#She keeps on trusting them and they keep on betraying

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Dialogue Tags Aren’t the Problem, Your Dialogue Rhythm Is

friendly reminder that the word “said” did not kill your scene.

you don’t need to replace every line of dialogue with “he rasped” or “she intoned” or “they gasped breathlessly” (please no). your dialogue is not dying because of your tags. it’s dying because the rhythm is off.

👀 let me explain:

✨ what is dialogue rhythm?

it’s the flow of speech between characters. the beats. the pacing. the way words bounce, interrupt, cut off, trail, clash. it’s less about the words themselves and more about the energy they carry.

dialogue rhythm is what makes two people arguing feel like a boxing match, or a confession feel like a car crash. it’s how you keep tension in the room. if your rhythm sucks, no amount of fancy tags is gonna save you.

🔪 signs your dialogue rhythm is off:

every character is speaking in full, polished sentences like it’s a staged play

nobody ever interrupts, stammers, hesitates, or doubles back

the emotional pace stays flat, even in high-stakes scenes

all the action beats are “he nodded” “she smiled” “they looked at her” over and over

you read it out loud and it feels like a middle school skit

👂 here’s how to fix it:

Read your dialogue out loud. Like, actually out loud. if it sounds robotic, it is robotic. listen for places where people would realistically pause, ramble, get cut off, or trail off. insert those beats. add the mess.

Use white space and formatting to control speed. short lines = fast pace. long blocks = slow burn. a line break right before someone says something unhinged? elite move. example: “You really think I’d betray you?” Pause. “You already did.”

Cut 30% of your dialogue. if you can remove the line and nothing breaks, it was filler. chop chop. more silence = more tension. not every reply needs a full answer.

Let action interrupt speech. don’t wait for the character to finish talking before you show what they’re doing. intercut body language or physical actions mid-line. it mimics how people actually talk. like this: “Don’t touch that—” she lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. “—you don’t know what it is.”

Stop overexplaining with tags. you don’t need to say “she shouted angrily” if the line is literally “GET OUT.” trust the line. if the dialogue’s strong, “said” works just fine. if the dialogue’s weak, “murmured” won’t save it.

🛑 but what about dialogue tags?

use them! but treat them like punctuation, not prose. the goal is clarity, not ✨flair✨. you want the reader to know who’s speaking without noticing the machinery.

“Said” is invisible. “Snarled” is a spice. Use spices sparingly.

better yet: mix tags with beats to keep rhythm tight. example:

BAD: “I hate you,” he said angrily. “I hate you,” she snapped back.

BETTER: “I hate you,” he said, jaw clenched. She didn’t even blink. “Good. Then we’re even.”

💡 TL;DR: your scene doesn’t need fancy tags. it needs movement. conflict. silence. interruptions. character-specific tone. you fix that by fixing the rhythm, not the verbs.

go back to your WIP, open your messiest conversation scene, and test it. read it aloud. break it up. cut what drags. add one beat of silence. give someone a half-finished sentence and a reason to storm out.

watch how fast it starts to breathe.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[thatonegrimm]

Hi! Forgive me if requests are closed, I was a little confused if they’re open or not but may I request Saja boys(separate) x fem(or GN) reader where she does the current boyfriend prank of them?

No worries at all—they’re open! 💌 If requests were closed, I’d have a big “CLOSED” sign somewhere, trust me 😅Thanks so much for the ask—and here you go! ✨

Saja Boys x GN Reader – “Current Boyfriend” Prank

Summary: You’re making a TikTok. You call him, keep your voice casual, and ask: “Hey… what’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

--------------------------------

🧿 Jinu

He picks up on the second ring, already sounding a little breathless.

“Hey, you okay? Everything alright?”

“Quick question,” you say lightly. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Silence. Heavy. Echoing.

You can practically hear the gears grinding to a halt in his brain.

“Your... current boyfriend?”

His voice drops half an octave. Controlled. Carefully neutral. A dangerous kind of quiet.

“Is this a quiz? Or... a warning?”

“Neither.”

“A spiritual riddle?”

“Nope.”

There’s another long pause.

Then, very calmly:

“...Do I need to open a portal?”

You choke on a laugh. “It’s a prank!”

He exhales like he’d been holding his breath for three realms.

“You scared me,” he mumbles. “I thought I was getting replaced by a newer model.”

“You’re irreplaceable.”

“You didn’t sound like it.”

He sounds betrayed. You feel a little guilty. Only a little.

--------------------------------

💪 Abby

He answers immediately, all sunshine and loyalty.

