#He's very expressive and I like that very much

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your check pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, His large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror more, while your fingers kept slipping against the wet tile. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[cvt2dvm]

There are very very few instances where the sex of an animal matters and in cats it doesn't matter unless you're breeding and occasionally if you're managing samesex or intersex aggression between cats, and if you invest in the relationship with your pets you're going to find that they're going to express affection and love in fairly obvious ways. Too many people aren't approaching their pets as individuals and don't pay attention to the cues of their animals. The breeding/temperament genetics and the individual relationship work you've done with an animal are what determine how, how much, and how often they're affectionate.

My adolescent male cat is very clingy but playful. He prefers offering and asking for play, sucking on fingers while not being pet, and following you around and playing hide and seek over settling in for a cuddle. My older adult female used to be the same way, now she prefers lounging on the porch bird watching while I read or a dry groom or curling up under the covers on cold nights. My male prefers to be at the other end of the bed on one of my sheepskins or his shark plushie. My male is a nibbler and barber my female gives kisses.

The reason I went for a male malinois as a working dog was because of him and his 2 sisters, he was the most handler sensitive and he was the best fit personality wise. His one sister was too laid back for what I wanted, shes thriving now as a diabetic alert dog, his other sister had more aggression than he did, and if I had been looking for a straight PPD or bite Sports dog, I honestly would have chosen her, but since I was looking for a dual purpose dog, I took him, and the more aggressive sister is now a suspect apprehension K9 in florida because of the 3 in his litter that just weren't quite right for bomb work (2 of the 5 that they imported were) one was better suited for strict service work with her soft mouth, one could have gone either way and been okay, or both and be truly fulfilled as long as he had his person, and the other was destined to either be destroyed or have a job where her desire to sink her teeth into something was an asset rather than a liability. His 2 sisters were also significantly more dominant with other dogs than he was, and since I was living with my ex at the time, I needed to think about how he would integrate into our existing 1 cat, 2 dog household.

This recent obsession with boys vs girls in dogs is such fucking BS, like... the only things that determine sex choice for me is how my current pet pack exists.

My female cat doesn't tolerate other female cats in her space, my male mal likes male dogs that are 10-15 lbs but feels pressured by males that are his size or larger, and gets along with females all around. So, realistically, I'll probably be adding a female dog next to the pack since, again, realistically, my older terrier male is in the worst health of my pets. I also may not be adding another dog to my pack for a while too, so that I have more travel flexibility.

The whole "boy cat" thing is so annoyingggggg your cats gender has nothing to do with how they feel about you i literally cannot imagine being so brain rotted by patriarchy that you somehow think your neutered male cat has special male love for you that female cats don't have the capacity for. Is there something wrong with you

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromases with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromases together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as a the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[jaggybot3000]

epic prank idea: i [Mind] make my voice modulator make me sound like my other half {Soul} to make my other other half (Heart) come to me willingly [begging and groveling] so I can convince [trick] him into taking off his blindfold [so he can See me again] and be convinced to be one with me ([{WHOLE}]) [my way, forever]

original sketch below

originally drew this when i made that one be born post about mind's voice changing. what if he was fucked up and used soul's voice sometimes. heart's too. lol

[consumerofshorthomies]

bro, I actually kind of had to explain to my friend something similar to this. TANGENT TIME! so, I was talking to my friend, and I already had a vibe that he was prolly homophobic (cough cough, kept flirting with me in a pretty hetero way (maybe??), goes to catholic school and youth group, and he is in teen military which is a good indicator) and he kinda asked me "hey, do you have any advice for helping someone dealing with suicidal thoughts?" so I immediately LOCKED IN. I internally went "okay Adam, this is your moment, you're time to shine. you are mentally ill and ready to talk this man off the edge." so I asked him what was up, and he said his best friend's cousin has been expressing suicidal ideas, and that his best friend is really worried (I swear, this is relevant) So, I immediately go off, suggesting that she recommends her cousin go to therapy, hang out with friends, a good idea would be to make plans for the two to hang out as much as possible, and then he drops the bomb. the best friend and her cousin used to be close, until she (referring to the cousin) turned to the lgbt side, wanting to be a dude and thinking she's gay, which the best friend did not approve of (catholic) and was very open with the cousin about her beliefs. I go quiet for a minute, realising "oh, fuck, I'm friends with a transphobe" so I quickly say "aight, listen to me closely, your friend needs to not try to reach out to her cousin, if she tried to she would only make things worse for him" and I fucking EMPHASISED the him bit, and had to awkwardly be like "heh, uh, yeah, I'm kind chill with those queer rainbow people, k-kinda gotta be when you have a trans sister!" (not my gay ass trying to get it across that I will not put up with blatant homophobia) and the realisation on his face that "oh, shit, I just showed my bigotry to someone who isn't a bigot" was honestly so funny. I then proceeded to quite literally steal his heart (he brought an anatomically correct heart for some fucking reason)

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Touch my heart

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Max struggles to find a way to love you in arranged marriage. After seeing you with his business rival he might understands his true feelings.

Warnings: arranged marriage, pregnancy, angst, curse words, fluff

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Time to pour some love into our champion. Woke up with this idea, didn't know how to put it right at first, but it's out and my brain can rest. (for a while)

Any feedback is welcomed! :)

---

Twenty weeks, two days, seven hours and five minutes from the moment you said “I do” to your husband Max Verstappen. It wasn’t like some fairytale or cheesy romantic movie. Your dad managed his business with fast racing cars to that point that he bankrupted one day and to secure his relations, he offered your hand in marriage to Max, who was this dangerous man in the motorsport field, always looking for someone who makes mistakes to take advantage of it as an investment. But it wasn’t that simple, because Max was well known in the racing industry, having his own team, many cars, he also demanded to have an eighty percent interest in your dad’s company to secure the deal. In other words, your dad was screwed likewise with you in the lion’s den.

Looking at your figure in the mirror, you let out a sigh, your finger poking into a small baby bump under your summer dress. Crazy and unbelievable, you fell pregnant after one and only night with Max after your wedding. Not that it was some passionate time, it was only for consuming the connection and to conceive a potential heir. And well, it worked. Most of the time, Max took good care of you, providing everything you wanted, but overall not in an affectionate way. You weren’t very warm towards him either, so you just happened to live together awaiting your child to be born. 

“Are you ready to go?” a voice disturbed the flow of your thoughts and you put a final touch of the makeup powder over your cheeks. 

“Yeah, I’m finished.” 

Arriving at the lavish venue, you understood that this day is dedicated to babies. Victoria, Max’s sister, welcomed her third child a month ago and it was time for christening and celebrations. 

“Ah! My favorite couple is here!” Victoria practically ran towards you, hugging you carefully, brushing her hand over your swollen belly in the process.

You chuckled, hugging her back, squeezing her tight. If there were some people you loved in the Verstappen family it was especially Victoria and their mother. 

Max just stood there, unbothered, watching you two. “Don’t squeeze her too tight, or you push the baby out of her.”

Victoria gave him a sharp glance with a disapproving shake of her head. “You’re unbelievable, brother.”

You just rolled your eyes, walking to the catering table, not ashamed to ogle the cupcakes.

Spending the afternoon with the family, laughing at the awkward jokes and stories, cuddling with kids, you felt great, fluttering in your growing belly making you happy. Max, on the other side, was still on the phone, texting or calling. Always in the business. It was really annoying but on the bright side, he wasn’t annoying you with his behaviour.

---

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here. The Verstappen wife.” a man with an amused chuckle walked towards you as you stood at the sidelines, watching the racing tests. You turned your head to the direction, your expression annoyed already, but you recognized the man immediately. George Russell. Your childhood friend, but foremost Max’s biggest rival at motorsport, owner of the many racing teams. He always cared for you so much, and he was raging when your dad promised you to Max. But he was also married now, to some spanish woman, he was lucky to marry for love, or whatever…

“Don’t call me that. I still have my own name.” you gave him a nudge with your elbow, getting a soft laugh from him. George looked over the track, adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. 

“He’s behind the wheel?” 

“Yeah. Getting on my nerves apparently. Clearly he wants me to get into labour earlier than on my due date.” 

His gaze fell at your belly, smiling, then he looked up at your face. “Oh, how’s the baby?” 

Your hand caressed the bump. “Good, not kicking that much, but I’m much more tired than I expected. I didn’t even want to be here, but Max insisted. I don’t know what his intentions are behind this, but it’s frustrating. He even invited his ex mistress Kelly.” 

George turned to look to the pitlane, noticing Kelly standing there eagerly. “She’s just a friend.” 

“Thanks for your reassuring attempts, but I can see it clearly. I’m just a business arrangement.” you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m sure he has his own way to love you. You and your baby. It’s gonna be okay.” George pulled you in the hug, and it was all you needed. To feel his warmth, his scent. Distant memory of your feelings you felt for him when you were teenagers, but now you needed to act like an adult. 

Max was out of the car, the adrenaline rushing through his veins and he was looking for you to tell you how excited he was. For the first time in months, he was sure to talk out his conflicted feelings he held for you. It was until he saw you and George kneeling in front of your bump, laughing and poking into your belly. With a sharp breath, he turned on his feet and stomped to the garage, angry as fuck.

Whole ride to your home was silent, which wasn’t new for you, but you noticed how Max was restless, stealing glances at your bump with furrowed brows and mad looks.

“What’s wrong, Max?” Once you were back in your huge ass mansion, you couldn't bear it anymore and you just asked. Hell, you didn’t expect what you were about to unfold.

Max threw his bag to the corner of the living room, turning around to face you, standing a few feet from you. He was fuming, his eyes reflecting the fury he felt inside him, clenching fists at his sides. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he wanted to say it but he was too angry. You frowned in confusion, trying to understand, because you didn’t know him like this. 

“It’s about… Russell.” he managed to sneer.

“Oh.” your face softened and it was enough to push Max over the edge.

“I hate how he’s always looming around you.”

“He’s just a friend of mine.” you tried to downplay the situation with a snort.

“I noticed how you look at him.” 

“How? How do I look at him?” 

“Like you want to carry his child instead of mine.” Max spat out with venom in his voice, his gaze flicking at your belly, then back at your face.

“Maybe he would be over the moon to have a child with me.” and you didn’t hold back either. You were so full of your own frustrations.

“What the hell?” 

“You heard me! Maybe he would be able to love me and this child! Oh no, I’m sure he would. He cares, Max. He always did and then you came into my life, and you snatched me away because my shitty father is not capable of keeping his finances under his belt!” tears flew out of your eyes, your words carving deep into Max’s heart. 

“Yeah, the almighty George! I forgot!” he nearly yelled at how annoyed he was, his suppressed feelings bubbling in his chest. “I hate how he looks at your baby belly, how he touches you. It’s supposed to be me!” 

You lifted your gaze at him, giving him a surprised look. “Huh?”

Max let out a frustrated sigh, his brows furrowing in the process, hand running over his face. It wasn’t easy, he wasn't the type of a man to just confess his heart out to a woman.

“Say it, Max. You need to say it loud if you want me to believe it.” you took a few steps closer to him. He gave you a warning glare, but his face mirrored his sensitive soul.

“I just… I hate that someone could be a better suitor for you than me. I didn’t care at first, yes, you became my wife, and the future mother of our child, but I thought that I can handle it casually. Apparently I can’t… The way you’re laughing with my family, how you roll your eyes at my dry and stupid jokes, how you’re watching yourself grow more beautiful each day, how your scent brings me to the verge of sanity… I would die to see your smile in the morning when I wake up and at night when I’m about to get sleep. Because I love to see you happy, smiling, glowing. I want it to be me, who gives your life meaning with every joyful aspect I can think of. Fucking hell, I love you. I’d do anything to make your life worth living.” Max nearly broke down in tears, his voice cracking occasionally through his confession.

It left you breathless, your hand shot to your chest where your heart was and your cheeks flushed. “Max…” 

He closed the space between you, both of his hands resting on your swollen belly, which really took you aback, because he never touched it before.

“I don’t expect you to magically fall in love with me. I’m even surprised that I’m capable of loving someone. Just know that you’re the one. My wife I want to cherish for the rest of our lives.” 

Breath hitched in your throat, you wanted to say something but your tears spilled again, staining your cheeks. “I was afraid that we won’t find a way through this arranged shit. But the truth is… Even though I’m giving you annoyed looks and I look bothered by following you to your racing business, I’d follow you to the end of the world. You can’t imagine how my heart broke when I admitted to myself that I might feel something romantic towards you. And the day I found out about the baby… I knew that I’d want another one or two if it meant to be with you.” 

Max laughed, eyes glossy from his own tears. “Even though our first night was messy and horrible?” 

“Yeah. Because even though it was fucked up, you showed me how the true gentleman worship the woman he’s married to. Loving her or not.” you let out a sigh, smiling through the tears. 

---

With your head resting against the hoard of fluffy pillows, you looked down at your bare stomach, watching how Max carefully placed soft kisses over it. 

“...And that’s how daddy met mommy. You'll be so loved, our sweet beautiful child.” he whispered against your warm skin, his lips grazing across it, making you shiver and feel the happiness coursing through your veins.

“I hope they won’t be as stubborn as daddy.” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair gently. Max looked up at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Well, if they will, we have plenty of attempts to make another who won’t be like that. But I can’t promise anything…” with a wink he moved up to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, while you pulled him closer to you, finally feeling complete with your little family.

---

Please don't use my writings without permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[jungwnies]

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (1/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1140

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The apartment listing had sounded too good to be true.

"A modern two-bedroom in a great neighborhood! Affordable rent! Recently renovated!"

You had jumped on it. Places like this didn’t stay on the market long, and after what felt like a lifetime of apartment hunting, you were ready to sign a lease and never look at another rental website again.

So, you scheduled a tour, packed a mental list of negotiating tactics, and prayed to whatever higher power existed that this would finally be the one.

Across the city, Oscar Piastri was doing the exact same thing.

Unlike you, he hadn’t even bothered looking at multiple listings. He had sent his assistant a simple message: Find me an apartment. Quiet, good location, no crazy landlords. He wasn’t picky, he just needed a place to live between races. Simple.

At least, that’s what he thought.

One Hour Later – At the Apartment

The moment you walked into the leasing office, you knew something was off.

For one, the landlord, a middle-aged man named Greg who looked permanently stressed, was nervously shuffling through papers like he had forgotten how to read.

For two, there was already another person standing there, signing a stack of documents like he had just secured the place.

You blinked. “Uh, what is happening?”

Greg looked up, his face immediately twisting into an expression that screamed oh no.

