dish on that table held breakfast food. "Pancakes for dinner then?" Cassian hummed and I blinked, then shrugged.

I sat myself at the table as Cassian went to our bedroom to put down the gifts. I quickly thanked the magic House for the meal and it replied by placing a plate in front of me, eager to help me in any way it can.

I stack a tower of pancakes onto my plate, then nearly drowned it in maple syrup sourced from the Autumn Court. My mouth watered at the meal and Cassian returned, freshly changed into lounge clothes before sliding into the seat beside me, plating his own meal.

"I wonder what sort of crazy gift Mor will get me this year," Cassian thought absentmindedly and I shrugged, still a little down from my lingering thoughts— though the pancakes helped. "What's got you down, my sweet?" His knee nudges mine and I glance to him, his eyes searching my features for any clue as to what's wrong.

"It's hard to explain," I shake my head, looking back to my plate. "I've got time." He excuses and a sad smile tugs at my lips. "You're just very, experienced." I try to simplify but his brows crease, clearly confused. "Forget it." I mumble, picking up my plate and carrying it into the kitchen, he's quick to chase after me.

"Talk to me sweetheart," He pleads as I place my dish in the sink. "Please." His words seem to kill any doubt I have and I turn to him, looking up, and up, into his warm, hazel eyes. "It's just, when we were out shopping today you got approached by ten different females." I explain and he blinks.

"Which is fine, I know that's not your fault but— I don't know, they all seemed so exotic and fun. Seemed like the kind of person for you." I shrug and his gaze softens. "Oh my love," He sighs, hands going to mine, guiding my palms to his jaw. "There's only one person for me," He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Mates or not, I truly believe you were made for me, and I for you." He hums. "And there's something so attractive about the fact that I'm the only male you've been with." He purrs and I roll my eyes with a flush. "But if you think for even a second you're not the one for me then you've been lied to." He rules, finally pressing a kiss to my lips.

"Opposites attract right?" He arches a brow and I shake my head with a soft giggle. "You're awfully nice to me." I say with a meek voice and he presses another kiss to my lips, his mouth slotting over mine and fitting me like a puzzle piece. I smile against the action and pull back with a wide grin. "There's my pretty girl," He whispers, hands on my cheeks as his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.

"Solstice is tomorrow." He reminds and I nod. "Did you get me something special?" He flutters his lashes. My hand subconsciously goes to my stomach. "Maybe," I say evasively, twirling out of his grasp and walking down the hall. He whined and wrapped his arms around me, his heavy body being dragged along with my movements down the hall.

He’s been trying to coerce what I got for him for days now. "You're relentless." I roll my eyes. "Just tell me." He groans and I shake my head. I've held out about being with a child for a month now, he'd have to wait one more day.

"Sorry Cass," I shake my head, leading him into our bedroom as he continues to drape himself over me. "Why don't you distract yourself by preparing for your annual snowball fight?" I offer and his arms snap away from me, scowling as I recall his losing streak.

"Maybe you'll win this year, General." I wink at him with a smirk and he grumbles a curse, flopping down onto our large bed then opening his arms for me. I smile and crawl into his embrace, allowing his large muscular arms to twine around my body as I pulled a book from my nightstand and opened to the page I was on.

Perhaps I didn’t need to be fun or exotic, maybe he liked the tranquility of all this. He pressed a reassuring kiss to arch of my neck, peering over my shoulder as he read along with me.

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#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #bat boys #request #acomaf #cassian x fem!reader #cassian x reader #cassian #lord of bloodshed #x you #fluff #acotar fluff #suriels tea

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hisunshiine · 4 months

Text

—immortal lust |myg|

🧛🏻 pairing: vampire!yoongi x vampire hunter!reader 🧛🏻 au/genre: vampire au, e2l, angst, smut 🧛🏻 rating: M 🧛🏻 wc: 8,783 🧛🏻 warnings: mentions of parent death (off-screen). creepy themes associated with graveyards, vampires, and vampire hunting. explicit smut: fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied bdsm, implied orgy, biting, blood drinking (vamps, duh!), use of blood for lubrication (again, vamps!) 🧛🏻 an: thank you to my beta readers @downbad4yoongi and @lo1k-diamonds and @mrsparkjimin18. I know this ws rough at first, but I think it became a very enjoyable piece of literature in the end. @colormepurplex2, thank you for the prompt to write, and congrats on earning the most points for the network in the semi-annual tally! You earned it! 🧛🏻 summary: In the shadows of a world where the supernatural breathes just beneath the surface of the mundane, you are a skilled vampire slayer from a revered family harboring a secret desire that contradicts your very existence.

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This story is written for @colormepurplex2 as her gift for being the top leading point earner for our network, @bangtanwritershq and for our Quarter 2 event: Seven Deadly Sins

ᥫ᭡ AU Type: Lust — Vampire AU ᥫ᭡ Themes: Enemies 2 Lovers & Forbidden Desires ᥫ᭡ Inclusions: Bargains & Contracts, Confessions and Secrets, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood & Violence

masterlist ❁ ao3

24 Years Ago

“Why are you crying, Uncle Sol?” Eight-year-old you stands in the darkened doorway of the study, bleary eyes struggling to take in the scene in front of you.

Soleil Belmont sits in the overly stuffed, brown leather armchair in front of the fireplace. Your uncle by choice, thanks to the life-long friendship between him and your mother, Valkyrie Blake, is how he came to be in your life. The hands that cover his damp eyes wipe furiously at his cheeks, as if to hide the evidence of his tears from your sight. You didn’t even notice how he looked—the mud caked on his boots, the tattered look of his shirt under his leather jacket, the small cut by his hairline or the bruises starting to appear along his face.

“Come here, sweetie,” he asks, voice breaking as you walk in your thin nightgown across the wood floors, feet making quiet sounds with every step you take closer to him. Once within his reach, he places a clammy hand on your shoulder.

“There’s been an accident.”

The funeral itself was one of the worst days of your life, watching the twin caskets of your parents lower into the rectangular cutouts in the earth. The gleaming black lacquered wood was polished to perfection, only to be marred by the small handful of dirt you’d thrown before begging to be taken away from the graveyard, away from the scent of death and decay.

That day is when you decide you never want to experience death. You never want to be so badly injured in a car accident that your family has to have a closed casket. That you’d never see your child grow up, and leave her abandoned in this world. You hate that death is the inevitable end to life, and that fear leads you down the path you’re on now.

You - Present Day

The dream begins much like all of the other ones you’ve had as of late. You’re in an old cemetery—gothic gravestones coated in thick moss with flora obscuring the names and dates of the not-so-recently deceased. Large tombs with crumbling marble and ivy-covered wrought-iron fences, the overgrown oaks with Spanish moss reaching eerily towards your figure in the shadows from the waxing crescent moon. The dirt beneath your feet feels malleable as you step quietly past the final resting places of all of the former slayers. You’ve traversed these grounds before, more than several times in your adult life, as you’ve learned about your family, the work that they did—that you are supposed to continue—and can name all of the family lines that take their final rest here.

An eerie fog begins to rise from the ground, permeating the air until it covers your boots and ankles, weaving its way along the marble and stone placards, hiding the Lord’s Prayer epitaphs and angelic motifs from sight. A shiver raises the hair along your arms and the back of your neck and you sense him. He’s here, watching you with his luminous eyes and heightened, immortal beauty. You know he can hear the way your heart thrums in your chest, can smell the prickles of adrenaline that drip from the sweat at your hairline, and possibly the arousal as it seeps through your panties.

You attempt to refocus your thoughts away from the nervous energy, standing still. You wonder if he believes that you are doing this so as to not trip or step on dead wood littering the ground to make too much sound. You know it wouldn’t matter. Quiet as a mouse or trampling like an elephant would make no difference to this being. He is well over three centuries old, exact years he has been alive though are not documented anywhere. No one has lived after a close encounter with him to document his life pre-turning, according to the various journals and tomes housed in the slayer library.

All you know for certain is that the earliest records of the vampire known only as ‘Yoongi’ appear in the late 17th century, identify his maker as ‘Namjoon’, and his three known fledglings as ‘Heizi’, ‘Taehyung’, and ‘Hoseok’. Only one of his creations is dead—the one who killed your parents. A loud crack of lightning whips your head to the left, the flash revealing the amber backlit eyes embedded in the dark silhouette of the famed vampire crouched on the edge of the cremation tomb several yards away. Your amygdala reacts, heart rate spiking as he moves faster than you can capture—one second he’s atop the Van Helsing columbarium, the next he’s standing in front of you, strong hands clamped to your arms holding you tight, keeping you from moving. Your small but deadly sharp stake is rendered useless by your side.

There’s no time to scream, no time to do anything but hear the rush of blood through your veins as his mouth grows from a smirk to a downright smile, fangs glowing from the reflection of moonlight.

“You made it too easy, kitten,” he purrs, bringing his face closer to yours before dipping his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent as he scrapes the tips of his pointed teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. “And to think you were able to kill Heize. I must do better at training my progeny. Oh well, another slayer to add to the crypt. You didn’t even last two minutes.”

Squirming in his grip, you try to disengage his clenched fists from your arms as his mouth descends to your thrumming artery. You wake with a gasp, hands flying to your neck to check for puncture wounds.

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Down in the gym at the bottom floor of your house—if you can call it that—you push your muscles to their extent, fists flying into the punching bag. You whip around, grabbing the thin bladed stake from the side pocket of your athletic leggings and plunge it into the second bag made for staking.

With a deep breath, you step onto the bag to pull your weapon loose, watching small bits of fluff flutter to the mat beneath you. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you check the time on the clock, noting it’s near lunchtime. Sheathing your weapon, you head up the staircase to sunlight.

On the ground floor, your eyes easily slide past the neoclassical designs along the hallway, high ceilings with blank walls, and columns lining the open floor plan with large arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The protein shake you prepared earlier sits on the top shelf in the fridge, and you grab it along with the jelly to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You’ve just finished when Soleil Belmont walks into the kitchen, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he bypasses you to the fridge.

“Can we talk?” he asks you, but you don’t want to argue with him, not when tonight could be the last time you ever talk to him.

“Sol, I have to do this. You can’t change my mind about this. He sired the vampire that killed my mom and dad. He’s killed countless people for sport, leaving behind orphaned children like me.” You hope the finality in your tone will keep him from prying or asking more questions.

It works.

“I love you. And I won’t try to change your mind. You’re much like your mother, stubborn to the very end.” Your mother’s best friend and your legal guardian until you turned 18 joins you at the table with a bowl of grapes, a look of acceptance in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to you, I’m selling this house. It’s much too big for me and I’m getting older.”

Your eyes gaze across his features: the greying hair at the edges of his hairline, crow’s feet meeting the creases of his eyes, the weariness in the undereye circles and fine lines. He’s nearing 60, an age you don’t think you’ll live to see. An age your parents never got to be. At 32, you live on your family estate alone, with Soleil in the pool house you had renovated years ago as a Mother-in-Law suite once you turned 21 and gained your inheritance—and learned the truth about your parents’ death.

Just as much as you probably could have lived without ever knowing the truth of your parents’ lives, and their demise, you didn’t need all the space he was trying to give you, but he wanted to allow you the chance to be an adult, have a social life and you assume a sex life without having to hear it. You appreciated it in the moments you brought men back from the bar or campus library, but other times, it was just…lonely.

As a Belmont, Soleil knew about vampires. His family is well known across Europe for their work in Romania slaying creatures of the night, and Soleil’s great-grandparents moved here in the early 1800’s to spread their knowledge to others to continue hunting as the new world grew and vampires spread to the new continent. This is how your families came to be friends and fight alongside each other. Until Heize killed three of the four hunters tasked with taking her out, leaving you and Sol as the only survivors of the Belmont’s and the Blake’s.

“I think you should. I only keep it because it has everything I need to train. I could practice in peace without worrying about people judging me for all of my weapons. Most people think it’s a little weird to have wooden stakes and crossbows when working out.”

Sol chuckles, making a joke about how between the gym being littered with staked bags and the UV lights that line the entire property at night, people would be confused when purchasing, but then the light leeches out of his eyes as he looks you over.

“Remember to keep your wits about you, okay? I never wanted kids because I knew that hunters' lives never end happily, and when I lost…we lost your parents and my fiancee, I wouldn’t have had a reason to keep living if it weren’t for you.”

You decide now is best to give him the ticket and the envelope.

“Sol, I think…I think it’s best for you to go away on a trip. I think I’ll be able to focus better knowing you are out of harm’s way if you leave.” You slide the ticket across the table towards him, the envelope underneath it. “It’s a one-way ticket to Paris and enough money to be comfortable for as long as you want.”

“You don’t think you’ll survive this, do you?” Sol asks, eyes searching yours for clues, but you remain steadfast.

“Don’t worry about me, Sol,” you say and he makes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, dealing the killing blow. “I’m not your daughter, so you don’t have to stick around anymore. Go live your life. I want you to go and live your life.”

The hurt in Sol’s eyes is visible, but your plan works. His hand reaches out to grasp the ticket, leaving the envelope of money where it’s at.