“Hey, babe! You need something?”

“Yeah,” you say. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

There’s a small pause.

“...Your current what?”

“Boyfriend.”

“As in... me?”

“I think so. I forgot.”

You hear him suck in a breath. Then he starts pacing.

“Okay, wait. Did I mess up? Did we break up? Did I miss a DTR text?? Is this about the fridge again?”

“Abby—”

“I can fix it! I’ll clean the kitchen right now. I’ll burn the kitchen. I’ll make a new kitchen—”

“It’s a prank, love. For TikTok.”

He stops dead.

“Oh.”

“You okay?”

“I was literally Googling how to win someone back mid-call.”

You laugh. He groans.

“I hate how fast I panicked.”

“I don’t. It was cute.”

“Rude.”

--------------------------------

📚 Mystery

He picks up with faint static in the background. You hear wind, maybe a crow.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” you say sweetly. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Silence.

Not the awkward kind. The ancient evil stirring kind.

“...There is no current.”

His voice is low. Hollow. Like a locked door clicking open.

“What do you mean?”

“There is only me.”

“Mystery, it’s a prank—”

“Who did you ask this before?”

“What?”

“I need names.”

You start laughing nervously.

“Okay, wow. Chill. TikTok challenge. You passed. You’re The Boyfriend™.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

Then a quiet:

“Good.”

You check your phone later. He’s deleted all your contacts except his.

And added three crows to your favorites.

--------------------------------

💋 Romance

He picks up mid-humming, already smiling.

“Darling! Say the word and I’ll serenade you right now.”

“Okay. What’s my current boyfriend’s name?”

He goes quiet.

Not sad. Not mad.

Scandalized.

“Current?”

“Yeah.”

“As in... I have competition?”

“No, it’s a prank—”

“I knew it,” he mutters. “I felt the shift in the air. My aura’s been off. I sensed betrayal.”

“Romance.”

“I should’ve worn tighter pants today. And a shirt with buttons. I’ve gone soft.”

“ROMANCE.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“It’s YOU.”

“Oh thank GOD,” he gasps. “I was five seconds away from dropping a diss track.”

You roll your eyes. He’s already planning one anyway.

--------------------------------

🔥 Baby

He picks up like you interrupted something important.

“What.”

“What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Pause.

A long one.

“...Why’d you say ‘current’ like that?”

“No reason.”

“Nah. Say it again. Say it slower.”

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re being dangerous.”

“It’s just a TikTok—”

“So if someone else answered this before me, are they still alive?”

You start laughing.

“Baby—”

“Don’t Baby me. Send location. I’ll bring a lighter.”

“It’s a joke!”

“I don’t share,” he growls. “And I don’t like people playing with my title.”

You go quiet.

Then softly: “Your title?”

“Boyfriend,” he says, dead serious. “Not current. Permanent.”

Your face is on fire.

He hangs up.

Texts you 30 seconds later:

You’re mine. Post it. Let them know.

--------------------------------

M-List

[written-in-flowers]

Please, Be My Baby: Rafe x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Rafe x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Smut, fluff

Summary: You wanted to be his. Totally, completely, and utterly his. You'd do anything to have and keep him, and it turns out, he wants the same thing.

Tags: stalking, stalker!reader, dom/sub dynamic, obsessive love, lewd thoughts, drug use, CNC mention, implied/referenced drug use, size difference, body worship, thigh riding, dry humping, implied/referenced somnophilia, daddy dom (towards the end), degradation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, spanking, hair pulling, choking, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of breeding/breeding kink, reader wanting to be owned by Rafe because relatable.

***

You really shouldn’t be in here. It’s far too risky in such a crowded house, but you couldn’t help yourself. The temptation came on too strongly to ignore. You’d told yourself you’d go to the bathroom, then right back downstairs. No detours. No stops anywhere else. You’d walk right past his bedroom, and go back to your friends downstairs. It’d been Sarah who let you up there to begin with, ignorant to your feelings about her older brother. You shouldn’t betray her trust by sneaking into his bedroom. But, as you walked out of the bathroom, you saw his door right across the hallway. You knew it was his from the dozens of times you visited the Cameron household. You’d be coming down from Sarah’s bedroom and hope to come across him. 

‘Hey Rafe,’ you’d say, keeping the hope of an interaction out of your voice. 

‘Hey, YN.’ 

