#Seal My Heart and Break My Pride

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Headcanon: Worship

Yandere Forgotten God (tentacle monster) x GN Reader

TW: Tentacles, teratophillia, gore, dubcon, and yandere themes

He was an ancient chaos god, one that was once revered amongst humans a millennium ago. But over time he had been forgotten when his fishing village had become a city. Now he was nothing more than a tall tale. A god with no name. He no longer had a humanoid form but was now a blob of black tentacles. It was shameful how far he had fallen from grace from his own pride. He should have made sure he was never forgotten.

The god shouldn’t have been so cocky to believe that monk couldn’t seal him away but alas, this was the punishment he deserved for his insatiable greed.

So when you arrive to his shrine and accidentally break the millennium old ward, he’s shocked. Have his own prayers finally been answered? Has someone come to free him from this lonely existence?

“I’ve heard there was once a god of chaos here so I have come to pray to you… please hear my plea.” You then bowed down in respect to the shrine and cried a bit. “I do not wish to be married off to some senile, corrupt man. Please god, if you hear me, save me.” You cried before him. You wanted to be saved before married you off to some old nobleman. You shared your woes of how this man made your city nearly inhabitable with his high taxes and of his salacious behavior. How could he not be swayed? He felt obligated to help you.

And so the god did what he did best, he wreaked havoc. He used his supernatural abilities to cause a landslide onto that nobleman’s home, killing him instantly. Now you no longer had to worry about being a stupid old man’s property. You could continue on with your life worshipping him! Your god!

You visited his shrine daily and left him small offerings. Ones that he would have rejected in the past but was positively thrilled to have now. The god began to love you. How could he not be drawn to your genuine gratitude? He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this thrilled with him… it must’ve been over a thousand years ago now? He didn’t know…

What he loved most about you was your smile. It warmed his heart and he adored it. You were his world and he wanted to be more humanoid for you…

When your visits became less frequent, he used that time away from you to try to shape his body once more. He wanted to be with you. To hold you. To touch you, but he couldn’t do that as a shapeless blob of tentacles… but he could if he was more humanoid.

And so here he was with a mostly humanoid body with functioning male reproductive organs… save for the tentacles that remained attached to his back. His face was picturesque but his extra limbs weren’t… it didn’t matter. He would do so much for you, more than any human man. You didn’t entirely have a choice.

The god diligently worked on his shrine to make it more inhabitable for you as well. He needed it to be perfect so the two of you could be here for all eternity together. Him and his savior! His beloved devotee!

When you returned to his shrine after a week of not seeing him with bruises on your face, he was livid. Who had harmed you? Why would they hurt you? Hurt his destined spouse? How dare they… how dare they.

You shared your woes and prayed for salvation once more, this time from your family. They believed you to now be bad luck due to the nobleman’s sudden death and began to verbally and physically abuse you. You looked so miserable… just like him. His poor, precious worshipper didn’t deserve such treatment. No. They deserved to be worshipped.

The god now had enough power to leave his shrine due to your generous offerings. Your worship gave him the power to become a great chaos god once more.

And the god once more inflicted his wrath upon your enemies. This time he tore them apart limb from limb, starting from their mouths to their hands and eventually to their feet. He wished to start out by ripping out the tongues that spat venomous words at you. To break every bone in their hands and feet for the pain they inflicted on you. For every sin committed against you, he would inflict it back tenfold.

This is the first time you were able to see his true form as well… you were so silent the entire time of his massacre of your family. Was he so gorgeous that you were speechless? How cute his darling was!

You began to sob when he held your face between his blood coated palms. The smell of iron was too much for you that you began to retch but he was oblivious that he was the reason of your disgust and fear. Those damn humans must be too much for you to be around… perhaps he should whisk his spouse away?

So he did just that. His arms and tentacles tightly wrapped around you as he whisked you off to your new home together. The revamped shrine. He hoped you’d love it since he worked so hard on making it habitable for the two of you!

You struggle in his grip but he doesn’t relent. You must be shy… how cute!

You try to push the tentacles from you, but they merely wrap around your form to gently massage you. He needed to calm you before you hurt yourself… it was okay!

“Be not afraid, my dear.” His voice made you jump in surprise but he chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you… you’re my beloved after all. My savior.”

“You’re the god of this shrine…” you whispered softly, which made the god eagerly nod. “You’re Xeros.”

Yes! That was his name! The one he had forgotten over the years. You were so sweet to remember his name…

You don’t even have time to protest before his tentacles wrap around your body in an enticing manner. The extra appendages slip into the waist band of your pants and tease your tight hole. You whine at the sudden touch but more tentacles wrap around your arms and legs to keep you in place

“Your offerings were wonderful but I need a better offering since I eliminated your problem…” Xeros smiled down at you with his hauntingly beautiful face. “I demand you as my offering. You will be my eternal spouse.”

“But I’m just a human- ack!” You gagged on the tentacle that was suddenly shoved into your mouth. Your eyes welled up with tears as the god beamed at you.

“It doesn’t matter to me what species you are. I’m a god. I will always get what I want.” Your back arched when one of his slimy tentacles finally breeched the tight ring of muscles and wriggled inside of you. You moaned loudly at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that overcame you.

“See? Why would you resist such pleasure?” Xeros leaned to whisper, his hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, “I’m far better than any mortal lover. Don’t you think so?”

Your mind is too cloudy to form a coherent reply, your eyes rolled back in you head as his black tendrils ravish you. The tentacle in your mouth soon replaced with his tongue.

This was the way you should always be. You deserved every orifice of your body to be stuffed to the brim with him. To cry and whine in pleasure that ascends human comprehension. To be his spouse and to lay his eggs.

You deserved to be worshipped as his deity

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ♥

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

[peachesofteal]

Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small. 

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone. 

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit. 

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.” 

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you. 

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?” 

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile. 

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches. 

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“ 

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back. 

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.” 

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again. 

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely. 

“I can take her, if you want to-“ 

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again. 

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty. 

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“ 

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled. 

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control. 

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.” 

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself. 

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside. 

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod. 

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth. 

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[helluvapoison]

Hello! I love your writing and I was hoping if you have the time you could do headcanons for Lucifer with an s/o that snorts when she laughs and is embarrassed by it/tries to cover it up when he makes her giggle? Thank you! <333

• The first time he heard you laugh, really laugh, his heart thudded hard against his ribcage, threatening to break bones to leap out of his chest just to get to you

• Lucifer loves your laugh

• Your giggles are adorable and make him beam with pride but not the same way he does when you clutch your sides and snort

• Hiding from him in any way, shape or form is futile

• Your hands flee to cover your mouth, stifling the sound he adores and morphing it into a silly giggle

• Lucifer steals your wrists and holds them to his chest, “I love that laugh. It’s music to my ears. If I could trade all the eyes I have for extra ears to hear that sound, I would!”

• He’s only partly teasing, and it works making you cackle and snort again!

• He really will do the most to make you laugh

• Every time you make that sound Lucifer smiles so big it almost hurts

• The habit of covering your mouth doesn’t go away easily. You do appreciate Lucifer’s determination, though

• He scribbles down jokes and tests them throughout the day

• “Why don’t ducks like asking for directions? They prefer to wing it!”

• Snrk!

• “Gotcha!”

• Lucifer will wrestle you to hold your arms down so you can’t seal away your mirth

• He’ll go as far as to tickle you because, damnit, that’s his favorite sound you’re trying to take away from him!

• “Luci! Mercy, I give, stop!” You gasp for air when you can, tears pricking at your eyes, “You’re evil.”

• “Necessarily so! I just love that laugh, darling.” He whispers against your cheek, peppering your face with kisses

• You hum in acknowledgment, still catching your breath, “So you say,”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ quick raise your hand if you do this too! writing this might have cured me tbh <33 happy valentines everyone!

[hiitsm]

Bound by Trust: Navigating Turbulance Together

Part 3.

You hesitate to open up to your girlfriend about what's happening at home because you've been explicitly instructed not to share it with anyone.

Angst, Hurt, a little bit detailed physical abuse by a parent (reader's), lot's of Comfort & Fluff

-

Part 1 , Part 2

Kindness

-

"And we talked to Ingrid's parents through FaceTime the whole night. I don't understand much of the Norwegian language, but I'm trying. I'm even doing better with Duolingo, you know," Mapi had been chatting non-stop in the car since you and Alexia picked her up from her place. Now, a little late, you headed straight to class and emerged two hours later, feeling utterly exhausted.

With Mapi sandwiched between you and Alexia, you made your way back. Ingrid had already been in class ahead of you three, working on her own project with other classmates.

"Mapi, we love you, but we're going to drop you with Ingrid now. You can talk her ears off now," Alexia playfully announced, gently pushing Mapi towards Ingrid as class finally ended.

"You can't get rid of me, Ale, we have football practice now," Mapi exclaimed, flashing Alexia a wide grin. You couldn't help but sigh inwardly; you had completely forgotten about Alexia's practice this afternoon. You had been hoping for a little bit of time together.

Sensing your disappointment, Alexia turned to you with a hopeful smile. "You and Ingrid can come watch us?" she suggested, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"I actually can't, I need to finish some papers," Ingrid replied with an apologetic smile.

"It's okay, I'll watch the two of them by myself with my own homemade ham and cheese sandwich," you declared, already imagining the delicious treat. After all, you were quite the foodie.

"Amor, you made one for me too, right?" Alexia interjected, her expression hopeful.

"Of course, mi vida. I think you would break up with me if I didn't make you one," you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

As you sat outside on the bleachers and watched the team emerge from the locker rooms, Alexia shot you a grin, taking a hearty bite of her ham and cheese sandwich. You couldn't help but smile; watching her devour the sandwich in one swift motion was almost as impressive as her skills on the field.

You've always loved watching her play football. Her determination is inspiring, and her coaching skills are nothing short of amazing. With each movement on the field, she exudes confidence and passion, leaving you in awe of her abilities.

"Did you like watching me?" you hear from afar, Alexia walking up to you.

"I'll always like watching you, you are absolutely amazing, Ale!" you cheer, feeling a rush of pride for your girlfriend's talent. She sits next to you, and you lean your head on her shoulder.

"I'll have to leave soon to score some dinner before my practice," you tell her quietly.

"I can come with you so we can have dinner together," she offers, and it makes your heart flutter with warmth.

"Ale, I love you, but it's Thursday. Your mother always makes your favorite on Thursdays," you remind her with a chuckle.

"That's true amor, you know me so well. But are you sure you'll be fine on your own? Do I need to pick you up after practice?" she asks softly, her concern evident.

"I'll be fine, amor. You're exhausted and should go home to rest. If it makes you feel a bit better, I'll text you as much as I can. Deal?" you propose, offering her a reassuring smile.

"Deal," she agrees with a nod. "Now you need to kiss me, or the deal won't work," she adds with a playful grin.

You roll your eyes at her playful demand but lean in anyway, sealing the deal with a tender kiss.

As you had dinner alone and then headed to practice, things didn't quite click on the field. Trying out the defensive midfield role left you feeling out of sorts, but you tried to convince yourself that you just needed more time to adjust. By the time practice was over, you were exhausted and relieved to see your father waiting to pick you up.

The car ride home was silent, save for the soft hum of the radio. Wanting to reassure Alexia, you quickly sent her a text, letting her know that you were on your way home after a draining football practice.

Suddenly, your father broke the silence. "Things were a bit tense at home today, so you should be careful with your words and how you approach her," he advised, his words always leaving you feeling uncertain and insecure.

"Okay, I'll just be myself," you replied quietly, mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you at home. Your father sent you a reassuring smile, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. All you ever wanted was to be yourself without constantly worrying about setting off a bomb with every word or action. You couldn't blame your father for his caution, but a part of you resented the constraints it placed on you.

As you walked into the living room, your mother was immersed in her work at the dining table, papers scattered around her. You greeted her with a simple "hi" and shared a bit about your football practice. Everything seemed normal, until your father retired to bed and exhaustion pulled you towards your own room.

"Are you going to your bedroom to sleep or to scroll on your phone all night?" her voice suddenly cut through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"To sleep, like always," you replied, confusion evident on your face. Sure, you might send a text or two to your girlfriend, but nothing out of the ordinary.

"I don't believe you. And why weren't you here for dinner?" she pressed, stepping closer to you. You instinctively took a few steps back until your back met the wall.

"I had football practice, and I always have dinner at university before that. You know that, right?" you answered quietly, trying to keep the situation from escalating.

"So now you think I don't know about your hobbies?" she erupted, her voice escalating to a scream. Gripping your right arm tightly, she shoved you further into the wall, your heart racing with fear and confusion. What had you done wrong?

"Mom, please, can I go to bed?" you pleaded, tears beginning to stream down your face. But before you knew it, she lashed out violently with her fist, while still gripping onto your arm with her other hand.

Terrified and desperate to escape, you managed to break free from her grasp and fled to the door. "This is not okay," you declared, tears now flowing freely. "This needs to stop."

Your mother's plea for you to stay fell on deaf ears as you grabbed your football bag and ran out the door, knowing you needed space and safety.

In your panicked state, you ran for what felt like miles, your mind consumed by fear and confusion. Eventually, the rational part of your brain urged you to stop and catch your breath. It was cold, and you realized you didn't even have a coat on. Lost and disoriented, you fumbled for your phone in your training pants and dialed the only person you knew you could turn to: Alexia.

"Hola amor, how was practice?" her soft voice greeted you, instantly causing tears to well up in your eyes

"Alexia," you managed to choke out between sobs.

"Si, bebe, what's going on? Are you okay?" her concern was palpable, and you could hear the shuffling of movement on the other end of the line.

"Alexia, my mother hurt me," you trailed off, unable to articulate the turmoil raging inside you.

"Amor, where are you? Please keep talking to me" Alexia's voice was steady, but you could sense the worry beneath the surface.