“I don’t need Blake money; the Belmont’s have enough of their own.” He takes a moment to pause, eyes locking back all emotions as he stands. “I’ll pack and leave town. Don’t be distracted.”

Soleil walks to the hallway, turning back just once. “Goodbye.”

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The past 11 years seem to be coming to a head. You’ve spent all of your time after graduating from college training for today. Ever since you learned the truth of how your parents and Sol’s fiancee died, you’ve been plotting for this moment.

As a member of the famed Blake family, vampire hunting is in your blood. As a child, you obsessed over vampires because of the ability to avoid dying, and as an adult, that obsession helped you with your training. You knew more about vampires than one would expect having been brought into the fold so late, but you put your head down and studied more, learning all you could from previous journals and occult texts to gain insight into the vampires with ties to the one called Min Yoongi.

Several years ago you went out to avenge your parents, trapping Heize in a classic bait-and-switch. You didn’t think it would be so easy since she was estimated to be around 200 years, but she fell for it simply because Soleil was the only one she didn’t kill, and in her blood haze, she underestimated you. A simple ‘accidental’ dropping of a message from Sol that said where to meet, coupled with thoughts that you and Sol made sure to keep in your head to continue the ruse allowed Heize to willingly walk into the decrepit mausoleum that was booby-trapped with the thinnest of steel wiring criss-crossing the doorway several yards inside with you and Sol on the other side.

In her haste to grab Soleil, she blurred—her speed too fast to stop her from splicing herself into pieces and effectively decapitating herself was a pleasure to watch. Grabbing the blow torches stashed in the room, her body quickly lit up with flames licking the marble walls as you made your exit.

It’s been over 5 years since then, and every second since has been spent planning for tonight.

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Laying in the coffin in his home, Yoongi awaits dusk. His body is antsy for the moment the sun is below the horizon; even in his slumber, he knows that you are out there waiting. For him. He’s followed your movements since the death of his fledgling, Heize, watching to see how this novice of a hunter could have overpowered one of his chosen flock. Imagine his surprise when it turns out that it was you—the last remaining survivor of the Blake family who knew nothing of vampires true existence until you were an adult.

But over time, he realized as novice as you were, you were skilled. Your lithe movements and ability to track his kind was a novel experience for him to observe. You took down creatures of the night in preparation for what you expressed to your guardian as training for taking out him. Yoongi laughs to himself.

He admits you’re smart, the plan you laid out is a good one, but you forgot to block your mind from thoughts of the plan several times, which allowed Yoongi to plan his counterattack. In the light of the midday sun, even from outside of his home, he sensed you as you approached and left a note. He could hear your heartbeat, hear the rustle of the paper as you placed it through the mail slot of the front door.

His eyes shot open the moment the sun fell below the horizon. Yoongi hated that he was not yet able to avoid the forced slumber that overtook his kind when the sun rose, nor that he was not averse yet to the fatigue that set in beforehand, warning him of the lack of time remaining to the night. Elder vampires, of which he’s only met two who had lived over a thousand years, were almost immortal. The ability to walk in the sun and thus are not affected by the need to sleep when it rises. Yoongi envies them, but he plans to join them one day.

He flits to the main hallway, hand reaching for the note and taking in your handwriting in seconds.

I know what you are. I want to be one of you. Please meet me tonight and turn me, or I will tell everyone vampires exist.

An address is scrawled at the bottom of the note, but he doesn’t need it. He can follow the heady scent of you to wherever you are. Even in sleep, he sensed when you drew near and his subconscious couldn’t help reading the thoughts that lay in your mind. You truly thought this ruse would work? Hell, it would’ve worked on Heize, or his other fledglings, had they not known who you were. There is fear to be had with mortals knowing of their existence; vulnerability lay in the moments that the sun is out, and a house fire could destroy a whole flock in minutes if their kind is not careful. Yoongi cursed their inability to wake while the sun was out, and now that he knows you know where he resides, he must find a new place to live out his days.

A glance at the old grandfather clock in the hallway shows him that the sun is now well and truly gone, allowing him to slip through the entrance of the home and out onto the sidewalk. He takes a deep breath, searching for your scent through the others that encompass the air around him; the grass along the road, the burnt rubber of tires in traffic, the lingering warmth of the sun before its descent, and then the faint smell of jasmine flowers after a fresh rainfall. You.

Blurring into motion, Yoongi travels several miles towards the city, slowing once other scents begin to emerge. Thin crust pizzas covered in meat and cheese, overflowing trash and body odor, and a desperation that covers the city’s nightlife with a humming buzz. The fading jasmine keeps him moving, though now at a human pace as he approaches what appears to be a dance studio. The sign above the door confirms as much, and he’s not surprised that the glass door is unlocked despite the red and white closed sign hanging at eye-level for passersby.

The floral scent grows tenfold, as if Yoongi has stepped into what he assumes your bedroom would smell like. There is a strange undercurrent that he isn’t used to associating with you, but he assumes it’s just lingering from the studio. As he walks past the lobby area, the shadows of the fake potted plants and the empty chairs intrigue him. Why you chose this place is beyond his comprehension, as a dance studio such as this one, owned by the Blake family—your family—for years, is in the middle of the city and one of the few places not related to the hidden career path of hunting. Unless you count using dance as a way to build agility for fighting those who cannot die, well at least not die easily.

Yoongi’s cockiness as he meanders closer to the hallway towards the various dance rooms leaves him caught off guard when the sound of whirring behind him causes him to move unnaturally before going eerily still. The slightest misstep is only noticed by Yoongi, whose barely beating heart seems to pick up minutely—not that anyone living or dead would be able to tell. He chuckles at your meager attempt to lock him in; a motorized grate lowering across the lobby door and windows.

His strength could easily rip the grate off of its frame, but this little game you’re playing is just too good to walk away from without seeing what you’ve planned with his own eyes. It only pops into his thoughts once he’s walked through the back studio where your scent is the strongest, that the grate lowering was not part of the plans his Mind Gift overheard from you.

So it’s only to his own surprise when the undercurrent rises to an overwhelming level and he realizes what his hubris blocked out. The mirrored room before him is splashed floor to ceiling with blood.

You - Present Day

With the scent of your blood so overwhelming to the centuries-old vampire, you watch from the corner of the room as he drifts towards the mirrors and closer to where you need him to be. Your fingertips itch on the small switchboard you hold, ready for your plan to unfold. He looks almost dazed, eyes unfocused as his fangs poke his bottom lip. He looks so different, from the way the journals make him out to be, in person he’s much more attractive, and you have to really focus to make sure you don’t miss your mark.

When Yoongi enters the area you’ve marked off with tape, you release your hold on the button that allows two things to happen simultaneously: a set of low UV flashbang grenades are set off, the mirrored walls reflecting the blinding light with a cacophony of sounds to drown out any thoughts he might try to detect, and a 4x4 cage made of the thinnest wire springs into place trapping him within its confines.

You watch him through your military-grade glasses, the lenses preventing the bright lights from disorienting you as his brilliant eyes shut against the danger they sense. He is a few centuries old, and you know that despite the direct hit of the UV light, which only lasts for a split second, the slight damage dealt to his skin heals seconds later.

But your aim wasn’t to kill him. He laughs, a loud bellyful that sounds almost joyous until you flip the second switch, which sets the alkali metal aflame. His laugh is silenced almost immediately, a growl rumbling lowly in his throat.

“What game are you playing at, little mortal?” His voice carries an edge, and you shiver with delight. You’re sure that it’s never been this easy to capture a vampire that is several centuries old, but sometimes the best laid plans are the most simple. You step forward from the corner you were in, no longer hidden as the flames light the room and you pull off the tinted lenses.

“I’m not playing any games at all.”

He glares at you, the slits of his eyes glowing an intense amber shade—an enhancement to what you predict were originally beautiful brown eyes—and you bravely take a step closer.

“Then what, praytell, would you call this,” his hand waves gingerly towards the room around him, “smoke and mirrors set up you have me in?”

“I…I want to experience being bitten.”

This time, the vampire does laugh fully, his head thrown back exposing his fangs and the long lines of his neck from his sharp jaw. His milky white collar bones are barely exposed in his black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt.

“No hunter,” he spits the word as if spitting a foul taste from his mouth, “would willingly subject themselves to a bite, to risk becoming that which they hunt.”

“I would.” Your answer rings with sincerity, at least to your own ears, and you hope that the vampire can see the longing in your eyes.

“What reason would I have to give in to this request? The promise that you’ll let me out of here before daylight comes to burn me into ash? That you’ll let me out of this fire prison you’ve created? Do I look like a fool, mortal?”

“I think you’re desperate enough to make sure tonight is not your last night on Earth, and you should know that you hold all of the cards.” You take a deep breath before sharing your deepest secret with the immortal being before you, your voice rushing with a frenzied speed. “I only learned of your existence once I was an adult. Before that, I prayed to whatever gods would listen to find a way to avoid the inevitable—to escape death. You know I grew up without parents, right?”

Yoongi only stared at you, glowing embers following your every move.

“Of course you know. I killed your progeny for their murder once I knew the truth.”

He hissed at you then, fangs extended fully as his eyes deepened with rage. He looked as if he had half a mind to grip the flame-laden cage and come after you, but held back—barely. You wait, quietly assessing him as he reins in his anger, chest no longer rising and falling in unbidden anger.

“That was a death that I deserved, and your anger will not sway how I feel about it. But it also doesn’t change what I am requesting of you. I want you to bite me.”

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Min Yoongi doesn’t believe the predicament he’s currently in. A fool! He curses himself. A damned fool to walk right into the trap you laid out for him.

The flames entrapping his body are low, but still, the heat has him on edge. His search of your mind as you speak shows no pretense, but he remembers how easily you fooled him with your thoughts just earlier today. The scent of your blood sang to him, luring him deeper into the dance studio until his mind couldn’t handle the amount; it overwhelmed him just long enough for you to pounce.

Now that the flames have had time to thrive, the smell of burning metal drowns out the worst of your scent, and he asks you questions to buy himself time to think. But he can’t understand you fully. Your actions and words do not align with what he knows of hunters, of what he knows of you from afar. To hear you earnestly wish for him to bite you, despite knowing how hard you trained to kill his fledgling, contradicts everything he thinks he knows about the prominent hunting families.

And still, your request piques his interest. The calmness of your body belies no deceit, no racing heart or skittered words as you barter with him as if discussing what to have for breakfast with a partner. And he’s studied your body, unbeknownst to you. He’s watched as you brought home men to fuck, heard the way your body reacted to their attempts at pleasure, the way your nervous system changed when you lied about seeing them again. Has smelled your jasmine scent and can’t lie that he’s wanted a taste…if only to then rip your pretty throat out.

He realizes in that moment that you do not know fully and truly what it is you are asking for. There are mysteries yet hidden from the mortal world about vampires, about their bite and the effect it has on the living when not immediately drained.

Yoongi grins, finally deciding to answer your request after long moments of thought.

“I accept your demands, hunter. I shall bite you in exchange for sparing my life.”

You - Present Day

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you walk away from his gaze to shut the door to the dance studio. You take a few deep breaths before turning around to walk back towards the switchboard, where you activate another switch.

A low hum reminiscent of fluorescent lights quietly fills the quiet of the room, to which Yoongi questions.

“Another precaution?”

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Just my way of making sure that you stick to your end of the bargain. Should you harm me against my will, I have a way to activate those lights lining the room, which are high-powered UV lights, and not just the ones that last for a second.” You look back at the switchboard, finger searching for the one to shut off the fire and disengage the cage. “The only way out of here safely is with my blessing.”

“Afraid of me, hunter?” His query has you pause your movements.

“Afraid of you? No. You’re my best bet at getting what I want.”

Facing the vampire, you maintain eye contact as you grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in as fluid a motion as you can to leave you in just a simple underwire t-shirt bra and your denim jeans—you assume his bite will still be messy, and walking out of here covered in blood seems like a sure way to attract police attention. Again, you see Yoongi take on that supernatural stillness that only creatures of the night can achieve. His eyes are like focused lasers on your body, and you feel a thrill as you reach behind you to release him.

With unnatural speed, he blurs into your space, forcing you back towards the wall—a cold hand on your exposed hip and the other leaving a dent as it braces against the wall by your ear.

“Any of my kind could’ve given you what you wanted. It need not be me,” he murmurs as his nose trails along your jawline seductively. But in the next moment, his fingers tighten into your skin as he growls. “So why strip and offer yourself to me?”

You squirm in his grip, a sense of deja vu taking over as you remember the dream you had a couple of nights ago. “Because,” you gasp out, “you’re the oldest vampire I know in existence. Newer vampires have no control, killing almost immediately.” You arch in an attempt to create space off of the wall—you hate the way you feel trapped. You question whether you should have trusted your instincts about Yoongi.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would a hunter want to be bitten?” His hand leaves the wall to grab your chin. A chill sweeps down your body from the points of contact, sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. His eyes flash a luminous amber. “Tell the truth.”

Your mind feels hazy from his command, almost as if you’ve stepped outside of yourself to watch your mouth open. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires,” your voice sounds dreamy, a wistful look upon your face, “ever since my parents died. I want to escape that fate, I want to master death.”