The fact he knew your name made your heart swell. Though, he barely shot you a glance before passing you to the stairs. Staring at his door, you stood frozen in place. Logic told you this was a bad idea. Anybody could find you there. It could be Sarah, Brianna, Topper, Kelce, or-the worst of them all-Rafe himself. It is his room, after all. There’s nothing stopping him from coming in. You hated the thought of him scolding you, angry and stunned by your appearance in his private place. Sarah might find out, think you’re weird, and never invite you over again. Other people will hear about it and shun you, leaving you back to the weird kid you’d been so long ago. You’d worked too hard on your innocent, friendly image to let that happen now. 

But, you still reached for the knob. It’s probably locked anyway. Touching the knob doesn’t hurt. Turning the brass piece, you expected resistance when you tried turning it. Instead, you heard the faint creak as the knob separated from the frame. You exhaled deeply through a tight chest, and your palms started sweating and shaking slightly. A cold sweat built when you pushed the door open further. Everything in you screamed to stop, to go back downstairs. You can’t do this. You shouldn’t do this. Sarah and your other friends are waiting. 

Sarah’s with Topper though. She probably hasn’t noticed you’ve disappeared by now. Brianna is likely nose deep in cocaine right now. She wouldn’t question it if you took a few more minutes. 

You fully opened the door, and saw Rafe’s room. His four poster bed near the windows, he’d left traces of himself all over the room. Once you stepped inside, you shuddered. You felt his presence all around you. Everything from the faint lingering cologne near his dresser to the water bottle left on his bedside table screamed ‘Rafe’. You closed the door, and pressed yourself against it. The wood cooled your warm skin, though it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’re in his room. You’re actually in his room. A rush of excitement brought out a soft giggle. Only a minute. You only needed a minute. A minute wouldn’t hurt at all. 

Walking over to a small dresser underneath the mirror, you pulled lightly on the knobs to slide it open. It was a jewelry drawer. Dozens of watches and rings sat in their own spaces, all of them gleaming in the light. You delicately ran your fingers over them. You blushed, remembering the times you pictured him fingering you while wearing one or two of them. Rafe wasn’t a big jewelry guy, opting for a ring or a fancy watch over anything extravagant. Most Kook guys were like that. You spotted an expensive watch encrusted with shiny diamonds in the gold frame. You smiled, recalling the last time he’d worn it. You’ll admit this one had a special place in your memories. He’d been wearing it when you both met at that dinner. 

Ward and Rose, Rafe’s parents, had sold your parents the house across the street. Your mother insisted you all celebrate the sale together with a nice dinner. Ward had brought Sarah, Wheezie and Rafe. Rafe captivated you immediately. Tall with dirty blond hair, he’d worn a plain cream-colored button down that framed his broad silhouette and black pleated pants accentuating his height. Adonis in living form. You found yourself drawn to him before you knew his name. He’d worn this watch on his right wrist. You’d see it whenever he pushed his hair back from his face or when he lifted his cup. You couldn’t get over his blue eyes or cocky smile. He was only a year older than you: you being eighteen and him being nineteen. He'd occasionally turned the conversation over to you. 

‘How are you liking Figure Eight?’

‘It's lovely. I haven't seen the whole island yet, but this neighborhood is nice.’

‘Maybe I can give you a personal tour,’ his voice dripped with flirtation when he said this. ‘I know some good places.’

You barely looked away from him. You’d done your best to not make your interest noticeable. The last thing you wanted was him knowing about your developing crush. To be honest, while you really did like Sarah, you’d befriended her with hopes of getting closer to him. You often joined your parents at the country club, praying you ran into him or at least spotted him somewhere. 

Would he notice if you took it? He might have a special attachment to it, and notice its absence. No. You can’t take this. Still, you held it closer to you as you fondly remembered his parting words that night. 

‘Hope to see you around, YN.’

He’d talked so smoothly to your father though. An import and export magnet, your family carried generations of wealth behind it. Rafe and his father could gain a lot by having a friendship with The Novak family. You hoped this might lead to seeing more of him, but you’d been wrong. All meetings were done in offices, not at home. Whenever your mother invited Rose over, she’d only bring Sarah and Wheezie. No longer in high school, Rafe sightings became rare. You only saw him in front of his house, during his morning jog, at the country club or parties you both went to. If you needed a fix, you went on his Instagram where you scrolled through dozens of photos. It didn’t always do the trick though. 

So, you’d watch him through his window. 