"I don't know where I am," you admitted, your panic rising.

"Can you describe what you see?" Alexia's tone remained gentle as she tried to guide you through the chaos.

You strained to describe your surroundings, hoping that Alexia would somehow find her way to you. In the background, you could hear hushed voices, likely Alexia speaking to her mother, and you clung to the hope that help was on its way.

-

I'll be back next week :)

[shitsndgiggs]

Hello..... 👋I just wanted to say that your work is soo good.... I saw that the requests are opened... Would you consider and write my request for kenan yildiz x reader... like where they are in established relationship and the reader needed to go to his match to watch, but she didn't show at the stadium, so kenan felt disappointed because she told him she would come... and later after the match had finished and he could not find her... later he finds out that she was in the hospital.... something like that.... could you do a happy, fluff ending.... like with kenan being protective and worried... thank you

BITTERSWEET VICTORY - KENAN YILDIZ

The joy over Turkey’s win turns to panic when Kenan discovers you’re in the hospital

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Kenan's heart raced with excitement as the final whistle blew, sealing Turkey's 2-1 victory over the Czech Republic.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, and he couldn't help but beam with pride. The team had secured their place in the round of 16, everything felt perfect.

He turned to the stands, eager to share this triumphant moment with you. But as he scanned the sea of faces, his smile faded. You were nowhere to be seen.

He pushed through the celebrating crowd, calling your name, making his way toward the section where you were supposed to be seated.

His heart pounding not just from the victory but from a growing sense of unease. You had promised to be here. Where could you be?

"Kenan!" a voice called out, breaking through his anxious thoughts. It was Vincenzo Montella, the turkish trainer, making his way toward Kenan with a grave expression.

"Where is she?" Kenan asked breathlessly, not bothering with formalities. The concern in Montella’s eyes only heightened his fear. "Where's Y/N?"

"Kenan, we need to talk," Montella said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your girlfriend... she was in a car crash on her way here. She's in the hospital now."

The world seemed to tilt, and Kenan's vision blurred. "What? Is she okay? Which hospital?" His voice was barely a whisper, his mind racing with worst-case scenario and his hands shaking.

"She's at the nearest hospital. I don't have all the details, but she was conscious when they brought her in," Montella assured him, guiding him toward a car that would take him directly there.

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Kenan's mind raced with every possible scenario, fear gnawing at him. When he finally arrived, he practically sprinted to the reception desk, demanding to know where you were.

"Room 217," the receptionist said gently, seeing the desperation in his eyes.

Kenan burst into the room to find you lying in the hospital bed, a few cuts and bruises visible, but overall, you seemed okay. Relief flooded through him, and he crossed the room in quick strides, taking your hand in his.

"Kenan," you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. I tried—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his own eyes misting. "Don't apologize. You're okay, that's all that matters. "

You squeezed his hand, wincing slightly at the pain from your injuries. "I saw part of the match on my phone before... before the accident. You were amazing."

Kenan chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "None of that matters right now. I was so scared when I couldn't find you."

"I was scared too," you admitted, your voice trembling.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But you're here now, and I'm here. We’re together."

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I didn't know if I'd make it... The car came out of nowhere. I just wanted to be here for you."

Kenan's eyes darkened with worry. "I can't bear the thought of losing you. When Montella told me, I felt like my world was falling apart.

You gripped his hand tighter. "I'm here, Kenan. I'm not going anywhere. Just a bit bruised and shaken."

Kenan sat on the edge of your bed, his thumb stroking your hand gently. "Promise me you'll always be careful. I can't lose you. You're everything to me."

You managed a small smile. "I promise. And I'm sorry for scaring you."

He shook his head, his eyes full of love and worry. "Just rest now. We'll get through this together."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just holding each other. Kenan's heart finally began to calm, reassured by the steady rise and fall of your breath. He couldn't stop touching you, needing to reassure himself that you were truly okay.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"I love you too," you replied, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "And I promise, I'll always be here for you."

Kenan spent the rest of the evening by your side, his protective nature in full force. He fussed over you, making sure you were comfortable, his usual confident demeanor softened by his worry and love for you.

"Do you need anything? Water? Another pillow?" he asked repeatedly, hovering by your bedside.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Kenan, I'm okay. Just having you here is enough."

He sighed, sitting back down. "I just can't stop thinking about what could have happened. What if I had lost you today?"

"But you didn't," you said firmly. "I'm right here. We need to focus on that."

Kenan nodded, but the worry in his eyes didn't fully disappear. "I just... I need you to know how much you mean to me. You're my everything."

"And you're mine," you replied softly. "Now, can we please just enjoy this moment? We're together, and that's what matters."

As the night wore on, Kenan couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful that you were safe, that you were with him, and that despite the scare, you had a future to look forward to together.

[olee]

Contigo | Enzo Vogrincic

(Spanglish)

The city of Madrid was enveloped in a quiet stillness as the sun began to rise on a Sunday morning. You had been in a relationship with Enzo for nearly a year now, but lately, his busy schedule of conferences and interviews had left you feeling disconnected and unmotivated. Sensing the need to break out of this monotony, you decided to embark on a solo adventure and take the metro to El Rastro, a bustling open-air market that had always piqued your curiosity. With a sense of anticipation, you stepped onto the train and began your journey to the vibrant market, hoping to find some inspiration in the lively atmosphere.

Upon checking your WhatsApp, you saw a message from Enzo that greeted you with "Buenos días". You replied with a smiley face, and he responded by asking, "estás bn?". In response, you expressed your longing by typing "nada, te extraño".

After exploring the famous open-air market, El Rastro, you made your way back to your apartment for a well-deserved rest. You decided to take a long nap to recharge your energy and prepare for the rest of your day.

At 11 pm, when you were just about to call it a day, you heard a sudden knock on your apartment door. Curiosity piqued, you made your way to the door and peered through the peephole to see who it was. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Enzo, your boyfriend, standing outside with a bucket overflowing with beautiful roses. You couldn't resist the urge to open the door immediately and bask in the sight of his charming smile and the sweet fragrance of the roses.

He embraces your entire being, lifting you up against the wall. His lips caress your nose, then move to your soft lips, then to your delicate neck, and finally back to your lips once more. You feel his touch all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

~

You find yourself sitting on the couch of your apartment with Enzo. After exchanging some kisses, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and places soft kisses on your cheeks. As you gaze into his beautiful honey-colored eyes, you suggest taking a stroll through the lively streets of Madrid to breathe in some fresh air. Enzo readily agrees, and you both set out to explore the vibrant city together.

As you walk hand-in-hand through the enchanting streets of Madrid, the city's vibrant energy surrounds you. Enzo breaks the serene atmosphere with a gentle inquiry: "¿Está todo bien?" You respond with a sigh, your emotions spilling out. "Es que... llevo meses sin verte y lo único que hago es trabajar, comer, y dormir. No es que tenga amistades; es que... a veces siento que te necesito, y odio sentir eso."

Unexpectedly, Enzo opens up, revealing his own struggles. "Sabes… me he estado sintiendo igual. Vos entendés que todo ha sido complicado. Mill(ch)ones de entrevistas y ahora con un nuevo papel—” Your curiosity peaks, and you interrupt, “Espera… ¿cómo que un nuevo papel? Joder Enzo, pero, ¿por qué no me lo has dicho? Joderrr… Felicidades!”

In a burst of pride for his upcoming film, you embrace Enzo tightly and shower him with kisses under the warm glow of a streetlamp in a romantic corner of Madrid. As he reciprocates the affection, he gazes intensely into your eyes. You playfully kiss the tip of his nose and delicately trace your fingers over his eyebrows, savoring the moment. Softly, you express your pride, whispering words of admiration, and seal the sentiment with another tender kiss.

Enzo, caught in the embrace of your pride and affection, responds with a tender smile. The soft glow of the streetlamp accentuates the warmth in his eyes as he holds you close. In a voice filled with love and gratitude, he whispers, "Gracias, mi amor. Having you by my side makes every achievement sweeter." As he gazes into your eyes, a silent understanding and a shared passion for each other's successes deepen the romantic connection between you two.

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 1

Haymitch doesn’t sleep, but he does wait until a reasonable hour to climb out of bed to drink. And glare at Y/N from the dining table of their suite.

Their wedding attire, as well as the sheets they’d consummated said marriage upon, had been prompted collected. Nothing is ever really theirs. Not their clothing or their houses, nor their bodies. Everything belongs to the Capitol, everything belongs to Snow.

It is a foolish endeavor, trying to keep Y/N safe. Haymitch knew it from the moment her name was plucked from the reaping bowl. Surely she would die in the arena, but somehow she didn’t. Surely Snow would kill her after, but for some reason he didn’t.

For a moment, Haymitch almost believed that he could do it. That he could save her. Spare her from this. But Snow wanted her; everyone wanted her. Haymitch’s stomach turns at the rather extensive list of patrons who are chomping at the bit for just one night with her.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if it was pride or stupidity which caused him to blurt out that he would do anything, in exchange for Y/N’s safety.

Clearly Snow intends to take full advantage of anything. The victors of district twelve can still prove themselves useful and lucrative. A new means to entertain and distract people from what is really going on.

Haymitch isn’t sure how many of the Capitol’s higher ups will have seen their wedding night by now. Not that it matters, most of them have already seen him anyway. But they hadn’t seen her.

Some part of him understands that it is stupid to become attached to her. She’ll be another person for the president to hold over his head. She is just a stupid girl, who makes him do stupid things.

Y/N begins to stir against the mattress.

Haymitch knocks back the remainder of his drink. He has the full lineup waiting for her. Uppers, downers, sleeping pills, painkillers, something to calm her nerves. All color coded and laid out on the table, next to a glass of water.

Sure, there are other ways a person might comfort another. But Haymitch isn’t familiar with them. However, he’s on a first name basis with pills. Booze.

Y/N’s lips part and she lets out a sleepy sigh.

God those lips…her mouth. The noises she made.

Haymitch slaps a hand against the table. He could not and would not think about it. She didn’t want him, she was forced. They both were. He has to figure out how to live with that.

Eventually Y/N wakes, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes find him, at the table, watching her, intently. She excuses herself to the washroom and returns a few moments later. Haymitch is still staring. “Good morning,” she says, in a weak attempt to break the awkward silence.

Haymitch grunts in response, observing as she opens her travel bag in the corner and produces a tablet. The same one she taps away at day and night. Frankly, he’s surprised it hadn’t ended up in bed with them. “What are you doing?” He asks, as she presses a button and the screen comes to life.

“I was just…” about to pour my heart out in a word document, then seal up the file. “Going to play a game.”

“You should take something,” Haymitch nods to the pills, “then you should eat something.”

“Which ones do you take?”

“None.”

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

“Then we should call for breakfast.” Y/N turns her gaze back to the tablet screen. “What do you like?”

“Are you taking notes?” Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N arches a brow, “yeah.” Knowledge is power. Anything from how a person takes their eggs, to their favorite color.

Haymitch purses his lips, “I like bacon, crispy, toast with strawberry marmalade, and eggs over easy. What about you?”

“Oh,” Y/N jots it down, waving a dismissive hand. “I like french toast, with fruit. Hash browns, with hot sauce and coffee. I love coffee.”

“They’ll have it sent for you, back home in twelve. They’ll send you anything you ask for…they’re not supposed to give us money, but things, they are allowed to give us things.” The people who get to watch. The people who pay to watch.

“Do you think we’ll have to do it often?”

“I think last night will keep them entertained for a while.” Haymitch says, “how are you?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. The ask is too intimate. “I’m fine.”

Haymitch sighs, “white one’s for pain, pink peps you up, blue helps you sleep, yellow is for nerves.”

Y/N clears her throat, “my mom…has a pretty nasty addiction to morphling.”

He can respect that. “You should only take what you need then.” Nothing less, nothing more.

“I don’t really need anything.” Y/N lifts a shoulder.

“But you will take one if you need to?”

“Yes, Haymitch.” She assures him.

“Does this bother you, then?” He lifts his bottle between them.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “You said you wanted to keep your liquor, that was one of your terms.”

“But does it bother you?”

“No, Haymitch. It doesn’t bother me. We all have our vices. I take notes, you take shots. We are who we are.”

————————————————————————

They take the first train out of the Capitol, after they’re dismissed by President Snow. It takes about a day and a half, straight from the Capitol to twelve.

Haymitch keeps mostly to himself. His own room or the bar car.

Y/N realizes that he values space more than anything. She keeps that in mind when they return to victor’s village. Going their separate ways.

Y/N slides the key into the lock, turning it open and flicking on the light. Home sweet home. After a while she takes the stairs up to her bedroom on the second floor. She turns the knob…and then she screams.

Cameras, like the ones in the honeymoon suite. Folded away neatly against the far wall. No envelope. No threat. Just a promise, that they’ll have to use them one day.

She stumbles back into the hallway, colliding with something firm. “AHHH!” Y/N turns, ready to fight off her intruder.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s me.” Haymitch hushes her.

“Haymitch?” She breathes.

“What happened?”

“They’re in there,” Y/N tells him, burying her face against the crook of his neck. “They’re in my room.”

“Who?” He’ll kill them.

“The cameras.”

Fuck. Haymitch tightens his hold. “Then you’ll stay with me.“ Snow must’ve had them placed strategically, to set her off. He wanted the cameras to be the first thing she saw, the second she felt an ounce of comfort, returning to her own home. “Stay right here, with me.”

“But my-”

“I have spare rooms, we can clean one out for you. Until then, you can stay with me. We’ll make it nice for you. Whatever you want.”

“You wanted to keep your house.” He asks for so little. “I know you need space.”

Haymitch draws back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s big enough for two, we can figure it out.”

Y/N nods, as he thumbs tears from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She can’t go home, back to the house in town, she grew up in. This was made clear the day she became a victor, but she can come here. To him. And Haymitch would welcome her with open arms.