A low hum from Yoongi helps break the spell as his eyes ever so carefully appear to peel back the layers until he sees through to the real you. The little girl who cried at her parents funeral and vowed never to meet her maker. You sense when he makes his decision, his eyes growing lighter and his hand tilts your head to the side.

“There is much you do not know, and you know not truly what you ask for.” He inhales a breath he doesn’t need, and his voice changes, a different tone taking over. “But your body reacts—it longs for this, does it not?” he teases. “I can smell your lust, your desire.” He presses his body to yours, firm planes and muscle meeting your softer curves. You feel the closeness of his lips as they graze across yours.

A small whimper escapes your mouth. “Please,” you softly beg so your lips caress.

Yoongi’s tongue slips between your teeth in a kiss of seduction. There is no rush to his movements, only a controlled, steady pace as he meets your tongue with his. You feel his teeth prick your lip as his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. There’s no sound, except for the hum of the device and your heavy breathing. Yoongi doesn’t need to breathe.

You gasp for air when he trails featherlight kisses along your carotid artery, his hand sliding along your side and over your covered chest and onto your shoulder. Once there, he pushes your bra strap down and removes the fabric covering your breast, freeing it from the holster. His thumb circles the peak of your breast, taught from the friction. He must be enjoying the way he’s building the tension in your body, and you wonder if humans taste better to vampires when they’re aroused.

You don’t get a chance to ask. The insertion of his fangs into your neck is nothing like your dreams. The prickle of pain as they lance open your skin fades almost instantly when you feel the first pull of your blood through your veins and into his mouth.

You gasp, astonished as the euphoric feeling settles over you like a warm blanket and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you as he drinks from you in deep swallows. He’s taken in a few mouthfuls before he pulls away with a shudder that shakes his whole being.

“Divine,” he whispers, blood trailing along the sides of his chin as his hands move to fully free you of your bra, then trail along your curves. The contact is exquisite, the coolness of his hands doing wonders for the flames licking underneath your skin.

“More, touch me more, please,” you sigh, wanting nothing more than the creature who holds you in his arms. The feeling of him seems to burrow under your skin to the very depths of your soul as if he’s leaving a permanent stamp embedded.

His deft fingers cup your breast, causing you to moan with barely any movement. “Not enough!” you whine, uncaring at your petulance. Yoongi chuckles at you.

“Where do you want me to touch you, kitten? How do you want me to touch you? Under your jeans? Gentle or rough? Perhaps you want much more than that?”

You blink coquettishly, nodding yes and begging him to take more of your blood from you. Your hands reach for him, fingertips pulling at the edge of his clothes as if to free him of them. You’re rewarded with his alabaster skin, the light dusting of hair below his navel leading into the very pants your fingers fiddle with the button on.

His tongue laps at your heaving chest, and you watch as he cleans away the blood that ran from the bite he left. His fingers tug at your nipples, and you give up tugging at his pants as the sensation causes your head to fall back in a breathy whine. Your fingers have worked efficiently enough though—his pants fall to the floor and he kicks them aside to join the growing pile of clothes, and you add your jeans next in haste.

Another mewling sound leaves you when his tongue toys with your pert nipple, fangs scraping along the soft contours of your breast as he chases the last of your blood. When you feel your back hit a mirrored wall behind you, you welcome the cooling feel of the glass, though unsure of when you moved. Yoongi’s leg pries apart your thighs, hand dropping to the heat between as he presses against your still-clothed core in search of your clit. When his fingers push your panties aside and he begins to rub slippery circles against you, he chuckles lowly.

“How wet you are, indeed, pet. Yes, I think you want much more than just my bite.”

In your own mind, you agree with his words. You want so much more than just his bite because you want all of him—his bite, his touch, his cock filling you over and over as you crest in shuddering waves of insurmountable pleasure—for all of eternity. His lips drag along your neck as he speaks, leaving small kisses between his sentences. His fingers dance along your slick opening, teasing but never broaching. Not in the ways you want him to fill you.

He hikes up one of your legs so that it rests on his forearm, opening you up to him and at the same time that he plunges his fingers into you, he returns his mouth to your skin, placing a bite in the swell of your breast and drinking deeply. Your body thrums, blood pulsing slower to be in sync with Yoongi’s at every swallow of your life force.

You’ve never felt this way—no one has ever finger fucked you like this, and through the roaring of your blood in your veins, you distantly hear your own voice begging him for more. The heel of his hand makes contact with your clit, and you keen when he holds the position, fingers deep inside you to rub against the spongy patch of nerves as his wrist makes circular movements to stimulate your clit. Your hands work at the buttons along his shirt, pulling with haste and faintly recognizing the ping of the buttons as they ricochet free. Shoving the cloth off his shoulders, you’re exposed to delicate collarbones, a lean torso with blush nipples and a toned chest that tapers into a narrow waist. A small smattering of unruly black hair leads a path down the center into the briefs low on his hips.

You see starbursts behind your eyes as you cum, hard, walls fluttering rapidly around his long fingers. The air in the room is thick with need, desire running so deeply in your veins that you feel lightheaded. All you want is more, more, more. It’s not enough that he bit you, not enough that he brought you to ecstasy with just his fingers. You crave everything he has to give you. As if not of your own volition, you rock against the fingers still inside you, hands reaching to pull Yoongi’s face back towards yours.

Fingers twine with the hair at the nape of his neck, and with reckless abandon, you kiss him hard. The metallic taste of your blood mixes with a taste all his own and you relish the way the two mix into a delightful cocktail on your tongue. His fingers thrust shallowly into you as he slowly makes to remove them from your body. Your hips cant towards him, chasing the feeling until he drops your leg from his arm and you’re left empty and wanting.

The hollowness he’s left you with makes you want to cry, but when you try to pull away from the kiss and complain, he chuckles against your lips. “Hush, kitten, we’re just getting started.”

It seems like an eternity that he’s abandoned your pleasure, but with his supernatural strength, it takes mere seconds for his hands to rip your panties from your body, rid himself of his remaining clothes, bend his knees for access to hook his elbows around the backs of your knees, and lift you up. Your back slams into the glass mirror, and you feel the way it shatters around your body, but you feel no pain. Not when the new position has your core exposed to him and his velvet, steel cock is positioned at your entrance, teasing you with what’s to come.

The view of him between your thighs is amazing. Your eyes trail down his body, showing no shame as you rest them upon his cock, a blushing hue color fueled from your blood now pumping in his body. It’s erect, his lust for you is apparent as he flexes his hips. The tip sinks inside you with help from your first orgasm lubricating his entry, but he doesn’t let it get far before pulling back. He edges you with languid pumps, and you watch in anguish each time he retreats from your warmth. His cock glistens farther up each time he dips inside of you, and the unhinged, sex-craved and cock thirsty being inside you wants him covered in you, the smell of sex so overwhelming that people on the street can smell it.

“Oh, yes, kitten, everyone will know all of the depraved and debaucherous things I’m going to do to you.” He thrusts in with one fluid movement, and you swear you feel him in your chest. The fullness his girth offers splits you open like you’ve never experienced before, while his length reaches deep inside you.

A glance at Yoongi's face as he takes in your naked body proves that he too feels the snug way he fits inside of you, and is also expecting to see the bulge from the tip of his glorious cock pressing against your skin. A flash of disappointment when it doesn’t happen flits across his face, and you realize he was not joking about the depraved things he wants to do to you.

A press of his palm to your lower abdomen has your mouth open in silent pleasure as his hips swirl delectably; the pressure provides the perfect grind of his flexing muscle against every part of you that squeezes him, and the sound as he slips through you just to thrust in again only makes your lust rage more. It’s sinful, everything about the way he’s fucking you roughly is.

Gasping out sensual curses mixed with your name, Yoongi’s eyes flash an intense color, and as if reading your deepest thoughts, he pulls out of you and shifts away from the pane of shattered glass to one still intact. He flips you so that your breasts press to the mirrors. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them backward, his feet nudging your own apart. You brace yourself with your hands on the glass, breath leaving a hazy fog with each shuddering exhale of air as you find reprieve from the fire beneath your skin with a pressed cheek to the reflective wall.

“Fuck…me…” you moan out the curse when he seats himself fully inside of you, his pelvis pressed tightly against your ass cheeks as he lets out a low, throaty growl.

“I thought I was,” he replies smartly, but the shake to his voice shows how much restraint he’s showing. You press your ass into him as much as you can, rising onto your toes for leverage. Your eyes stare at his reflection behind you, watching as he curls his body around yours to lick at your earlobe. “I had plans of killing you, dreamt of the way I would torture you before I snapped this pretty little neck of yours, did you know?”

You didn’t know for certain, but you feel like all creatures of the night have the goal of killing humans one way or another, so it doesn’t really bother you. In fact, his words make you clench around him, because the way he’s worded it seems like these are no longer his plans. He confirms as much as his hips rock back and forth in a teasing rhythm that barely sates your needs for him.

“I’ve decided that this pussy is just too good to go to waste, kitten.” His head drops into the crux of your neck, breathing deeply. “Your sweet blood calls to me, and will taste even more decadent when you cum around my cock,” his tongue swipes over your skin before his fangs burrow into you with such an all-consuming lust, you nearly sob with how good it feels. His hips begin a punishing pace as he wraps his arms around you, one hand going to hold your right breast as the other hand drops between your thighs.

The pads of his first two fingertips slip around his thrusting cock, stimulating your weeping core before moving back up to strum along your clit, matching pace with each press inside of you. “You will make such a lovely creature, don’t you think? Cum for me, kitten, and I will make sure of it.” His words trigger a deep need inside you, words that soothe an ache you’ve carried since you were a child.

Your orgasm bursts from you in an earth-shattering explosion, so heady and rippling that you fear you will black out from the strength of it. You barely feel when his teeth sink into you again. He takes a deep pull from your artery, and your high gives him exactly what you think he was searching for. It’s almost shameful the way he moans against your skin as he drinks you in, but you’re so lost to his thrall that it only makes your desire for him deeper.

His thrusts stutter until he is no longer able to hold back, and he fills you as he rips his fangs from you. His head is thrown back as he growls through his ecstasy, and you blink slowly at his reflection, eyes tracing the veins in his neck now running red with your blood trailing from his mouth.

With more restraint than you thought he had left, he turns to you and you feel a fog take over as he asks you a series of questions about getting out of this room safely. You answer them each methodically, as if you have no control over your words.

You feel yourself growing more and more tired, watching every few seconds when your eyes decide to open again from each blink, bleary-eyed as Yoongi dismantles the failsafes you put in place should things go wrong. Your chest aches for him, wanting him closer to you, touching you, drinking from you.

“Soon, 달달한 피.” He kneels before you, dressed once again, hiding his body from you. You hate it. “It’s time for us to go somewhere safe.”

He pulls you into his arms and you preen, if you could purr, your chest would be rumbling in the pleasure of the feel of him. Your head rests on his shoulder and you try to stay awake; some part of you wants to pay attention to where you’re going, but blood loss wins as you sink into a deep slumber.

Yoongi - Several Days Later

Pain.

Your body thrashes with pain as the blood you just consumed spreads throughout your system. The last few days after leaving the ballet studio and entering Yoongi’s…home, for lack of a better word, has been full of the most exquisite satisfaction your body has ever experienced. You told him as much each night since arriving.

He’s reveled in giving into his most debased fantasies, and your body is covered in the proof; bruises littering your skin, chafing around your wrists and ankles, blood staining the rug beneath his feet where he now stands, watching you.

Yoongi hasn’t turned a mortal in almost 200 years—not since he turned the one you killed. You make a better replacement for her in many ways, he thinks. Your beauty, your mind, your 달달한 피, or sweet blood, which he can’t wait to taste once you’re resurrected. And because this is the longest he has gone since bestowing the Dark Gift upon a being, not to mention that he is closer to 400 years than he likes to admit, he is sure you will be powerful beyond belief.

He heals his wrist and glances at the time; he chose to turn you at sunset so he had time to prepare before he needs to rest. The marble walls that surround the underground basement bedroom of Yoongi’s home echo with your sounds of pain, so Yoongi leaves you in the bed as he ventures towards another wing. He knows that when the sun sets again, you shall be ravenous, and he needs the help of his brothers to bring in enough sustenance for when you wake.

His maker, Namjoon, lounges in his study with a beautiful woman straddling his hips. Her skin tone is darker than his, and their coloring makes a beautiful picture of caramel and chocolate swirls. She is draped over him, arms wrapped around Namjoon’s neck as she bucks her hips slowly against him, no doubt riding his cock now for several hours. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to enter and approach him; he’s used to such displays.

Namjoon licks his lips as he pulls his mouth from her neck, and then smiles up at Yoongi from his couch.

“Well done, enthralling the last of that hunter family. One less family we need to worry about.”

Yoongi focuses on Namjoon’s face, trying to ignore the whimpering moans from the woman getting off in front of him. It’s making his own cock stir, and he’s tempted to join in, but then he wouldn’t have time to gather the blood you need. He indulges for a few moments longer though, watching the way her supple breasts press against Namjoon’s firm chest as she kisses along his neck.