You put the watch aside, then quietly closed the drawer. On top of the dresser were rows of fancy colognes. You guessed which ones he used the most judging by how empty they were. But, there was only one you recognized when you put it to your nose. The woody scent brought on a flood of more memories. He wore this one daily. You knew because your nose sought it out whenever you got close enough. Like a dog sniffing out tracks, you’d know he was in a room just by smell sometimes. You dared give it a small spurt into the air, then give a big sniff. It gives you more energy than cocaine. 

He’d worn it at the last party you’d gone to. Being friends with the ditzy blond Brianna, you got a seat around the coffee table. Lines and residue of white lay on the glass table, each person taking a rolled up twenty-dollar bill and snorting through it. Rafe sometimes sold drugs at parties, charging each person twenty per line. Brianna got to sit next to him, but you’d gotten the spot on the couch beside his. 

‘Want a bump?’ He’d offered you a line when he finished, wrinkling the sting out of his nose. 

‘YN doesn’t do drugs,’ said Brianna with a laugh. ‘She's too much of a goody-good.’ 

‘Am not. I do drugs sometimes. I just never do them in front of you because you’d snort it all before I got a whiff.’ 

‘Then, here you go, party girl,’ Rafe smirked, handing the bill over to you. ‘First one’s free.’ 

‘Hey, how come she gets a free bump? You never offer me free ones.’

‘Everyone’s first line should be free.’ 

Rafe completely ignored her. Just being under his gaze filled your cheeks with heat. It left a sting that burned your nose and throat. Yeah, you didn’t do drugs, but how could you resist when Rafe offered it to you? The most stomach turning part came to you right then. 

‘You got some…’ he’d reached forward and wiped a faint speck of powder under your nose. The touch of his hand on your cheek stirred the butterflies in you. You’d caught a whiff of the cologne on his inner wrist. You wanted to inhale it more than the drugs. ‘There,’ he said, gazing over your face, ‘Want to do another?’

‘How much is that gonna cost me?” you asked, trying to tease despite the butterflies he’d made. 

‘Eh, I’ll let it slide for you.’ 

For you. You carried the sense Rafe didn’t give out free drugs often. Taking another sniff of the cologne, you set it back down. You’d search for it later. It’d be great to spray on your pillows at night. 

You made your way to the taller dresser, knowing his clothes are inside. Opening it slowly, you recognized the plain, solid color swim trunks he’d sometimes wear. A baby blue pair, you’d seen them when you came over one day. Sarah invited you and some friends to hang out, and Rafe happened to be with his own friends. The boys hung out on the dock, shirtless and damp from jumping into the water. You couldn’t stop staring from your seat in the backyard. Under the shade, you watched him make a perfect dive into the water, then climbed back out. You thought about how water droplets fell from the ends of his hair to his chest and shoulders, making small trails down his lean torso.  The urge to lick them up came strongly then. 

The true damage came when they walked back up to the house. Weighed down by water, his trunks ended up sliding an inch from his waist. This left that little extra slip of skin exposed, creating something naughty for the imagination. You’d done everything in your power to not stare too long. If Rafe caught you and got creeped out, you’d never see him again. Another memory resurfaced as you traced the dark blue strings. 

‘Hey, Party Girl,’ he’d caught you in their kitchen grabbing a drink. His voice always created more butterflies. 

‘Hey, Rafe,’ you said, trying to control your thumping heart. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing huge,’ he’d gone to get his own drink. He pulled out vodka and soda, grabbing a mug to mix the two. He then noticed the soda can in your hand and sneered, ‘Just a Coke today, hm?’

‘Wheezie is around. I don’t know, it feels weird drinking around kids.’ 

‘Wheezie lives with me and Rose’ he said, getting a second mug. It’d been white with red hearts. You’d snuck it home and drink from it regularly now. ‘She’s used to drunk adults. Here,’ he poured a second cup of vodka and coke, ‘One won’t hurt.’ 

‘You're trying to get me drunk, Rafe?’ you’d smirked, taking the mug from him. 

Stronger than you’re used to, you swallowed it down coolly. You rarely got Rafe alone. You wanted it to go well. Expecting a witty comeback, Rafe drew closer to you and whispered. 

‘What if I am?’ 

Sarah came in before you said anything, and almost dragged you away to show you something. You couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. You’d gladly have gotten drunk for him. Maybe he’d take advantage of you passing out in his room. He’d kiss and caress you underneath your clothes until he grew hard. You’d let him. If you woke up, you’d keep fake sleeping for him. You put the trunks back as you thought of his cock deep inside you. 

Staring out the window, you saw the party raging outside. You should go back. You’d spent more than enough time in his room. If someone discovered you here, that’d be it for you. 