————————————————————————

Haymitch is used to sleeping with a knife under his pillow. But with Y/N landing in his bed night after night, he is forced to retire the blade for her safety.

He still has nightmares. Just like Y/N. Twisting in the sheets restlessly, waking her as he does.

“Haymitch,” Y/N whispers. Shaking him, lightly. “Haymitch, it’s Y/N. I’m here with you, in district twelve. You’re safe now.”

Haymitch startles awake, to soft fingers carding his hair. “Angel?”

“You’re safe.” She says, a second time.

————————————————————————

President Snow is quite pleased with the results of his latest stunt, the cameras in Y/N’s room. The closer his problem victors become, the less likely they will be to cause a fuss.

Haymitch has proved, time and time again, that he will go to great lengths to protect his former tribute.

Coriolanus remembers that feeling well. The way a woman like Lucy Gray or Y/N Undersee could make a person feel. Especially a mentor. The need to save a dying bird is strong, until they inevitably bite the hand that feeds.

Y/N will bite Haymitch eventually, deep; to the bone. Snow is sure of it. Because that is what pretty little birds do.

Part 3

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Fellow turns around after feeling the distinct sensation of someone’s hand in his pocket.

“…ah. Shishishi~ Nice collections of wallets you’ve got there, mister! Aren’t they heavy? I swear I was just trying to help you lighten the load! Isn’t that right, Leona-san?” -Ruggie, caught red-handed.

“…” -Leona, just passing by and torn between narrowing his eyes at Fellow’s presence at NRC or putting a palm to his face, absolutely done with everything.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Hey now, hands off my pockets!” Fellow shooed the hyena off, keeping protecting hands over his wallets. “I earned these fair and square. Find some other suckers to prey on—and next time, be less obvious about it!”

“Nishishishishi! I dunno, Leona-san~ Ya think we should let this criminal run free?”

“Tch, hell if I care. Don’t get me involved in your personal squabbles. I ain’t cleanin’ up after ya.”

“Wow, harsh.” Ruggie swiveled to Fellow. “You see how he treats me? Awful. After I work my tail off for him, too. The Mystery Shop’s a better gig. Sam still makes me clean, but at least he pays me for my time.”

The emerald of Leona’s eyes cut narrow.

With an impish grin, Ruggie continued. “Geez~ Rich people seriously are the worst!”

“They are,” Fellow agreed in a grumble. He thought of his own employer—well, ex-employer—a shadowy man screaming abuse at him through the phone. “So full of themselves and entitled to service.”

“See, you get me!!” Ruggie elbowed him in the ribs. “Us poors gotta band together and rise up against’m. Let’s eat the rich!”

“Oi, Ruggie,” his dorm leader growled at last, “Quit talkin’ about me like I’m not standing right in front of you.”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Leona-san?”

“Yeah, you’re really breaking my heart,” he drawled sarcastically. “I’m choking up over here.”

“Charming boss you’ve got here.” Fellow’s laugh as light as fairy floss. “I’ll bet he’s a riot with the snooty elites.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. Well, when he feels like turning on the charm. Works wonders for a distraction while I liberate them of their valuables~”

“Really! That’s usually my job. Sometimes I pull double duty. Giddie ain’t exactly good at keeping people’s attention or being slick with his hands.”

“You have a partner? Convincing Leona-san to play along’s like pulling teeth. He whines all the time and makes demands like some overgrown cub—”

“Ruggie,” Leona snapped. Low, threatening—a command to stay silent.

“My bad!! My lips are sealed!” the hyena pledged. He comically dipped into a bow and slunk back.

Leona stepped up.

“Ohoh?”

Here comes the king.

The regal lion rolled his shoulders, inclining his head back—looking down on Fellow. “… Hey, scammer. I held my tongue before since you were slinking around town being sketchy—but now you’re in my territory, and I make the rules around here.

“I don’t care if you go around plucking wallets from unsuspecting herbivores. Just don’t cross me, not again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tread lightly. Got that?”

His tone was familiar. Assured and full of arrogance. A luxury afforded to this beat thanks to immense power and privilege.

Fellow gritted his teeth. He managed to force out a measured response, despite his surging hatred.

He knew this song and dance. How to keep his head down, how to swallow his pride and comply. Kowtowing was a skill, and Fellow had mastered it.

“Completely. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way, good sir!” he chirped with a pearly smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Leona turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He strolled off without so much as another word or gesture.

Ruggie tore off after him. “Ah—wait up! You know I was just joking, right? Heeey, don’t ignore me, Leona-san!”

Fellow carefully watched their retreating figures. When their shaped had vanished entirely, he angrily kicked at the ground and shouted at the skies.

“I can’t stand these damn rich people!!”

[mykoreanlove]

my only one

Your engagement party was a full blast - the pittoreske venue was filled with the people you loved most. Everybody was dancing, drinking and celebrating your upcoming wedding.

You had been shaking firm hands and giving out heartfelt hugs all night long, so you snuck out onto the balcony to take a break.

The balcony was covered in golden fairy lights, slightly illuminating the breathtaking view in front of you.

You didn’t turn around as you noticed the door open, you had a gut feeling who it would be.

Strong arms hugged you from behind and a raspy voice whispered in your ear - your home had found you.

„Hey“, he whispered, „you okay?“

You nodded silently and grabbed his arm, squeezing lightly.

„Am now“, you smiled.

Namjoon chuckled and hid his face in the crook of your neck, resting silently for a moment or two.

„You know… you can still say no.“, he stated nervously.

You laughed out loud, filling his ear with the vibration of your amusement.

„Now why would I do that?“

Namjoon hugged you even tighter, merging into one once more.

„So you really mean it, huh?“

„Joon, you’re stuck with me. Forever.“

„Forever? Really?“

„Yes, you dumbass, forever. Were you really doubting?“

He let out a deep sigh, as if he was finally releasing the anxiety he carried in his heart.

„It’s just that sometimes I feel like this is too good to be true. You’re too good to be true, y/n.“

You pushed his head back gently and turned around, looking up into his saddened eyes.

„Listen up, big boy. I love you and you love me. It’s supposed to feel this good.“

You saw his cheeks redden, as he averted his gaze embarrassed. You reached for his big hands and squeezed them as tightly as you could.

„I’m not running away, Joon. I know you are the one for me.“

He turned to face you and smiled warmly.

„The one?“

Namjoon was a confident man, taking extreme pride in his talents and intellect but the slightest doubt could turn him into an anxious mess. Especially if the doubt was about you.

You nodded cheerfully, while making your point.

„When did you realize?“

„Pretty early on“, you said and turned around again, observing the beautiful landscape in front of you.

„Hey, wait. Tell me when! Please, y/n“, he whined into your ear as his arms found your waist again.

You let your head fall back against his broad chest and smiled, remembering those days fondly.

„Do you remember when we first met? How we used to be?“

He nodded.

„We were inseparable back then, always hanging out with each other or calling or texting. It felt like we were obsessed with getting to know each other“, you mused happily.

„That didn’t change“, he said as he left soft kisses on your neck.

„One time when we were on the phone we had a conversation that sealed the deal for me. From then on I just knew that I would marry you some day.“

„What did I say, baby?“

„Oh god, I can actually quote it. How lame am I?“, you laughed embarrassed.

„The lamest. But I love you for that“, he chuckled against your skin. „Now tell me.“

„You said you were proud of me. It was super random and I didn’t understand why. I had to ask for clarification.“, you reminisced.

„Wait, I remember that call.“

You stayed silent for a second, replaying the situation in your mind.

„I am proud of you because you’re doing so great, y/n. Eating your veggies. Drinking your water. Taking your vitamins. Going for walks. Taking care of your mind. Staying positive. That deserves all my proud, y/n.“, you quoted him.

Namjoon stood quietly behind you, already knowing where this was going.

„I didn’t tell you at the time but I was facing a lot of shit. A lot of heavy stuff that made my life a living hell. And I was not doing fine. At all. Taking care of myself, even the simplest things, were a heavy burden to me. But I was trying my best and yet somehow you caught that.“

You turned around once more and looked into his loving eyes, stroking his cheek as you exclaimed your love for him.

„You didn’t need me to articulate my pain. You just knew. It’s like you saw right through me and decided to stay anyway. To give me my time to come to you instead of pressuring me into telling you.“

Namjoon‘s eyes were filled with tears as he listened closely, this was the first time you ever spoke about it that candidly.

„You sensed the war within me and provided me with peace. To me, Joonie, there’s no greater act of love. And I promise to return that love every single day. If you let me.“

Namjoon wiped away the tears hastily, but you stopped him.

You reached up to him and kissed him, tasting his salty tears on his sweet lips. In this moment you were sure that this wouldn’t be the last time for salty kisses but you didn’t mind. As long as you got him by your side, you were good.

Your Joon. Your home. Your only one.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Toxic Love

Yandere Male Cherub x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Stalking, magical mind manipulation, religious themes, dub-con, general yandere behavior, smut) Word Count: 1.3k (A long time ago I had written a similar piece to this, but I deleted it because there was a request on another blog, that i had not seen until after I wrote my piece, that looked like it had heavily influenced my fic. Now I have reworked and added smut in celebration of Valentine’s Day. I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for any mistakes I forgot that it was going to be Valentine’s Day until just a few hours ago.) 

Celael was a cherub. There were many cherubs, more commonly known as cupids. None of them looked like little flying babies though. Most actually had long hair, one set of wings, and skin in varying tones of pink and sometimes lavender or even red. Celael’s wings were a pastel pink, matching his skin tone, but his shoulder length hair was light lavender and his eyes were a passionate crimson red. Most cupids were happy with their existence, taking both pride and joy in their work, spreading love among the humans. But Celael was not happy at all. Through the countless years of diligently carrying out assignments, matching humans together, and keeping the love flowing for mortals he became more and more empty until he was pretty much running on autopilot. Just going through the motions. A void was festering within him that he failed to understand. Co-workers and friends did nothing to fill it, his job seemed a cruel mockery. He influenced the hearts and minds of humans until they were filled to the brim with love, but he could do nothing for his own ever withering soul. But he kept doing his sacred duty. But then one day he got an assignment to set up a cook in a little restaurant with a co-worker and when he went to go pierce each one of their hearts with a set of bonded arrows to push their hearts towards love he suddenly realized what he was missing. That cook he was supposed to match together with a waiter was you. And you were just exactly what he was missing. Every time he gazed upon you his heart beat faster and his palms grew sweaty, was this what love was? And just like many humans that didn’t need a supernatural push he was experiencing this all entirely without arrows. He decided to observe you to be sure, he knew how love worked and he wanted to be sure of his emotions. Celael was entirely invisible to you as he stalked you, watching you at all hours of the day. He loved the way you nervously stammered when talking to your boss. He loved the way you carried yourself, all shy but determined to do your best. And most of all he loved how you treated others, without an ounce of malice in your heart, though it made him worry that someone could take advantage of you, and that thought is what sealed the deal. You needed someone to keep you safe, someone stronger than another mere mortal. Someone like… an angel. After all, your co-worker could not do a fraction of what he could do for you. He could let you know safety in the paradise of heaven. And why shouldn’t he, your designated match was a mortal the same age that you were, but he was as old as time! He had paid his dues, served humanity for countless ages, didn’t he deserve you a whole hell of a lot more? He thought so. So he formulated a plan and set it into action, he had to get you to have just a small amount of feelings for him. That’s how the arrows worked, there had to be something there naturally for them to work off of. And this would also give him a chance to know you better than he had ever known any human, or anyone at all for that matter. Celael donned a human disguise. His wings were gone, his eyes became brown, his skin slightly tan, and his hair black. He, under the name Cel, applied for the position of waiter that had opened up after your inconsiderate co-worker just disappeared, seemingly walking off the job in the middle of break and never returning without ever mentioning it to anyone. Over the course of weeks and then months Celael became your absolute best friend, you confided everything in him and trusted him completely. You were practically attached at the hip and could always be seen together. Just when you thought you might be starting to have the slightest whisper of feelings for him you felt a pain in your heart and collapsed. With only a brief flutter of wings Celael whisked you off to his little corner of heaven, it was a cozy cottage on a large floating island that was surrounded by a pink sky. The amorous cupid placed you on his comfortable bed and waited for you to wake. When you did finally rise from your magically induced slumber he could tell by the way that you looked at him that everything he had done had worked flawlessly. He had shot you with some extremely strong and illegally crafted love and lust arrows to make you only have eyes for him. You saw Cel upon opening your eyes and your heart immediately fluttered while your crotch felt a bit warm, but there was something wrong. He had wings and odd hair and skin, and this wasn’t your bed. You looked up at Cel and started to question him but he closed the distance between the two of you and leaned in for a kiss, pushing everything else to the back of your mind as all of your conscious thoughts were consumed with your focus on him. He disrobed you and rubbed your thighs gently before kissing a trail up them to your crotch and using his mouth on your sex. You stroked his pretty hair and silently moaned and gasped, unable to form words because your need for him was so deep. Celael, who you still only knew as Cel gently guided you into missionary position and aligned his large cock with your hole before sliding in fully in one smooth motion. Now it was Celael’s turn to gasp, in his many years of life this was his first time giving in to carnal desires, never had he known a greater pleasure than when he slipped into you. He took his time, this was a delicate and wonderful act that was surely meant to be savored, he slowly thrust in and out of you as he tenderly licked and kissed from your neck to your lips, He planted a deep kiss to your lips and moaned into the kiss. He was sloppy, but passionate, you could practically fill the emotions radiating off of him and you matched them perfectly. You had never felt like this before, so dizzy, so lost in the moment, but you were with Cel and that was all that mattered. He bit and sucked gently at your nipples before putting you into a mating press and going quite a bit faster, but not ruthlessly. The cherub continued at a good pace until right before you both came, when he slammed his lips into yours so you could share a kiss as twin orgasms racked both of your bodies. He draped his wings over you while holding you tight, happy tears in his eyes as he beheld you. That festering void that had been within him so long had at long last been filled. A bit of the fog that had been building in your head during the intimate act started to disperse and you had so many questions but seemingly as if reading your mind Celael shushed you as you began to open your mouth. “Not now my beloved, we can talk in the morning, right now let’s just rest okay?” You murmured your agreement and the angel repositioned you both so that you were both on your sides with him behind you. He spooned you with an arm and a wing draped over you as his large cock slid back inside of you, it did not take long for him to drift into a blissful sleep and even though you felt something was really off you gave into love for him and fell asleep beside him.