“You can join, brother. Would you like her mouth or her ass?”

Yoongi shakes his head but continues to enjoy watching the beautiful woman as she rides his maker. He’s tented in his jeans, but that’s also a normal occurrence for all of the men living here, since you can always find someone having sex at any moment.

“I wanted to let you know that I will be inviting a few mortals over. I plan to head out with the others and gather a few.”

Glee arises on Namjoon’s face. “You’ve given her your blood, brother? Oh, this is brilliant. Another one to add to our flock! We haven’t had anyone else in years.” He sighs out in content and then murmurs something into the woman’s ear which has her shuddering. He sinks his fangs into her to enjoy her orgasm before turning back to Yoongi.

“I can’t wait to meet your newest fledgling, Yoongi. I must know though…will you be possessive or is she one we all can share?”

Yoongi smiles, his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he grins at his maker over the shoulder of the woman who is now leaning away, head thrown back as she bounces on Namjoon’s cock with a fierceness of someone chasing a fourth or fifth orgasm.

“I think she may be open to sharing, brother, she should awake tomorrow at sunset.”

Yoongi turns away with a chuckle as he heads to find any of the other five of their flock to accompany him to the bar.

You - The Next Sunset

It’s disorienting how clear everything looks to you. You gasp as a hunger you’ve never felt before takes you into its grip and takes over your mind. Lurching out of the bed you’ve been fucked in every which way since arriving, you clutch at your neck. The hunger burns.

“Come here, kitten, I’ve got what you need right here.”

You turn to the voice, and a bright splash of scarlet comes into view. You don’t even think about it, you just bring it to your mouth and drink messily. You latch on and slurp down as much as you can, wanting every last drop to sate the intensity, but the voice tugs you away. You feel anger but then you’re given another warm mouthful of scarlet and indulge gluttonously.

This time, when the voice calls to you, there is no anger, only a need to follow, to go to the voice and await more from it. From him. Yoongi. Your memories flood you all at once, a pulsing thrum as your pussy throbs now that the blood from the drowsy humans is in your veins, and you search for him.

When you find him, you stumble up from your knees away from the bodies and throw yourself into his arms. You realize you’re still naked when he maneuvers your body so that your thighs are on either side of his, bulge from his jeans rubbing your core from the friction. Leaning into you he kisses you languidly, tongue cleaning up some of the mess you left behind before swirling with your tongue to share the taste of the humans in a kiss.

Your hips grind against him, the kiss turning sexual in moments and Yoongi growls in response to your libido, now heightened after death.

“Fuck,” he groans as you unzip his jeans and reverently pull his cock from his boxers, and using a combination of the blood dripping on your chest and your spit, begin to stroke him with firm movements.

Moments later you return to your first position, straddling Yoongi as you sink onto him repeatedly, one hand gripping your ass and the other in your hair, keeping your mouth on his.

‘Just like that, beautiful, he likes when his cock is buried deep inside a pretty girl.’

You gasp as you hear a melodic voice in your head, turning your head behind you to see six men watching you take Yoongi’s cock as his lips trail down your neck and chest.

You cock an eyebrow at the men, all so beautiful, you could cry at their jaw lines and angles, broad shoulders and dilated eyes.

“Yoongi, I didn’t realize you liked an audience,” you tease as you slow your movements and put on a show, pushing Yoongi’s shoulders down to the mattress so that when your chests meet, the view of how well you take him, how well he splits you open as you sink down and envelop him to the hilt, is visible to all of them.

“I like an audience, kitten, and sometimes I like when the audience joins in.” The look he’s giving you as you continue to ride him lets you know the question he’s asking you.

“With this new immortal lust of mine, I think I’d like that too.”

Sealing your decision with a bite to Yoongi’s neck, you take a deep pull as you feel the bed dip with the weight of the others joining you for what you hope will be the height of immortal lust that will last an eternity.

The END

달달한 피 (daldalhan pi)- “sweet blood”

315 notes · View notes

lua-magic · 9 months

Text

Improve your planets.

I know planets in our birth chart is fixed but we can fix the energies of planets externally as well.

Venus.

If you want to improve your Venus then wear white colour, include number six and wear either diamond or white sapphire in your middle finger

Mercury.

If you want to improve your Mercury then wear green colour, include number five and wear emerald on the little finger .

Mars.

If you want to improve your Mars, then wear red colour, include number nine and wear red coral on the ring finger.

Jupiter.

If you want to improve your Jupiter then wear yellow clothes mores, include number three and wear yellow sapphire on index finger.

Saturn

If you want to improve your Saturn then include number eight, wear black colour and wear amythest bracelet or blue sapphire on ring finger.

Sun.

If you want to improve your sun, then wear

orange, saffron, golden and red, include number one and wear Ruby in ring finger or wear copper bracelet.

You eat and drink water in copper vessels and practice sun gazing.

Moon.

To improve your moon in your chart then wear pale white, cream or silver colour, wear pearl ornaments or moonstone bracelet and include number two.

You should eat food and drink water in silver vessel and do moon meditation.

Rahu or north node.

If you want to improve north node then wear dark blue colour, include number four and wear hessonite bracelet.

Ketu or south node

If you want to improve your ketu then wear cats eye, include number seven and wear brown colour clothes.

Don't wear the stones of enemy planets together.

Sun is enemy planet of Saturn, Rahu and Ketu.

Moon is enemy planet of Saturn, rahu, ketu and Mercury and sun.

Mars and Mercury are enemy planets.

Venus is enemy planet of ketu and sun.

Jupiter is enemy of Rahu and Moon, Mercury and Venus

Saturn is enemy of Sun, Rahu.

Wear either the stone of Moon or Mars but don't wear them together.

Don't wear black or stone of Saturn if Saturn is in six, eighth and twelfth or even retro in your chart.

#occult #astro community #vedic astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astrology #ast

392 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 12 days

Text

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 11

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Though this is where the c.ai help ended because I was breaking the bot's pea pickin' mind. 😆

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten.

Eleven. 十一

You wake with a start.

You’re naked, and Donaka is sprawled out in his bed beside you. Your eyes roam over the long lines of his powerful body, taking in his angles and curves. His broad muscled back, and tapered waist.

A more bitable little ass was never created by God or man.

That bit of sanity you’d been hoping for once the hormones subsided mercifully returns to you. No matter how gorgeous this man is–no matter how good he fucks, or how many times he made you cum the night before with his hands and his cock and his tongue (sweet Confucious, Buddha, and baby Jesus, his tongue)–you have got to get out of here.

It’s early morning, the blue light of pre-dawn. You slip out of bed, nearly dying of a heart attack when he stirs beside you–but does not wake. Quickly you throw on the tatters of your dress, and on bare feet you race as quickly and quietly as possible out the door, and down the hall.

With your heart thundering in your ears you start rummaging through your drawers for that most essential of travel documents: your passport. The servants were not given access to lockers or any way to secure their belongings, so you’d hidden it in the bottom of your suitcase, inside a slit in the lining. As you stick your hand in it, fishing around, your hopes drop like a stone.

It’s gone.

You feel again, frantic this time, finding once more–it’s not there.

“Missing something?”

Donaka’s voice from the doorway makes you start; you lose your balance, tumbling over on the floor.

Anything you might say turns to ash on your tongue, as you look up at him, forbidding in a pair of black lounge pants, and nothing else. Why oh why does he have to be such a beautiful bastard?

You realize there’s no lying to him, so you stick out your chin. “Where is it?” you demand.

“In a safe place,” he answers, his lips pursing as he tries not to smile. “You have to admit…that wasn’t exactly secure.” He nods at your suitcase, and you clench your fist, the desire to hit him burning real in your bones. He made sure you didn’t have a safe place to put it.

“How dare you?” He just rolls his eyes, and crosses the floor to you in two strides, pulling you up off the floor.

“Come back to bed, darling. I was sleeping so peacefully before you had to go skulking around.”

“You can’t do this.”

You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince–him, or you?

He just lifts an eyebrow, sweeping one of those big hands across your cheek, into your hair. His hold on you is just this side of menacing. “There’s not a place in the world you could hide from me, y/n. Remember that.”

He tugs on your hand…and fuck you, if you’re not so flabbergasted, you don’t follow him like a starstruck idiot, absolutely flummoxed by his nerve.

Fine, you think. No passport? You just have to make it to your embassy. Surely they would put you in protective custody or something?

“You’ll never make it that far,” he tells you conversationally, his arm around your waist as you walk together down the hall.

“Where?”

“The Embassy, of course.”

Motherfucker.

He makes you pause at the window in the living room with him, the first rays of dawn beginning to shine through the massive windows. The forest looks like a gilded emerald; the water beyond it a blanket of diamonds. He follows your gaze, taking in the marvelous sight. Shouldn’t it be storming outside? Rain falling down, on this bleak day?

“How can you live with such an awful view?” he asks wryly, turning your attention back up to him. Before you can answer he kisses you, claiming your mouth for his as he presses you back against the window. His hand makes its way beneath your skirt, unimpeded as you did not take the time to even pull on your panties before making your escape from his bedroom.

“Donaka…” you protest, feeling utterly exposed like this, in the big open room, with nothing but glass behind you. The rest of the staff will be waking soon. The thought of one of your colleagues walking in on you like this makes you want to die all over again. “Please not here…someone will see.”

He scoffs at you, of course. “No one will interrupt us. This is my house. You are the only one here who never knew your proper place. We’re fixing that now.”

A small sound escapes you, something between a whine and a growl. All it earns you is a hushed, dark laughter, and this terrible man lowers himself to his knees before you, pinning you against the glass with one large hand spanning your torso. He smirks up at you, delighting in your self-righteous rage, your tears of frustration glittering in the corners of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he taunts you. “Isn’t this what you wanted all along? The bad man on his knees for you?” His smile is like a baring of teeth, and you both know who holds the real power here, no matter who is on their knees. His other hand has made its way up your thigh again, cupping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm against him, almost hurting you.

“No,” you whimper, fighting the urge to cry, your legs about to collapse out from under you.

“No?” he demands. “That’s not what I read.” His long fingers reach to test your center, finding your treacherous little cunt has cast her own vote for him yet again, moist and willing. You try to shy away but he pins you with his superior strength, utterly and completely.

“You missed the subtext,” you choke out, your heart breaking all over again. You were so resolved to fight the night before. That fire seems to have suffocated under the wet blanket of hopelessness again.

“Were there underlying themes in all that filth?” he asks incredulously.

Feeling idiotic all over again, your words lodge in your throat. But Donaka has paused in his ministrations, looking up at you with that laser-sharp gaze. “This isn’t what you wanted?” he asks with a deceptive gentleness. “My hands?” He pops the last buttons at the bottom of your dress, the garment gaping to bare all of you to his possessive gaze. “My mouth?” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your lower belly, those plush lips upon your flesh making you tremble, curling your toes. He strums at your slick center, his sultry voice dropping low. “You didn’t want my cock to fill that aching emptiness inside you?”

You writhe against the window, crying out as two of those clever fingers press up inside you, pleasuring you and pinning you as his tongue seeks out your needly little clit. You could murder him, for the way he makes you hate him and want him all in one breath.

He stops as suddenly as he started, looking up at you expectantly. “Well?”

You feel like the dumbest woman who ever walked the earth–but then, you suppose he already knew that about you. He’s had your measure from day one, and has simply been playing with you like a cat with a mouse ever since. Yet now, you would rather die than tell him what you’re really thinking. You shake your head tearfully, locking your heart up tight.

It doesn’t matter, because it seems this man can read your fucking mind.

“Did you hope I would fall in love with you, y/n? You young, sweet thing.”

His words slide past your ribs and pierce your heart, deadly as a stiletto. You really were a fool.

“Maybe I did want your love,” you admit, voice rough as you force it past the lump in your throat. “But all you want is submission.”

He told you as much, over and over the night before.

Yet he does not laugh at you, the way you expect him to. He looks up at you with such a weight in that dark gaze, you cannot breathe. “What is love, y/n? Do I not provide for you? Protect you? I let you talk to me with insouciance I would never tolerate from anyone else. I am not a tender man, but what little I have, I have given to you. Tell me, what is love, y/n?”

It’s almost as though he’s truly asking you.

Suddenly you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you. Does he love you? Or is he just fucking with you, the way he has been the whole time you’ve been here? You need to make up your mind about this, because the whiplash of wondering is going to be the end of you.

“Donaka…”

Then he narrows his eyes, that fire returned therein. “You are the one who taunted me with talk of leaving. Do you love me?”

“You scare me,” you finally answer, which should be a no…but isn’t exactly.

“You knew all along what I am, deep down. You sensed it, even without proof. You could have fled, but you stayed. You know why, bunny?”

You make a keening sound as he curls his fingers inside you, tormenting you with another wet kiss to your clit. “Do you know why?” he demands again.

You can hardly find your voice. “Why?”

“Because I fascinate you, the same way you fascinate me. I’m more than willing to try to fuck it out of our systems, but I suspect–” He presses your clit with his thumb, tearing a sob from your throat, stealing your ability to think, to breathe. Your head rocks back against the glass, hard enough to bruise. “I’ll be keeping you for a long time.”