The guy next to you, a very casually dressed guy in a McLaren hoodie and cap, barely glanced up. “I’m signing my lease,” he said simply, like this was his apartment and you were the intruder.

You frowned. “No, I’m signing my lease.”

Greg audibly gulped.

McLaren Hoodie Guy finally looked at you properly, his eyebrows pulling together. “That can’t be right.”

You turned to Greg, arms crossed. “Okay, Greg, what’s going on?”

Greg inhaled sharply through his nose. “So, funny story..."

You knew it was not going to be a funny story.

“...there was a bit of a mix-up, and it looks like I… um… may have accidentally leased the same apartment to both of you?”

Silence.

You blinked. "What?"

McLaren Guy squinted at Greg. “You may have?”

Greg winced. “Okay, did. I did lease it to both of you. But in my defense, I didn’t realize it until just now, and I already spent your security deposits, so I really can’t refund you until next month.”

Your jaw dropped. “You already spent...!?!? Are you kidding me?”

McLaren Guy let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what are you saying? That neither of us can live here?”

Greg let out a nervous chuckle. “Well… I could cancel the lease for one of you, but…” He glanced between you two. “Do either of you have another place lined up?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “No.”

McLaren Guy sighed. “No.”

Greg’s face paled. “Right.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly dying inside. “So, um… what if you two just… shared it?”

You and McLaren Guy turned to each other at the exact same time, both shaking your heads.

"Absolutely not."

"Not happening."

Greg held up his hands. “Okay, okay! Just hear me out.”

You shot him a look. “You literally just admitted to scamming us.”

“I didn’t scam you—"

McLaren Guy scoffed. “You spent our deposits.”

“Okay, I accidentally scammed you.” Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I’ll cut the rent in half if you both agree to stay. Just for the first few months, until I can sort this out.”

You turned back to McLaren Guy, fully expecting him to shut it down. Instead, he looked like he was considering it.

You frowned. “You cannot be thinking about this.”

He shrugged. “Do you have another option?”

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with some random—" You gestured at him vaguely. “—McLaren fanboy.”

McLaren Guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Fanboy?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, motioning to his hoodie and cap. “You’re decked out in McLaren gear. You look like you’re about to go meet Lando Norris.”

Greg made a strangled noise.

McLaren Guy just stared at you, something unreadable flickering across his face. His mouth opened for a second, then closed.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”

He grabbed the lease papers, signing his name at the bottom with zero hesitation. “I don’t have time to find a new place, and I’m not about to couch-surf across Australia.”

You turned to Greg. “You cannot expect me to live with a stranger.”

Greg gave you a deeply exhausted look. “I expected to lease this apartment to one person. Life is full of disappointments.”

McLaren Guy grinned. “You’re lucky I’m an excellent roommate.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

Two Days Later – Moving In

You were right.

Oscar Piastri was not an excellent roommate.

The first issue became apparent when you opened the fridge and found nothing inside except for a can of Monster Energy, a half-empty bottle of water, and two whole heads of lettuce.

You turned to him, arms crossed. "Do you… not eat real food?"

Oscar barely looked up from setting up his PlayStation. "I eat at the McLaren hospitality tent most of the time."

You squinted. "McLaren hospitality—" You let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh my god, you’re a team employee, aren’t you?"

Oscar blinked at you. "Huh?"

"You work for McLaren," you said, pointing at his hoodie, the McLaren duffel bag by the door, the literal McLaren keychain hanging off his keys. "That’s why you’re obsessed with the team."

Oscar stared at you for a long moment. Then, very carefully, he said, "Yes. That’s exactly it."

"Called it," you muttered, going back to unpacking.

Oscar smirked to himself but said nothing.

The second issue? He was too quiet.

You were used to some kind of background noise. Either it was music, TV, literally anything, but Oscar? He just moved around the apartment in silence, which somehow made you more on edge.

Then, later that night, you really reached your breaking point.

You had been winding down, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, scrolling through your phone when you suddenly heard a deep sigh behind you.

You turned your head slightly, only to see Oscar staring at you from the other side of the couch, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed.

You blinked. "What?"

Oscar sighed again, slower this time, louder. "You chew really loud."

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You’re, like, aggressively loud."

Your eyes narrowed. "I will throw this popcorn at you."

Oscar smirked. "You wouldn’t dare."

Without hesitation, you grabbed a handful of popcorn and launched it at him.

Oscar gasped, dodging the attack. "Greg was right! This was a terrible idea!"

You grinned, grabbing another handful. "Welcome to hell, roomie."

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© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little. 

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy. 

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less. 

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might. 

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart. 

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air. 

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,” you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three. 

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind. 

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood. 

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime. 

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for  you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said. 

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and  I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He  made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced. 

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

[true-blue-sonic]

I finished the fanfic ^-^ I'm still not over Silver's utterly unamused facial expression, I love it so much <3 XD I hope you like the fic!💙🤍

☆☆☆☆☆

Only Fair

With a grin Sonic sneaks closer to his unsuspecting upcoming victim of mischief.

One day, when Tails had been a few weeks shy of turning five, he’d didactically insisted to Sonic that foxes were Predators who Hunted, and he thusly was also Very Skilled at Hunting. Sonic had laughed and urged him to show off his best hunting tactics… and he’d promptly ended up with a fox cub flinging himself right at his face before getting two fluffy namesakes stuck in his quills.

Sonic doesn’t have any large tails to get snagged in Silver’s, but that is only beneficial for the cheeky idea forming in his mind at the unexpected sight of the psychic.

It’d been a while since they’d last seen each other, a few days of Silver being in the past but not being around. Sonic thus also had had little opportunity to talk to him, and even less to tease and play coy. But that all will change imminently: Silver’s eyes are trained on the horizon above, the psychic sitting sprawled against a tree trunk with his legs crossed and arms sprawled out next to his sides. Enjoying the sky and the warmth of the afternoon sun, Sonic knows. Silver is plenty focal about his enjoyment of little things like that.

But it does mean he’s distracted entirely too. Silver already is a perfect participant for the silly ideas Sonic has sometimes to amuse them both, but his current lack of attention spared for the surroundings only work in Sonic’s favour. And thus, the speedster crouches… presses his feet into the ground and shifts them minutely to check if it won’t make any sounds…

In one fell swoop he shoots over, and Silver has been snagged off the ground and hoisted into his arms in the blink of an eye.

Grey quills spike right up, the hedgehog’s body tensing in Sonic’s arms and a sharp breath drawn. But Sonic grins his most coy, suave smirk, giving Silver the smallest of jostles. “Heh. Gotcha! Long time no see, Silver.”

Golden eyes blink. Then move up and down and up to regard Sonic all over, one of Silver’s eyebrow raising in a manner perhaps best described as unamused. The silent seconds stretch out between them as Sonic gets beheld, the speedster wriggling his own brow in turn all smugly…

Before a grin forms on Silver’s face as well.

And Sonic blinks, his whole body enveloped in a liquid-like cool before he can so much as react.  

“Heh. Is this a joke?” Silver smirks back… and Sonic squeaks as he gets yoinked away from his pal, off the ground and into the sky as well, and he’s left floundering his arms and legs to get a grip on nothing.

“Awwww, Silver!” he protests at his companion, who is also floating; but where Sonic is forced into an undignified struggle, Silver’s one hand moves casually behind his head and the other twists its fingers to make Sonic spin slow, teasing circles. “That’s not fair! That's cheating.”

Silver leans back a bit into the air, looking altogether smug. “Is not. And why are you trying to get the jump on me?”

“Just testing out my hunting skills,” Sonic’s grinned response comes. It earns him a curious look and a shrug, those fingers curling back towards Silver and the speedster bobbing over to him anew.

“But I captured you now,” the psychic remarks. “So you failed."

With crossing arms Sonic huffs. “I did get you first.”

“Yeah, for like ten seconds.” Carefully Sonic gets lowered onto Silver’s chest, psychokinesis dissipating around him. “So that makes my hunting skills better.”

“I’d love to see you try out your hunting skills without your powers next time,” Sonic grins back, leaning closer so their noses brush together. A challenge and a loving nuzzle combined, though for Silver it seems to be the latter, considering the happy rumble that reverberates in his chest as he smushes their foreheads together.

“After I’m done enjoying the sunset. Wanna join me?”

Shyly Sonic’s head falls in the crook of Silver’s shoulder; he’s no stranger to being held by the psychic, but his cheeks always grow red at how easily those touches and actions come to the other. But the speedster smiles all the same, shifting until he’s found a comfortable way to lie. Who cares that it’s in the air and on Silver, and not on the ground? “Anytime,” he assures his pal, enjoying the gentle bopping in the air and the way Silver’s chest rises and falls and the sunbeams that caress his fur, until the sky has long turned dark and Silver gently deposits the both of them onto the ground anew.

And very suspiciously keeps dilly-dallying beside the tree despite Sonic’s statement he’s gonna go away now, the speedster barely able to stifle his chuckles as he pads into a random direction.

Mercifully Silver does not have two long tails either: the way Sonic goes from walking with fake carelessness to crashing right into the ground from the weight slamming into his back with a triumphant cry is enough to mess up his quills anyway. “Gotcha!!” Silver croons from atop of him as Sonic spits out a handful of grass. “I am the best hunter!”

“You are,” Sonic agrees, a tad muffled… before huffing in amusement as the weight dissipates and he gets picked up by psychokinesis once more. Though, instead of being made to float slow, teasing circles, now it places him most snugly in Silver’s arms instead, bundled right into that downy white mane of his.

“That’s only fair,” the psychic grins as Sonic raises an amused eyebrow, before getting off the ground and flying into the night. With a laugh Sonic slings an arm around the other’s neck to keep him steady, comfortably dangling his feet and thanking the cover of the night for hiding his blushes every time Silver’s breath caresses his cheek.

Even if it’s flustering, he can accept becoming an unsuspected victim of mischief himself if it’s from Silver, after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

carry

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

//the slightest of shaking you

Sonic's ego is actually used for the delight effect on his friends hhhgh your killing me with wholesomeness/j

I wonder though, is there's ever any nonverbal platonic methods aspecSonic could have developed?

Aroace Sonic pt 8 (no they're not dating)

Sonic’s got all kinds of ways of showing affection. Obviously there is more than just these, it’s just all i doodled last night before passing the heck out in bed hgLKJSDF

1. Sonic usually moves away if anyone expresses active verbal dislike of his physical affection; Knuckles is the exception to that rule. He would genuinely throw Sonic through a wall if he actually didn’t like what he was doing, no words required. But Knuckles is touch starved! He doesn’t know how to do this whole physical affection thing, and most everyone else is kinda nervous about crossing boundaries with him so it means he gets very little touch. Sonic notices that and instead of drawing attention to it, he just invades personal space like the gremlin he is and no one questions it, chalking it up to his usual antics. Knuckles gets a safe place to get the physical affection he needs without worrying about how it looks and Sonic gets to love his friend, it's a win-win. (Rouge is p much the only other person chill with touching Knuckles casually since she’s just comfortable with physicality and not the least bit nervous around him.)

2. Speaking of Rouge she and Sonic are very silly with physical affection because Rouge is extremely comfortable expressing herself physically and Sonic is chill with p much any small gestures because its just another way of showing affection. Platonic cheek kisses and aggressive flirting are pretty normal for them! They find it funny to fluster other people this way.

3. Sonic will very randomly just plant his hand on someones face if they're standing close enough. No context, no warning, usually they're not even part of the conversation that's happening and he doesn't move it off unless they move it themselves or it's time to leave. (He does this whenever he notices someone zoning out or look like they might be lonely since they aren't part of the main conversation to make them know someone else notices they're there and cares.)

4. Sonic's physical affection is so incredibly casual that if you're around him long enough it kinda starts to fall of your radar and you just stop noticing when it happens, (i.e Tails.) It's much more common than his verbal compliments so it ends up pretty commonplace. Physical touch is actually his first go-to unless the person is really touch-averse.

5. Falling asleep on people is his ultimate weapon because they're less likely to try and escape if he's asleep (cat sleeping on lap rules sorry.) The other reason is because they're free to be as soft as they want without worrying about him using it to gloat at them later. (A lot of stuff this dude does is hecka strategic.)

[slightly-knot-insane]

Gentleman's Cage (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 29 [ Caged Beast ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fem!reader ]

a/n: some regency smut, my first one so please be gentle! i was greatly inspired by @regency-monster-love and they were so kind to help me out too! thank you, dear! content: slightly nsfw

He can’t calm down. He knows you will be there, and he is getting very impatient to see you. Especially since you told him you find his courting very pleasing. It took him a while to reveal that he is a werewolf. But instead of running away screaming, you smiled and touched his hand. You even looked excited.

Just reminiscing about those few minutes put a smile on his face, his sharp canines showing underneath his lips. But thinking about you too much is also dangerous. His body - his lower body, to be more precise - reacts to the mere idea of you as if you're right next to him. Naked.

He groans, feeling his erection pushing against the fabric of his finest trousers. Being born with werewolf blood is both a blessing and a curse. He is aware that people will notice; anyone with eyes will notice the hardness alongside his inner thigh. That's why he hopes his little metal tool will help him. Or else, the scandal will follow him wherever he goes.

***

The fancy gathering is as lovely as he expects. People dance, eat and drink, and converse on various topics that barely interest him. He is looking for you with every sense he has - but they find nothing. He wants to ask someone, but even a mere question would raise suspicion. He doesn’t want anyone to know, not yet, that he fancies you rather intensely.

But he shouldn't think about you too much! He shifts his legs a little bit to position the metal contraption between his legs in a more comfortable way. Cock cage, they called it. Even while flaccid, it was hard to push his manhood inside. But he managed to lock his desire in - physically, at least. Mentally - not so much.

Finally, he catches a whiff of your sweat. You aren’t just fashionably late, you are very late so you were probably rushing down the path and up the stairs. Perhaps you were frustrated and nervous about some mishap, furiously fanning yourself in your carriage. And perhaps - only perhaps - you were thinking of him. Thinking about his eyes and teeth and tall frame. Perhaps you held your knuckle between your lush lips while the fingers of your other hand secretly wandered underneath your skirt and—

The painful jolt underneath his belt wakes him up from his daydreaming. Stop it, you fool! He curses internally and immediately turns toward the window, pretending to observe the night sky. He forces himself to think about what to eat for breakfast and what letters need answering, and then - just as his erection is starting to deflate - he hears your voice:

"Hello, Mr. Werewolf! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

And there is another strong pulse between his legs. While he would love to jump through the window and run, it would be improper and rude not to greet you. With a disturbing mental image of his grandfather bathing in his mind to cool him down, he turns to greet you: "Indeed, and you are..."