[theostrophywife]

the prince of hell.

my love is a mindless flight risk, never on time but god he's timeless he's a villain, he's a saint, he's a hero—he's a fucking renegade author's note: i've scoured high and low for demon!azriel fics and couldn't find any, so i thought why not write it myself? there will definitely be multiple parts of this. as always, thank @writingsbychlo for listening and participating in my rants about dark daddy az.

song inspiration: masterpiece by sam short.

The church bells tolled in the packed cathedral as you walked through the crowded pews. Each ring that reverberated against the stone walls mimicked the beat of your heart. 

One. Your father clutched your arm, his ironclad grip preventing you from bolting. The false smile he wore held no warmth. Only greed for what he stood to earn by pawning off his only daughter like a prized mare. 

Two. Your mother looked up from her seat at the front of the altar, and the words she had spoken to you before the ceremony echoed through your mind like a death sentence. You’ll learn to love him, she said. As I learned how to love your father. 

Three. Your betrothed leered at you, hunger dancing behind his cold, dead eyes. I will break you, his wicked smile seemed to say. Then I will mold you into a perfect, obedient wife. 

With each step, you came closer and closer to sealing your fate. The shaky breath you released fluttered through your lace veil like a ripple in the ocean. As the hem of your wedding dress kissed the marble mosaic floor, you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

Please, you pleaded. Please, save me.

Thunder rumbled through the church. Screams erupted from all sides. The ground beneath you shook as the earth cracked open to release mist and fog from the bowels of hell. 

In the midst of chaos, a winged figure emerged from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of the beautiful male. Cloaked in darkness, a pair of familiar glowing golden eyes locked onto yours from across the room. 

The Prince of Hell smiled. “Hello, my heart.”

He had a face like heaven and a voice like sin. A small voice in the back of your head warned you to be afraid, but your heart warred against logic. While everyone else in the room screamed in terror at the sight of the devil, you only saw salvation.

“Azriel,” you breathed. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips. 

You had never seen him before, at least not while you were awake. But you knew that face. You dreamt of him every night. 

Azriel was your favorite fantasy. The beautiful male that took you away from your monotonous life. A figment of your imagination that symbolized all the things that awaited in the world beyond, should you ever be afforded the chance to escape becoming someone’s simpering, obedient little wife. 

He wasn’t supposed to be real, but yet here he was in the flesh. 

“You’re here,” you said, hardly believing the words yourself. “You came.” 

The Prince of Hell pierced you with his gaze. “I will always come for you.”

From behind him, your groom-to-be flicked dust and ash from his doublet before glancing at Azriel with contempt. “Who the hell are you?”

The male was either exceptionally brave or extremely stupid. 

The Prince of Hell regarded Alaric as one would a cockroach—with thinly veiled disgust and the desire to crush the pesky little insect beneath his boot. 

“I am death.” Azriel purred, his voice laced with the promise of violence. “I am shadow and darkness, the monster that haunts your nightmares. I am the Prince of Hell and I have come to collect my bride.”

He held out a scarred hand towards you, barely sparing a glance at Alaric. The male bristled with pride and stepped between you and Azriel. 

Something dark and dangerous flashed in the Prince of Hell’s eyes as he came face to face with Alaric. The side by side contrast emphasized how otherworldly Azriel was. Though he took on a mortal form, there was nothing human about him. 

His ethereal features were slashed with fury, dark hair rippling in waves to frame his flawless face. Flecks of amber burned like embers within his eyes and the contrast against his golden-brown skin further illuminated his strange and cruel beauty. 

“You must be mistaken,” Alaric declared, puffing his chest. “She is my betrothed. We are to be wed this very day.”

Azriel glanced around the room, taking in the stained glass windows and rosewood pews of the crowded cathedral. The people that hadn’t managed to escape trembled in fear under his watchful eyes. The corners of Azriel’s full lips sloped into a frown as he dragged his gaze towards you, examining your white dress and wild expression.

“Your betrothed does not wish to marry you, mortal. ” Azriel declared, his voice barely above a whisper yet full of lethal cold. 

“She is promised to me,” Alaric replied. “I have paid the bride price.”

The humorless laugh that slipped past Azriel’s lips was devoid of emotion. His gaze cut to your father, who cowered behind the marble altar. With one glance, shadows wreathed through his limbs and yanked him towards the Prince of Hell. 

“Tell this male that he is mistaken,” Azriel commanded. 

Your father paled, fear and trepidation evident on his face. “P-p-please, my Prince,” his voice was high and desperate. “I assumed you had forgotten. Years had passed since our bargain, and you hadn’t returned so I—“

“Thought to deceive the Prince of Hell?” Azriel seethed and his shadows whipped violently, tightening their grip on your sniveling father. “Did you not think that this day of reckoning would come?” Shadows brought him to his knees before the dark prince. “A bargain is a bargain, mortal. I want what was promised,” his eyes were feverish as they landed on you. “I want her.”

Your mother blanched in horror as she looked up at her husband. “What have you done?”

“I was only doing what I thought was best!” your father cried. “When famine ravaged the countryside, I grew desperate. I prayed to the old gods, but none of them answered. The Prince—he offered fertile lands and a bountiful harvest in exchange for a bride.” 

“Then what?” you said bitterly. “The reward Azriel offered was not enough for your selfish, greedy heart, was it father? You weren’t satisfied, so you thought to sell me off once again?”

“I did it for our family. We have land! We have gold! We have riches beyond imagination! I have secured a match above your station so you may live comfortably for the rest of your life. I did this for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. The realization that your father had traded you like some bargaining chip, not once but twice made your stomach roil. You’ve always known that he was a greedy bastard, but you didn’t think he’d go this far. 

“No, father,” you said with mirthless laughter. “You did this for yourself.”

Your father struggled against his restraints as he turned towards his wife. “Tell her,” he coaxed, his words full of despair. “Tell her that I only wanted what was best for her.”

“You promised our daughter to the devil!” your mother screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. 

You wanted to tell her that Azriel wasn’t a monster. That he’d held you in your dreams, comforted you when you cried, listened to every wish and whim that you whispered into the night, but she wouldn’t have understood. None of them would. 

“It’s okay, mother,” you said, attempting to appease her agony. “Azriel won’t hurt me.”

As his expression softened, you knew that you’d spoken true. Azriel nodded in agreement. “I would never hurt you,” he declared. His attention cut back to your father. “Him, on the other hand, I have no qualms about inflicting pain upon.”

Your father squirmed in place, shooting a pleading look in your direction. The shadows tightened around his neck like a noose. “Please,” he begged with wide eyes. “Please, have mercy.”

He sounded frantic and desperate, exactly how you had been days ago when you pleaded with him not to wed you to Alaric. Your father hadn’t listened to you then. With your roles reversed, it was tempting to let his pleas fall upon deaf ears, but you decided to be the bigger person.

Azriel waited for your cue. You shook your head and watched as his shadows receded. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Thank you, daughter.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you snapped. “I did it for me. From this day forth, I want nothing to do with you. I wish to be free. I am no longer your daughter.”

Hurt and anger flashed through your father’s eyes, but you didn’t care. This was your chance. You could finally rid yourself of this dreary existence. Feeling lighter than you had in years, you turned your attention back to the Prince of Hell. He smiled as you took a step forward.

“Not so fast,” Alaric hissed. “What about what I am owed? I paid for you. I own you.” You shot him a cutting glare as his fingers curled around your wrist. 

Anger bubbled up within you as you bared your teeth at the horrid male. “I am not a piece of cattle to be traded for gold.” Alaric glared as you shoved him away. 

His hateful beady eyes focused on you as he closed the gap between you. “And yet your father sold you like a fattened calf.” His grip on your arm tightened. “You should be flattered. I purchased you for a considerable amount of gold and I expect a return on my investment.” A blade shimmered in Alaric’s hand as he held it up to your throat. “Either from your father or your beloved demon.”

The Prince of Hell was rage and wrath personified. “You want payment, mortal?” Azriel asked, his eyes cold and hard and full of malice. “Very well, then. I will trade you my heart for yours.”

Alaric barely had time to react before Azriel was upon him. Shadows sheltered you from harm while the Prince of Hell slammed the foolish male to the ground. The floor shuddered from the impact as Azriel’s dark wings flared behind his powerful back. You watched in stunned silence as he plunged his scarred fingers into Alaric’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. 

The scream that tore through Alaric’s throat was horrific. Cries of terror echoed through the cathedral once more and those who were able to flee did so with haste. But Azriel was deathly silent as he wrapped a fist around Alaric’s heart. Blood trickled through his wrists and pooled at his feet like crimson tears as he yanked the still beating heart out of the male’s chest. 

The carnage and gore incited a chorus of desperate pleas. Some retched, some clawed at their eyes.

But you simply locked gazes with the Prince of Hell.

As the male beneath him took his last pathetic breath, Azriel tossed his heart on the marble altar. It was sacrilege at its finest. A dark offering. A blasphemous statement to the gods above of the lengths he would go to for you.

“A promise,” he declared, addressing the petrified crowd. Azriel glanced down at the dead male crumpled beneath his feet. “This is what will become of anyone who presumes to come between me and my bride.”

You watched with bated breath as he walked towards you. With bloodstained hands, Azriel caressed your cheek with surprising gentleness. His touch was warm and soft, just as it had always been in your dreams. You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of him. 

“Are you hurt?” Azriel asked softly. His thumb stroked against your cheek, painting a streak of scarlet against your skin. Azriel frowned at the sight of blood and made a move to draw his hand back, but you only laced your fingers through his. 

You looked up to find him studying you. Searching for fear. Waiting for you to scream in terror and run in the opposite direction. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and sobbed. Azriel was stunned for a second, but he recovered quickly and scooped you up into his arms. He seemed to understand that in this moment, all you needed was to be held.

“I’m fine,” you said through your tears. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

The Prince of Hell placed a tender kiss on your temple as his wings wrapped around you like a blanket. “Come, my heart,” he murmured in a soothing voice. “Let me take you home.”

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria @navyblue-eternity @margssstuff

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER SEVEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ when can someone break free from their own history or will they become forever trapped in the abyss of their own mind?

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; classism, assault, near death experience, alot of angst, embarrassment, some fluff, some sensual energy, drowning, reoccuring ptsd, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

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"kick her off, you idiot! she's got your foot!" suhyeok's frantic voice echoes down to cheongsan, who's struggling to shake off the girl's vice-like grip. meanwhile, you frantically scan your surroundings, your eyes locking onto a narrow window sill mere inches from your left foot. you gulp nervously as you gaze into the classroom, where zombies press against the window, their vacant eyes fixed on you.

you carefully place your foot on the tiny ledge, desperate to gain a foothold. you slowly begin to transfer your weight, easing off the rope to give cheongsan a chance to grab another loop. but the girl clinging to cheongsan's leg makes every move a battle, her grip tightening as she refuses to let go.

"are you kidding me? push her off, you moron! she's got your leg!" suhyeok's exasperated voice rings out, prompting you to roll your eyes in frustration. "i think he's aware of that!" you shout back, your voice tight with tension, as you press yourself against the wall, clinging to the surface for dear life. you struggle to calm your ragged breathing, fearful of losing your balance and tumbling backward.

suhyeok's voice echoes down again, laced with worry. "are you trying to kill yourself?" but you're too annoyed to appreciate his concern. "i'd give you the finger, if i wasn't busy trying to survive!" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm, as you strain to maintain your precarious hold on the wall.

suhyeok's patience had worn thin, and he declared, "i'm coming down!" but cheongsan vehemently protested. "suhyeok, don't be stupid!" you had joined in, yelling at suhyeok in a desperate bid to stop him, as he recklessly reached for the ledge, his footing precarious. one misstep would send him plummeting to certain death. cheongsan's warning came just in time, "look up!" and suhyeok glanced upward to see a zombie looming above him, its jaws gnashing wildly as it snapped at his head. the creature lost its balance and tumbled down, but not before making a desperate grab for suhyeok.

in a heart-stopping moment, suhyeok made a split-second decision, one that could prove disastrous. he leapt into the air, abandoning his hold on the ledge, and grabbed the rope where you had been just moments before. his actions left you aghast, wondering if he had just sealed his own fate.

suhyeok swiftly slid down cheongsan's back, his feet flailing wildly as he kicked at the zombie's hand, desperate to dislodge its grip. the creature's hold finally faltered, and it crashed to the ground, its body thudding against the floor with a sickening crunch. cheongsan groaned, his voice laced with relief, "you can stop hugging me now," as suhyeok burst out laughing, the tension momentarily broken. but your own precarious situation quickly snapped you back to reality. your legs screamed in protest, your muscles burning from maintaining your tenuous hold on the wall. "i'm so glad you guys are having a moment," you called out, your voice tight with urgency, "but can you speed it up? my legs are giving out!" the words tumbled out in a desperate plea, your body crying out for relief.

the laughter abruptly ceased, and cheongsan swiftly began his descent, his movements fueled by a sense of urgency. suhyeok grasped the rope, his arm stretching out towards you like a lifeline. "come back on the rope, and we'll go down together," he urged, his voice firm and resolute. you had no time for pride or protests, only a desperate need for safety. you hastily shuffled back towards suhyeok, your good arm grasping the rope like a liferaft. "fuck, i don't think i can hold myself," you admitted, your head shaking in defeat, your body screaming in exhaustion.

your strength was waning, your muscles trembling with fatigue, and your grip on the rope felt tenuous at best. you knew you couldn't hold on for much longer, and the thought sent a surge of fear through your veins. "baresu, come on!" daesu's voice echoes up from below, a beacon of urgency. the others' faces appear in the window, their eyes wide with concern, but you're too exhausted to appreciate their worry.