Then his tongue dips into your slit, lapping at your clit, and you forget everything for a long while.

#donaka mark #donaka mark x reader #donaka mark x you #donaka mark x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #dark romance #plz be warned

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sophaeros · 8 months

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arctic monkeys for q magazine, june 2011 (x) (x)

ARCTIC MONKEYS: Inside Alex Turner's Head

Words Sylvia Patterson Portrait John Wright

The day Arctic Monkeys moved into their six bedroom, Spanish-style villa in the Hollywood Hills, where the first-floor balcony looked over the patio swimming pool, they knew exactly what to do.

"From the balcony, you could get on t'roof and jump in't pool," chirps the Monkeys' most gregarious member, drummer Matt Helders, in his homely Yorkshire way. "We looked at it and said, That's definitely gonna happen. So by the end, we did a couple of 'em. Somersaults in t'pool, from the roof. At night time."

In January 2011, as Sheffield and the rest of Britain endured its bitterest winter in a century, Arctic Monkeys capered among the palm trees, eschewing hotels for a millionaire's Hollywood homestead as they recorded and mixed their fourth studio album, Suck It and See.

The four Monkeys, alongside producer James Ford and engineer James Brown, lived what they called the "American man thing": watched Super Bowl on giant TVs, played ping-pong, hired two Mustangs, cooked cartoon Tom And Jerry-sized steaks on barbecues on Sundays, had girlfriends over to visit, all cooking and drinking around the colossal outdoor kitchen area featuring a fridge and two dishwashers. Living atop the Hills, they could see the Pacific Ocean beyond by day, the infinite glittering lights of downtown LA by night.

Every day, en route to Sound City Studios, they'd travel in a seven-seater four-by-four through the mountains, via bohemian 60s enclave Laurel Canyon, blaring out the tunes: The Stones Roses, The Cramps, the Misfits' Hollywood Babylon. For the sometime teenage art-punk renegades whose guitarist, Jamie Cook, was once ejected from London's Met Bar for refusing to pay €22 for two beers, the comedy rock'n'roll life still feels, however, absolutely nothing like reality.

NICK O'MALLEY: "It were really as if we were on holiday. When we came back it's the most post-holiday blues I've ever had!"

JAMIE COOK: "It's hard to comment on that. It were just really good fun."

MATT HELDERS: "We always said, As soon as things like that feel normal, we're in trouble. But it's just funny. You might think it would get more and more serious as you get older but it's getting funnier. We've done four albums now and I'm still only 24, I'm still immature to an extent. So who cares?"

Alex? Al? Are you there?

ALEX TURNER: "Yeah, it were good times. But we were in the studio most of the time. So there's no real wild Hollywood stories. Hmn. Yeah."

Wednesday, 16 March 2011, Strongroom Bar, Shoreditch, East London, 11am. Alex Turner, 25, slips entirely alone into an empty art-crowd brasserie looking like an indie girl's indie dream boy: mop-top bouffant hair which coils, in curlicues, directly into his cheekbones, army-green waist-length jacket, baggy-arsed skinny jeans, black cord zip-up cardigan, simple gold chain, supermoon sized chocolate-brown eyes.

Almost six years after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor became the indie-punk anthem of a generation (from the first of Arctic Monkeys' three Number 1 albums), and nothing prepares you for the curious phenomenon of Alex Turner "in conversation". Unlike so many of the Monkeys frenetic early songs, he operates in slow motion, seemingly underwater, carrying a protective shell on his back, perhaps indie rock's very own diamond-backed terrapin. The most celebrated young wordsmith in rock'n roll today talks fulsomely, in fact, only in shapeless, curling sentences punctuated with "maybe... hmn.. yeah", an anecdotal wilderness sketching pictures as vague as a cloud. He is, though, simultaneously adorable: amenable, gentle, graceful, and as Northern as a 70s grandpa who literally greets you with "ey oop?".

"People think I'm a miserable bastard," he notes, cheerfully, "but it's just the way me face falls." Still profoundly private, if not as hermetically sealed as a vacuum-packed length of Frankfurter, his fante-shy reticence extends not only to his personal life (his four-year relationship with It-girl/TV presenter Alexa Chung, whom he never mentions) but to insider details generally. Take the Monkeys’ Hollywood high jinks documented above: not one word of it was described by Turner. Before Q was informed by his other Monkey bandmates, Turner’s anecdotal aversion unfolded like this:

Describe the lovely villa you were in. AT: "Well... we certainly had a... good view."

Of what? AT: "Well, we were up quite high."

The downtown LA lights going on forever? AT: "I dunno. It was definitely that thing of getting a bit of sort of sunshine. Is it vitamin D? If you can get vitamin D on your record, you've got a bit of a head start. So we'd get up and drive to the studio."

What were you driving? AT: "Nothing... spectacular. But yeah, we'd drive up the studio, spend all day there and sort of, y know, get back. To be honest... we had limited time. So we spent as much time as possible kind of getting into it, like, in the studio.

So your favourite adventures were what? AT: "Well, they were really… minimal. We were working out there!"

Any nightclubs or anything, perhaps? AT: "You really want the goss 'ere, don't you?"

Yes, please. AT: "I could make some up. Nah!"

And this was on the second time of asking. It's perhaps obvious: Alex Turner, one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation (four Monkeys albums and two EPs in five years, The Last Shadow Puppets side-project, a bewitching acoustic soundtrack for his actor/video director friend Richard Ayoade's feature-length debut Submarine), is dedicated only to the cause – of being the best he can possibly be. He simply remembers the songs much more than the somersaults.

Throughout 2009, Arctic Monkeys toured third album Humbug – the record mostly made in the Californian desert with Queens Of The Stone Age man-monolith Josh Homme – across the planet. While hardly some cranium-blistering opus, its heavier sonic meanderings considerably slowed the Arctic Monkeys' live sets and on 23 August 2009, Q watched them headline the Lowlands Festival, Holland and witnessed a hitherto unthinkable sight – swathes of perplexed Monkeys fans trudging away from the stage. With the sludge rock mood matching their cascading dude-rock hair it seemed obvious: they'd smoked way too much outrageously strong weed in the desert.

"Heheheh, yeah," responds Turner, unperturbed. "That's your theory. You probably weren't alone."

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Turner's arm is now nonchalantly draped along the back of a beaten-up brown leather sofa. He ponders his band's somewhat contrary reputation…

"I think starting the headline set at Reading with a cover of a Nick Cave tune perhaps was a bit contrary. D'youknowhat Imean?! But to be honest, that summer, at those festivals, we had a great time. And I know some fans enjoyed those sets 10 times more. And you can't just do, y’know, another Mardy Bum or whatever. Because how could you, really?"

With Humbug, notes Turner, "I went into corners I hadn't before, because I needed to see what were there," but by spring 2010 he wanted their fourth album to be "more song-based" and less lyrically "removed". He was "organised this time", studied "the good songwriters" (from Nick Cave, The Byrds and Leonard Cohen to country colossi Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline), discovered "the other three strings" on his guitar, and wrote 12 songs through the spring and summer of 2010, mostly in the fourth-floor New York flat he shared with Chung before the couple moved back to London late last summer (the New York MTV show It's On With Alexa Chung was cancelled after two seasons). The result: major-key melodies, harmonised singing and classic song structures.

At the same time he revisited the opposite extreme: bands such as Black Sabbath and The Stooges ("we wanted a few wig-outs as well"); he was also still heavily influenced by the oil-thick grinder rock of Josh Homme, who is clearly now a permanent Monkeys hero. After four months' rehearsals in London, on 8 January the Monkeys relocated to LA for five swift weeks of production and Homme came to visit, singing backing vocals on All My Own Stunts. Tequila was involved.

"Tequila is probably me favourite," manages Turner, by way of an anecdote. "But it takes a certain climate... It's not the same... in the rain. Yeah. [Looks to be contemplating a lyric] Tequila in the rain."

Vocally, he developed the caramel richness first unveiled on The Last Shadow Puppets' Scott Walker-esque The Age Of The Understatement, finding a crooner's vibrato. "Everything before was so tight,” he notes, clutching his neck. "Probably just through nerves. That's just not there any more." Suck It and See contains at least four of the most glittering, sing-along, world-class pop songs (and obvious singles) of Arctic Monkeys' career: the towering, clanging She's Thunderstorms, the summertime stunner The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, the heavenly harmonised title track and the Echo & The Bunnymen-esque jangly pop of closer That's Where You're Wrong.

Elsewhere, in typically contrary "fashion", there's preposterous head-banger bedlam (Brick By Brick, the rollicking faux-heavy rock download they released in March "just for fun", featuring vocals by Helders; Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair, and Library Pictures). News arrives that the first single proper will be Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair. Q is perplexed. Brilliantly titled, certainly, but arriving after Brick By Brick, the new album will appear to the planet as some comedy pastiche metal album for 12-year-old boys.

You've got all these colossal, summery, indie-pop classics and you've gone for... The Chair? AT: [Laughing uproariously] "The Chair! I'm now calling it The Chair, that's cool. Well for once it weren't even our suggestion. It was Laurence's (Bell, Domino label boss). And I were, Fucking too right! He's awesome. It'd be good to get a bit of fucking rock'n'roll out there, won't it? It's riffs. It's loud. It's funny."

If you don't release The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala as a single I'm going round Domino to kick Laurence's "awesome" butt. AT: "I think it'll be the next one!"

The record's title, meanwhile, could've been more enigmatically original than the un-loved phrase Suck It and See. The band, struggling with ideas due to the opposing sonic moods, invented an inspiration-conjuring ruse: to think of new names for effects pedals in the style of Tom Wolfe, Turner being long enamoured with the American author's legendarily psychedelic books The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, "cos that just sounds awesome".

"There's the Big Muff pedal," he elaborates, "That’s the classic. I've got the Valve Slapper. And there's the Tube Screamer. So we came up with the Thunder Suckle Fuzz Canyon. And… wait till I assemble it in me mind… em… it'll come to me… The Blonde-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap. So we were going for summat like that."

A wasted opportunity?

"Nah. Because some of those things ended up in the lyrics anyway. Suck It and See was just easier."

Alex Turner, rock'n'roll's premier descriptive art-poet, still writes his lyrics long-hand in spiral-bound notebooks. "Writing lyrics is a craft that I've practised a bit now," he avers. "In me notebook it looks like sums. Theories. There's words and arrows going everywhere. There's always a few possibilities and I write the word 'OR' in a square."

For our most celebrated colloquial sketch-writer of the everyday observation (all betting pencils, boy slags and ice-cream van aggravations) the more successful he becomes, the less he orbits the ordinary. "I'm not struggling with that, to be honest," he decides. "In fact I'm enjoying writing lyrics much more than I did. Stories. Describing a picture. Um. There's quite a bit of weather and time in this one. Which is probably not reassuring. 'Oh God, he's writing about the weather.' Maybe leave that out!"

There are also some direct, funny, romantic observations: "That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun/And I only hope you've got it aimed at me..." (from the title track).

Some of your romantic quips, now, must be about Alexa. AT: "Right. Yeah. Definitely. Well... there's always been that side to our songs, when we weren't writing about... the fucking taxi rank. It's kind of inevitably... people you're with." [At the mention of Chung's name, Turner is visibly aggrieved, head sliding into his neck, terrapin-esque indeed.]

It must have been very grounding being in a proper relationship through all this madness. Because if you weren't, girls would be jumping all over your head. AT: "Em. Hmn. Well, of course that helps you to... I don't really know.. what the other way would be."

Does Alexa wonder if the lyrics are about her? AT: "Oh there's none of that. Yeah, no, there's no looking over the shoulder."

She must be curious, at least. "Maybe."

Did you ever watch Popworld? AT: [Nervous laughter] "Em! Now and again."

Did you ever see the episode where she helps Paul McCartney write a song about shoes? AT: "Ah, yeah I think so, maybe I did see that."

Well, if I was you, I'd have been thinking, "She's the one for me." AT: "Well. Yeah... maybe that would've... sealed the deal! Hmn. But maybe that wasn't when i got the ray of light. When was? Nah [buries head in hands]. I might have to go for a cigarette..."

Q can't torture him any more and joins him for a snout. Turner smokes Camels from a crumpled, sad, soft-pack and resembles a teenager again. As early song You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me says, "Never tenser/Could all go a bit Frank Spencer…”

In January 2006, when Arctic Monkeys' Number 1 album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut in UK history, inadvertently redefining the concept of autonomy and further imploding the decimated music industry (& wasn't their idea to be "the MySpace band", it was their fans': the Monkeys merely kick-started viral marketing by giving away demos at gigs), the 19- and 20-year-old Monkeys were terrible at fame. They weren't so much insurrectionary teenage upstarts as teenage innocents culturally traumatised by the peak-era fame democracy.

To their generation (born in the mid-'80s) fame was now synonymous with some-twat-off-the-telly a world of foaming tabloid hysteria where renown and celebrity meant, in fact, you were talentless. Hence their interview diffidence and receiving awards via videos dressed up as the Wizard OfOz and the Village People. Which only, ironically, made them even more celebrated and famous. (“That were a product of us just trying to hold onto the reins," thinks Turner today. "Being uncooperative.")