However, you then saw the laundry hamper halfway full of clothes. Rafe’s clothes. No, you can’t. You cannot stoop this low. You stared at the white plastic hamper, seeing his clothes through the holes all around it. You made to leave, but temptation pulled you forward. Well, a tiny peek wouldn’t hurt. You’ll make it quick. 

Carefully, you opened the lid.  On top was the light blue buttoned shirt he’d worn golfing with Topper. You grinned to yourself as you lifted it out of the basket. You’d gone golfing with your dad, the slight hope of coming upon Rafe in the back of your mind. Butterflies refilled your stomach when the best of interactions happened. You’d been about to hit your ball when another one bounced in your direction, hitting yours off course. 

‘Come on, Rafe,’ your dad had said when Rafe and Topper approached. ‘She had a perfect shot.’ 

‘Sorry, Mr. Novak,’ Topper said. ‘Rafe’s swing can be pretty strong if he’s not paying attention.’ 

‘Yeah, sorry, sir,’ Rafe said, knowing better than to not apologize to a man like your father. 

He’d picked up his ball from near you. A soft breeze blew his scent right over to you, sending ripples down your body. 

‘My bad, YN,’ he said, looking right at you with those bright blue eyes. 

‘It’s cool,’ you replied, a warmth building in your cheeks. ‘It’s no big deal.’ 

‘You did have a good lineup though,’ he examined the new angle of your ball. ‘You still do, if you hit the ball softly enough. Here, let me help. It’s the least I can do.’

Then he’d wrapped himself around you from behind. You’d done everything in your power to not tremble in his embrace. His big arms lining up with yours, he gently placed your hands on the handle of your club. He was so close. You shuddered when you recalled his breath on your neck, his lips so close to your ear and his broad chest pressed to your back. A slew of images came, each of them more sensual than the last. 

‘Okay, you line it up,’ his low voice whispered in your ear, likely not to shock you too much. He guided you in a small swing, ‘And then hit it softly like this.’ 

You nearly moaned at the words. You wished he’d hit you. Whether softly or harshly, you’d kill to have him hold you like this all the time. The small golf ball went right into the hole, swirling around the rim before landing inside. 

‘See? Like that,’ he nodded in approval, letting you go. ‘You’re actually not that bad on your own. Maybe we could do a few holes together sometime?’

You’d let him do whichever holes he wanted. ‘You’d hate playing with me. I’m terrible.’

‘I wouldn’t mind giving you pointers.’ 

Topper eventually dragged him away from you. The world plunged into a bleak gray once he left your side. The moment burrowed itself into your brain, and his presence remained like a ghost. Holding the shirt in your hands now, you buried your face into it. A mix of his cologne and natural musk still clung to the soft cotton fabric. You pictured yourself in his arms again, but this time fully naked and pressed against him. The thought of the gentle fabric on your bare skin made your clit pulse. You couldn’t count all the times you saw him in well fitting shorts, wishing he’d let you hump his thigh while he palmed and kissed your breasts. You whimpered as you imagined your bare sex dragging along it. He wouldn’t mind the wet spots your arousal left behind, though he’d still degrade you for it. 

‘Little pervert,’ he always called you in your fantasies. ‘Cumming all over my thigh like this. I wonder what else you’d hump just to cum for me again.’ 

Anything. Everything. You’d do whatever Rafe wanted to please him. You already spent ages perfecting yourself with the intention of capturing his attention. You waxed regularly to keep yourself tidy. You kept up a proper skin care routine for dewy, glowy skin. You always had your hair and makeup done. You did your nails, wore nice clothes and bathing suits. You wanted to be his perfect doll; a pretty thing he can flaunt in front of his friends. A girl like you definitely elevated his image, just as it would for yours. Your mom once said you’d make a gorgeous couple, and you agreed. 

It won’t take long. Rafe always worked you up so much. Turning around, taking deep breaths, you saw his bed a few feet from you. He’d take you right there. Sitting against the pillows, he’d strip you down and set you on his lap. His hands roaming up and down your body, he’d kiss you deeply as he urged you to ride his thigh. Maybe it’d be after that golf game. The both of you fresh from being outside, the sea air stuck to your skin and hair, you’d want nothing but each other. You know you’d be dying for him to be inside you, but of course, you wouldn’t get it right away. He'd make you work for it. 