But he trails off. You've never looked as beautiful, so elegant. The cut on your dress is so deep he can enjoy your every curve and birthmark. He hopes he will be able to memorize all of them, like constellations. And your skin is so flushed and glowy he can barely stop himself from touching your cheeks, shoulders, or... He swallows hard.

You notice his terrified expression and can't help but giggle a bit. He, on the other hand, is not entertained even the slightest. "I apologize, my lady, I must... get a breath of fresh air!" And he hastily leaves you.

You hide your smile behind your fan and follow his trail carefully.

***

He has to do something! The cage... It's too tight! As he hides inside the hedge maze, he runs to the fountain that was standing just around the corner, hoping that the rush of water will hide his torture. He unbuttons his trousers and is not surprised to see his manhood swollen and pulsating between the metal sheets. The pain is mixed with a strange dose of pleasure edged with anticipation. Even though some other time he might've enjoyed exploring this sensation, now is definitely not a good moment. He needs to get rid of this self-imposed prison before he hurts himself more, but... he left the key... at home.

An exasperated sigh is all he can do right now. And thinking about dead puppies to somehow reduce the painful swelling. 

Just as his mental torture is starting to work, he smells something. Something sweet, potent, and familiar. So familiar. His erection re-emerges. Desperately, he turns around, attempting to hide his shame, and pushes himself (and the cage) into the hedges. He must look absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh my, you're here. Are you well?"

It is you. You followed him here. He takes a deep breath and smiles over his shoulder. "Y-yes, perfectly fine. I just needed some fresh air."

You approach his long tail, admiring his broad back and inhuman muscles. He is very tense - and you think you know why. "I'm sure the air will smell a lot fresher outside those hedges."

The tension struck his spine like lightning - he stands upright, not breathing. He knows he can't keep hiding. Hoping - praying - his shame is not so obvious.

He turns toward you, with a stiff and awkward smile, holding one of his huge hands over his crotch, trying to look relaxed. "Indeed... It's a lot f-fresher."

You can't actually look down since your curiosity would be too obvious then. Luckily, he is towering over you so his abdomen is leveled with your face, and it takes only a deep curtsy to see what you have been curious about since the day you met him. Only to not see what you expected. But you're sure his hand is hiding something scandalous? And delicious.

"Did your claws grow?" you ask him innocently.

The naïve werewolf lifts his hands to check them, uncovering his crotch. There is definitely an interesting and twitching bulge there.

"I don't think so. Are you... worried?" His yellow eyes grow in worry. "I would never lay a finger on you!"

You hum as if you are terribly bored. "Oh. That's a shame."

The beast in front of you looks entirely confused, the poor thing. "Shame?"

You approach him slowly, like you're dancing, and his eyes don't leave your figure. "I would love a bit more than a finger on me. Perhaps an entire hand." You cup his heavy, hairy hand. You feel exceptionally bold - there won't be many opportunities like this in your future. Only a boring life awaits you - if you allow that. "All over me, in fact."

[ part 2 ]

[hyorijie]

Sorry, I fucked your wife. | Alastor x Reader

Warnings Infidelity, reader is married to a sinner on the rise , before Alastor's disappearance, P in v, Obscenity, overstimulation, Alastor is an idiot, sexual tension, possessiveness, Breeding kink, aftercare, Your husband and Alastor are friends (not for long). Summary Alastor has always been a demon of umpredictable whims, but this time... his interest has gone too far. A beautiful doe has completely captured his attention, there´s just one small catch: She´s married. Of corse, that would be a problem... if Alastor cared...

In the comfort of your home, you glided swiftly over the drink bar, most of the time you didn't drink, but right now the situation warranted it. Your husband had been gone for days and the loneliness consumed you like a slow and cruel disease.

The faint sound of music in the background relaxed your tense muscles a little, a sigh left your lips as you stroked one of your shoulders with the intention of releasing the accumulated tension.

Again you took a sip from the glass, the drink pierced your throat with a warm welcoming burn. Again, you were feeling hot, something very normal from wine.

Your gaze immediately went to the table, where rested that mysterious envelope that your husband had left on his desk, why had he left it that way?

You put the wine glass aside and the base of the glass clinked against the surface.

You walked a little disorientedly to the envelope, you saw that it was open. Curiously you reached out your hand gently until you reached the envelope, your fingers checked the embossing, while your eyes scanned the scarlet seal that stood out against the paper.

Before you could fully recognize the seal it bore, the sound of the door being knocked made you jump in place and let go of the envelope. The paper fell onto the desk and one of your hands went to your chest.

— Shit, who the fuck is that? — You growl to yourself squinting your eyes, cursing under your breath at whoever is behind the door.

With obvious annoyance, you walk towards the door, the moment you opened it, the heat seemed to shoot through your body from surprise.

— Greetings, my dear! May I have an audience with your husband at this time? — The voice that came from him was tainted with too much static, Alastor, your husband's partner was standing in front of you with a wide grin that almost forced you to return it.

You looked him up and down, hoping he wasn't real at this precise moment. But one of his eyebrows rose curiously.

You pulled yourself together immediately shaking your head.

— I'm afraid he won't be able to attend to the request, he's out.— you answered with a superhuman effort, praying to any deity that your voice wouldn't be slurred or cut off by the effect of the drink.

You took a discreet breath, trying to hold your ground as you watched Alastor, who was still smiling with that sly expression that got on your nerves.

— As I told you, he's not here. You'd better come back another time. — you repeated with a slight nod, hoping he'd take the hint and turn around.

But instead, the demon cocked his head to one side and let out a short chuckle, as if you had just told him a charming joke. Before you could react, he took a step forward and, with overflowing confidence, crossed the threshold of your house without waiting for an invitation.

— Oh, my dear, how inconsiderate it would be of me to make you spend the night alone in this storm out there. — he said in a falsely mournful tone.

You looked over your shoulder and, to your misfortune, the sky was still overflowing with disaster. You pursed your lips, holding back the urge to yell at him to get out immediately. However, Alastor was your husband's partner, and the last thing you wanted was to create unnecessary trouble.

With a restrained sigh, you closed the door behind him, turning around with your arms crossed.

— May I ask why you are still here if you already know my husband is not here? — you ask in a dry tone.

Alastor had already settled into one of the lounge seats, as casually as a cat would take over someone else's house. His eyes, lively and attentive, lingered on the glass of wine on the table.

— Well, let's just say I couldn't miss the opportunity to chat with you. After all, we're hardly ever alone. —he replied with a playful air. Then he narrowed his eyes with a spark of amusement.— Although… I dare say it's not the best night for a serious conversation.

A shiver of embarrassment ran down your spine.

— Don't imply nonsense. — you said quickly, in a tone that was meant to be firm, but sounded more like a weak defense.

Alastor let out a light laugh and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee.

— Oh, honey, don't take this the wrong way. We all have days like that. And if you're going to drink, what better than to do it in good company. — he said with his wide, impertinent grin.— Although, if I'm honest, I'm more of a whiskey man… but I wouldn't turn down a glass of wine if you'd be so kind as to share.

You pursed your lips, trying not to show your frustration. The last thing you wanted was to prolong his stay, but you couldn't be dismissive of someone so close to your husband either.

Resigned, you took the bottle and poured one more glass, pushing it to him with a light tap on the table.

—Here it is.

Alastor took it gracefully and raised it slightly in your direction.

— Here's to an interesting evening. — he gleamed with a glint of mischief in his eyes before lifting the wine to his lips.

You just watched, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell this Overlord was still doing in your house.

The bottle of wine was nearly empty.

You didn't know exactly at what point you stopped wishing Alastor would leave. Perhaps it was after the third glass, when the conversation stopped feeling invasive and began to feel… intriguing.

He spoke with a magnetic eloquence, with the ease of someone who had seen and understood more than he would ever admit. And you, with the warmth of the wine in your system, found yourself increasingly caught up in his words.

— It's amazing how little humans understand about true ancient magic.— Alastor commented, twirling his glass between his fingers with an almost lazy air.— Always wanting to pigeonhole it into books, rituals, symbols… but magic is not something that is locked into written rules. It's a living art, a contract between the one who invokes it and the one who responds.

Your eyes sparkled with interest. You had been trying for months to decipher certain fragments of forgotten spells, but the lack of results had begun to frustrate you.

— So, according to you, the key is not in the exact words, but in the intention behind them. — you said, leaning slightly towards him without realizing it.

Alastor looked you in the eye, as if amused to see you so absorbed.

— Exactly, my dear. It's like a conversation… only with entities that may or may not be in the mood to listen to you.

You let out a short, somewhat carefree laugh.

—And what do you suggest? That I sweeten their ears?

— Oh, some require it. Others, on the other hand, prefer a demonstration of power.— he shrugged.— But everyone, without exception, responds better to someone who knows what they want.

That last sentence left a chill on your skin, though you didn't know if it was because of his words or the way his eyes bore into yours with that brazen intensity.

You ignored him, or at least tried to, taking another sip from your glass.

— You speak as if you know from experience.

— Let's say I've had my encounters with the forbidden.— your tone became lower, more intimate. — But, my dear… What exactly do you want most?

Something about his question made you flinch. Not in the literal sense of magic, but in what he was suggesting with his velvety voice and indecipherable smile.

You tried to deflect the conversation, but then he changed the subject as lightly as he was moving his glass.

— Your husband has been gone quite a while, hasn't he?

You didn't expect that turn of phrase.

— What's that got to do with it?

— Nothing in particular… just that it must be difficult. — he cocked his head, looking at you with mock innocence.— Such a big home, so much silence. I'm surprised you haven't gone crazy with loneliness.

You pursed your lips, unwilling to acknowledge that he was right. Instead, you snorted with a sarcastic smile.

— You'd be surprised how well I get along with myself.

Alastor let out a laugh, one that rocked you without you expecting it.

— Oh, I'm sure you can entertain yourself very well, my dear. But even your own company can become… unsatisfying over time.

You choked slightly on the wine - had he meant it that way, or were you beginning to read too much into his words and that had another meaning?

You looked away, trying to concentrate on the bottle. It was almost empty, and in your head the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer.

But then something caught your attention.

Alastor was still perfectly composed. While you felt the heaviness in your eyelids, the slight tingle on your skin, he didn't seem the least bit affected.

You frowned.

— It hasn't had any effect on you at all, has it?

He blinked, feigning surprise.

— Me? Ah, my dear, wine doesn't have much impact on me. Not like it does on you.

He pointed to your empty glass with a lopsided smile, and you suddenly realized how vulnerable you might seem at that moment.

Your body was relaxed, maybe too relaxed. Your judgment, perhaps a little numb.

And Alastor, with his bright gaze and smirk, seemed fully aware of it.

Alastor set his glass down on the table with a casual motion, but his eyes never left you.

— It must be difficult.— he said, picking up the conversation as if he had never changed the subject.— Your husband, with all his ambition… making ever greater strides up the hierarchy of Hell.

You straightened up in your seat, leaning your elbows on the table as if that would help you keep your composure.

— It's what he always wanted.— you replied, trying to make your voice sound firm.

— Mmm, no doubt.— Alastor tilted his head, his smile barely perceptible. — He has determination. Firm convictions. He knows what he wants and will do what it takes to get it.

Anyone else would have taken those words as flattery. But you notice the tension in his voice.

You watch him more closely.

The way his lips seemed to twist slightly, as if he was pronouncing the words with more effort than necessary. If you knew him well, you would have said he was having trouble admitting it.

— He's loyal. — he added after a brief pause.— A valuable colleague.

You looked at him carefully.

— Yes… he's always been like that.— You smiled, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. — He was a man of principle even when we were alive. He wasn't always this calculating strategist you know. He used to be… different.

— Different? — Alastor raised an eyebrow curiously.

— More… human. — you said, almost without thinking. — Passionate, but not just about power. He used to laugh more, used to care more about the little things. It wasn't just ambition. There was much more love in him.

Alastor let out a short, almost inaudible laugh. But something in his eyes darkened.

And then, without warning, he asked.

— Do you really love him?

The air left your lungs.

Alastor slowly sat up, setting his glass down on the table gently, as if the conversation wasn't about to cross a dangerous line. He took a couple of steps toward you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze locked on yours.

— After all this time… after all he's changed… do you still love him? — he insisted, his voice lower, more enveloping.

You opened your mouth, but the words got stuck in your chest. You didn't expect that question. You didn't expect him to ask it that way.

Your heart was pounding, you no longer knew whether from the wine or from Alastor's closeness.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting for an answer.

But you… you weren't sure what it was.

The silence that followed his question was dense, suffocating. But the burn of the wine in your system gave you enough courage to frown, feigning indignation, even as a part of you was still trying to process what you'd just heard.

— What kind of question is that? — you let out with a dry laugh, as if the very idea was ridiculous.— Of course I love him.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression barely changed, but his smile… faltered. Just for an instant.

— Yes? — He said in an almost casual tone. — Because you don't seem very convinced.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he tilted his head thoughtfully and continued in his usual silky voice.

— But now that you say it… I find it interesting. You say you love him, but when you talk about him, you mean how he used to be. Not how he is now.

Discomfort settled in your chest.

— That has nothing to do with it. — you quickly rebutted.

— No? — Alastor let out a small laugh, not taking his eyes off you.— I'd say it does. I'd say what you're feeling isn't love, my dear… it's nostalgia. Habit.

The way he said it, so confidently, as if he knew it better than you did, made you boil inside.

— And what the hell do you know about me? About my marriage? — you shot back harshly, standing up with a sharp movement.

Alastor didn't answer immediately. He just looked at you, as if evaluating every detail of your reaction.

And then, without warning, he moved one hand fluidly, sliding it down your side until it rested on your waist.

The contact was an unexpected jolt of electricity. Not just because of the boldness, but because of the ease with which he did it. As if he had always had the right.

You gasped in surprise, your muscles tensing, but before you could react, Alastor applied firm pressure and pulled you to him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For the first time all night, you looked directly into his eyes.

And what you saw made something inside you curl into a dangerous mix of fear and anticipation.

Hunger.

Desire.

Possession.

A look you hadn't felt on you in a long time.

Your pulse hammered against your neck, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But Alastor didn't move, just held your waist securely, leaning in just barely, as if waiting, as if savoring the moment.

— Tell me I was wrong. — he whispered, his voice vibrating in the air between you.— Say it's not homesickness you feel.

His closeness burned you. His presence filled everything.

But worst of all…you didn't know how to respond.

The air felt thicker, charged with something you weren't sure you wanted to name.

Your throat went dry, and when you tried to respond, your words came out slow, hesitant, as if each syllable would need to be precisely measured to avoid crossing a dangerous line.