"thanks for the concern, guys," you mutter, your voice laced with sarcasm and fatigue, as suhyeok assesses the situation before speaking. "just put your arm over my shoulder and wrap your legs around my waist," he suggests, his eyes locking onto yours with a determined glint. "i can go down with both arms free while you hold on. can you do that?" he asks, his voice low and steady.

you cringe at the idea of being helpless, but your body betrays you, screaming in exhaustion. you hesitate, pride warring with desperation, before surrendering with a defeated sigh. "hurry up," you grit out, your voice barely above a whisper. suhyeok swiftly moves in, his arm wrapping around you as you duck under it, your arm encircling his neck. your cheeks press against each other, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold dread coursing through your veins.

“okay, i'm gonna lift my legs,” you alert him with caution, “go ahead, you got it.” he tells you gently. you can't help but feel your stomach drop at the encouragement, quickly ignoring the feeling you wrap your legs around him and lean your body as closely as possible. he began descending down the rope as slowly as possible.

as you wrapped your arms around suhyeok's neck, his toned body pressed against yours, sending a flush of heat coursing through your veins. your ears burned with a sudden rush of blood, and you struggled to ignore the thrill of vulnerability, of surrendering control to someone else. it felt intoxicating, this sense of reliance, of knowing he'd take care of everything.

you couldn't help but savor the moment, hooking your chin over his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart. "try not to move," he whispered, his voice low and husky, as he carefully navigated the final steps to the window sill.

with a gentle ease, he lowered you down, and the others rushed to assist, carrying you into the room as if you were fragile, breakable. suhyeok slipped in right behind, his eyes never leaving yours. you settled into a chair, taking stock of the room, ensuring everyone was safe, accounted for.but your gaze was soon drawn to the familiar sight of nayeon and gyeongsu embroiled in another heated argument, their voices hushed but their body language screaming tension. the familiar dynamics of the group were a comforting constant, a reminder that even in chaos, some things remained unchanged.

"what's wrong with you?!" gyeongsu's voice boomed through the broadcast room, his words reverberating off the walls like a thunderclap. "suhyeok's still out there, fighting for his life, and you want us to just...just shut him out?!" his tone was incredulous, his anger and disgust palpable. the room seemed to vibrate with his outrage, the air thickening with tension as he confronted the unthinkable: leaving suhyeok to fend for himself.

"am i a criminal for wanting the window closed?" nayeon shot back, her voice venomous, her eyes flashing with defiance.

"how can you be so selfish?" gyeongsu countered, his voice rising in outrage, his words dripping with disgust. "i can't stand you, you stupid welfie!" nayeon snarled, her words a vicious hiss, her contempt and anger boiling over. you leapt to your feet, ready to defend gyeongsu against her verbal assault, but he was quicker. with a fierce intensity, he slammed her back into her seat, his eyes blazing with fury.

"what did you just call me?" he growled, his voice low and menacing, his words trembling with restrained violence. the air seemed to crackle with tension as he towered over her, his anger and hurt pride simmering just below the surface.

"nayeon, grow up," you say, your voice authoritative, your eyes flashing with frustration. "you're just a spoiled brat who can't doesn't have any friends, always resorting to insults to get attention."

"oh yeah?" nayeon shrieks, her face reddening with rage, her hands clenched into fists as she glares at you with pure hatred. "yeah!" you affirm, your eyes locked on hers, your jaw set in defiance, as you walk around the table, closing the distance between you, your footsteps echoing through the room.

just as it seems like the confrontation is about to escalate into physical blows, ms. kim bursts into the scene, her voice stern and commanding, her eyes flashing with confusion. "hey, knock it off! what's going on here?" she demands, her gaze darting between you and nayeon. "he hit me," nayeon whines, her voice dripping with false innocence, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears. "only because you called me a welfie," gyeongsu admits, his jaw clenched in anger, his eyes blazing with hurt pride.

"is it not true?" nayeon asks, a proud smirk spreading across her face, as if daring anyone to contradict her, her eyes glinting with malice.

the room falls silent once more, the tension thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break, as everyone waits for the next move, the next word, that could ignite the powder keg of emotions.

"ms. kim, you better intervene before I do," you whisper urgently, your voice low and menacing, as your fist begins to shake with restrained anger. your eyes narrow into slits, fixed intently on nayeon, your mind racing with the countless times she's bullied others, including gyeongsu. nayeon, the master manipulator, had always flown under the radar, her toxic behavior masked by a charming facade. but you saw through it now, and your protective instincts kicked in, fueled by a fierce determination to stand up for gyeongsu and others like him, who'd suffered in silence.

gyeongsu's courage in the face of her relentless bullying had inspired you to take a stand, to confront the toxic behavior head-on, no matter the cost. and now,, you knew you were ready to face whatever came next.

"you can't say shit like that." cheongsan scolds, his voice disapproving, as he shoots her a stern glance. the room falls silent, as everyone waits for the fallout. "what's a welfie?" ms. kim asks, her voice innocent and curious, but laced with a hint of warning. the silence stretches out, uncomfortable and oppressive, as no one dares to answer.

when ms. kim asks again, her tone firmer, suhyeok hesitantly speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper. "it's...a person on welfare. welfie for short." his answer quiet, as he looks down, embarrassed to even know the definition. the word seems to take on a life of its own, a toxic label that reduces a person to a mere stereotype. suhyeok's cheeks flush with shame, as if he's complicit in perpetuating the hurtful term.

ms. kim's eyes widen in shock, her expression a mix of disappointment and disapproval, as she turns to nayeon. "nayeon, that was absolutely wrong. don't ever say that again," she scolds, her voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness.

then, she turns to gyeongsu, her expression softening slightly. "and gyeongsu, when you hit people, you're the one who ends up losing." her words are meant to be cautionary, but they fall flat. you scoff at ms. kim's words, your disgust, "that was wrong?" you repeat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "she knows it's wrong, she's not a child!" you point at nayeon, your finger accusatory, your eyes blazing with anger.

nayeon rolls her eyes at you, her expression unrepentant, as if she's enjoying the chaos she's created. ms. kim tries to intervene, her voice calm and soothing. "guys, we shouldn't be fighting at a time like this. especially when things might go back to normal."

but you're having none of it. "maybe they won't," you mutter, your eyes locked on nayeon, your glare piercing. with that, you turn and walk away, leaving the tension and drama behind, and plop down next to joonyeong, your movements a clear sign that you're done with the conversation.

joonyeong looks at you with concern, his eyes asking if you're okay. you nod slightly, still fuming from the exchange.

ms. kim tries to regain control of the room, her voice firm but gentle. "let's focus on the task at hand. we need to figure out our next move." but the tension lingers, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. nayeon smirks, her eyes glinting with triumph, as if she's won some twisted game. gyeongsu looks down, his eyes avoiding everyone, his shoulders slumped in defeat. suhyeok watches the scene unfold, his expression a mix of discomfort and understanding. and you, still seething with anger, wonder how things escalated so quickly, and how you can possibly work with these people to survive.

"wait, the internet - it still works, right?" joonyeong asks, his voice laced with a mix of hope and desperation, as he quickly gets up and hurries to the computer. everyone follows, huddling around the screen like a lifeline, their faces etched with anticipation and fear.

you take a moment to glance down at yourself, your mind racing with a plan. you reach inside your makeshift vest sling, your fingers closing around the identical shirt you'd hidden there - the one you'd hid near your injured arm. without drawing attention to yourself, you slip away from the group, making your way to the broadcasting room. you push open the door, slipping inside before quietly shutting it behind you, careful not to arouse anyone's curiosity. alone in the room, you place the shirt on the table in front of you, your eyes fixed on it as if it holds secrets. you glance behind you, ensuring everyone is still distracted by the computer screens, their faces bathed in the glow of hope.

the room is dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of equipment, as you stand there, lost in thought, the shirt a tangible connection to the mysteries you're trying to unravel.

you struggle to undo the knot with one hand, but it's proving to be a herculean task. the knot seems to have tightened with time, and your fingers fumble with frustration. minutes tick by, and your progress is zero. just as you're about to give up, the door creaks open, and namra slips in, her presence as quiet as a whisper. "hi," she says softly, her voice a gentle breeze in the tense room.

"hey," you respond, your eyes locking onto hers, your mind racing with questions. why is she here? what does she want? namra's eyes hold a hint of curiosity as she gently closes the door behind her, the soft click of the latch echoing through the room. the space seems to shrink.

"i came because...you were struggling," namra explains, her voice barely above a whisper, as she gestures to your shoulder, her eyes filled with concern. "um, i'm fine-" you start to protest, but your words are cut short by her gentle insistence.

"i can undo it for you," she offers, her hands reaching out as she walks closer, her movements fluid and graceful. you're taken aback by her sudden proximity, and a realization hits you - you've never actually spoken to namra before. you've sat next to each other, shared silences, but never exchanged words. it's as if you've been living in parallel universes, until now. "thanks," you nod, a sigh of gratitude escaping your lips as you surrender to her kindness.

namra's hands work deftly, slowly but surely undoing the knot.. she gently removes the vest. she places the vest on the table, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you.

"i can do the rest, thank you for helping me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as you try to process the unexpected tenderness of namra's actions.

she responds with a small, enigmatic smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of warmth, before turning and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. you watch her from your peripheral vision, seeing her approach suhyeok, her lips moving in a whispered conversation. you can't help but wonder what she's saying, and why. your gaze falls to your shirt, and with trembling fingers, you begin to undo the buttons, each one revealing a little more of your scarred skin. your mind starts to wander back to the rooftop, to the moment when you'd lost all hope, and cheongsan's words had brought you back from the brink.

you remember the feeling of paralysis, of being unable to move or escape, and how cheongsan's encouragement had given you the strength to take that first step down the rope. you had been ready to give up, to surrender to the darkness, but he had saved you, pulled you back from the edge. the memories come flooding back, and you're transported to a place of raw emotion, where the scars on your skin seem to pulse with a life of their own.

the uncertainty of suhyeok's fate had lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging doubt that refused to be silenced. maybe, just maybe, it had been a factor in your prior decision-making. but before you could explore that thought further, the sound of the door closing interrupted your reverie. you turned, expecting to see namra's gentle smile, but instead, suhyeok stood in the doorway, his hand still grasping the doorknob, his eyes locked on yours. speak of the devil, indeed.

your eyebrows arched in surprise, confusion etched on your face. what was he doing here? suhyeok's gaze wavered, as if questioning whether he should enter or retreat. "namra," he said, his voice low, his eyes flicking towards the outside, "told me your arm is pretty bad." you followed his gaze, looking out into the main room, where namra was now intently focused on the screens, her expression a mask of concentration. the others were equally engrossed, oblivious to the subtle dynamics unfolding around them.

suhyeok's words hung in the air, a gentle concern that seemed to bridge the distance between you "um, yeah," you reply, your voice a little softer, as you glance down at your arm, the memories of the injury still fresh. suhyeok's eyes follow yours, his expression sympathetic. "do you need help with anything?" he asks, his hand still on the doorknob, as if hesitant to enter further.

you shake your head. "i'm fine, thanks." suhyeok nods, but doesn't leave. instead, he takes a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. "namra said you were struggling with the vest," he says, his voice low and gentle. you feel a flush rise to your cheeks, surprised by namra's concern, and suhyeok's willingness to help. "yeah, it was stuck," you admit, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over you. suhyeok nods, his expression understanding. "let me help," he says, his hand reaching out, as if to assist you further.

"namra already helped me, thanks," you say, as you glance down at your arm, now free from the vest. suhyeok's hand hesitates in mid-air, before he slowly withdraws it, a hint of an awkward smile on his lips. "i mean, uh i can help you change your shirt," he suggests, he walks over and tells you to sit down. you try to decline his help but you were told to stop being so stubborn.

“im not stubborn,” you glare at him. suhyeok's eyes sparkle with amusement as he says, "oh, really? not stubborn at all?" his voice dripping with teasing sarcasm. you feel a flush rise to your ears as you sit down, trying to maintain your glare, but it's hard to resist suhyeok's playful charm. "no, i'm not," you insist, trying to sound convincing, but your voice comes out softer than intended. he then kneels in front of you with the cleanlier shirt.

suhyeok chuckles with a smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he begins to help you change your shirt. he begins unbuttoning the rest of the buttons you didnt get to finish. then sliding the shirt off of your shoulders carefully. his fingers brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "well, if you're not stubborn, then why are you making this so difficult?" he whispers, his breath tickling your chest.

you shiver at the sensation, trying to focus on the conversation, but it's hard to think straight with suhyeok's hands on your skin. "i'm not even doing anything," you protest, trying to sound convincing, but your voice is barely above a whisper. suhyeok's smile grows wider as he pulls the shirt down your injured arm.

his fingers lingering on your skin. "oh, really?" he teases, his eyes locked on yours, full of playful desire. suhyeok's gaze falls upon your shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, his expression betrays him. concern etches itself on his face, but he swiftly masks it. he sets your discarded shirt on the ground beside him, his movements deliberate. his eyes wander, as if drawn by an unseen force, to the gentle curve of your waist and the toned shoulders that seem chiseled from marble. the smooth expanse of your skin beckons, but he tears his gaze away, his jaw clenched in restraint.