All sounds of the party growing faint, you walked on shaky knees to his bed. You’re pushing it, you knew, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re in such a sacred place. The bed was so soft with white covers and pillows. You crawled onto it like a cat seeking a soft napping spot. Your arousal grew stronger once you rested on your back, his shirt right on top of you. Once situated properly, you couldn’t stop yourself from remembering the golf course again. 

His size alone turned you on. He’d have no problem keeping you in place on his lap. Your hand sliding up underneath your bikini top, you used his shirt sleeve to tease your nipple. He’d softly grip and pinch them while you spiraled into lust. He’d flick the pebbles with his tongue, swirling it around like your finger did to make them even harder. Your nipples poking through the sleeve, you lightly brushed over it as you imagined he might. Then, he’d guide you along his thigh. 

‘That’s it, baby,’ he’d say in your ear, low and lustful. ‘Grind on me like you do to your stuffed toys at home.’

Your soft stuffed animals would be nothing compared to his hard body. You saw him bringing you to climax just by teasing and letting you use his thigh like a toy. His shirt drowned you in his scent, the faint cologne filling your nose and lungs like it would then. Pressure mounted up further imagining him pulling you over his full lap right after you finished. His zipper would lightly brush your sensitive sex, that bulge pressing into it and urging you to go again. He’d tell you to undo his pants and pull him out; then you’d hump his long, hard cock again. 

“Ra-Rafe…”

A hand sneaking into your pants, you gasped softly once your fingers touched the warm lips. Two digits sliding over your throbbing clit, you gave it gentle touches at first. His big bulge would spread the lips apart, your sex leaving a wet spot on his grey boxers. It’d push it up and down in each grind, like how it did to your fingers now. You kept running his shirt over your chest and stomach, wishing it really were him. You’d kill someone to make that happen. You never admitted out loud the things you’d do to have Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend. Your friends would find it pathetic. But, perhaps you were. 

A moan leaving you, you inhaled the scents coming from his shirt. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he’d throw you into the pillows and shove himself deep inside. You saw his thick shaft slowly stretching you in the most delicious way; his tip would hit your g-spot perfectly each time and it’d drive you crazy. The dirtiest of your fantasies then arose: him dragging you somewhere dark and quiet and taking you right there. He’d rip off your panties, then force himself inside you. He’d grab both wrists to keep you from escaping him, ignoring your pleas and whimpers for him to stop. But, you wouldn’t want him to stop, not really. His cock would feel too good by then. 

‘Rafe, please stop…There’s too many people around…Someone will see!’

‘Shut up, slut, and take every inch I give you.’ 

So wrapped up in the thought of him pounding you from behind, you didn’t hear the door creak open. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

His voice pulled you from your fantasy and into the real world. Panic pierced every part of your body, causing it to go still and immobile. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his looming figure by the door. Today he’d thrown on a dark blue shirt and khaki shorts, his dirty blond hair underneath a backwards cap. Casual but no less arousing to you. He could wear anything and you’d drool over him. 

“Party Girl decided to have her own in here,” he said, the cocky tone in his voice as he approached. “I must be dreaming right now.”

You didn’t answer. You should run right now. Run and keep running until you’re out of town. You’d go down to Mexico, change your name and appearance, and pretend this never happened. 

Rafe chuckled, “Little perv. I should have known. It’s always the cute, quiet ones.” 

Oh no, he was coming over. You shielded your shame with his shirt, wishing you could sink into the bed and disappear forever. Why did you do this? You knew this might happen, but you did it anyway. You clenched up when you felt the bed dip in front of you. Your pussy throbbed when a pair of hands sailed up your legs to your thighs. They gave tender squeezes that made your center burn even more. You held back a whimper when his thumb traced the middle seam of your shorts. 

“Naughty girl. Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to masturbate in someone else's room and not invite them to watch?” He asked, watching the digit circle the way top of your pussy and then back down. It brought on more pleasure than anyone else could give. 

“Rafe,” you muttered, “I'm-I'm…Oh god, I'm sorry, I-”

“-I'm not angry, baby,” he stopped rubbing and grabbed your thighs, fingers sliding under your shorts. Everything in you pulsated when his fingers touched your bare skin. 

“You’re n-not?”

“Not at all,” he assured you, a thumb sliding between shorts and bottoms to trace the bikini line. “How can I be when this is exactly what I’ve fantasized about?”

What the hell was happening? You shifted around to help him pull down both bottoms, revealing half your body. He let out a soft moan that sounded better than anything your mind dreamed up. Heat flamed in your cheeks, having him pay so much attention to you. You should be running out the door, pretending this never happened, but you stayed put. His hands felt too good to leave. He placed delicate kisses to your bikini line, going from the bottom to your hips while he gripped your thighs. 