— I… that has nothing to do…— you began, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

But Alastor wouldn't let you continue.

— When was the last time? — His voice dropped to a low, velvety tone, vibrant with that characteristic static of his. — The last time you felt loved. That you felt wanted.

His grip on your waist remained firm, a pressure intense enough to remind you that you were trapped in his orbit.

— When was the last time you experienced something real? Something that would make you feel alive?

You gasped, not only at his words, but because his voice reverberated through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

No. You couldn't let it go on.

With both arms outstretched, you levered against his chest, trying to push him away from you. But it was like pushing against an immovable wall.

Alastor didn't even flinch.

Your frustration grew, and with it, anger.

— That doesn't concern you! — You snapped, glaring at him angrily.— Who the hell do you think you are to interrogate me like that? Your insolence is colossal!

But he just smiled.

Worse… he began to walk slowly forward.

And you, with no other choice, started backing away.

— You're not telling me because you don't even remember the answer, are you? — He continued, his every word pushing you further and further back.— Because you've spent so much time convincing yourself that you love a ghost from the past, you haven't even stopped to think about how you feel now.

— Stop it! — you demanded, but he didn't stop.

— Tell me… do you really think he still looks at you the way I do now?

His tone was a direct hit to your chest.

And then you felt it. The bar counter crashed against your back.

There was no more room to back up.

Alastor leaned in slightly, just enough so that his face was mere inches from yours, his smile now sharper.

— You know the answer. — he whispered, his fingers barely gliding over the fabric of your clothes, causing your skin to tingle again.— You just don't want to admit it.

Your breathing quickened. Your mind screamed a warning, but your body refused to move.

Because for the first time in a long time… you felt something you couldn't ignore.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the ragged breathing you tried unsuccessfully to regulate.

But you couldn't let him be in control. You couldn't let Alastor think he could push you wherever he wanted.

So you inhaled deeply and let the question slip out in a sharp, direct, blunt tone.

— Since when? — You blurted out suddenly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile barely twitching, but the spark of interest in his eyes flared brighter.

— Since when, my dear?

You looked at him sternly, your back still pressed against the bar counter.

— Since when did you have me in your sights. Since when did you plan all this. Since when did I become an object of desire for the radio demon himself.

For a moment, his smile widened in a way that made you feel as if you had fallen into his trap without realizing it.

— Clever. — He murmured, his voice vibrating with dangerous satisfaction. — Of course, it wasn't hard for you to notice.

Before you could move, his hand slid with precision to your chin, grasping it firmly and forcing you to look directly at him.

His touch was not rough, but relentless.

— The truth… I don't know for sure.— he admitted, his tone lower, more enveloping.— But I do know one thing…

His thumb glided barely over your skin, an almost imperceptible brush, but calculated enough to make you hold your breath.

— Your husband is a hindrance in the equation.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

— A hindrance that has prevented me from coming directly to you as I have wanted so much. — he added with a softness that was in dangerous contrast to the meaning of the word.

A shiver ran down your spine. The seriousness with which he said it, the certainty with which he admitted it… took your breath away.

Nerves exploded in your chest, and the heat of the wine in your system did nothing to help you keep your composure. But you refused to give in.

You growled in obvious disagreement, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

— We may be in Hell. — you spat, holding his gaze.— but I refuse to give in so easily.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but did not loosen his grip.

— I don't care what you feel. — you continued, in a tone you meant to sound cold, but which barely managed to mask the tremor in your voice. — I never cheated on my husband in life, and I will not do so in death.

For an instant, Alastor's face remained neutral.

But then you saw it.

A barely perceptible twitch in his eyelid, a shadow crossing his red eyes.

And then, his smile returned.

Only this time, it was tighter. Darker.

His grip on your chin intensified slightly, tilting his face just enough to make his every word feel more dangerous.

— You can say what you want, my dear… but we both know the truth.

— And what would that be, exactly? — you muttered through gritted teeth.

Alastor let out a small chuckle before whispering.

— You always look at me with a different gaze, perhaps, to other people's eyes it may seem like simple disdain… but to me…

Your body tensed.

— And that look was a gift from before I knew I would be your husband's colleague… from before I knew who you really were.

The air in the room became unbreathable.

Because his words were not an assumption.

They were a statement.

One that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, was eating you up inside.

The air became thick as your mind was swept away without your permission, like a violent current of memories that had been buried until now.

A year ago actually.

You had barely been in Hell for a few months. Everything was an incessant chaos, a spiral of violence and decadence in which anyone could get lost. But you… you were living well.

Your husband had moved fast, establishing connections with powerful figures, making sure they lacked for nothing. And, indeed, nothing was lacking.

Except excitement.

Boredom had slowly begun to choke you. Even though you were in Hell, a place of chaos and madness, the routine had begun to devour you.

So you made an impulsive decision.

For the first time, you went out without your husband's company.

And you ended up in Cannibal Town.

It was as enchanting as it was dangerous. If you ignored the scenes of sinners being eaten alive in some corners, it had a certain intriguing air.

But something else caught your attention.

An enthusiastic murmur arose from a group of women with dark eyes and sharp smiles. They all seemed to be looking in the same direction, their red-painted mouths forming words of admiration and affable greetings.

Unable to help yourself, you follow their gazes.

A demon unlike any you had encountered before. Elegant, impeccable, with that presence impossible to ignore.

He was not a predator in appearance, but there was something about his appearance that made him more lethal than any of the beasts that prowled Hell.

Your eyes widened with surprise, and your heart….

It sped up.

You stood watching him without noticing the time passing, completely caught up in his image.

Until he turned around.

His bright eyes, red as fire, stared straight into yours.

They pierced through you.

As if they had been searching for you.

The air left your lungs in an instant, and an inexplicable nervousness came over you.

You looked away suddenly.

And without thinking, you fled from there.

Your memories scattered and again you forced yourself back to reality.

Your breathing was erratic.

You remembered him.

You had known him before your husband made any alliance with him.

And when your eyes returned to Alastor's, you found something worse than a smirk.

He was nodding. As if he had read your thoughts.

— That's right, my dear…— he whispered with dangerous delight. — From that moment… we both felt that spark, didn't we?

Your throat went dry.

— No…— You tried to deny, but the word came out choked.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying your internal struggle.

— No, what? — he asked softly, as if he really wanted you to elaborate.

You drew in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to compose yourself.

— It was nothing. It didn't mean anything.

Alastor's smile widened.

— Oh… are you trying to convince me or yourself? — his tone was a venomous whisper, dragging you deeper and deeper into a game you had everything to lose.

— You ran away that time.— he continued, his grip on your chin loosening just enough for you to speak.— But… haven't you ever really wondered why?

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Because the truth was devastating.

Yes, you had thought about it. You had felt something that day. Something you were terrified to accept in the present.

Inside you, the battle was merciless.

Denial.

You clung to it tooth and nail, looking for any excuse, any justification for what had made sense that day.

Intrigue.

That was it. Simple curiosity in the face of someone who seemed different.

Stupidity.

Yes, a passing foolishness. A moment of weakness in a new, chaotic world in which you were still learning your way around.

But not love.

No desire.

No… that.

But the more you dug into the memories, the more the barriers you had so painstakingly erected fell away.

You remembered how you spent weeks in a state of uncertainty, with anticipation growing in your chest every time you went out, hoping - without daring to admit it - to find again.

And there, in the bitterest depths of your soul, the truth waited patiently for you to accept it.

But not here .

Not in front of it.

Fury flared in your gut and, with a spark of courage, you summoned all your strength and pushed him with both hands.

The move wasn't enough to send him away, but it did send him staggering back a few inches.

You, on the other hand, crashed backwards against the bar, feeling the edge dig into your skin.

The air left your lungs in a sharp gasp as your hands shook at your sides.

— Go away. — The words came out harsh, laden with a panic you didn't want to show.— I will not do this to my husband.

Alastor remained in place, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked, exposed.

But he doesn't move.

— Forget this whole damn circus and get out.

Your voice echoed in the room, but instead of an immediate response, there was a silence.

A different one.

One that didn't belong to Alastor.

It was in your own chest that you felt it first: a tremor.

Not in your hands, not in your legs.

In your heart.

And when you looked up again, you noticed it.

For the first time, Alastor wasn't smiling completely.

There was something subtle in his expression, something imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him.

But you saw it.

His refusal to accept your rejection.And then, without warning, he advanced with a single long stride.

You gasped for air.

His shadow covered you, and the distance between you shrunk to almost nothing.

It was then that he asked the unimaginable .

—Just one kiss.

Your eyes widened.

— What? — Disbelief cracked your voice. Alastor looked down at you, his eyes glowing like burning embers.

— A lasting kiss. A real one.

Your body tensed.

— And if we feel nothing…— he continued with a dangerous softness, — if this has all been an illusion, a foolishness… I will leave you alone.

His voice dropped a tone lower, like a promise.

— But if we get carried away….

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

The implication hit you like a punch in the chest.

— You're insane — you whispered, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Alastor smiling, but not mockingly.

— Maybe.

You instinctively took a step back, but the bar was still there, preventing you from escaping.

Refusing was the only option.

But before you could open your mouth to refuse, you felt the touch of your hands.

Not on your face.

Not on your waist.

On your hands.

His fingers intertwined with yours in an unexpectedly delicate grip, and when you looked up, his eyes caught you completely.

There was no longer arrogance in them.

There was something else, something devastating, something you never expected to see in him.

Supplication.

The radio demon, with all his power, with all his overpowering presence, was begging you.

Without words, with his eyes, with his touch.

Your heart gave a brutal flip in your chest.

— Yes… —The word escaped your lips in a barely audible whisper, so fragile you could almost convince yourself you hadn't uttered it.

But Alastor heard it, and that was enough.

Alastor did not rush. He did not advance with the abruptness of one who takes what he desires without waiting for permission.

No.

He approached with exasperating slowness, measuring every inch he reduced between you, giving you the opportunity to flee.

But you don't move.

Don't look away from his gaze, even if the anticipation made you gasp, even if the air around you seemed thicker, suffocating.

Alastor noticed it all, your tense jaw, the slight quiver of your eyelashes, the sway of your chest as the air caught in your throat.

But you don't back down. And that sold your fate.

His hand rose parsimoniously, and the pad of his thumb brushed your lower lip with almost reverential gentleness.

The caress was light, barely a brush, but a violent shiver ran through you. You did nothing when his finger slowly probed it, as if he wanted to memorize its texture, its shape.

You did nothing when he pushed off it with a playful touch, just a slight tug that sent a tingle straight to your stomach.

And when he tilted his face and pressed a kiss against your lower lip, as delicate as a whisper… You closed your eyes.

Praying to whatever divine force that it would end there. That you didn't feel anything.

Because if you did…

If you really did…

You were going to end up in his arms.

But the universe was cruel, because the void he left when he turned away hurt you more than it should have.

You didn't have time to analyze it, because Alastor leaned in again. And this time, there were no distractions.

This time, he really kissed you.

It was soft, leisurely, almost lazy, as if he savored every second his lips moved over yours.

As if he was drinking in something long longed for.

Your fingers clung to the edges of the bar behind you, searching for something to anchor you to.

But when the kiss became firmer, when the heat of his mouth became an irrefutable reality, an instinct stronger than your reasoning took over.

You let go of the bar and, without realizing it, your fingers became entangled in his sack.

It was a minimal, almost insignificant action. But to Alastor, it was the equivalent of a match lighting a forest fire. Because the need exploded in his chest.

And the containment crumbled.

His hands slid to your neck, catching it firmly, and the gentleness of the kiss became something much more ravenous.

You opened your eyes, startled, trying to pull back, to speak, to do something.

But Alastor took advantage of the opening, sinking deeper, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth without warning. A choked moan formed in your throat, drowned out amidst the mess that was now the kiss.

There was no control.

There was no caution.

Only the sound of ragged breaths, soft gasps and the static electricity emanating from your skin.

A tingle ran through your entire body as his hands left your neck to wrap around your waist, drawing you hopelessly to him.

And you…

You didn't stop him.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Because your arms found their way to his shoulders and you clung to him with the same desperation with which he was devouring you.

As if your life depended on it.

And worst of all… It's that at that moment, you felt like he really did.

The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat.

The burning that spread through every corner of your body, every nook and cranny of your being, as the wet sounds of both lips colliding echoed through the air with an obsessive cadence. For him, those discordant notes were a heavenly melody, a symphony of desires fulfilled and temptations realized. But to you…

To you they were the sounds of decay, of the abandonment of everything you once thought you could be. They were obscene, the complete opposite of any standards you once thought important. And yet, who are you to define what is right or wrong in a place like this?

He kept moving over you, parting for an instant only to take over another spot on your face.

First, a warm, wet kiss on your cheek, followed by one on your chin, then on your cheekbone, leaving a sensation that added to the volcano burning inside you. Then a kiss on your eyelid, as if he wanted to seal you somehow, leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

And when he stopped on your forehead, he took you completely off guard. It was a soft, tender kiss… but the mixture of his warmth with his closeness made your legs wobble.

As soon as he could do this, he captured your lips again, leaving no room for doubt, the desperate need in his kiss burning hotter than any fire, every second consuming you insatiably.

Now, your hands didn't know where to go.

It was as if your whole body was in motion, touching what it could, clinging to what it found. Your waist. Your chest. His sack , which I had learned to want to feel in your hands. But your fingers didn't stop there, they slid down to her shoulders, running up and down her figure, searching for a stability that no longer existed.

Finally, your hands ended up in her hair, messy, intricate, and the desire to touch those deer ears, those details that only reminded you of her nature, became unbearable. You moved closer, wanting to sink your fingers there, to undo the only remnant of control left in him.

The thought of your husband… evaporated, almost as if it had never existed.

You don't think of him and you don't think of anything else either.

Because all there was at that moment was Alastor. His body, his presence, that electric tension that passed between the two of you, and the feeling that everything was so perfectly right . If you remembered nothing, if this was a new beginning, if Alastor was claiming to be the true lover in your life, you would feel that it could be true, no more questions needed to be asked.

This kiss… this was the only moment worth remembering, and the only truth you had left.

The last thing you remember, through the haze of arousal, is Alastor undressing you with delicate urgency, stripping you of every garment as if he were unveiling a work of art. And then, suddenly, you find yourself reclining on one of the leather seats, being fucked by him in such a delicious way that your moans burn your throat.

You don't know how many orgasms he has brought out of you, but you know you are overstimulated by the violent trembling in your legs and the pleasurable pain your pussy is suffering.

Your moans rise in intensity, tearing through the silence as Alastor rams you with unbridled passion. It's too much for you, that your voice shoots out with a plea.