"does it hurt?" he asks, his voice low and gentle, as if fearful of causing further pain. "no, it's fine," you reply, your words a whispered assurance. suhyeok's eyes flick back to your shoulder, his brow furrowed in empathy. "okay," he says, his voice still soft. his hands brush against yours, sending a spark of electricity through the air, as he pulls the new shirts sleeve up your arm. slowly pulling the shirt all the way up your arm until it rests on your neckline. the tension in the room dissipates, replaced by a sense of warmth and camaraderie. you feel a connection to suhyeok, a sense of shared understanding that goes beyond words.

your eyes lock onto suhyeok's concentrated expression, his face inches from yours. the proximity sparks a sudden flashback to that chaotic day when changhoon's grip had you trapped, and suhyeok's steady gaze had been your only lifeline.

memories come flooding back, and your eyes widen in response. you shake your head, trying to clear the haze. "i can handle the other arm myself," you say, your voice firm, as you swiftly rise to your feet. suhyeok mirrors your movement, standing up in surprise. "what, are you sure?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern, as he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

suhyeok's voice breaks the silence. "y/n," he begins, his pause a heartbeat of anticipation. "that day when," he continues, but you interrupt, your voice a swift blade cutting through his words.

"would you just stop?" you say, the command sharp and precise. the words die on his lips, his mouth frozen in a silent "o". his eyes flash with surprise, a spark of emotion that quickly fades into a mask of restraint. the silence that follows is oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocates the air. the unspoken words hang between you, a tangible presence that refuses to dissipate. his eyes flash with a mix of surprise and concern, but he nods slowly, his jaw clenched in restraint. the silence that follows is oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. you can feel the weight of that day bearing down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its burden.

suhyeok's eyes never leave yours, his gaze burning with a quiet intensity. you can sense the questions simmering beneath the surface, the words he longs to say but dares not speak. a collective gasp echoes from outside the room, followed by a chorus of fearful whispers. faces press against the classroom window, eyes wide with alarm. you swiftly cover your arm with your shirt and grab your vest, then brush past suhyeok, making a hasty exit from the broadcasting room. the door swings shut behind you, but not before you catch joonyeong's worried voice.

"what was that?" he asks, his tone laced with concern. you turn to see the glass window you had climbed through earlier now shattered, the metal hose swinging ominously, shattering another shard of glass. murmurs of distress ripple through the crowd. "did someone not make it in?" wujin asks, his voice trembling. cheongsan's response is firm, but laced with a hint of fear. "no. no one." the group's anxiety on edge as they struggle to process what's happening.

he cautiously approaches the window, scanning the surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. gyeongsu trails behind him, dismissing the commotion with a wave of his hand. "it's alright, it's just the wind," he assures, but his words are swiftly proven wrong. a body comes crashing down from the window above, snagging on the rope and dangling upside down. the figure thrashes and snarls, its twisted face contorted in a feral grimace. cheongsan stumbles backward, caught off guard. "look out!" gyeongsu yells, his voice piercing the air.

cheongsan scrambles to his feet, grabbing a decrepit mop from the corner. with a surge of adrenaline, he begins pushing the zombie out of the window frame, its limbs flailing wildly as it's forced back into the unknown. cheongsan's face contorts with effort as he struggles to dislodge the zombie, his arms straining with each futile push. gyeongsu rushes to his side, adding his own strength to the task, but their combined efforts yield nothing. the zombie's grip on the window frame seems unyielding, its twisted fingers digging deep into the wood.

"give it!" suhyeok exclaims, his voice sudden and sharp, as he wrests the mop from cheongsan's grasp. the stick's end swings wildly, striking gyeongsu in the face with a loud thwack. gyeongsu's head snaps back, his eyes widening in shock.

suhyeok swiftly breaks the mop's end, the wood splintering with a loud crack. he fashions a makeshift spear, the jagged end glinting in the dim light. with a fierce thrust, he impales the creature through its mouth, the zombie's jaws frozen in a silent scream.

he shoves with all his might, but the zombie's grip is unyielding. its arms flail wildly, the fingers scrabbling against the window frame like claws. "if that thing gets in, we're all dead!" you shout but ms. kim's voice rings out, her words laced with urgency, as she silences your curse with a stern "shush". her eyes are wide with fear, her face pale. in a flash, gyeongsu seizes the internet box, its cords dangling like entrails. he hurls it with full force at the zombie, the box crashing into its skull with a loud crunch. the zombie's grip falters, its fingers slipping from the window frame.

the boys converge at the window, their faces pressed against the glass as they gaze out at the aftermath of the girl's fall. a collective sigh of relief escapes their lips as they take in the sight of the zombie's lifeless body, its limbs twisted at an unnatural angle.

congratulatory pats on the back are exchanged, a silent acknowledgement of their shared survival. "that was scary," gyeongsu exhales, his voice laced with residual fear. but the momentary reprieve is shattered by nayeon's trembling voice. "hey, your...bleeding," she stammers, her hand shaking as she points a quivering finger at gyeongsu.

your gaze follows her gesture, and your heart skips a beat as you notice a tiny trickle of blood seeping from gyeongsu's nose. the crimson droplets trace a path down his pale skin, a stark contrast to his otherwise ashen complexion. "gyeongsu..." you trail off, your voice laced with shock and concern. the room falls silent, all eyes fixed on gyeongsu's bleeding nose, as if willing the blood to stop.

gyeongsu appears eerily nonchalant, his expression a mask of calm curiosity as he gazes at the concerned faces surrounding him. "i am?" he states, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, as he touches his nose, feeling the trickle of blood. his eyes light up with realization, and he lets out a low chuckle. "right, it's because suhyeok hit me with the fucking mop," he says, a hint of mirth dancing in his eyes. but his casual demeanor is short-lived, as nayeon's reaction turns from concern to outright fear. "stay back! stay where you are!" she exclaims, her voice shrill, as she takes a step back, her eyes wide with alarm.

"you were bitten, weren't you, gyeongsu?" nayeon's voice cracks as she speaks, her words hanging in the air like a damning indictment. her eyes, wide with fear and suspicion, bore into gyeongsu's skin, as if searching for the slightest sign of infection.

the room plunges into silence, the air growing heavy with tension, like a physical presence that presses upon their skin. the shadows on the walls seem to twist and writhe, as if nayeon's words have awakened a dark and sinister reality, lurking just beneath the surface. the group's collective gaze falls upon gyeongsu, their faces etched with a mix of fear, suspicion, and morbid curiosity. the only sound is the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within. gyeongsu's nonchalant demeanor begins to falter, his eyes darting around the room, as if searching for an escape from the accusatory spotlight.

"i wasn't, i just said that!" gyeongsu protests, his voice rising in a whine of disbelief as he frantically cleans his nose with the back of his hand. "didn't you see suhyeok hit me?" he asks, his eyes wide with indignation, as he gestures to the spot where suhyeok had struck him with the mop. you chime in, attempting to defuse the situation, "i saw it, he got him with the mop." but your words fall on deaf ears, as nayeon continues to back away, her loud, shaky breaths filling the air like a panicked animal.

her eyes remain fixed on gyeongsu, her pupils dilated with fear, as if she truly believes a zombie stands before her. gyeongsu's expression twists in frustration, his patience worn thin by nayeon's histrionics. "what is your fucking problem with me?" he snaps, his voice low and even, but laced with irritation, as he takes a step forward, his eyes locked on the pink-sweatered girl. "you were bitten!" nayeon shouts again, her voice echoing off the walls, as she backs away further, her hands raised in a defensive gesture, her eyes darting towards the wall behind her, as if searching for an escape route.

"oh my gosh, enough!" you exclaim, your voice firm but calm, as you point to gyeongsu's arms, which are visibly free from any gashes or blood stains. "check his arms," you instruct, your tone brooking no argument, as if daring anyone to dispute your logic.

cheongsan quickly obliges, hurrying around the table to grab gyeongsu's hand, his eyes scanning the skin with a practiced intensity. "he has a scratch, but that's it. no bite," he announces, his voice confident, as the group gathers around to inspect gyeongsu's arm. you add your own observation, your voice building on cheongsan's declaration. "he also couldn't have gotten a nosebleed that fast, he would've gotten it in like a minute or two," you reason, your words dripping with conviction, as if daring nayeon to dispute your expertise.

the group leans in, their faces a picture of intense scrutiny, as they search for any sign of infection. gyeongsu's arm is turned this way and that, his skin examined with the precision of a forensic expert. the silence is palpable, the only sound the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above, as the group holds its collective breath, awaiting the verdict.

"done yet?" gyeongsu challenges nayeon, his voice low and even, but laced with a hint of irritation. "i said, are you done with me now?" he shouts, his patience finally wearing thin, as he throws up his hands in exasperation. but before nayeon can respond, joonyeong's voice cuts through the tension, his words sparking a new wave of concern. "wait, that means the computer's gone," he says, holding up the keyboard like a tangible proof of their loss. the group lets out a collective sigh of annoyance, their faces etched with frustration. "couldn't you have thrown something else instead of the computer...?" daesu retorts, his voice laced with incredulity, as if gyeongsu's actions were utterly reckless.

gyeongsu stands up for himself, his eyes flashing with defensiveness. "what was i supposed to do? it was trying to get in," he protests, his voice rising in justification. but daesu quickly intervenes, his tone softening as he places a calming hand on gyeongsu's shoulder. "you're right, you did good. don't be mad," he says, as the group's tension slowly begins to disappear.

daesu strides to the back of the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls, as he approaches nayeon, who still stands frozen, her eyes fixed on some invisible point. "hey, nayeon, end this already and say sorry," he says, his voice firm but gentle, as if coaxing a wild animal from its hiding place. nayeon's gaze slowly rises to meet daesu's, her eyes flashing with a hint of defiance. "why should i?" she questions, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with a subtle challenge.

daesu's expression twists in incredulity, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "he did it to save us all," he scoffs, his voice laced with exasperation, as if the answer is blindingly obvious. "why can't you say sorry?" he presses, his eyes locked on nayeon's, his gaze piercing but not unkind. the room falls silent, the air thick, as the group waits with bated breath for nayeon's response, their faces a picture of anticipation and concern.

"because i'm not sorry," nayeon continues, her voice unwavering, her eyes flashing with conviction. "i saw everything. i saw the creature grab you. i'm right. he could be infected." she insists, her words dripping with a stubborn certainty. you roll your eyes in exasperation, but before you can speak, ms kim intervenes, her voice firm but measured. "nayeon, enough."

cheongsan steps forward, his voice calm but stern, his words laced with a quiet authority. "nayeon, i know you've always had issues with gyeongsu, but i think you're really crossing the line now. this is about life and death. we can't afford to doubt each other." jimin's face twists in disgust as he sneers at nayeon, his eyes flashing with contempt. "she's always like this," he mutters, his voice dripping with disdain. you shoot nayeon a withering glance, your patience wearing thin, your eyes sending daggers her way. the group's collective frustration with nayeon's behavior is palpable, the air thick with tension, as if her stubborn refusal to back down is a weight dragging them all down.

"gyeongsu, you're going to wait in the recording room for ten minutes," ms. kim announces, her voice firm but laced with a hint of empathy, as she turns to face him, her eyes softening slightly.

you look up at ms. kim's back in utter disbelief, your mouth agape, as if the words have knocked the wind out of you. the room seems to spin around you, the faces of your friends blurring together in a kaleidoscope of confusion.

"i know it'll be hard, but at least it's better than people thinking you're infected," ms. kim continues, her voice gentle but resolute, as if trying to reason with an unseen force. as if ms. kim is daring anyone to dispute her decision. the room falls silent, the only sound the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above, as the weight of her words settles upon the group like a shroud.

"no one else thinks i'm infected. it's only her," gyeongsu explains, his voice laced with frustration, as he gestures towards nayeon, his eyes flashing with exasperation.

you hop off the desk you were sitting on and walk over to the window, your movements fluid and deliberate, as if trying to put some distance between yourself and the tension. you sit down on the windowsill, your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you.

"that means she thinks you're infected too," you point out, your voice matter-of-fact, as you nod towards ms. kim, who stares at you for a moment before turning back to gyeongsu, her expression unreadable. "would you please do it?" ms. kim asks, her voice soft but insistent, as if trying to coax gyeongsu into agreeing.

gyeongsu reluctantly nods, his eyes flashing with resentment, before standing up and heading towards the recording room. "i'll do a full hour, just to be sure," he mutters, his voice barely audible, as if trying to convince himself. ms. kim turns to nayeon, her eyes narrowing slightly. "and if nothing happens, you'll apologize, right?" she asks, her voice firm but controlled, as if daring nayeon to disagree. nayeon hesitates, her eyes darting around the room, before nodding slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "yes..."

he flips off daesu with a dismissive gesture, his middle finger raised in a defiant salute, before closing the door behind him with a soft click. the sound echoes through the room, a subtle reminder of the tension that still lingers. you gaze out the window, your eyes scanning the desolate landscape, where zombies still roam free, their moans and groans carried away by the wind. the streets are empty, devoid of any signs of rescue, no firetrucks or ambulances in sight. the day is almost over, and you're still stuck here, trapped with a group of people you barely know. you sigh, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on you. it's been boring, completely and utterly boring, a never-ending cycle of fear and monotony. ms. kim's voice cuts through the silence, her tone forced and cheerful. "meanwhile, we can try to clean ourselves up," she suggests, her smile looking more like a grimace, as she surveys the group.

everyone slowly gathers around the table, some sitting, others standing, while suhyeok claims the table as his own, sprawling across it with a languid ease. they begin to clean themselves with the leftover tissues on the desk, a futile attempt to restore some semblance of normalcy to their disheveled lives.

you ignore ms. kim's attempt at conversation and continue to gaze out the window, your mind still seething with anger and frustration. the fact that ms. kim let nayeon's paranoia sway the group into locking up gyeongsu still burns within you, a simmering resentment that refuses to dissipate. jimin's voice breaks the silence, his suggestion a gentle attempt to steer the group towards a more productive path. "how about...we talk about what we know so far. so we can be more prepared for...next time."

the group murmurs in agreement, their voices a soft hum of assent, as they begin to think, their minds racing with possibilities. "maybe they're drawn to smell," wujin guesses, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "they do always go after you," wujin teases daesu, a mischievous glint in his eye. daesu sighs, his expression deadpan. "i don't smell," he answers seriously, his tone firm but defensive.