“Rafe,” you began again, “I’m so sorry. I swear, I can explain everything.”

“Please, YN,” he smiled, amused, “Explain what you’re doing touching yourself on my bed with my shirt. I’d love to hear the excuse.”

You didn’t have one. There was no way to explain this away. He chuckled when you didn’t answer, and kissed your inner thigh. “You don’t have to explain anything, baby. Touch it for me,” he groaned, lips pecking soft kisses on the inner sides of your thighs. “I want to see how my dream girl touches herself.

Unable to refuse him, you timidly went back to your clit. Pale blue eyes focused on the fingers spreading juices over the smooth, velvet lips. You might have pulled and spread a bit more than normal for him to see as much as possible. Simply having him so close to you, admiring and kissing you, was enough to make you throb on your fingers. Hips starting to grind against them, you brought his shirt close to your chest. 

“What were you thinking about before I walked in?” he asked, stroking your thigh. 

You could not possibly tell him the truth. It'd scare him or turn him off, so you went with the safe option. 

“You fucking me on your bed like this,” you got out. 

“That's all?” he chuckled softly, “Nah, I think you had something much dirtier on your mind. You’re way too worked up for just that.”  

He crawled up your body, moving his shirt before trapping you underneath him. The brush of his clothes on your naked skin drew a soft moan out of you, and you stopped touching yourself. Then, he did the thing you never imagined him doing. Rafe bent down and captured your lips with his. Liquid fire coursed in your veins the moment your mouths sealed together, and you did your best to avoid grinding against him. His tongue sliding over your bottom lip, you both moaned once it touched over your own. One arm keeping his propped up above you, the other trailed up your arm to your chest. He released a low moan once his hand cupped your breast. 

“I know what I was thinking about last night,” he said in your ear, teasing your nipple through your top.

“Wha-what?”

“The golf course a few days ago,” he answered in between soft pecks. “You were wearing that snug red shirt that shows the shape of your tits.” He emphasized this with a soft squeeze, lightly grinding into you now. “That with the white skirt that grazes the middle of your thighs? It got me so hard.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It's modest enough for a country club, but sexy enough to get attention. I like subtly. It gives me things to imagine later on when I'm alone and thinking about you. God,” he groaned, kissing you some more, “You looked so cute and innocent…I wanted to take you off that course so badly, and fuck the shit out of you.” This image coaxed a whine out of you. 

“Oh my god,” you begged, loving how this was coming right from him. 

“I keep thinking about what might have happened if your dad and Top weren't around,” he said. “I keep thinking about touching your sweet, soft body and…and all the things I could do to you.”

You didn’t expect this. You didn't expect any of this. This is supposed to be a daydream; a deep dark fantasy you kept to yourself. As Rafe pulled down the top, you shivered and moaned. The moment his thumbs grazed your nipples you didn’t resist grinding up into him. The fabric of his shorts pressed right up to your sex exactly how you imagined they would. The bulge pushing his zipper gently brushed over you in each move. You felt so sensitive, you thought you might finish right then. Soon, he carefully moved your hand away, smirking when you whined in frustration. 

“I just want to play with it,” he said, chuckling at your torment. “How can I not when you make it look so pretty for me?” 

You squeezed both your breasts when he pushed a finger inside. Having a touch different from your own nearly sent you spiraling. Your hips suddenly lifted and you gripped the pillow as he only stuck his finger into the second knuckle. The other stimulation came from the thumb slowly dragging up your clit. You could feel the exact points he pressed on; the way he traced the sides and rubbed underneath had you melting in his hands. 

“Fuck, if I'd known how horny you were,” he said, bending down to kiss your inner thighs, “I would have done this sooner.”

“Me too,” you breathed, eyes closed and focused on his hand. “I would've…” 

“Would've what, baby?”

“Let you drag me into the bushes by the golf course and fuck me into the dirt.”

“Ah, that's what you were thinking about, dirty girl,” he groaned. “Maybe we'll do that next time.”

You let out a low moan once the tip of his tongue started caressing the small bud up top; a finger sinking inside, you gripped the sheets tightly. He kept the pace slow and steady, focusing on the parts making you moan the most. The pulsating sensation thriving in between your legs tightened as he gave long flat licks. Your hips barely moved around with Rafe holding your thighs down with one arm. Your body curved upwards, you were completely at his mercy. It was more than you’d hoped for.  His mouth took you to another world where only pleasure existed. His tongue’s precise movements became ingrained in your mind; the gentle vibrating hums became a part of you. Absent-mindedly, you took one of his hands in yours to hold him closer. He turned your palm around, and slipped his fingers between yours. It connected you together; your bodies became one and you never wanted to part from him. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he groaned, licking the outer lips and sucking them softly. “I could play with this forever.”