It's a slow, exquisite torture. You feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, that sweet spot where all your nerves converge, and a choked cry escapes your lips. It's a pleasurable pain, an electric shock that makes you buck under his touch, feeling every cell in your body explode in an explosion of sensations.

— There? You like that, don't you? — Alastor whispers, his voice throaty and loaded with a possessiveness that makes you shudder. — You like it when I fuck you like that?

— Yes, there… M-more…— you hiss in a broken, shattered voice, tears in your eyes.

You open your eyes, your gaze lost in the haze of excitement. The world is reduced to him, to the intensity of his dark eyes and the way his body completely dominates you. Fear tries to creep into your thoughts, but pleasure is an unstoppable tide that drowns him mercilessly.

You lunge again like a madman, possessed by your own pleasure, arousal drenches you both and the smell of sex wafts through the room. And the wet sounds force you to roll your eyes back and paint them white.

Alastor, intoxicated by your surrender, watches you as he makes you his. A primal instinct overcomes him and, with a nimble movement, he shifts position. Now he takes you with abandon, with an unbridled ferocity that steals your breath.

He wants to see you cry with pleasure, to see you lose control completely. He demands it of you with words and actions, praising every moan, every spasm, every sign of your surrender. He kisses you voraciously, savoring your taste, and embraces you with a possessiveness that marks you as his own.

As he gazes at you, his eyes linger on your belly. An almost ravenous need invades him, and sharp words burst from his lips, "You're going to be the mother of my children," he exclaims in a throaty voice that runs down your spine. "You're going to be the sexiest mother in hell, sporting my seed."

And seeing that little bulge of his cock in your belly only slowly breaks the self-control he still thinks he possesses. And he grunts when he hears you moan, a long, choppy moan that seems so sweet to him.

Desire consumes him, the idea of procreating with you drives him crazy. Even though that is practically impossible in hell.

— Let me fill you. — he begs with a fervor that shakes you. — Let me sow my semen inside you and create a new life, a life that belongs only to us.

Sighs and low moans came from him as he uttered those words like a mantra, the climax approaching, so fragile you feel it inside you.

Melted and not really you, you look at him with tight eyebrows, clinging to the places of his thrusts and simply nod.

— Come… come inside me, please! — You cry out with heart-rending urgency, pleading for Alastor to bring you to the ultimate orgasm.

— Look at me, my love. — he hisses, his voice a dangerous purr, — watch me as I give you what you crave so much.

Alastor purrs, his static brushing against your skin and ruffling your hair. You, lost and sensing that at any moment you are both going to be finished, bite your lip trying to hold back the screams.

Alastor immediately notices this and leans in, a quick glance informing you what he's thinking.

— Scream… scream whatever you want, precious, just scream how good you feel, how good you take me… fuck — His voice came out raspy, demanding even.

Alastor, possessed by a perverse euphoria, grunts and gasps on you, each lunge a coup de grace against your last defenses. Your vision blurs, the world is reduced to him, to the heat, the salty taste of your own skin and the sound of your own pleas.

The climax hits you like a bolt of lightning. A torrent of heat and light bursts inside you, tearing apart any barrier that remained between you and him. You scream, a wild, primal sound, as your body contracts in uncontrollable spasms. Alastor roars over you, pouring his essence deep inside you, claiming you as his own.

When the aftershocks begin to subside, you find yourself staring into his eyes, your breath hitching, your body covered in sweat.

— You are perfect. — he whispers between gasps. 

As you both recover from your climax, Alastor couldn't help but grab the back of your neck, pulling your face to his to kiss you with a hungry fervor. You accepted the kiss in response, surrendering to the passion still seething between the two of you. And as you kissed, Alastor slowly withdrew from inside you.

The contrast between the wild way he had possessed you minutes before and the gentleness with which he was now extracting his erection was mesmerizing. You gasped as you felt the emptiness in your body, a pang of longing mixed with the satisfaction of the pleasure just experienced.

Alastor contemplated the mess you were now. Your flushed face, your skin covered in sweat and your body freshly sated by his lust gave you a wonderful glow. He let out a static-laden chuckle as he watched some of his cum slide down your thigh.

With his claw, he scooped up some of the substance and looked down at you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. You blushed even more at the sight of the semen on his claw, a tangible reminder of your intimacy.

— You shouldn't feel ashamed, cherie. —Alastor exclaimed, his voice echoing softly. — After all, we have already shared a very intimate moment.

You felt a faint spark of helplessness at his comment, but it quickly vanished as Alastor lifted you into his arms, as if you were a feather.

— I'll take you to a hot bath. — he said, his voice a warm whisper in your ear.— So you can relax and recover.

The aftercare Alastor was giving you melted your defenses, weakening the resistance you were still trying to maintain. Clinging to his neck, you accepted his offer, surrendering to his charm and the need to feel his closeness.

— You're amazing. — you whispered, your voice barely audible.— I don't know what you've done to me.

Alastor smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. As he carried you in his arms, you felt everything around you fade away.

In the depths of the pentagram city, a small establishment, an uncrowded place, was the ideal location for a meeting such as the one Alastor planned to have with his most promising associate

With a cup of tea in hand, he drank it neatly, savoring each sip as if it were the elixir of his victory. The sulphur-laden air and stale tobacco lent an aura of secrecy, a perfect setting for a meeting between men of his caliber.

The tinkling of the establishment's old bell resounded, marking your husband's arrival. Always punctual, always impeccable in his gait, he advanced with the confidence of a man who knows he is well received. He did not suspect, he had no reason to.

Alastor, with his perpetually stretched smile, received him with an elegant gesture. His mood was still high, his spirits renewed after the evening he had spent with you. He still savored the echoes of your presence, the memory of your skin, the timbre of your voice entwined with his on that special night.

— Alastor! — your husband exclaimed effusively, taking a seat across from him.— What a pleasure it is to see you again.

— And mine is even greater! — the demon intoned with his usual theatricality.— I'm glad to see you're still in one piece after your little excursion. I hope it was as… exciting as you imagined.

Your husband laughed, settling in with the ease of one who has good news to share.

— Oh, it was. From start to finish. Mercenaries, small-time demons, ambushes…— your husband exclaimed enthusiastically, pausing before continuing, —Violence at every turn, as expected. But you know what? It was all worth it.

Alastor tilted his head in mock interest, gently twirling the spoon in his tea.

— Ah, Yes? , And what did you find in the midst of such an odyssey?— he asked.

Your husband leaned forward slightly, and in one measured motion, pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark velvet. He held it reverently before unfolding the cloth and revealing his most precious find: a grimoire of infernal magic, its yellowed pages exuding a latent energy, its leather cover cracked and marked with symbols forgotten by time.

Alastor looks at the relic with a lopsided smile, interlacing his fingers on the table.

— Well, well… —he mused, slurring his words in his melodic tone.— It's not every day one stumbles upon a treasure like this.

— No, not every day. — agreed your husband with palpable excitement as he turned the pages with eager fingers.— But here it is. Lost magic, forbidden spells… and one in particular that changes everything.

Alastor did not react immediately.

He simply waited, letting the other man elaborate, let him drown in his own enthusiasm.

— One of these spells guarantees a conception in hell— he declared, his eyes glowing with a feverish intensity. — A pregnancy.

The silence that followed was almost imperceptible, a minuscule space of time in which the world seemed to hold its breath.

Alastor's smile did not fade, but something in his posture changed, a subtle tension in his jaw, a slight drumming of his fingers against the table.

— Oh… what a fascinating revelation,— he murmured with his usual sweetness, gently setting his teacup aside.— And tell me… who, exactly, will be the lucky one?

Your husband laughed with genuine warmth, oblivious to the storm brewing in front of him.

— Who else could it be? My wife.

Alastor felt the air grow heavy in his throat. The timbre of his laughter did not change, nor did the sharp glint in his eyes, but inside him, fury pulsed like a chained beast, clawing, wanting to escape.

No. Not yet.

Your husband continued to talk, rambling on about his love for you, about the future he planned by your side, about the miracle that was within his grasp. His enthusiasm was blinding. He didn't see the way Alastor settled into his seat, nor how the shadow of his smile took on a dangerous tinge.

And then, with absolute calm, the demon exhaled a sentence that split the conversation in two.

— I'm sorry, my friend… but. — said Alastor, his voice smooth as velvet, riddled with a steely edge. —…I fucked your wife.

The sound of his voice, though serene, felt like a thud against the table. Your husband stopped immediately. His words died in his throat, his face paled as if the blood had left him with a single jerk.

— Pardon? — he asked, a shaky laugh seeping between his lips.— I must have heard wrong… that was a joke, wasn't it?

Alastor didn't move. His smile was still there, relaxed, serene. His crimson eyes glowed with dark satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the bewilderment of the man in front of him.

— Dear colleague. — he whispered with a bone-chilling sweetness.— Do I look like someone who jokes?

The light of the establishment flickered over both men. The silence that followed the confession was thick.

Your husband, still incredulous, searched Alastor's face for some hint of mockery, a grimace that would disprove his words. But the demon only looked at him with that lazy and enchanted smile.

— No… — your husband muttered, his voice barely a choked whisper.— It can't be…

Alastor let out a light laugh, full of amusement, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

— Oh, but it can. — he crooned with delight.— And it was.

Your husband swallowed dryly.

— When? —His voice cracked slightly. — How?

The demon narrowed his eyes, his smile curving with pride.

— Ah, you want details? — he asked, with a venomous sweetness.— It's funny… I thought certain images would be overused in your mind.

Your husband's jaw tensed, but Alastor didn't stop.

— Although, if you insist…— he continued with mock innocence, stroking the rim of his teacup.— I might say it all began with the allure of loneliness. Poor soul, abandoned by her beloved on such a perilous travel… so, so far away. What was I to do but offer her a little company?

Your husband's eyes grew wide with horror as he realized the truth.

The travel.

The damn travel.

The letter the radio demon had sent him, with a destination that promised only advantages.

It was all Alastor's idea.

All this time, the whole odyssey, all the effort to find that grimoire… it had been nothing more than a distraction.

An excuse.

For the Radio Demon to get tangled in the sheets with you.

The chair slid back with a violent creak as your husband shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger, chest heaving with erratic breathing. He pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, while his other hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white with restrained force.

— How could you…! —he bellowed, his voice rasping with fury. — How dare you betray our alliance like this! To climb into bed with my wife!

Alastor did not flinch. On the contrary, he leaned back comfortably in his seat, raising an eyebrow haughtily.

— Betray the alliance? —he muttered, his tone overflowing with condescension. — I don't know why you're so surprised. After all… she's always been mine.

Your husband's blood boiled in her veins. But Alastor was only smiling. He was smiling as if he had already won.

Alastor brought the teacup to his lips with that infuriating grace of his, but before he took a sip, he dropped one last lunge.

— ¡Ah yes!, and actually…— he paused briefly, enjoying the anticipation on your husband's congested face.— It wasn't on the bed. It was on the couch.

The silence in the room was immediate.

For an instant, there was only the subtle tinkling of china as Alastor finally set his tea down on the wood with absolute serenity.

Your husband, however, felt the last strand of his self-control tear. The vein in his forehead pulsed violently before he let out a fierce curse, his voice so powerful that some of the demons present in the small room were startled.

Murmurs began to run through the patrons, some watching with morbid interest, others feigning indifference as their ears pricked up to catch every word.

— You damned bastard! — your husband spat, his chest rising and falling with furious breaths.

Your husband pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, his other hand clenched into a fist that rose as if at any moment he was going to hurl it at the demon.

— She's my wife!— he spat, rage exuding from every word.— As much as you have taken advantage of my absence, she is still my wife!

Ah, but those words…

Something bubbled up inside him, a dense, toxic emotion that began to seep into the atmosphere like a dark fog.

— Is that so? Your wife…— repeated the demon, his voice a silken whisper.

The teacup hovered in the air for a few seconds before disappearing in a distortion of static, as Alastor's silhouette began to change.

The lights of the place flickered, crackling with irregular frequency. His shadow, which until that moment had remained obedient under his feet, began to lengthen and twist, transformed into a creature with a will of its own.

Little flashes of his demonic form began to manifest themselves involuntarily: his smile, once playful, twisted into something sharper, more predatory; and his eyes, those glowing red eyes like burning spokes, crackled with barely contained rage.

— Ah… — he whispered, rising with an unsettling slowness. — No, no, dear friend….

— She… She's not yours. —he exclaimed, each syllable making the ground tremble beneath his feet.— She never was.

A flash of red and black flashed across his figure. The temperature in the place dropped sharply, and static electricity made the lights flicker with a sickly hum.

The murmuring in the room ceased. No one dared move.

And then Alastor bowed his head slightly, his smile curving into something that no longer looked human, but the ravenous grimace of a predator ready to feast.

— And now..—He uttered in a tone that was almost melodic. — I'm going to get rid of the nuisance.

Your husband barely had time to inhale before the shadows around him began to move.

The radio broadcast, transmitted from high above, echoed in every corner where Alastor's signal could reach. At first, only intermittent static could be heard, distorted like the wailing of a spectrum trapped between frequencies. Then, the screams began.

Heart-rending sounds echoed through the air, where the infamous red demon's radio broadcast was emitting a special edition.

Suffering permeated every note of that macabre symphony, and the listening demons shuddered, some with morbid pleasure, others with a visceral unease that made their skin crawl. But no one turned off the radio.

Alastor's distorted guffaws filtered into the transmission between each interval of screams, each word a mocking echo, a sadistic mockery of the fate of the wretch who had dared to defy him.

And the wretched victim had been your husband.

— What a… lovely evening, my friends! — He intoned enthusiastically, his voice buzzing with a hint of static.— Don't you think despair has such a… melodious ring to it!

More laughter. More pleading in the distant background, fainter and fainter.

Then silence, and then a click.

The program had come to an end.

In the demon's hands rested the grimoire.

His fingers ran over the ancient leather cover, feeling the dark energy emanating from the book. The mere presence of those pages, covered with infernal inscriptions, vibrated the air with a primal power, one he recognized all too well.

His red eyes glowed with keen interest. A spell of conception.

The idea was fascinating. In Hell, damned souls could not create life the way mortals could, but that book…that spell promised the impossible.

Could it be true?

Could there really be a being born of his essence, of his power?

A snap echoed in the air as he closed the grimoire with a firm movement. His fingers drummed on the cover as an smile widened with barely contained excitement.

Well…

There was only one way to find out.

And you… you would be the perfect person in his little experiment.