"you sweat a lot, daesu," jimin points out, his voice tinged with a hint of belief, as if wujin's joke has taken root. "i sweat, but i don't smell," daesu denies again, his voice firm, his eyes flashing with a hint of annoyance.

"i think they're more attracted to sound, if anything," daesu speaks up, his voice measured, as if weighing the evidence. "this isn't like the movies," joonyeong counters, his tone dismissive, as if daesu's suggestion is too simplistic.

you sit, frozen, your leg bouncing with pent-up energy, your eyes fixed on some point outside, unblinking, as if mesmerized by your own anger. your jaw clenches, your mind racing with thoughts of nayeon's accusation, the word "welfie" echoing in your mind like a challenge. ms. kim's gaze falls on you, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if sensing the turmoil brewing inside. but before she can speak, hroryeong calls out, asking a question, and ms. kim's attention is diverted. its not long before your anger boils over, and you stand, your movements swift, as you head towards the recording room. you push open the door, and ms. kim's voice follows, "y/n-ah..." but you cut her off, your glance a brief, curt acknowledgement, before you step inside and close the door behind you, shutting out the world.

gyeongsu looks up at you, confusion etched on his face, as you walk over and sit down in the chair in front of him, your movements deliberate and calm. "i can't stand being out there with her," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

gyeongsu's expression changes, understanding washing over him, and he nods almost imperceptibly, knowing exactly who you're referring to. "you can't be in here, i might turn," he says, concern lacing his voice, as he nods towards the room you came from, his eyes clouding with worry.

"you're not gonna turn," you scoff, your voice firm, as if trying to convince yourself as much as gyeongsu. "so stop being stubborn."

you begin to play with the book in front of you, flipping the pages with a restless energy, your eyes scanning the words without really seeing them. gyeongsu looks away, his jaw clenched, and leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on some point above your head, his expression a mask of resignation.

the group gathers at the window, their faces pressed against the glass, eyes fixed on the recording room door as it closes behind you. they watch with bated breath, their movements frozen, as if waiting for something to happen. "y/n, really went in there?" daesu asks, his voice laced with incredulity, as if he can't believe his own eyes. wujin, still seated at the table, his expression calm and collected, states matter-of-factly, "he's upset."

hroryeong's curiosity gets the better of her, and she turns to wujin, asking, "how do you know?" wujin clears his throat, his eyes flicking towards ms. kim, who watches him with an expectant gaze, as if waiting for some hidden insight. the group's attention is focused on wujin, their faces a picture of anticipation, as they wait for his response.

"we were, um, close when we were younger," wujin begins, his voice hesitant, as if unsure how much to reveal. "y/n-ah usually gets quiet when he's really upset about something," he continues, his eyes clouding with memories. "and then he'll storm off. won't talk to whoever made him mad," he explains, his tone matter-of-fact, as if describing a familiar pattern. the group's gaze drifts back towards nayeon, their faces a picture of understanding, as if pieces are falling into place. wujin's cheeks flush with a sheepish grin. "a while ago, he didn't talk to me for almost two weeks because i said his painting wasn't as good as mine," he confesses, his voice laced with embarrassment. the group's eyes widen, surprised by the triviality of the offense, and they exchange knowing glances, as if thinking, "that's what caused such a big rift?"

the group's murmurs of understanding are interrupted by daesu's dramatic outburst. "that's cruel," he states, his hand flying to his heart, his eyes wide with mock horror. wujin rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a wry smile spreading across his face. "look, i was like 10 and i was jealous. i didn't know better," he explains, his tone defensive, as if justifying a past transgression.

meanwhile, ms. kim's gaze drifts towards the recording room, her eyes fixed on the back of your head, as you sit engrossed in a book, your arm propped on the table, your fingers idly flipping through the pages. she notices gyeongsu's mouth moving, his lips forming silent words, and assumes that the two of you are speaking, a look of quiet satisfaction crossing her face, as if relieved that communication has been established.

"wait, what? i live a few blocks down from that street," you say, your head jerking up from the book, as if the coincidence is too much to process. gyeongsu's eyebrows shoot up, his expression skeptical. "huh, you live there too? how come i never see you when i head to school?" he asks, his tone laced with curiosity, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. you shrug, your one shoulder barely rising off the chair, before answering with a nonchalant air, "i'm usually late to school." you return to scanning the book, your eyes scanning the pages with renewed interest, as if trying to escape the conversation.

gyeongsu hums in response, a soft, contemplative sound, before his gaze drifts back to you, his eyes clouding with a mixture of concern and trepidation. "is that why you can't stand nayeon?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard through the soundproof room. "because you're also on welfare..." he trails off.

knowing exactly what gyeongsu was getting at, you avert your gaze, your eyes drifting towards the floor, as you begin to bounce your leg nervously, a telltale sign of discomfort. "i can't stand her because she's a birdbrain," you state, your voice laced with a hint of defiance, as if daring gyeongsu to disagree. gyeongsu's lips twitch, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he attempts to hold back a smile, clearly amused by your blunt assessment. you smirk at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, before you both erupt into laughter, the tension dissipating like magic. "that is something i can die agreeing with," gyeongsu says, his voice choked with mirth, as he shakes his head in wonder.

you push your hair out of your face, your hand brushing against your forehead, as you laugh again, feeling a sense of freedom in this moment, enjoying the easy camaraderie that's developed between you. the two of you have been talking for almost 30 minutes now, getting to know each other, and it seems that your newfound friendship has been sparked by something as simple as sharing the same class and living district. the connection feels effortless, like you've known each other for years, not just minutes.

"hey, uh, i just wanted to ask, uh..." gyeongsu begins, his voice hesitant, as if unsure how to broach the subject. your eyes dart towards him, leaving the book forgotten, as you sense a vulnerability in his tone. "yeah?" you ask, your voice encouraging, inviting him to continue. gyeongsu fidgets with his hands, his fingers intertwining in a nervous dance, before he shakes his head, his eyes dropping. "nevermind," he leans back, his voice barely above a whisper, as if retreating from the conversation.

but you sense a lingering unease, a feeling that he's struggling with something, and your curiosity gets the better of you. "what is it?" you lean forward, your voice gentle, probing. gyeongsu's smile is awkward, his eyes darting away, as if seeking an escape. "nothing, sorry, it's none of my business," he mumbles, his tone dismissive. but you're not deterred, your mind racing with possibilities. you take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the promise you made to be different, to be brave, starting today. "yes," you speak, your voice firm, decisive. the silence that follows is odd, gyeongsu's blank stare a testament to his surprise. "yes?" he asks, his voice laced with confusion, as if seeking clarification.

you nod with a head held high, your chin tilted upwards, as if daring him to question your conviction. "i said, yes," you repeat, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. gyeongsu's eyes narrow, his gaze scrutinizing, as if seeing you for the first time. your whole demeanor seems more confident, your shoulders squared, your posture relaxed, yet assertive. "are you sure-" he begins, his words trailing off as you say his name, your tone firm, but gentle.

he nods, his eyes never leaving yours, before proceeding to rub his chin, a thoughtful gesture, as if weighing his next words. "so, uh, how'd you know?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. you glance down at your vest, lying on the table, as if the answer lies within its folds. "i met a guy," you begin, your voice measured, "and i realized he made me feel...different." you pause, searching for the right words. "it's the same way you know you like girls," you explain, your tone patient, as if teaching a child. gyeongsu nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression thoughtful. "i see," is all he responds, his voice laced with a hint of understanding.

but then, his gaze changes, a glint of suspicion creeping into his eyes, making you raise your eyebrows, surprised by the sudden shift. "do you think i'm-" he starts to ask, but you cut him off with a shake of your head, your hair swishing behind you. "no," you quickly answer, a hint of amusement in your voice. "sorry, but you're not my type," you add, your tone playful, teasing. gyeongsu's face falls, his eyes widening in mock offense, making you laugh, a joyful sound, that fills the room with warmth.

"well, fuck..." gyeongsu states, his voice trailing off into a chuckle, as he shakes his head in amusement. "no offense," you wave him off, laughing again, the tension dissipating like magic. "is there someone here that's your type, then?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, as he nods towards the outside room. you glance back, your gaze drifting towards the group, and your heart skips a beat as you see suhyeok's back facing towards you, his muscled frame relaxed against the desk, flanked by wujin and daesu.

your stomach sinks, as if heavy with lead, at the thought of revealing the truth to gyeongsu. "um, i don't know," you lie, your voice hesitant, as if searching for an escape. "i don't really know everyone," you add, trying to sound nonchalant. gyeongsu's eyes narrow, his gaze piercing, as if seeing through your facade. "oh, come on," he teases, his voice laced with amusement. "you've known wujin since you were young," he says, his tone playful, as if trying to coax the truth out of you. you laugh, a nervous sound, before tossing the book at him, as if deflecting his question. the book sails through the air, its pages fluttering, before gyeongsu catches it with a grin.

"i mean, when i was younger, i maybe had a crush on him," you begin, your voice hesitant, as if confessing a long-held secret. but before you can continue, gyeongsu interrupts, his voice triumphant, "i knew it!" you put a hand up, palm facing him, as if to stop his train of thought, your eyes pleading for him to listen.

"but," you continue, your voice measured, "i realized it was just adoration. i wanted to be like him, not like-like him," you explain further, trying to clarify the distinction. gyeongsu makes a skeptical sound, an "ajussi" noise, his lips smacking in disbelief, as if he's not buying your explanation. he leans back in his chair, with his eyes narrowing, his gaze piercing, as if trying to see through your words, his expression a picture of playfulness.

"hey, um, was that rumor about you true?" gyeongsu asks, his voice hesitant, as if unsure how to broach the subject. but before you can even process the question, let alone respond, you're both interrupted by cheongsan's sudden entrance. you both turn to see his sheepish figure standing in the doorway, looking like he's just been caught doing something mischievous. "sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," cheongsan says, his eyes darting between you and gyeongsu, his face flushed with embarrassment. "y/n, is it cool if i speak to gyeongsu... privately?" he asks, his voice trailing off, as if unsure if he's overstepping.

you nod before he even finishes speaking, and get up from your seat, heading towards the door. you look back at gyeongsu, flashing him a warm smile. "i'll see you out there," you say, your tone friendly, as if reassuring him that everything is okay. gyeongsu gives you a smile back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, before turning to cheongsan, who's watching you both with confusion etched on his face.

"you guys seem close?" cheongsan questions, his brow furrowed, as if trying to understand the dynamics between you and gyeongsu. gyeongsu lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging, before responding with a laugh. "you don't even know," he says, his tone playful, as if there's a whole story behind his words.

as you step out of the recording room, you're immediately enveloped in a sea of stares. everyone's eyes are fixed on you, their faces a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. you ignore them, refusing to acknowledge their attention, and make your way to the chair at the back of the room. you sit down, trying to appear nonchalant, but you can't shake off the feeling of being watched. you glance around, noticing that everyone's still staring at the glass window of the recording room, their faces pressed against it like they're trying to get a glimpse of something fascinating. but then, you feel eyes on the side of your head, boring into your skin. you turn to glare at nayeon, who's staring at you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. you can't help but picture the most grotesque thing - her being eaten by zombies, her flesh torn apart, her screams echoing in your mind.

you wish, for a fleeting moment, that you could somehow 'accidentally' get her bitten, just to get her out of this group. you imagine myungwhan's, changhoon's, and gwinam's faces superimposed on hers, staring at you and laughing. your neck grows hot with rising blood pressure. nayeon looks away, her eyes dropping, and stands up, her chair scraping against the floor. you breathe a sigh of relief as she walks away.

just then, cheongsan walks out of the recording room, looking frazzled. "he doesn't wanna leave," he says, his voice exasperated, as if he's been trying to coax someone out of the room.

“why not?” wujin asks, his voice laced with curiosity, as he turns to face jimin. “because someone needs to apologize to him,” jimin responds, her eyes flicking back towards the recording room, where nayeon is now sitting, her eyes darting nervously across the room. everyone's gaze follows jimin's, their faces filled of anticipation. “you said it yourself, you would apologize after 30 minutes,” ms. kim speaks up, her voice firm but gentle, as if addressing a recalcitrant child. her words are directed at nayeon, who looks like she's been caught red-handed. you let out a deep sigh, feeling your frustration grow, as you rest your head back against the wall. you're trying everything within your power to not leave the room, to not storm out and escape the unjustifiable truth.

“all right,” nayeon says finally, her voice barely above a whisper, as she gets up from her seat and heads towards the recording room. she closes the door behind her, the sound echoing through the silent room like a promise.

“i don't get why she has to close the door,” namra states in a quiet tone, her voice barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. you turn to your right, surprised to see namra sitting beside you, her presence a gentle intrusion into your introspection. you hadn't even noticed her sit down, too caught up in your own mind. you slowly look back at the door, your eyes confirming what namra was saying. the door is indeed closed, a physical barrier between them and the rest of the group. a sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

you both seem to have gotten a bad feeling about something, a shared intuition that something is off. you can't shake the feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong. a few minutes later, which seemed like an eternity, gyeongsu comes running out of the recording room, his face red with rage, his words heated and angry. he shouts at nayeon, his voice echoing off the walls.