Q meets The Other Three one morning at 11am, in the well-appointed, empty bar of the Bethnal Green, Bast London hotel they're staying in (all three live in Sheffield, with their girlfriends, in their own homes). First to arrive is the industrious, sensible and cheerful Helders, crunching into a hangover-curing green apple. He has recovered from last year's boxing accident at the gym, which left his broken arm requiring a fitted plate. Now impressively purple-scarred, the break felt "interesting" and the doctor couldn't resist the one-armed drummer jest: "D'you like Def Leppard?"

Currently enjoying an enduring bromance with Diddy, he still doesn't feel famous, "it just doesn't feel that real, there's no paparazzi waiting for me to trip up." He and Turner, during the four-month rehearsals last year, became an accomplished roast dinner cooking duo for the band. "I reckon we could have us our own cookbook," he beams. "Pictures of us stirring, with a whisk."

O'Malley, an agreeable, twinkly-eyed 25-year-old with a strikingly deep voice and a winningly huge smile, is still coyly embarrassed by the interview process. A replacement for the departed original bass player Andy Nicholson in May 2006, he went from Asda shelf-filler to Glastonbury headliner in 13 months and still finds the Monkeys "a massive adventure". His life in Sheffield is profoundly normal – he's delighted that his new home since last October has an open-hearth fireplace: "Me parents had electric bars." He has also discovered cooking. “I’m just a pretty shit-hot housewife, most of the time," he smiles. "I cook stews, fish combinations, curries, chillies. I made a beef pho noodle soup the other day, Vietnamese, I surprised meself, had some mates round for that."

Recently, at his dad's 50th birthday bash, the party band, made up of family and friends, insisted he join them onstage "for ...The Dancefloor. So I were up there [mimes playing bass, all sheepish] and it were the wrong pitch, they didn't know the words or 'owt, going, Makin eyes... er..." He has no extra-curricular musical ambitions. "I'm happy just playing bass," he smiles. "I've never had the skill of doing songs meself. It'd be shit!"

Cook, 25, is still spectacularly embarrassed by the interview process. He perches upright, with a fixed nervous smile, newly shorn of the beard and ponytail he sported in LA: "Rockin' a pone, yeah, because I could get away with it." With his classic preppy haircut and dapper green military coat (from London's swish department store, Liberty), he looks like a handsome '40s film star. (Turner deems Cook "the band heartbreaker" and had a word with him post-LA: "I said to him, Come on, mate, you've got to get that beard shaved off. Get the girls back into us. Shift some posters.")

His life in Sheffield is also profoundly normal. He still plays Sunday League football with his local pub team, The Pack Horse FC (position, left back), remains in his long-term relationship with page-three-model-turned-make-up-artist Katie Downes and "potters about" at home, refusing to describe said home, "cos I'll get burgled".

A tiler by trade, he always vowed, should the Monkeys sign a deal, that he'd throw his trowel in a Sheffield river on his last day of work. "I never did fling me trowel," he confirms. "Probably still in me shed." He's never considered what his band represents to his generation. "I'd go insane thinking about it, I'm pretty good at not thinking about it… Oh God. I'm terrible at this!"

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Alex Turner is cloudily describing his everyday life. "I just keep meself to meself," he confounds. He mostly stays indoors and his perfect night in with Alexa is "watching loads of Sopranos. And doing roast dinners".

No longer spindle-limbed, he attends a gym and has handsomely well-defined arms – "You have to look after yourself."

Suddenly, Crying Lightning from Humbug rumbles over the bar stereo. "Wow. How about that? I was quite happy the other morning cos Brick By Brick were on the round-up goals on Soccer AM. It's still exciting when that happens. It was like Brick By Brick is real."

He spends his days writing music, "listening to records", and recommends Blues Run The Game by doomed '60s minstrel Jackson C Frank ("who's that lass?... Laura Marling, she did a cover recently), a simple, acoustic, deep and regretful stunner about missing someone on the road.

Lyrically, he cites as an example of greatness the Nick Cave B-side Little Empty Boat [from ‘97 single Into My Arms ], a comically sinister paean to a sexual power struggle: "Your knowledge is impressive and your argument is good/But I am the resurrection babe and you're standing on my foot."

"I need a hobby," he suddenly decides. "I'd like to learn another language." Since his mum is a German teacher (his dad teaches music), surely he can speak some German? "I know how to ask somebody if they've had fun at Christmas." Go on, then. "Nah!"

Where Turner's creative gifts stem from remains a contemporary rock'n'roll mystery; he became a fledgling songwriter at 16, after the gift of a guitar at Christmas from his parents. An only child, did his folks, perhaps, foresee artistic greatness? "I doubt it!" he balks. "Cos I didn't. I wasn't... a show kid." Like the others, he doesn't analyse the past, or the future.

"You can't constantly be thinking about what's happened," he reasons, "it's just about getting on with it." The elaborate pinky ring he now constantly wears, however, a silver, gold and ruby metal-goth corker featuring the words DEATH RAMPS is a permanent reminder of he and his best friends’ past. The Death Ramps is not only a Monkeys pseudonym and B-side to Teddy Picker, but a place they used to ride their bikes in Sheffield as kids.

"Up in the woods near where we lived," he nods. "Just little hills. But when you're eight years old they're death ramps." The ring was custom made by a friend of his, who runs top-end rock'n'roll jewellery emporium The Great Frog near London's Carnaby Street. Ask Turner why he thinks the chase between his writing and speaking eloquence is quite so mesmerisingly vast and he attempts a theory.

"Well, writing isn't the same as speaking," he muses. "Not for me. I seem to struggle more and more with... conversation. Talking onstage... I can't do it any more. Hmn. I'll have to work on that."

The ever-helpful Helders has a better theory.

"Since he's been writing songs," he ponders, “It seems like he’s always thinking about that. So even when he’s talking to you now, he’s thinking about the next thing that rhymes with a word. Even when he’s driving. We joke he’s a bad driver, his focus is never 100 per cent on what he’s doing. Which is good for us cos it means he’s got another 12 songs up his sleeve. I think music must be the easiest way for him to be concise and get everything out. Otherwise his head would explode.”

The Shoreditch.com photo studios, 18 March. Alex Turner, today, is more ethereally distracted than ever, transfixed by the studio iPod, playing Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, a version of I’d Rather Go Blind. Occasionally, he’ll completely lose his conversational thread, “Um. I’ve dropped a stitch.”

The first to arrive for Q’s photoshoot, he greets his incoming bandmates with enormous hugs (and also hugs them goodbye). Today, Q feels it’s pointless poking its pickaxe of serious enquiry further into Turner’s vacuum-packed soul and wonders if he’ll play, instead, a daft game. It’s called Popworld Questions, as first posed by someone he knows rather well.

“Oh, OK. Let’s do it,” he blinks, now perched in an empty dressing room. He then vigorously shakes his head, “Um…I’ve gotta snap back into it.”

Here, then, are some genuine “Alexa Chung on Popworld” questions (2006-2007), as originally posed to Matt Willis, Amy Winehouse, Robbie Williams, Pussycat Dolls, Kaiser Chiefs and Diddy.

Why do indie bands wear such tight jeans? AT: “Um. I supposed they do. They haven’t always. When we first were playing I was definitely in flares. You need to be quite tall to get the full effect, though. So, that's why this indie band wears such tight jeans, cos we've not got the legs for flares."

What makes you tick in the sexy department? AT: "Wow. Pass. What do I find most attractive in a woman? Something in the head? That's definitely a requirement. Well... Hmn. I'm struggling."

Tell us about all the lovely groupies. AT: "No!"

If dogs had human hands instead of paws, would you consider trying to teach them to play the piano? AT: "Absolutely. I'd teach Hey Jude."

How many plums d'you think you can comfortably fit in one hand? AT: "They're not very big. [Holds small, pale, girly hand up for inspection] It's a shame. Probably three. Diddy only managed two? Maybe not then. I can carry a lot of glasses at once, though. If they're small ones I can do four."

Are you cool? AT: "Not as much as I'd like to be. There's this clip where Clint Eastwood is on a talkshow and he gets asked, Everybody thinks of you as defining cool, what d'you think about that? And he gets his cigs out, takes one out, flicks it into his mouth, lights it and says, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Here, Turner locates his Camels soft-pack and attempts to do a Clint Eastwood. He flicks one upwards towards his mouth. And misses. Flicks another. And misses. "Third time lucky?" He misses. "I'll get it the next time." And succeeds. "Hey. Fourth time. Don't put that in! So there you go. I'm four steps away from where I wanna be."

Thank you very much for joining me here on Popworld, here's my clammy hand again. There it is, let it slip, hmmn. You can let go now. AT: "OK! Were you a Popworld fan, then? It was funny. Cool. What were we talking about, before?"

Blimey, Alex. What must you be like when you're completely stoned out of your head? AT: "Stoned? What d'you mean, cos I seem like that anyway? Yeah. A lot of people... tell me I'm a bit... dreamy. But I like the idea of that. Of being somewhere else."

Two days earlier, Turner had contemplated what he wanted from all this, in the end. Many seconds later he gave his deceptively ambitious answer.

"I just wanna write better songs," he decided. "And better lyrics. I just definitely wanna be good at it. Hmn. Yeah.”

—

RUFUS BLACK: AKA Matt Helders, on his ongoing bromance with Diddy

Matt Helders has known preposterous rap titan Diddy since they met in Miami in 2008. “He goes, Arctic Monkeys! Then he said summat about a B-side and I was like, He's not lying! I just thought, This is funny, I'm gonna go with this for a while." Last October Diddy texted Helders, suggesting he play drums with his Diddy Dirty Money band on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, to give his own drummer a day off. “I were bowling with me girifriend at the time. In Sheffield, on a Sunday." On the day of recording, says Helder, "We had a musical director. That were one of the maddest times of my life. Next day Diddy said, Why don't you just stay? Come along with me. So I went everywhere with him." Diddy had "a convoy of cars" and made sure Helders was always in his. "He'd stop his car and go, Where's Matt? You're coming with me! So I'd get in his car. Just me, him, his security, driver." Diddy, by now, had given him a pseudonym - Rufus Black. "He kept saying, I don't wanna fuck up your image. And I'm, I don't think it's gonna do me any harm!" He stayed in Diddy's spectacularly expensive hotel. Some weeks later, Helders almost returned to the Dirty Money drumstool for a gig in Glasgow. "But we were rehearsing in London. I were like, I might come, how are you getting there? And he were like, Jet. Jump on t’jet with me. But I had to stay in Bethnal Green instead.”

Love’s young dream: Diddy (left) with Helders

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #nick o'malley #jamie cook #sias era #interviews #q magazine #my image id #bands #this is such a funny interview honestly shfjwjs #self proclaimed housewife nick my beloved......#also why did the interviewer describe alex's hands as small pale and girly HELPME #btw im missing page 93 it's probabky just a photospread but yeah #i managed to find the dead links' images on vk #eye contact #not my scan

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shiny-jr · 2 years

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damnation (peek I?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ace Trappola, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: So, as mentioned in previous posts, this is only a snippet of what is to come in a project I’m working on. I just wanted to do something for my followers since we have surpassed the milestone that is 4,000 hearts, which is huge. So thank you! Unfortunately, I don’t really have time for a special like I’ve done before where I accept requests since I’ve been so busy with irl stuff and the current twst quiz project. So here’s a small bit of what you can hopefully expect. Remember, I may or may not change things, so what you see now may not be the same later in the final result. That being said, I’m sorry I couldn’t provide much else besides peeks at three of the seven results. I still have a LOT more to write. Like, a ton. But I hope you all look forward of what is to come. Added: Deleted the Scarabia and Pomefiore part to create their own sneak-peeks later.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

First there will be questions you must answer. Questions that I will not reveal in this sneak-peek, but based on the answers you give to those questions, you will receive a result with a story. This post is a peek at some of those stories/results. Important things to keep in mind that you learn from the questions:

The mc is deemed a criminal in their society.

All criminals in this society are banished, no matter how insignificant or significant the crime may be.

This particular society makes a show of banishment, to make others fear this fate. Which mc recalls seeing trials on tv about past criminals.

All criminals are never seen or heard from again. No one knows for certain what happens to them, but most assume death.

Although the most popular fantastical theory is that criminals become henchmen for infamous evil-doers, and receive punishment there that may range from anywhere like a violent painful death to spending eternity in some tiny horrid prison.

THE RED QUEEN

Robes. You were wearing robes of the finest quality that weighed heavily on your shoulders. This surface you laid on felt... nice. Soft, nothing like the hard bench of the prison cell. As you sat up and recalled your current dire situation, you felt a sense of dread loom overhead like a thick blanket of gray clouds. Immediately, fearfully, you scanned your surroundings. Everything was painted red, there was so much red velvet. The floors were polished checkered black and white and the furniture, if not completely red, was crafted of finely carved wood. It was fancy here. Safe, for now. Wherever this place was.