___________________

Oh god, I still don't forget this series of stories, misfortunes consumed my time and at last I can upload this work. I am sorry forever. T.T

[blxxmingrose]

the many losses hans had taken that afternoon felt like nothing when he saw how comfortable june was in their couch, leaning back and stretching like he was very much a fixture in this house as much as sunny was. hans couldn’t help but think about how this would feel like, coming home to this every night, having that smile greet him warmly after a long day. 

it felt so real in the moment, and hans allowed himself to hold it in his heart, to let it live there until it grew to be the reality of his life. 

with a smile on his face, he followed june and sunny into the kitchen, like two orbs in the dark that would always lead him home. “i think i have all the ingredients i need for a really special dinner for winners,” he spoke out loud, a glint in his eyes as he took the ingredients and placed them on the counter. 

something deep within him reassured him that no matter what he made, even if it was a simple dish, would be met with plenty of love, but just like with everything else that involved june and sunny, he found himself always wanting to do his best. that’s how it is, isn’t it? he thought as he started to wash some vegetables. when you’re doing something for someone special, you always want to be the best at it. 

and yet, he didn’t feel any pressure at all. sunny was as carefree as ever, grimacing at vegetables she didn’t recognize, and still recalling how she had cleaned them both out at uno. june’s teasing tone had an undercurrent of sweetness that hans felt to his bones, as if saying, “you’re enough. it doesn’t matter what you do, you’re enough.” 

“so,” hans spoke as he chopped some of the ingredients, his hand careful with the knife as he threw a quick glance at june. “how much do i have to convince you to play more games with us in the future?” in hans’ mind, june had already given his quiet approval, had already made a place for himself around the table, but if june decided hans had to work for it, then so be it.

“if the good food and overflowing snacks haven’t convinced you yet, i’m sure i could come up with some other way—” he caught sunny in his peripheral vision, and her expression made him laugh “—that’s if sunny’s pout doesn’t work, of course.”  

june leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated sigh, like playing round after round of uno had physically exhausted him. “ahhh, victory tastes so sweet, doesn’t it, sunny?” he mused, casting a glance in sunny’s direction before dropping his arms dramatically. sunny giggled beside him, clearly proud of her own wins.

he ruffled her hair lightly before crossing his arms over his chest, shifting just enough to meet hans’ gaze — the same teasing, familiar look hans had given him moments ago. “and here i thought you’d never ask,” he said smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “i believe your little assistant is ready.”

june wasn’t blind to the way hans looked at him, to the way that playful challenge in his eyes softened just a little, something warm flickering underneath. it was in the way hans had checked on him earlier, in the way he made sure neither of them were hungry or tired, in the way his first instinct was to look at june like he belonged here. as if this was natural. like he was already a part of this little family.

june rolled his shoulders, pretending to shake off the weight of his ‘many victories’ before pushing himself up to his feet and helping sunny up as all. “alright, chef,” he said, stepping toward the kitchen, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “let’s see what you can do.” he didn’t need to turn around to know hans would follow.

but he also didn’t need to look to know that something in the air between them had shifted. that this wasn’t just a game, nor just a meal. that the warmth in hans’ eyes, the way he so easily pulled june into this space was something real between them. he still wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he’d stay anyway.

[badhee]

𝑼𝑵𝑩𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: musician bf!heeseung x skater gf!reader ft. jake & sunoo genre/tags: smut, fluff, some angst, takes place in the year ‘08, scenecore aesthetic, forbidden relationship, references to old media n other stuff, mentions of weed, way too much dialogue, very cringey texting (it’s fitting for that time period tho lol), y/n has a toxic home life, heeseung and y/n get into an argument but gets resolved quickly, mentions of crying, switch!hee (he do be switchin’), fingering, oral (m. rec), semi-public sex, piv, unprotected sex, creampie words: 7k+

[ note. ] — this is another old fic of mines from my old blog that i wrote over a year ago (05/30/23), i felt nostalgic reading this again so i wanted to share it on my page!

No one likes being given lectures or told they can’t do something. If anything— it only drives the person to want to do it more. Unlucky for you, you were about to receive yet another antagonizing speech as soon as you arrive back home. It’s past 10 o’clock and way beyond dark, you should’ve been home a good hour ago. This was all Jake and Sunoo’s fault though; they were the ones who kept distracting you from keeping track of time.

They wouldn’t stop bombarding you with messages on MySpace. Spamming your inbox asking you to meet them at the mall after classes. Sunoo really wanted to get a Skelanimal hoodie from Hot Topic and Jake wanted to look around Spencer’s. You only bought a fuzzy Domo-Kun keychain for your bag. The only goal you had was to save as much money as possible in hopes of being able to eventually move out.

You had overbearing and controlling parents, they were strict and had extreme core values for the household. It was nearly impossible to live up to their excessively high standards so you started going against them. Self-expression was not something they celebrated, instead they treated it with disdain. They thought your dyed hair, dark clothes, and excessive use of eyeliner was “too eccentric” and the work of the “devil”. It also didn’t help that they absolutely hated all your friends, including your boyfriend, Heeseung.

On a random night, you had him over while you thought everyone was gone for a while. Turns out they arrived back earlier than expected and ended up catching you and Heeseung red handed, making out in your bed. Your parents were completely mortified to see a boy covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings with their daughter. Not exactly the ideal man they had in mind for you. It was hell to pay for you after that, they never wanted you seeing him again. Threat after threat to kick you out all because they believe he was nothing but a bad influence on you.

Will you ever listen though? Of course not, you love him like crazy. There was nothing getting in your way from seeing him. You’re an adult and can make your own logical decisions, they still treated you like a baby which infuriated you. Naturally your only choice now was to date in secrecy, sneaking out the house so you can go hang out at his place. You had a solid routine at this point— just wait until everyone was asleep and sneak out through the window. Your house was only one level so ideally it worked out perfect. Once you got out successfully, Heeseung would pick you up and just drive around for a bit sometimes. Today would be no different, you were on your way to sneak out again.

You skated all the way back home from the mall since neither Jake or Sunoo had a car. Listening to Bring Me The Horizon on your iPod while sipping on a slushy from 7-Eleven, one more block until you got home. You pivot your board to the side entering your driveway; feeling that pit in your stomach knowing what’s about to erupt. You lift your board up from the ground and walk inside the house with it.

“Where the fuck have you been y/n?! It’s 10:45 pm on a school night! You better not have been hanging out with those damn junkies again!” Your mom practically screams in your face the minute you walk through the door.

“I was just at the skatepark after class, leave me alone!” You snap back at her viciously, “and for the last time, they’re not fucking junkies they’re my friends!”

Now seeing her face visibly redden with anger, she points her finger at you harshly. “Who the hell are you talking to like that? I’m the one who runs shit around here, not you. Speak to me like that again and you’re going to wish you’ve never been born, got it?”

You really couldn’t help but laugh in her face, you’ve heard it all at this point.

“That’s hilarious, you make it seem like even I asked to be brought into this shitty world to begin with!” You shove her out the way, walk to your room and block out the rest of her nonsensical hollering.

Finally you’re able to text Heeseung in peace. Your heart was still pounding from that whole encounter. You don’t stand up to your mom often enough, praying to God that she doesn’t end up kicking you out right this instant. Pulling out your BlackBerry phone with a sliding keyboard, you text your boyfriend after hours of not talking.

Seungieeee, where r u ? xc

He replies to your message almost instantly,

@ Jake’s. can i scoop?

Yes pls get meee, my mom’s being an annoying cunt again!!

Not again… ok will be there in 10. cul8r

Also Jake is having horror movie night he says i have to come -_-

Tell him we MUST watch bride of chucky or else i’ll fuck him up >:[

I gotchu babe lmaoo :p

You quickly change into different clothes and reapply your smeared eyeliner from earlier. It was safe to say you needed to pack a few things in your bag incase of having to stay over; who knows how tonight might ensue. Since it became frigid outside you put on your favorite hoodie which was previously Heeseung’s. You’ve grown a lot of attachment to it over time. The most sickening part of it was that even after months of wearing it you still never washed it, wanting to keep the scent of him lingering on it for as long as you could. The smell of him brought you a sense of comfort, whenever you’d come home and your mom starts cursing at you you’d just curl up in bed cuddling with Heeseung’s hoodie.

A loud thump clamoring against your window startles you. You come closer in it’s direction to slowly walk up and see what the commotion was.

*Thump*

There it goes again.

You froze in confusion, feeling a bit worried now. Could it just be the wind?

You swing open the curtain to reveal your boyfriend, standing outside the window actively throwing rocks to get your attention. You couldn’t believe he’d attempt something so bold like this, your parents weren’t asleep and could catch you at any minute. Prying open the window so you can finally talk, you tell him to back away and stop causing a ruckus.

“Are you fucking crazy? My mom’s in the living room, quit making all that damn noise!”

“I got tired of waiting, just wanted to see you already!” He whines, anxiously waiting for you the whole time.

He literally just saw you yesterday but is so obsessed that he could never get sick of being around you.

“Gimme one sec.” You pause to grab all your stuff and jump out the window to go meet him.

Almost lost your balance in the process but thankfully Heeseung swooped in to keep you stable. You landed backwards into his chest and felt the warmth of his body against you. Your boyfriend was too dreamy, every part of him made your kitty throb. He was more than just a pretty face though, he was a hard-working musician too. He played the guitar, drums, and could sing beautifully. He was the true definition of a one man show, his real passion was to become a singer and songwriter.

You fully supported him in anything in he does, he uploaded most of his music on MySpace and got thousands of interactions instantly. His songs would continue to grow more popular online and he got more gigs to perform at shows. You were beyond ecstatic for him but also worried about it all in hindsight. The more famous he gets the less quality time he’ll be able to spend with you. You know this sounds really selfish but it always crosses your mind. The fear of losing him was something you just couldn’t fathom or grasp right now.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you so so much my pretty baby.” Heeseung didn’t waste a single minute to smother you in the car. His lips plastered all over your face, always doing the absolute most when showing his affection towards you.

“Missed— you too— babe!” You muffle in between kisses, your heart was overwhelmed with joy.

He looked exceptionally good today too, then again he always does. Bright orange strands hid the side of his face, the semi-oversized black t-shirt he wore clung to his body perfectly, and the snake bites and eyebrow piercing on him was to die for.

“Oh! You like my new piercing I got?” Heeseung announces after pulling away.

He proceeds to open his mouth and stick his tongue out, revealing a shiny silver ball smack dab in the middle. You weren’t shocked that he’d consider another piercing, you’re just surprised by the placement.

“Whoa, your tongue!” You gasp, pointing at it in amusement, “looks so cool, did that hurt?!”

“Not really, and thanks. Got it to please you better babe.” He knew he was causing to get all flustered by this.

“Y-you already please me enough Hee.” It was hard to even get a sentence out without tripping over words.

“I know that! But it can always be improved, right?”

There was nothing he really needed to improve but he found new ways to do it anyway. You really just loved him for who he is, all the extra stuff were added bonuses. He was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for in the whole universe.

“Do you want anything while we’re out? I can stop at the store and get that pink Monster drink you like.” He asks tentatively.

You think about it for a second but you just had a slushy from earlier, “I think I’m okay for now, hopefully Jake has some snacks at his crib!”

Heeseung nods, “Oh he def will, the guy smokes more than a damn chimney and gets a crazy case of the munchies.”

The whole ride there you listened to Heeseung’s music on a CD he burned. You were definitely his biggest fan, knowing all the lyrics to every single song because most were written about you. One of his most popular songs was an entire dedication to you, he never mentioned your name in it but every aspect of the song includes a small detail of your relationship. He liked the art of hidden subliminal messages in his music, knowing that only you two can fully understand.

Finally, you get to Jake’s house and are immediately met with gusts of clouds from all the smoke. You spot a blue-haired Jake and red-haired Sunoo who were sitting on the couch smoking a joint and giggling amongst themselves. You weren’t against smoking it just wasn’t your thing since you knew that you’d be in so much trouble if you showed up home high.

“Jakey! Sunny!” Your voice becomes more high-pitched when greeting your friends as you go up to hug them.

“Y/n! It’s always good to see you again.” Jake says, hugging you back.

“Hii y/n, come sit and watch the movie with us!” Sunoo scoots over to make room for you both.

Heeseung was just here so he didn’t feel the need to say hi to them again, instead just sitting down and having you on his lap.

“What’re we watching?” You ask, looking at the TV trying to make out what the movie is. “This doesn’t look like Bride of Chucky to me!”

“Jeepers Creepers 2!” Jake replies, “it’s not as scary as the first one to be honest but it’s still pretty decent. Oh, and I don’t have that one on DVD sorry.”

“Are you serious?! I could’ve went to Blockbuster and rented the damn movie out!” You were a little upset you wouldn’t be able to watch one of your favorites.

“It’s okay y/n, we’ll watch it next time. Also, I thought this movie was pretty scary Jake. I still get nightmares after watching it alone…” Sunoo admits.

“Of course you did, ‘cause you’re a big baby!” Heeseung teases, “and you’re baked off your ass? This is gonna be an interesting time.”

“You should’ve seen him earlier, he wouldn’t stop crying while watching Silent Hill!” Jake adds, pointing over in Sunoo’s direction.

“That never happened fuck off! You go try watching that shit in pitch black at 3 am and see what happens then!” Sunoo huffs, getting fed up with the both of them.

You couldn’t stop laughing at the whole debacle, playing with your boyfriend’s hands between your legs. The whole day went pretty well, you had a blast with Jake and Sunoo at the mall and now you’re reunited with them again and your boyfriend. The only real problem was your home life, but you had an escape so it wasn’t all too bad.

“Do you have any snacks Jake?” You ask, looking over at his kitchen to scan the area.

“Duh! I got chips, pretzels, ice cream, frozen pizzas, dino nuggets, really anything you could think of honestly. We kinda overdid it at Target..” He says, looking over at a guilty Sunoo.

“Hey, it’s better to be overstocked and than under!” Sunoo did make a great point.

You slowly get up from Heeseung’s lap and walk into the kitchen to get some ice cream. Luckily, Sunoo remembered to get your favorite flavor while they were out. You got a giant bowl and scooped piles of ice cream on top, putting chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles to finish it off.

“For me? Thanks!” Heeseung reaches his hand out in attempt to snatch the bowl from your hand but you weren’t letting off that easy.

“Not so fast- get your own loser!” Swiping the bowl away and flashing him an evil glare. You did not mess around when it comes to your favorite ice cream.

Sitting back down on the couch again, you finish watching the movie with them.

“Should I get raccoon highlights in my hair y/n? I been thinking about it for a while but I dunno if it’ll suit me,” Sunoo asks next to you.