"what did you do?" you jump to your feet, your own anger ignited by gyeongsu's outburst, and shout at nayeon, who stands calmly, a proud smirk still plastered on her face. gyeongsu explains, his words tumbling out in a furious rush, how nayeon didn't just refuse to apologize, but actually belittled him even further, her words cutting deep. the boys quickly move to intervene, separating gyeongsu from nayeon, and escorting him towards the window, hoping the fresh air will calm him down, diffuse the tension. gyeongsu's chest heaves with anger, his fists clenched, as he struggles to contain his emotions.

“i don't understand,” ms. kim says, her voice laced with confusion, as she looks at nayeon with a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

“of course you don't understand,” you mutter under your breath, your voice barely audible, as namra helps you put your sling-vest back on, her hands gentle and supportive.

but this time, ms. kim's ears are sharper, and she catches your whispered comment. “what was that?” she questions, her tone firm, as she stands up straighter, her eyes narrowing slightly. you roll your eyes, feeling a surge of frustration, before turning away, not wanting to engage with her, not wanting to explain yourself. you'd rather walk away, leave the tension and the drama behind.

ms. kim turns back to nayeon, her expression stern, her arms folded across her chest. "you promised and said you were going to apologize to him," she scolds, her voice firm but disappointed. nayeon shrugs slightly, her face impassive. "i did nothing wrong," she states, her voice dripping with defiance.

your leg begins to bounce restlessly as the words from both the boys and girls start to ring in your ears, a cacophony of accusations and anger. "you only think about yourself," jimin spits at nayeon, his words venomous. and suddenly, your mind is transported back to a time when you were younger, hiding behind a creaky door, watching in horror as your dad was threatened by loansharks. one of them had said the exact same phrase, their voice dripping with malice. "you only think about yourself," they had sneered. you feel a lump form in your throat as memories come flooding back. you had cried silently, too afraid to move, too small to stand up to them. the helplessness washes over you once again, and you feel like that same scared, powerless child.

“that's enough. quiet, everyone,” ms. kim steps in, her voice firm but calm, trying to restore order to the chaotic room. but your heart is still racing, your breathing heavy, as the memories continue to flood your mind. namra, sitting in the corner, notices your distress and whispers, “y/n-ah..?” her voice soft with concern. but your mind is still spiraling, trapped in the past. you remember how those men had only stopped tormenting your father when he stopped fighting back, his body limp and lifeless in the sink. your 13-year-old self had crawled to him, shaking him, calling out to him, begging him to wake up. your sobs had been so loud, you're sure the landlord could hear you, but they chose to ignore it, leaving you alone in your despair. the memory of that helplessness, that helplessness, washes over you again, and you feel like you're drowning in it.

“appa! please!” you cried, your voice hoarse from screaming, your body shaking with sobs. suddenly, your grief and despair turned to anger, and you began hitting him, over and over, on his diaphragm. not to save him, but out of rage and frustration. “why? why couldn't you just do something? why?” you shout, your fists pounding against his chest, your words echoing off the walls. it was as if you were trying to punish him for giving up, for leaving you alone. but then, somehow, miraculously, god decided to answer your pleas. your father woke up, choking on water, his body convulsing as he turned to the side and began heaving and gagging. you turned upward, your eyes closed, and thanked whatever higher power was watching over you at that moment. you felt a mix of relief, guilt, and shame wash over you as you realized your father was alive, but also that you had hit him out of anger. the complexity of your emotions was overwhelming.

“you're all so annoying,” nayeon says with a scoff, her voice dripping with disdain, as if she's above all of them. “what if i'm finally right about this? will you all finally admit i saved you, huh?” she taunts, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and triumph.

meanwhile, namra stands up, her movements slow and deliberate, as she notices you staring at the floor, your eyes welling up with tears. your leg is bouncing up and down, a fast, jumpy motion that betrays your inner turmoil. namra's expression softens as she takes in the sight, her eyes filled with concern and compassion. she walks towards you, her footsteps quiet, as if trying not to startle you, her presence a gentle intrusion into your distress.

the memory of that fateful day comes flooding back, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. you had decided to confide in your dad about the bullying at school, hoping for support and guidance. but instead, he just sat there, his eyes glued to the TV, ignoring your pleas. you called out to him, your voice shaking with emotion, but he didn't flinch. he only turned off the TV and looked down at the ground, his silence deafening. you called out to him again, desperation creeping into your voice, telling him you couldn't take it anymore, but he remained silent. then, he turned to you, his face a mess of bruises and swelling. his lip was split, his eye blackened, and his expression was one of defeat. you looked away, unable to bear the sight. "that's what happens when you fight back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was ashamed of his own weakness. the memory of his face, battered and broken, flashes in your mind, and a single tear-drop falls from your eye.

you stand up, the chair scraping against the floor as you slide it back. everyone turns towards you, their eyes filled with concern and curiosity. "y/n-" namra starts to say, her voice trailing off as she looks to ms. kim, seeking guidance, before turning back to you, her expression softening as she takes in your demeanor. your hand in a fist. “i cant do this anymore,” you sigh shakily, you words barely audible. before you walked past everyone and slid the rooms door open and shutting it behind you. you hear everyones yells for you as you begin walking down the empty and dark hallway only being lit by the moon.

“no!” suhyeok shouts, his voice echoing through the room as he rushes to the other side, but onjo quickly intercepts him, holding him back. ms. kim swiftly moves to block the front door, her expression firm. “i'll go get him! everyone stay here!” she commands, but before she can even turn the handle, nayeon's laughter cuts through the air. nayeon points a trembling finger at gyeongsu, her eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and triumph. “looks like i was right all along,” she says, her voice dripping with malice. and that's when everyone turns to see another catastrophe unfolding before their eyes. gyeongsu's nose is bleeding profusely, his eyes taking on a milky white hue. his skin is grayish, his movements slow and jerky. he's turning into a zombie.

the room falls silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the students as they watch in horror. ms. kim's eyes widen in shock, her hand still on the door handle. suhyeok struggles against onjo's grip, his face contorted in a mix of fear and desperation, the students frozen in terror as they realize their worst nightmare is coming true.

[kaciidubs]

Mind break with changbin👀

🫨 I love you for this cause this is a need

Warning; this came out a bit more dub-con than I intended, please know that there is consent in mind in this scene. Read at your own discretion.

"Let Binnie take care of it."

That's how it always starts, whenever he notices the thousand yard stare in your eyes, or the way you seem detached from yourself.

"That cute little head of yours is so loud, huh, Bunny? It's okay, Binnie's here, Binnie will make it all go away."

Then a kiss, sealing his promise with the softness of his lips against yours - a contrast from the hard grip on the back of your neck keeping you in place.

It was a balance he mastered with ease - a soft touch that made your heart flutter here, a harsh bite that made your knees buckle there, a hard smack to your ass here, a gentle swirl of his tongue around your nipple there.

Push and pull.

"You can take it, can't you?"

Even after taking two orgasms from you - the first bringing you back to your mind and the second bringing you back to your senses - you weren't sure if you were able to even handle having him inside of you, much less having another orgasm.

"I-I can't, I don't think-"

"Don't think," he scolded, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs, "you can take it and you will, right, Bunny? You'll take it for Binnie, won't you?"

You could take him, couldn't you? You could always take more of him, right? You could never have enough, there was no such thing as too much when it came to him.

"I... I can take it, Binnie... I want it, please."

You wanted it. You wanted him. You needed him.

"That's my good bunny." He hummed with pride, and before you knew it, he was pushing his thick tip past your walls with trained ease. "Binnie always knows what you need, yeah? Binnie knows best, you don't need to think any more, understand?"

Binnie will take care of it. Binnie knows what's best. Binnie always knows what his Bunny needs.

You nodded your head dumbly, eyes glazing as you blinked up at him, "Binnie knows best for Bunny."

Locking your legs in place, his hips snapped forward with a sharp thrust, punching a moan from your throat as you gripped the sheets underneath you.

"That's right, Bunny."

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Break-Ups 🌸 Dazai Osamu x Reader

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader Genre: hurt/comfort Word Count: 1 457 Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talk of breaking up, mentions of wounds and blood (symbolically) Summary: Dazai only met with you to break up with you, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

The air was tense. Not just from the impending thunderstorm that was brewing over your heads as you were sitting with your backs against the stem of a blooming cherry tree, shoulders almost touching, but also from the words you knew Dazai was holding back on. You had known today would come, and when he had asked you to meet out here, under that lone cherry tree with the view over the bay, you knew that this was it.

Really, maybe it was best this way.

Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. Dazai had somehow seemed to have grown sadder in the past months, and you knew the time in which your presence brought him the comfort to keep the memories of the past at bay way over. Maybe he had grown used to you, the same way people started to grow used to the effect of alcohol, but with you there was no increase in the dosage.

This triggered the unwelcome thought that maybe he had only ever been with you because you made him feel better. Maybe your relationship had never been more than a bandage to wrap the wounds of his past. And now that the bandage was blood-soaked, it had gotten useless, and he was about to discard it. If your relationship really had never been more than that, then it would be better to end it.

But you didn't want him to end it!

You knew you should respect yourself more than that, but you knew it would break your heart. It had been foolish at best, stupid at worst, to allow him to pull you into this whirlwind of an affair. An affair that all too soon had turned serious enough to be a relationship, and him introducing you has his lover had only sealed that deal. And your stupid, little heart had fallen for those soft brown curls, those dark eyes that held both such joy and such pain. You should have held tighter onto your heart, but it had taken off, settling straight into Dazai's palm where it now patiently waited to be crushed.

At your side he suddenly groaned and stretched his arms over his head, his coat sleeves falling down to his elbows revealing his bandage-wrapped forearms. You had never seen him without those bandages. Part of you wondered if you should have asked him to take them off at some point, just to give him the feeling you wanted to reach deep into his heart. But you never had, out of respect for his boundaries.

"Just do it alread," you whispered, unable to take the silence any longer.

"I can't," Dazai replied, placing his hands down in his lap. "I really thought I could but… I can't." He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, blue, storm riddled waves meeting dark grey clouds. "I don't want to."

"You've drawn completely away from me, Osamu. You don't even hold me anymore at night and when you kiss me, it feels like you only do it as a chore, not because you want to. You brought us here to break up with me, so just do it."

Lightning cracked through the sky, followed by the deep rumbling of thunder. He still didn't meet your eyes.

"'s not a chore," he disagreed, but his voice barely carried over the wind. "you're right, I came here to break up with you but- I don't want to lose you. I… any relationship I've ever been in has been for no other purpose but my entertainment. I'm not prideful enough to deny that. But then I met you and I thought it would be just like that again. Another girl to share my meals with, to keep me warm at night. Yet it wasn't. And it scared me. Still does. And I thought I'd want to end it. But the more I think about it, the less I want to."

His voice carried over the wind picking up, tucking cherry petals from the trees and through the air like snow flakes. Another lightning flickered across the sky.

"I need you to understand the difference here. I can imagine what it would be like without you. It's not like I'm solemnly dependant on you, and I know you aren't on me. But I don't want to imagine it. I don't want to live without you anymore. But it's taken me to bring you out here to break up with you, to really understand that."

You turned you head away, unable to look at his averted eyes any longer. His words were brutally honest, cut small wounds into your heart, but you had a feeling they were the kinds of wounds you needed to heal. From the corner of your eyes you saw Dazai turn to you, but you refused to look at him.

"If you want to end things here, I understand. I'll even do you the favour of being the one to end things if that's what you need me to do. And I will do it, even though I don't want to."

You slightly shook your head. "I don't want you to, but Osamu-" turning to him, you momentarily forgot what you had wanted to say when you saw the emotions flickering in his eyes. Love, hope, sadness, despair, determination.

"Osamu," you repeated. "I don't want this to end, I love you and I know that we're still young, so much can still change, but for now I want to be with you. But we can't go on like we have in the past months! I can't constantly doubt your affections for me, whether my touch doesn't actually disgust you, whether I can hold a man like you. Every morning for the past few months I've woken up, thinking I had to be perfect, perfect clothes, perfect make up, perfect hair, perfect work just to earn my stay at your side-"

"My love," Dazai shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me you felt like this? It's true, I wasn't sure what I felt, but now I know. Now I know for sure. And I made my decision. I want to fight for you, for us. I want to be with you. Your touch," he took your hand in his. Your skin was cool from the spring storm stripping away the warmth from your hands, but his were warm and familiar. Lifting your hand up to his face, he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. "Your touch could never disgust me. It has never brought anything but comfort and an unrivalled feeling of safety. And it confused me because I've never known anything like that before. But I love you just like I love your touch and I'm no longer afraid to show or tell so. And I'm no longer afraid to feel so. I love you the way you are. The way you wake up in the morning, no make-up, no fancy clothes. I don't want a mask you put on; I want your authentic self. I want the weird ideas you sometimes get. I want the pranks you pull on me and Kunikida. I want your fears and your worries and all the emotions you consider bad and think you shouldn't feel. I want all of that just as I want your love, your joy, your laugh, your happiness. I want all of you… and that's quite selfish."

Slowly he dropped your hand back into your lap, but as he was about to let go, you grabbed hold of his hand.

"Then be selfish," you asked. "And I'll be selfish too. Because I want all of that from you too. I don't want things to end here. Just promise me, we'll get better at being with each other."

The wind caught Dazai's hair, ripping at it mercilessly as he stared at you with wide, brown eyes as if he was unable to believe you were willing to give the two of you another chance. Finally he nodded, the smile on his lips, faint, barely there, but you knew him well enough to know how relieved he was.

"We will get better," he nodded, placing his hand at your face, and pulling you in for a kiss. Soft, sweet, lingering. A kiss like you hadn't shared in weeks.

"Promise me, Osamu," you whispered against his lips. "Promise me we'll make this work."

Pink blossoms danced through the air as another lightning lit up the sky and the first drops of rain started to fall.

"I promise," Dazai replied, pulling away from your lips only long enough to phrase his answer before he leant back in, sealing his promise with a kiss.

And he never broke his promise.