There was something hefty on your head, only noticing its weight settling on your skull as you moved to stand up from the crimson red sheets on the king-sized mattress. As you removed the item from your head, you were perplexed to see a small golden crown and a heart-shaped staff beside the spot you had laid on. Wait just a moment... red everywhere? A fancy setting? A crown and a heart-shaped staff? Rapidly you dashed over to the mirror just beside the bed, gasping at your appearance.

You were dressed just like royalty. And not just any royalty, like a king. A king of red with a heart-shaped staff... Just like the meek king that was married to the ruthless Queen of Hearts from the fairytales. So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... you were the king. How did the story go again?

The Red Queen, or Queen of Hearts, ruled over Wonderland with an iron fist. She would behead anyone who got in her way, and her reign terrorized the residents of the realm. That is, until Alice fell down a hole and arrived in Wonderland. She would eventually free this land from the oppressive rein of the queen. As for the king... what happened to him again? He didn't really appear in the story. You wracked your memory for an answer, when the horrid realization came to you. The Red Queen had been so terribly jealous and suspected that her husband was cheating, that she had him beaded! His head left to rot as it floated in a river of blood, surrounded by the heads of other victims, and the king's lifeless skull still with the crown. He had died before Alice even arrived in Wonderland!

You clutched your neck, grimacing at the thought of your own detached head, crown still attached, doomed to sail in a moat of blood. It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. There had to be a way to prevent your death, or at least stall for time, but how? The king couldn't just up and run away! People would take notice immediately, someone would inform the queen, and you'd be a goner for sure! But then what? You couldn't kill her either, could you...? It certainly was an idea. You would be doing a favor for the rest of Wonderland too...

THUMP!

Abruptly the doors flew open, nearly causing you to shriek. But you managed to hold your tongue as you quickly placed your crown back on and clutched your staff. When your eyes focused on the door, you were surprised and almost relieved to see the figure of a short young man that had slammed the doors open. He was... rather adorable, actually. It caused you to tilt your head, endeared by his appearance.

The young man had hair that shamed the red roses, and wide gray eyes. As soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his face grew flush and his expression twisted into one of rage. Immediately he slammed the doors shut behind him, stomping up to you, his heels violently clicking against the tiled floors. When the short young man was in your face, another horrible realization dawned on you. With that crown on his head and his wondrous red garbs, this could only be the queen. Or at least, someone meant to be the red queen.

“You knave! Where have you been lurking?!”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? What was the king even doing before you got here? Most importantly, how would you avoid the queen’s wrath?

At your lack of a response, he only seemed to grow more frustrated as he threw wild accusations, “You–– You’ve been sneaking about, seducing the men of my court, haven’t you?! I shall have your head––!”

“Wha–– N-No, I haven’t!” You blurted out. The king was originally beheaded because the queen was jealous and thought she would lose him to others. So if you could assure him that your heart belonged to him, well… survival just might be possible. Although acting wasn’t necessarily your strong point, you could only try for the sake of living another day. Nervously you smiled, throwing aside your staff as you lifted your hands to gently hold his fist he had been angrily waving near your face. Thank god he didn’t have a knife or anything of the sort, or you feared he may have tried to stab you out of raging envy. “How could I ever dare to throw my loyalty to you away…? You are amazing…! I apologize sincerely if I haven’t been able to express my love for you properly. S-Sometimes it feels like you’re really too much for my heart to handle, you in all your… glory…!” Oh god, this was going terribly. All you could do to give the messy act a bow to top it off, was lean your head down and hesitantly kiss the back of his hand.

Miraculously, that seemed to work. Almost. The queen’s face was no longer as flushed, but he gazed down at you as you lingered at his hand. Suspicion was still evident in his eyes. “How do I know?”

“H-Huh…?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you won’t leave me as well? How do I know that you still love me? Prove it to me.” Those gray eyes of his watched you carefully, seemingly unhappy with your lack of a response. After about five seconds of no answer, his face scrunched up and he bellowed, “Guards!! Gua–– mmph!”

Not knowing what else to do, you kissed him. He wanted a sign of devotion, right? Oh god, this was it. Your death was here and now. You had no other way to shut him up. If you covered his mouth with your hands, you were a goner. If you attacked him, you were a goner. If you tried to continue reasoning, you were still a goner! You can’t believe that this was how you died, having to kiss a stranger as your last desperate attempt to live. Well, he wanted a sign. You were ready for him to push you off and armored guards come running in to drag you to the guillotine, when the most unexpected thing happened. He froze, he didn’t fight back or scream bloody murder.

When you slowly pulled away, you were stunned. His face was flush again, but for an entirely different reason other than anger. There was a dazed look on his face, and it almost looked as if he wanted to do it again judging by how he gazed longingly at your lips. It was then you understood that your reckless decision making might’ve just saved your neck.

The red ruler frowned, but you were unsure if it was because he was unsatisfied with something or if it were for another reason entirely. This time, when he opened his mouth, he spoke softly, as if still dazed. “You scoundrel… How dare you play with my heart like this? I should still take your head for that.” You gulped, but he continued. “But… I truly didn’t want to get rid of you. So I’m glad we can avoid that now. I expect to see you well away from the noblemen.”

“Y-Yes… Your Majesty.”

At your obedient response, he smiled and patted your head. “Good.” Taking one step closer, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your cheek. He lingered there for a few moments, before taking one step back.

The action left you flustered, embarrassed, because not only had you kissed a stranger but they had kissed you in return. And not only that, this crimson ruler believed you were his partner, the king! Under normal circumstances, you would’ve considered yourself lucky to land in such a position since the king has so much power and wealth. But in this type of situation, you can only shudder to think of what may come next and what would’ve become of you. Because these were no ordinary circumstances, and this was no normal kind ruler.

“Come along now. I don’t want you alone, do you understand?”

“Yes… Your Majesty.”

He beckoned you towards the very doors he entered from, and when he opened them, you were met with another character. It was a tall man with glasses and short messy dark green hair. Immediately he bowed to the queen, but when his eyes landed on you, he looked as if he saw a ghost.

“Change of plans, Trey. We will not be beheading my dear today. Nor tomorrow, I think. They’ve become quite affectionate, so my doubts have been dismissed.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty…” The glass-wearing man, Trey, glanced over at you with disbelief, but he looked a bit relieved, it’s as if he wanted to say something. But he opted to hold his tongue and instead shifted his gaze forward as he walked beside the red-haired royal. “There is still that soldier imprisoned that displeased you.”

“Ah yes, the one that claimed to see those messy blonde locks but failed to capture our lost wanderer. Bring him to me in the throne room.” Just then he glanced at you as you walked a bit behind him, “My dear, you must be there with me. This should be quite the spectacle. I will see you in a moment.”

“A-As you say, Your Majesty…” You replied stiffly.

He frowned and stopped in his tracks before grabbing your collar and bringing your face closer to his. What you half expected was a sharp knife against your throat, something that would kill you, but there was no such thing. There was only his sharp gaze and disappointed tone. “You’re supposed to respond with: my dear. Not Your Majesty, not Rosehearts, but perhaps I’ll allow Riddle for now. Do you understand, dearest?”

So his name was Riddle. Judging by Riddle’s tone, he wasn’t angry, but rather irked that all the sweetness from earlier was now gone. Proceeding, you chose your words carefully as you attempted to smile as convincingly as possible, “Y-Yes, of course, anything you say, Riddle, my darling.”

At your words his cheeks became a pink hue before he let go of you and cleared his throat, quickly turning away and proceeding forward towards the end of the hall where he had whatever duties to fulfill. So you were left with Trey, his subordinate. The calm tall man’s shoulders sagged once the royal left, all the tension seemingly evaporating from his body. When he gave you a somewhat soft smile, your worries ceased for the moment as well. “I’m glad you’re still intact. I was certain you were a goner.” He was… nice? “You need to be more careful. I don’t know what you did to change Riddle’s mind, but he was ready to behead you himself. You know how he keeps that huge battle ax under his bed. He mentioned something about using that, and I thought he was going to use it to chop your head clean off.”

Oh god. That little guy was going to do that? That stupid kiss really did save your skin. “Heh, I’m still a little shaken…” Wait, you were supposed to be acting like the king! What did the king even act like? How were you supposed to know? He never even lived long enough to make it into the story! “I, um, am very appreciative towards your concern… Trey.”

Trey appeared a bit surprised but he then smiled once more at you. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, we have a situation on our hands.”

What kind of situation? You didn’t even have time to ask when Trey led you down the checkered hall to an opening behind velvet red curtains which were the entrance directly to the large elegant throne room. There, you saw another stranger talking animatedly to the less-than-pleased-looking Rosehearts. This stranger had orange hair that brushed against his lower neck, and he had much more enthusiasm than those you had encountered thus far.

“Dear, there you are.” Instantly Riddle visibly brightened up as he gestured to the soft smaller heart-shaped throne beside his much larger grand seat. “Come, sit, we’re currently discussing the important matters at hand. Such as the dilemma with our prisoner. Cater, continue.”

When this Cater, fellow’s, green eyes trailed over to you, they became filled with surprise as he fumbled over his words, “Huh–– O-Oh! Right!” Forcing his gaze back on the red-haired royal, he began explaining, “There’s nothing really new to talk about, Your Majesty! I mean, seriously, this rookie was just the unlucky one that happened to see that blondie Ellis. According to him when I went to question him, he just said that he saw the guy in blue and when he went to confront him, Ellis escaped with some purple beastman!”

“Purple beastman…?” For a mere moment he appeared perplexed, when quickly the dots began to connect in his mind as he gasped, “Chen’ya! Why, the nerve of that––!”

When you saw his face begin to heat up again and a look of anger crossed his face, you slowly placed your hand over his arm that rested on the armrest of the throne. Then, he froze, everyone else, Trey, Cater, the few servants, the many armored guards in the room, they all were wide-eyed at what you had done. You had touched the queen when they were about to enter a fit of rage! You messed up–– Shit––

Riddle released a slow breath before placing his other hand atop your own. You felt such a massive flood of relief knowing you made the right move when he appeared much calmer as he nodded his head toward you, “Thank you, my dear. We shall discuss a proper punishment for that wretched feline later. For now…” Instantly his voice did a one-eighty as he turned his head toward the two imposing doors and shouted, “Bring him!!”

Nervously you looked over at Trey who stood tall and upright by Riddle’s side, and he remained oddly focused on the door. And that orange-haired guy, Cater, where did he go��?

“Hey…!”

Your eyes flittered over to you right where Cater was bent over a bit to whisper in your ear, while everyone else was distracted by the prisoner being escorted inside.

“I’m so happy that you’ve alive…! Don’t go dying on me so quickly, ‘kay? You wouldn’t leave me all alone here, would you?”

“Uh… no, of course not.” Huh. This Cater guy seemed pretty close to the king, or now you actually.

When you averted your eyes to the front, you listened to the clacking of armor as you watched more soldiers bring forward one of their own. Yet unlike all the others masked by metal, this soldier in shackles didn’t have a helmet. His messy red hair stuck out every which way, which made you wonder how on earth he even managed to fit that mess of hair under a helmet at all. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he wore a stiff frown as his shackles rattled with every step he took until he was right before the steps leading up to the red royal. When he refused to kneel, he was pushed down to his knees as Riddle eyed him with disdain.

Riddle wasted no time, because as soon as this prisoner was on his knees, he began his tirade of questions. “Ace Trappola, was it? We know you saw Ellis. Do you know where he is?”

The soldier’s head lolled forward a bit, his warm-colored eyes stopping on you for a moment as you gazed back at him. In a way, this Ace reminded you of… well, you. In shackles, forced to kneel, in front of a higher authority that was obviously not particularly fond of you, and likely with a sentence that could only mean your doom ahead of you. In a way, you did feel for him after hearing the basis of why he was arrested.

All was silent, only his shackles could be heard again as he slowly shrugged and snapped back, “I’d like to know that too! I mean, I’m sure wherever he is, he’s free as a bird. Meanwhile, me? Locked up for trying to do my job––!”

“Failing to do your only job.” Riddle corrected with a scoff. “I will ask you one more time. Where. Is. Ellis?”

Ace, still annoyed, continued. He must’ve been either stupid or brave for continuing. Although it might’ve been both as he mocked him. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”

Under your hand you felt Riddle’s fingers dig into the armrest, his knuckles growing white as he raised his voice an octave, “What if I take off your head? Will you know then?”

“If you took my head, you wouldn’t get any answers after that.” He retorted with a slight eye roll.

Underneath your hand you could feel Roseheart’s anger growing the tighter he dug his nails into the chair. When you saw his face, you and everyone else could tell that he was fit to burst, no doubt ready to seal this soldier’s doom. Instantly you shot up from your throne, wanting to help save this prisoner. However, you very quickly began to regret it when all eyes darted over to your form, and you now became the center of attention. You couldn’t just sit back down, so with no other choice, you awkwardly cleared your throat and proceeded nervously, “My dearest, earlier when in our chambers I had an… um… epiphany! A vision! Y-Yes, I had a vision…! Ellis will slay your–– our, pet dragon jabberwocky.”