You nod your head in agreement, “Hell yeah, do it! But you could rock any hairstyle Sunny.”

“Awe, thanks my dear!” He chirps, making a heart with his hands.

“I look good too, right y/n?” Jake chimes in, he’s always wanting to be the center of attention.

“Don’t answer him.” Heeseung butts in the conversation, giving Jake the side eye.

“Oh but it’s okay for her to compliment Sunoo and not me?!” He raises an eyebrow of confusion.

Heeseung shrugs, “That’s because Sunoo is gay, he poses no threat to me.”

“Yeah but he does for me, do you see the way he looks at you sometimes?!” You jokingly reply.

“I’m not gonna steal your girl bro. Besides she’s literally conjoined to you by the hip, I wouldn’t be surprised if both your hearts beat in unison!” You couldn’t stop laughing at Jake’s comments, he could sound so bitter at times.

“They do. We’re the same person actually,” Heeseung leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my little twin, isn’t that right babe?”

“Only if I get to be the evil one!” You combat, giggling at him tickling your tummy.

“Deal.”

“Ugh, I hate ya’ll. Making me feel like a third wheel in my own damn house..” Jake expresses with disgust over the way you’re both all over each other.

“Then get your own fucking girlfriend and stop looking at mine,” Heeseung was now nibbling on your neck, holding you tightly in his embrace.

You were a giggly mess, you made you feel so high when you were with him.

“Or you can get your own room and go fuck there instead of making us suffer watching you both act like sluts!”

Heeseung pauses to think about it for a bit. “Huh, that actually doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. C’mon babe, let’s go!” He lightly taps your thigh, signaling for you to get up.

“And the only slut in this house is your mom for not swallowing you,” Heeseung claps back one last time before you both dip.

Sunoo burst out laughing hearing that, almost snorting. Jake was pissed but Heeseung ran out the door before he could even get to him.

“You’re a dead man when I see you again!” Jake yells through the door.

“Yeah sure, you’ll forget in 2 seconds from all the weed frying your brain!”

Getting in the car now, he starts driving but you have no idea where he’s even going.

“I hope you were only joking with him because that was a bit much, don’t you think?” Asking him in a way that wouldn’t come off too blunt.

“Are you serious? I’ve known Jake forever, we just joke like that. Besides, he was taking it a bit too far when he was fishing for compliments from my girl.”

You chuckle, of course he would still be stuck on that. He was pretty possessive over you, he would only be okay with you talking that way with Sunoo but all his other friends were off limits. “Ooh, I think someone’s feeling a little jelly!” You tease, poking his face with your index finger.

“Yeah and so what if I am? You gonna sue me? Come and arrest me? Honestly speaking, you’d look really hot in a sexy cop outfit.” He gushes, sneaking glances over at you while driving.

“Is that some weird fantasy of yours? I come in your room one day and handcuff you to the bed?” You couldn’t even say that with a straight face.

“Now that you mention it, I might actually do.. Can we try that one day?”

“Sure, whatever your little heart desires.”

++

Heeseung parks into an empty lot and stops the car. You can see an old abandoned train station in front of you, the windows were shattered, graffiti plastered all over with overgrown moss on the exterior. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie which seemed to fit the theme of the night.

“How come I’ve never seen this place before?” You ask, stunned by it’s ominous beauty.

“I just discovered it recently while driving aimlessly around town, I figured out a way to get onto the roof, the view’s fucking insane!” He grabs your hand and leads the way inside.

Thankfully he had a flashlight on him so it was easier to navigate through the dark halls. The barren walls were covered in more graffiti, as was the ceiling which kind of freaked you out. There was a creepy porcelain doll sitting in the corner of one area, half of it’s face was broken which was giving you nightmare fuel. You tensely clung onto your boyfriend’s arm for support, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at anymore creepy things in this place.

“Are we almost there Hee?” You whine, trying to gain your composure but you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Chillax babe, you’ll be fine. No one’s gonna get you, they’ll have to get through me first!” He reassures, squeezing your hand to comfort you.

Heeseung finds his way through the maze and you walk up a few flights of stairs to eventually reach the top of the roof.

“Mission complete!” Heeseung announces loudly, “you can open your eyes now love.”

Your eyes flutter open and adjust to what you’re seeing. You could see almost the entire city from the top, you didn’t realize how high up you were. Your fear of heights were now starting to kick in so you cling back onto his arm like a magnet. Heeseung starts walking towards a certain spot on the roof, “Come with me, I wanna show you something.”

You follow him while holding hands, he walks over to an area and points at one of the brick tiles. You end up spotting both you and Heeseung’s initials + forever carved into the brick with a heart around it, a Polaroid photo of you two kissing was also attached next to it. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight, it was such a simple yet cute gesture.

“Soo, what do you think?” He was starting to get a bit nervous, hoping you’d appreciate it as much as he enjoyed doing it.

“I-I think it’s adorable. I love it so much, you’re the cutest ever!” You jump into his arms and he wraps you into a tight hug.

“I’m glad you like it. I thought it was kinda corny at first but when you think about it.. it’s only corny if you make it out it to be.”

You loved the thought he put into just about anything. It amazed you how you found such a great guy in your life, but having to sneak around and date him was the worst.

“I love you so much Hee.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” He pauses as if to stop himself but continues, “too bad your parents hated my guts before I could even get the chance to speak.”

“Fuck my parents, I don’t care about their opinions. The only one that matters is mine and yours.”

He shakes his head, “Actually no, don’t fuck your parents, fuck me instead!”

“Oh, eww you know what I meant!” You frown, playfully hitting his arm.

You look up to see a sky full of stars, the distant twinkling mesmerizing you from faraway.

“So, I got asked to perform at this festival coming up.” Heeseung protrudes your thoughts.

Your face lit up at that exciting news, “Oh really? That’s exciting, I’m so happy for you! Where is it?”

He goes quiet for a minute, “10 hours away from here and they want me to perform on both days…”

“I mean, I understand that you’ll be away from me but isn’t this your dream?” You want to be happy for him but deep down you’re feeling depressed.

“It is… but I don’t like not having you with me. It’s like my brain can’t function without you. I wish you could come along..”

“I know, I wish I could too but there’s no way in hell that’s possible.” Your head hung low as you expressed your apprehensions. You’d give anything to travel with your boyfriend to his shows, but you know your parents would never let that happen.

“Why not? I’m tired of doing this shit with you, we’re grown adults but I still have to go sneaking around just to see my damn girlfriend, do you know how exhausting that is? How much of a toll it’s been taking on me? I don’t wanna keep living like this anymore y/n.” Heeseung let’s it all out, this is what he’s been bottling up inside.

“Are you seriously trying to pit all the blame on me? You know I never wanted this to happen! I would give absolutely anything to make my parents like you, that’s just the way they are I can’t change it! I wish you’d stop guilt tripping me into thinking I’m always in the wrong!” You attempt to walk away from him but he pulls you in again. He saw you tearing up now, feeling responsible for his actions he wipes them away and does his best to undo the damage he’s already caused.

“No no, don’t cry please. Y/n stop crying, I didn’t mean to say it harshly like that. Please— I just don’t like seeing you like this.” His consoling words only do so much to mitigate the situation.

It wasn’t working enough for you, you continued sobbing loudly in his shoulder. He tried getting you to calm down but nothing was seeming to suffice. He couldn’t help but tear up too, he really felt like the world’s worst boyfriend right now. He keeps telling you he didn’t mean it and that he was sorry, apologizing over and over sounding like a broken record.

“All I want is to make you happy. Please, baby just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything! I’ll jump off this goddamn building if you told me, if that’s what I need to prove how much I love you, I’ll do it.”

He was dead serious when he meant that. He was so lovestruck by you that anything was reasonable in his eyes. As long as it meant that you were happy in the end he saw no wrong with the outcome.

“Don’t say things like that, I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me. I just wish you could see how difficult this situation is for me too.” You finally spoke.

“I know, I never doubted your struggles babe, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was dismissing them. I just really want you to do this one thing for me, I’m not asking much… please. I won’t take it if I can’t have my #1 fan there to cheer me on.”

You crack a tiny smile as you sniffle and wipe your tear stained face. He was always going to pick you first over anything, even his own career.

“You better be so fucking lucky my eyeliner is waterproof, you would’ve been dead meat if it got smudged!” You joke, letting him pull you back into his chest once again.

“It’s not like I’ve never made it smudge in other ways.” He replies, kissing the rest of your fallen tears away.

The mood shifts back to normal. He holds you close to him, hearing the rapid sounds of his heart pacing. It was soothing to you, giving you a sense of tranquility.

“The moon looks so beautiful today.” You quietly say, looking in awe while tracing the shapes of his tattoos on his arm.

“Yeah the moonlight looks nice, we should have sex under it.”

You spring your head up to face him with a questionable look, “Oh my god, you’re such a horndog. Only thinking with your dick!”

“When am I ever not horny?” He lightly chuckles, “but come on, let’s do it! I’m so boreddd.”

His attention span never lasted for too long, always needing to keep himself busy. Partially one of the reasons why you had sex a lot.

You gave in to his desires quickly, letting his hands explore your upper body. He slowly marks trails of kisses down your chin and neck, feeling his lip ring graze over the sensitive skin. His mouth parts open to reveal his flashy tongue piercing again, gliding it over you as you sharply inhale. The sensation was making your brain short-circuit, feeling a second pulse between your thighs.

“Mmh… feels so good Hee.” You whimper, shutting your eyes completely.

Those sneaky hands of his wander lower, coming in contact with your love handles to gently caress them. You gasp once you feel a light squeeze against your ass, grabbing as much as he can fit in his hands. It felt too ticklish when he slid his tongue up, making you squirm a bit. He works his way up to your chin again and plants a soft kiss to your lips. Standing on your tippy toes to slightly lean more into him, he latches onto you tighter.

Your foreheads were glued to each others but that still wasn’t enough, if you could get any closer you would. You had your arms locked around his neck, moving your lips with the motion of his. The kiss grew more desperate with time, playing with the metal bar once he slipped his tongue inside. You rake your hands through his fluffy hair, getting a handful of it, tugging it just slightly enough to solicit a moan from him. He goes bonkers whenever you pull his hair, it was a huge turn on for him.

“Do you want me to take the lead or you?” He asks politely, pulling away slowly before continuing any further.

You both liked to alternate between who’s in control during sex, it was fun having a boyfriend that didn’t mind being submissive at times.

“Why don’t we both take turns?” You reply, your eyes lustfully scanning him.

Something must’ve came over you because once he bit down on his lip you went feral, pushing him up against the door entrance and pinning his body with your weight. He swallows a massive lump in his throat, staring at you with the utmost adoration.

“So hot…” your boyfriend mumbles. Ready for whatever you had in store for him.

Thank God it was the dead of night and no one was around to be seeing or hearing what was about to go down. You’ve fucked in some strange places before, the movie theater, playground, a cemetery, and now on a roof of an abandoned train station. They may not have been the most romantic places of choice but all of them held a sentimental memory in their own ways.

Your lips crash with his again, kissing roughly while running your fingers along the lines of his shoulders. He cups your face in his palms, deepening the kiss to embrace every part of you. You explored a little lower, finding yourself playing with the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging on it to signal him to take it off. He obeys your wordless command, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the ground next to him. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times but you still never get used to how sexy he is. Trailing your fingers across his chest, tracing the contour of his toned abs and pecs. The more you touch him the wetter you got.

“Need you so bad baby…” He mutters under his breath, looking at you with glossy eyes.

“Don’t worry Hee, I’ll please you soon.”

You place small pecks to his chest, kissing each every spot. You go down a bit lower to his v-line, admiring how beautiful it is; placing another delicate kiss. You glide your tongue on his skin, tracing the deep lines as you go. Now coming face to face with his crotch, you undo the studded belt he was wearing. He quickly unzips his pants, not wanting to waste anymore time to reveal the massive boner he’s been hiding. His cock was ginormous, way above average. You were rightfully terrified of it at first but as you got more used to it you adjust to his size perfectly now after being together for so long.

Your lashes flutter as you drag your lips to his tip, giving a few kitten licks to start off. Heeseung feels his breath hitch as he creates a makeshift ponytail with your hair, making sure to get a clear view of your face. You form more saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto him, coating it with your hand.

“Mmm… love when you make it all messy for me.” He groans while licking his lips.

You smile softly as you look up at him, giving a few pumps to his cock before wrapping your mouth around him. You couldn’t fit most his length in your tiny mouth so you had to improvise. Taking half of him while your other hand strokes the rest. You slowly bob your head, rotating sideways while collecting more saliva to create an even bigger mess.

“C’monnn, you can fit more than that I’ve seen what you can do before babe.” He begs, grabbing onto your hair tighter.

You can’t stand when he bosses you around when you’re supposed to be the one in charge. You detach yourself from his cock and look up to see his whiny reaction.

“What the fuck baby, why’d you stop? Keep going… pleaseee.” He pleads, bucking his hips into the air.

“Not until you shut the fuck up and let me do what I wanna do!”

He gets his act together quickly and stops whining. “Okay.. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”

Going back to what you were previously doing, you bring his cock to your face once again. Pressing his tip against your bottom lip, you flick your wet tongue over the slit. Taking slow, deep breathes Heeseung swallows an inconvenient lump in his throat the more you prolong it. You know he wants you to just suck him off already but that’s not what you’re going to do just yet.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a couple light strokes. You feel his veiny cock pulsating and throbbing in your small hand, making it twitch with each tug you give. You accumulate more saliva from your mouth to spit on his cock some more, rubbing it in to make it wet as possible. It was so slippery your hands kept loosing it out of your grasp, you gripped onto it tighter and accidentally squeezed his shaft bit.

The action makes Heeseung jump up a little and he rocked his hips forward, you look up to gauge his reaction.

“Sorry about that.”

He looks at you with confusion. “What’re you being sorry for? That felt kinda nice actually…”

You were surprised to hear that but you decide to do it again since he seemed to enjoy it. He winces from the light pressure but it doesn’t bother him. Guess you just found out another weird sex kink he has. You continue stroking his cock and he pants heavily for you to do more but you just act like you can’t hear him. Instead you keep stroking him and play with his scrotum in your free hand. He mumbles some gibberish under his breath and you build a steady rhythm, making him whine for more.

“I-if you’re not going to— ahh!” Heeseung could barely get a word out from you making his cock overly sensitive. “If you aren’t gonna suck my cock then let me fuck you already.”

You look up to see a flustered Heeseung, he looked so cute you just wanted to eat him. You let his torture finally come to an end as you get up from being on the ground, coming face to face with your lover once again.

“Hi pretty girl.” He says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Hey cutie pie.” You grin, meeting your lips with his again for a quick kiss.

“Take your pants off, pretty please!” Heeseung asks nicely while giving the most precious pout.

You can never say no to that face so you fumble with your ripped jeans to pull them off. He presses your back up against the door this time, having your legs wrapped around his waist for support.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til I have you screaming on this roof begging me not to stop.” He whispers against your ear. His dominance swings back into full force, making you want him even more.

He licks his lips at you, giving a sinful smile. His hands slide under your shirt to toy with your nipples. You let out a sigh as he rubs in gentle circles, hardening them within seconds. He pinches the sensitive bud to make you moan louder for him.

“Want you to make as much noise as you can, okay?” He asks.

Simply nodding your head, you swing your head to the side in pleasure.

He drags his finger along your inner thigh, playing with the fabric of your underwear. You relax into him, letting him take a peek inside to see feel how wet you are. You inhale carefully, watching down as you see him sink two of his digits into your aching core. Your muscles tense up and you feel eyes roll to the back of your head now. All that can be heard are faint slews of moans and the sounds of your wetness while he pumps into you. He kisses you again while pressing his fingers in your cunt faster, making you moan directly into his mouth.

He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs harsh circles, making your bud more puffy and swollen. You mess up his hair and grab onto him tighter. Once he pulls his fingers out, he brings them up to your lips making you suck the juices clean off. You look him in the eyes while doing it, sending a primal spirit within him.

“Can’t wait to fill up that pretty little cunt of yours.” He mutters against your neck, hands aligning with yours to bring you closer while he slides himself in between your sticky folds.

You cry out for him, wanting nothing more than to let him fill you up. You feel so empty as you clench around nothing, begging for him to fuck you already.

“Yes, please baby! Want you to fill me up, need your cock so bad please!” Whining to gain sympathy from him.

He’s not playing your little game though, not after how you tortured him earlier. “How bad you want it?” He groans, his cock still rubbing along your slit.

“So bad! I want you so bad please, I’ll do anything!”

“Anything you say?” He questions while raising his eyebrow.

You nod profusely, “Yes, anything I mean it!”

“Then promise you’ll stay with me forever. You can never break up with me, you’re stuck with me until we die, got it?”

“I promise I’ll never leave you Heeseung, I wouldn’t even dream of doing something like that.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek, “Good” was all he had to simply say.

Repositioning himself to enter you now, he wraps his hands firmly around your waist, sliding into you with ease. He stays with his cock inside you for a bit, relishing the feeling of you around him. Nothing but sweet ecstasy fills your senses when he thrusts into you, feeling so full all you can do is scream. The immense waves of pleasure emitting chills up your spine as he fucks senselessly into you.

“Fuck, you look so good beneath me.” He growls, digging his nails into the depths of your hips.

“Yes! Yes! Right there baby, just like that. Keep going..” You moan out, feeling close to your orgasm already the more he hits your erogenous spots.

His pierced tongue travels down your neck again, sucking and biting on the flesh harshly. You know those will definitely be leaving visible bruises once he’s done with you. You hold onto him tightly, crying out while drooling all over yourself as he quickens his pace.

“Need you to do as I say,” he pants against your neck, slamming his cock into your walls hungrily. “Want you to cum on my cock when I tell you to.”

It was impossible for you to even respond. Anything you said didn’t even sound remotely coherent. His mind was going blank too, the way your tight cunt won’t stop cinching around him was making it harder for him to move.

“Love how I can fuck this pussy as many times as I want and you’re still always so tight for me.” His cock was going into you mercilessly, fucking you so good you feel like you’re going to faint.

Your limbs grew weak and that deep pit in your stomach builds up, feeling your climax approaching by the minute.

“Fuck- fuck- fuck, please don’t stop!” You wail, begging for more as you let him do all work.

Your arousal was everywhere at this point, your shaky legs were dripping with your juices and the sounds of him pounding into you was harmonic to his ears. All Heeseung could focus on was making the both of you cum together. He loved it when you both came at the same time, it makes the moment more special to him.

“Cum with me baby, please.” He groans, sounding drunk off the way you feel, “just wanna fill this pussy up over and over…”

You brace yourself against him, “I’ll cum with you, promise. Just fill me up— need your cum so badly Hee, please!” You can’t stop whining, digging your nails into his back harshly.

The feeling was all so intense, seeing stars from being so cockstuffed. You didn’t even have a single moment to blink before your vision fades entirely to black. You let your orgasm erupt through you as you throw your head back. His thrusts become more erratic as he reaches his high, moaning out a bunch of curses along with your name.

“Y/n, please never leave me..” he says while in the middle of cumming inside you, “I love you so much, my angel forever.”

Even during something this intimate, he still never shies away from telling you how much you mean to him.

“I will never leave you, that’s a promise. I love you more.” Both your hands intertwine with one another, the love you have for each other is unbreakable.

You felt so warm inside, having Heeseung empty all his seed in you. Looking up at him to give him another passionate kiss before he pulls out.

You were struggling to put your clothes back on as you could barely stand up properly. Your wobbly legs would go into a different direction than you wanted. Heeseung helped stabilize you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in a half hug.

“How ‘bout we finally get out of here?” He asks, reaching for the door handle to head back downstairs.

“I kind of forgot we were still here actually.”

“Yeah, me too. C’mon let’s hurry and get to the car, I still haven’t tried this tongue piercing on you yet!” Heeseung says excitedly.

Giggling at his enthusiasm you walk back with him into the train station. You wanted to check the time on your phone but of course it was dead. It was way past a decent time for you to try sneaking back in so you don’t even bother going back home that night. Instead, you opt to stay over at Heeseung’s place, not really caring if you’re parents will be pissed tomorrow. This is your life after all, why let others stop you from enjoying it to the fullest?

[zinflo]

Mha or jjk men (doesn’t matter who) reaction to their kids snapping at their mom

Whoever you are, thank very much for your request ♥︎ I decided to go with JJK instead of MHA since I haven’t released any work yet in relation to JJK. Hope you like it! — 🐉 𓂃🖊

IT’S THE DISRESPECT FOR ME ☞.ᐣ.ᐟ

FEATURING ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, CHOSO KAMO, KENTO NANAMI, RYŌMEN SUKUNA + TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS ᯓ★ Their reaction to their kid snapping at their mother (you ♥︎)

CONTENT ᯓ★ Parent!reader, sfw/fluff, mild language, petnames

⌞ SATORU GOJO ⌝

✄┈┈★ Gojo for sure is definitely ‘THE PROTECTIVE DAD.’

✄┈┈★ He’s usually the fun, carefree parent that lets his kids have a lot of freedom, but disrespecting their mother? Hell to the no.

✄┈┈★ The moment his kid raises their voice at you, his usual playful demeanour has gone down the drain in a heartbeat. He gives them a serious, piercing stare from behind his signature blindfold, and his voice drops a few notches.

✄┈┈★ “Woah, c’mon now. You’ve just gone from zero to one hundred.” His steps are slow until he’s finally stood right by your side but also in front of his child. “Change that tone because you don’t get to talk to your mum like that. Apologize. Now.”

✄┈┈★ If they continue to be stubborn and refuse to apologise, he kneels down to their level, still calm but firm, and asks them why they think it’s okay to act that way. Gojo wants his kid to reflect on their actions rather than just apologize for the sake of it.

✄┈┈★ Once the situation cools down, he makes sure to remind them how much you do for them. “Your mum is hardworkin’, amazin’ and is the main reason why you even get to live like a little prince/princess. Show some respect.”

✄┈┈★ Later, he’ll go back to being his usual goofy self where he wraps his arms around your waist, his soft lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t mind them, you’re still a great mum to them, sweetheart. Just give them some time, that's all.”

⌞ SUGURU GETO ⌝

✄┈┈★ Honestly? Geto just screams ‘THE WISE DAD.’

✄┈┈★ His ideology when it comes to parenting consists of being gentle yet firm discipline and doesn’t tolerate disrespect towards you. There’s simply no arguing about it.

✄┈┈★ So the moment he hears his child snap at you, his expression darkens. “Excuse me? I know damn well I’m not going deaf. So prove me wrong and try saying that again, but with respect this time.”

✄┈┈★ If they talk back, he gives them a calm but chilling stare that immediately makes them regret it. He’s not one to raise his voice—his disappointment is enough to make them feel guilty. This man is appalled, he does and I mean DOES NOT want his child to grow up acting like those monkeys with no manners or respect.

✄┈┈★ If the child is still stubborn, he removes privileges—no going out to hang with friends, no social media, until they apologize and genuinely understand their mistake.

✄┈┈★ After everything is settled, he always makes sure to reassure them with a hug but reminds them: “Respect goes both ways. You give it, you get it.”

✄┈┈★ As you both watch them walk away to their bedroom to sulk away, Geto grabs your chin in a firm grip before planting a soft peck on your forehead. “God, I love you dear but I think maybe you should give my parentin’ style a go. It’ll teach them to know their place, hm?”

⌞ CHOSO KAMO ⌝

✄┈┈★ The family oriented guy is 100% ‘THE GENTLE DAD.’

✄┈┈★ Choso rarely gets angry, but when he does, it’s serious.

✄┈┈★ The moment he hears his child snap at you, his protective instincts kick in, and he immediately steps in between you and the child. “That’s not how we talk to our mother.” His voice is low but firm.

✄┈┈★ If the child argues, he stares them down silently—his disappointed expression is worse than being yelled at.

✄┈┈★ He believes in talking things out, so he kneels and asks, “Why are you upset? Tell me, so we can fix this together.” He wants them to understand that frustration doesn’t justify rudeness.

✄┈┈★ He won’t force an immediate apology, but he will expect them to reflect and apologize on their own. If they don’t, he withholds affection—no cuddles, no high fives/fist pumps or no warm interactions until they understand.

✄┈┈★ Once they do apologize, he pulls them into a long hug and tells them, “We respect each other in this family. Especially your mother.”

✄┈┈★ While the child is in Choso’s embrace, Choso looks up and meets your eyes. He winks and his lips curl upwards before mouthing, “love you, angel.”

⌞ KENTO NANAMI ⌝

✄┈┈★ Strict? For sure ‘THE AUTHORITATIVE DAD.’

✄┈┈★ Nanami rarely raises his voice, but he’s for damn sure not letting disrespect slide when it comes to you.

✄┈┈★ The moment the child snaps, he immediately calls them out in a stern but controlled tone. “Enough! That is no way to be speakin’ to your mother like that.”

✄┈┈★ If the child continues, he simply says, “Go to your room. Now. We will talk when you are calm.” He refuses to entertain arguments in the heat of the moment.

✄┈┈★ Once they’ve cooled down, he sits them down and gets down to business, “Disagreements happen, but respect should never be lost. Your mother loves you and works hard for you. Don’t think you can speak to her how ever you like because I won’t allow it.”

✄┈┈★ He expects a proper apology, not just a mumbled “sorry.” If they don’t mean it, he waits patiently until they do.

✄┈┈★ Afterwards, he makes sure they understand that family is built on mutual respect, and he reassures them with a firm but comforting pat on the head.

✄┈┈★ Once he leaves the child alone in their bedroom to reflect on their actions, he’s met with you leaning your head against the wall so you can listen in on their conversation. A smirk crept up his face as he cupped your cheeks with his hands and locked eyes with you. “I’m sorry about before, honey. You’re perfect with everything you do, even if your way of parenting is more lenient than mine.”

⌞ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ⌝

✄┈┈★ Yeah… let’s all back away from ‘THE RUTHLESS DAD.’

✄┈┈★ Because that child is literally cooked. Without negotiation, the King of Curses expects obedience and respect so he’s pissed the moment he hears the disrespect.

✄┈┈★ His rage is instant. His sharp eyes glare down at the child all the while one of his beefy hands has hooked itself around the child’s shirt and lifted them off the ground so they’re now eye level to him. “What the hell did you just say, you brat? I know damn well you’re not talkin’ to your mother with that damn mouth of yours.” His voice alone is enough to make them regret it.

✄┈┈★ when I said that child was cooked from the beginning—I meant it. He doesn’t give warnings—his child is immediately disciplined and does not give a damn. Depending on the severity, it could be a timeout, harsh scolding, or taking away privileges. “If you go low, I’ll go lower. Two can play at that game, you ungrateful brat.”

✄┈┈★ He doesn’t tolerate disobedience. If the kid refuses to apologize, he stares them down with his four eyes in pure silence, letting the tension build and the child certainly shaking since his true form is already intimidating as it is.

✄┈┈★ “You think you can talk to my wife like that? Know your place under this household because you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.” He makes sure they understand that you come first.

✄┈┈★ Once the child apologises to you, he doesn’t get all warm and sweet. His only response is a curt, “Good. Don’t do it again.”

✄┈┈★ However, he secretly keeps an eye on them afterward to make sure they truly understand the lesson. He then turns to you, looking you up and down to see if you’re mentally doing okay before ruffling your hair and rolling his eyes. “Tch, I’m not surprised that annoyin’ brat got disrespectful towards you. You’re too damn soft for your own kind, darling.”

⌞ TOji FUSHIGURO ⌝

✄┈┈★ Toji don’t play, he’s ‘THE STRAIGHTFORWARD DAD.’

✄┈┈★ No ifs or buts, there’s simply no valid explanation for why his kid thinks it is okay to snap at you and would be out of his damn mind to even allow it to happen.

✄┈┈★ The second he hears the kid snap, he’s already standing up by your side. “You’ve got a damn loose mouth, huh?” His voice is sharp, and the atmosphere immediately shifts.

✄┈┈★ He doesn’t yell, but the intensity of his presence is enough to make the kid freeze in their stop. His eyes narrow, and his tone is cold. “Cat got your tongue, hm? Try again. Nicely.”

✄┈┈★ If they don’t apologize, he crosses his arms and waits in silence—because he knows his patience alone is terrifying.

✄┈┈★ He’ll tell them straight up: “Your mum is the only reason why you have a roof over your head and eating three meals a day. You wanna act like spoiled kid? Then you can handle things yourself.”

✄┈┈★ Toji enforces consequences immediately—no dinner, extra chores, something to occupy their mind and realize their mistake.

✄┈┈★ Later, once they’ve apologized, he ruffles their hair roughly and mutters, “Don’t let me catch you doin’ that again. I mean it.” He won’t be overly affectionate, but his point is made.

✄┈┈★ His expression changes when he looks towards you, grasping your hand to pull you closer to his broad chest and gently pecking your cheek before saying, “Stand your ground, baby. And show them next time who’s boss around this house.”

My inbox is open so feel free to send me any requests or thoughts ✰ — 🐉 𓂃🖊