Instantly Riddle’s eyes widened. “He killed our jabberwocky?!”

“No…! No, at least not yet!”

Technically you weren’t lying. The story goes that the Red Queen had a powerful dragon, the jabberwocky, which was the main reason why she could keep such a grip on the kingdom with no rebellion ever coming close to dethroning her. At least, that is until Alice comes along and slays the jabberwocky. If you could somehow get rid of Alice, or Ellis in this case, and stay in Riddle Roseheart’s good graces, you would have it made! It was practically certain that the court back home thought you would’ve been beheaded already and your head would float in that river of blood for eternity. Yet here you were, alive, and if things went smoothly, you could live out your life in splendor here. Yes, you’d have to deal with the red royal, but if you could just stay in his good graces at all times, you would have a wonderfully lavish life! At this point you were just speeding things up, Ellis’ intentions of slaying the jabberwocky probably weren’t supposed to be revealed until much later. But, it would make a perfect excuse now.

As all eyes remained on you, you recounted your fake tale, “It all makes sense now…! In… In my vision I saw… A red-haired knight, um, clashing swords with a blonde man in blue and white!” Well, that part was a lie. There never was a red-haired knight in the stories. But this was an opportunity to potentially save Ace as well, and give him a chance to redeem himself in Riddle’s eyes. When you turned to face Ace, he was gazing at you with furrowed eyebrows, but you proceeded anyway as you gave your attention to Riddle now. “Riddle, I think–– I mean, I b-believe that knight is this one here in front of us.”

“Him?” The royal exclaimed in disbelief, looking at the soldier with something akin to disgust. To which the said soldier stuck out his tongue before a stern glare from Trey and Cater made Ace close his mouth. Riddle blinked, quiet for a moment before gazing up at you, his expression softening as he flipped over his hand so it held yours. “Is that what you were doing in our chambers alone? You were studying texts and had a vision, to save me?”

“Y…Yes…?”

His big gray eyes became fixated on you, as his voice became soft when he replied, “I’ve misjudged you, my dear… I believed you were being unfaithful, but you were working hard for me. How wrong I was.” The way he looked at you could only be described as adoringly.

It made you nervous, but you could only awkwardly smile in return. In order to ensure your own life of comfort here, you had to be sure to ruin the plot of the story. This meant that Ellis, the protagonist, could not win no matter what. Although it pained you to do such a thing, knowing that the outcome would most likely mean death by beheading him and his allies, you were more afraid of death than you were of the hero. For this, you would have to make sure the antagonist, Riddle Rosehearts in the role of the Red Queen, obtained a happy ending instead of a bad ending where he himself would be banished after being defeated by Ellis.

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly listed off the sequence of events in the way you recalled them playing out, “In my vision I saw… a blonde boy in blue, a purple feline beastmen, and a hatter, among other allies. Ellis will… will attempt to infiltrate the palace, and gain your favor under a disguise, and steal the ancient sword that can slay our Jabberwocky.” As all eyes and ears remained on you, you hesitated once again, mentally apologizing for what you were about to do. Maybe in the end, you might be able to plead with your supposed spouse to spare them. But deep down, you knew it was unlikely for the ruthless tyrant to even consider the idea. “Your Majesty, my darling, i-if I may make a suggestion…?”

Riddle nodded as he listened attentively, “Go on.”

Thankfully you had moved your hands away from his, and had them folded in your lap so he couldn’t feel the way your fingers trembled with anxiety. “I would like to suggest we allow this knight before us to carry the sword, sheathed and hidden at all times. Let this be his redemption–– um, please, if you allow it, your Majesty.” Said knight gazed up in surprise. “It would be best to keep sir Ace in our sights. So might I ask that he and another capable knight become my guards?” Guards. Smart move, especially if things get hairy later. “I-I’d also like to suggest an increase in your personal escorts too… my dear. So… so you’ll be safe. And, no one else besides those in this room, will know of what we spoke of today––”

“That way, Ellis will come here all on his own, and if he searches for the sword it will not be there.” Riddle finished, to which you nodded. He caught on quickly. “That’s brilliant!” You nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the red royal turned to glance at his two subordinates, Trey and Cater, only to gesture to the former prisoner and demand of them, “Unbind him, Trey. How can he wield a sword if his hands are bound?”

Trey slowly stepped forward as Ace was allowed to stand, and he unlocked the shackles around the knight. Ace continued to peer up at you, suddenly flashing a grateful smile. To which you only caught a glimpse of before being distracted by the redhead on the throne.

“Cater!” Cater stood upright immediately and awaited orders from the royal. “Find a suitable knight to escort my partner! I expect only the strongest and most obedient of knights! Am I understood?”

“You got it, Your Majesty! I already have a few in mind.”

“Wonderful. I will be interviewing them myself, as well as hand-picking my own escorts.” Riddle stood from his throne, tossing out more commands and orders to be followed by his remaining subordinate and the guards that had escorted the former prisoner. “You lot, I want an increase on the perimeter and another search crew to hunt down that wretched boy Ellis! Trey, go and fetch the sword. As for you, Ace Trappola,” Turning to face the knight, he warned, “You have one more chance. Should you fail a second time, there will be no do-overs. Your head will roll and your family shall pay the price for your mistakes.”

For a mere moment, disbelief and anger flashed on Ace’s face. Just as he opened his mouth, you spoke up, “T-Thank you, Your Majesty…! You really are so… merciful.” Better to be a pawn in this game than to be dead.

Riddle turned his attention to you before smiling, such a true and proud smile as he declared, “I have you to thank for this, for saving my kingdom and protecting me. Once we have Ellis and his companions captured, we will have a morning execution for him, with front row seats to the show." As his eyes drifted back to the onlookers, he commanded, "All of you shall speak nothing of what transpired in this room.”

A chorus of Yes, Your Majesty echoed in the chamber. The royal nodded, content for now, sending you one last smile before turning on his heels and walking off to elsewhere with Cater in tow. Leaving you alone with Trey and Ace as all other attendants and soldiers exited the throne room to go fulfill their duties.

Just for a moment, you wanted to talk to Ace alone. There was something about Trey, something about the way he watched you so calmly but there was something in those yellow eyes behind those glasses. Something that made it seem like he knew your secret, like he knew you were not really the king. You weren’t sure if it was your paranoia getting to you and your mind was just playing tricks on you, but you wanted to distance yourself as far away from him as possible. As the former prisoner made his way towards you, you cleared your throat and spoke quietly, but loud enough for Trey to hear. “Can–– M-May I have a word with you, sir Ace…? In private.”

“Sure, I’m free now.” He half joked, giving a bit of a grin which didn’t do much to ease your worries.

Trey stood beside the empty throne, watching as you glanced over at him and made a gesture for him to carry on with the assigned duty of retrieving the legendary sword, as dictated by His Majesty. To which he did, after he carefully observed the way you scurried behind velvet curtains with the knight not too far behind.

When you were finally out of sight with Ace, you noticed his raised eyebrow. Noticing this and the way he tapped his foot, you hesitated, unsure where you were even going with this or what you should do now. “You… You look like you have something to say.”

“Why’d you save me?” He demanded, all that cheerfulness from before gone now as things took a serious turn. Looking you up and down, he crossed his arms and continued, “You could’ve had your cute little hubby chop off my head like all the others before me. So, say it. That’s the reason you wanted to talk alone, isn’t it?”

He got you. Were you that obvious? You’d definitely have to work on being more discreet… Looking around twice to make sure no one was listening in, you huddled with him in a corner by the stained glass windows as you whispered hurriedly, in a panic, “O-Okay, whew, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I’m not really the king, or queen, or whatever role I’m supposed to play here! Well, I guess I am now? Uhhh… h-here! It’s like this: I was put on trial in my homeworld, and as punishment I was banished. When I woke up, I was in Roseheart’s bed and he started talking to me like I was an unfaithful partner! I didn’t understand it, until I realized that it was all exactly like a story I read as a child. My punishment was to become the king that dies by being beheaded by his own wife! I… I got out of that somehow, and now, well…”

Ace was looking at you as if you were crazy, as if you had grown an extra head or something. His arms were crossed and he continued to stare at you. Should you have done that? Could you trust him? Well, he did owe you his life. If things really came down to it, you could have him arrested again and beheaded. Play the victim, call guards, and make up some lie that he attacked you, but you really really didn’t want it to go like that… Finally, after a few seconds, he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle, as if he couldn’t even believe it. “Hold on, let me get this straight: You’re not royalty, but you’re a criminal from another world? Did you hit your head or something?”

You knew it. He wouldn’t believe you after all.

“I mean, they keep saying this Ellis loser came from another world too… So… Maybe your story doesn’t sound too crazy after all.” His scarlet eyes focused on the floor, as if considering something. “You really weren’t lying about knowing the future. And I thought you had gone mad or something! So I’m a hero in the story?”

You could only scratch your arm nervously, a bit regretful for having to crush his sudden burst of excitement. “Ahaha… not exactly? I made that part up…”

Disappointed at the revelation that he wasn’t some badass hero wielding a legendary sword, he scoffed, “Seriously? So why save me then?”

“Look…” You took a deep breath, hiding your fidgeting fingers in your palm as best as you could. “We were both supposed to die. At least my character was mentioned in the story, but you? Y-You weren’t even mentioned at all…! You were just a nameless faceless soldier, someone not even worth mentioning––”

Offended, he snapped back, “Faceless? Rude much!”

You quickly shushed him, internally freaking out at the prospect that you may have been overheard. But when nothing else and no one else stirred, you frowned and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just really nervous… I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… why don’t we both help each other survive?”

“What?” Shaking his head in disbelief. First this person called him someone not even worth mentioning then they ask for his help? Seriously, what was with them?

“T-Think about it…! I’m the second most powerful person in the entire kingdom…! I know what will happen! Kinda…”

“Well, I do want to live just as badly as you do…” It appeared he was still on the fence. Leaning his weight against the wall, he demanded, “But what do you mean you kinda know what will happen? I thought you, for sure, know.”

“Um…” Twiddling your fingers, you hesitantly explained the dilemma, “I did mention we were both supposed to die… And while that part isn’t a lie and the whole you being the destined one to stop Ellis was a lie, the other thing I didn’t lie about was Ellis gathering with his allies to infiltrate the palace and acquire the sword to kill the Jabberwocky. That will actually happen. S-So, since I told everyone that––”

“Let me guess, you told it early?”

Freezing, you gazed up at him and murmured, “H-How did you…?”

He shrugged, “I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. That means a higher chance of survival, right? Assuming that the blonde is the good guy and our king Rosehearts is the bad guy of the story. And considering all that, now you have no idea how the story will be affected, right?”

“R-Right…” Wait, now it just looked like you were useless! Immediately interjecting, you added, “But I can still make predictions based on what I know, like how things were originally supposed to play out…!”

“And you are still technically a royal…” Ace placed a finger to his chin, probably thinking about possible outcomes, upsides, and downsides if he agreed to work together. Finally, when his gaze flittered back to you and you stood upright, he questioned, “What if things don’t go how we–– you plan?”

You actually considered this briefly. If everything came crumbling down and all plans failed, there was but one last option to avoid any punishment. “Find Ellis and the White Queen… or is it the White King? I-It doesn’t matter…! The point is, the White Royal is very kind and merciful. If I go to them and explain that I am not really the Red King’s consort, then they’ll spare me…! If you come too and bring the sword to slay the Jabberwocky, that will assure them of our good intentions!”

“Isn’t that just running away? I don’t want to do that. And come on, the Whites? Are you for real? I thought us Reds were bad, but those pristine prissy little killjoys are no fun.”

For a second you wanted to strangle him. What kind of idiot would risk certain death by staying here if everything goes south, instead of fleeing to a good place that would grant you sanctuary? “It’s exactly running away, that’s the point…! The point is to stay alive!”

The redhead tilted his head to the side, his disappointed and serious behavior disappearing as he grinned. “What if I became king?”

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he were the insane one. Was this knight actually the mad hatter that had been driven insane by mercury poisoning?

“I do owe you one for saving my neck back there. And I won’t lie, I’ve dreamed about being king one day. And you, you’re actually way more ruthless than you seem at first. I thought you were a scared little wimp that always cowers behind their little hubby husband.” He mocked. Ouch. He thought you were a wimp…? “But turns out, I was so wrong about you. Sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to live another day. Even turn on your own husband!”

He was whisper yelling, and it was starting to make you anxious that someone would overhear. So you whisper yelled back at a lower volume, “S-Stop that…! You know the truth, he’s not really my husband…”

That smirk made you think that he was going to respond in a louder voice, but thankfully he wasn’t that stupid. Just stupid enough to plan to overthrow the bloody Red King and talk about it in his own palace. But maybe you were stupid too, for talking about such delicate matters in the palace halls. Ace took your hands and performed a mock bow. “No running away, you got it? I’ll take that tiny red punk’s crown and become king, then I’ll keep you as a royal beside me, it’s the least I can do after what you did. We’ll both not only survive, but thrive. What do you say, Your Majesty~?”

#yandere #ace trappola #trey clover #cater diamond #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #work in progress #damnation twst au

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