“You can do it as much as you want,” you said, head turning when his fingers circled it slowly.

“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “Don’t tempt me. I just might tie you up and keep you here.” The vision alone produced another moan that made him smile. “Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re perfect.”

Two fingers slipped through your clenching hole and curled inside. While his tongue worked your clit, his fingers prodded you. You swore the two somehow met in the middle: your clit stimulated on one end while your g-spot was teased on the other. Licking and fingering you faster, Rafe brought you closer to your climax. He was so much stronger than you; his size and weight kept you pinned to the bed as he teased your sensitive clit. You didn’t realize how much you’d enjoy this until you’re under him. His encouragement for you to cum was what sent you over. Almost as if your body needed permission before you could let out a single drop.

“That’s it,” he said, mouth full of pussy. “Cum for me, baby.”

You muffled your orgasm with his shirt, the scent only pushing you further. Rafe let you ride it out on his face, staying still as you grinded on his fingers. Your brain fuzzy from the after-glow, the urge for more burned. You reached down to his shoulders, unlocking him from your hold and bringing him to you. Mouth and chin shining from your cum, you licked his bottom lip before kissing him. Your own taste spilled onto your tongue, making you moan softly in the kiss.

“I do taste good,” you giggled, pecking his lips.

“Yeah, you do,” he agreed. He withdrew his fingers and placed them on your lips. You didn’t hesitate to suck your own essence from them, eyes locked with his. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he chuckled in surprise, pupils blown up from lust and desire. “I can’t believe you’re here naked in my bed,” he pulled out his fingers to kiss you again. “My sweet YN,” he muttered in it, “Cumming on my fingers and my tongue.”

“And I can’t believe I got to do that,” you exhaled, fingers digging into the back of his shirt. “I’ve always wanted this. Can I please have more?”

“As much as you want, baby.”

Rafe let you pull off his shirt, tossing it aside with the one you held. Gorgeous. Expanses of smooth skin and soft muscles were explored by your hands. You thought of the damage this body could do to you. Every time you went into the country club’s gym, you hoped to see him there. Watching him work out was a favorite pastime of yours. You’d see him pump iron at the bench, and wish you sat on top of him to feel his muscles flex and tense. Sweat often gleamed on his skin, beading on his forehead and temples after a while. You would’ve done anything to lick it off him before giving him a blowjob. You felt up his sides as he removed his shorts. Feeling him fumble with his button and zipper, your anticipation boiled over. His cock. You were about to see the part of him you wanted the most. Not just his heart, but the muscle that could take you to heaven and back. 

He knelt up over you, but didn’t do anything for a moment. You watched him admire you while kissing your ankle or leg occasionally. His hands glided up and down your body as if memorizing each curve. He had his pants unbuttoned, showing a bit of his blue and white boxers, but nothing else. That drove you insane, yet his hands kept you steady.

“I used to watch you at the tennis court,” he said.

“Wha-what?”

“Your tennis lesson,” he answered. “It’s at two o’clock on Wednesdays. Diego is your trainer, right?”

The fact that Rafe knew this made you smile. “He is,” you said, kissing and sucking two of his fingers again.

“I walk by when I’m going to the course to see you,” he said, entranced by your mouth on his hand. “You look so cute in those little outfits. I liked watching you move around in it, and how concentrated you get.”

“You spy on me…” you said, kissing his wet fingertips.

“Sometimes,” he bent down, pulling out his fingers to kiss you again. “I like admiring your beauty from time to time.” You gasped when he finally pulled down his bottoms and something hard slapped onto your pussy. “I’d watch you on the court and can’t look away,” he started kissing down your neck slowly. 

“I do it for you to notice me,” you admitted. 

“I’ve noticed it, baby,” He started sliding his shaft over your wetness, giving a soft groan at the contact. “I see you working out in the gym, going to the salon and the spa. You always look so good,” he slapped your clit with the head, making waves over you. “And just for me too? I love it even more.”

You wouldn’t say that everything you do is to please him. Your brain sunk too deep into him to care for anything else at the moment. This deepened when he fully pushed into you. Your eyes rolled back at the fullness of it. You could feel every inch drag across your walls, massaged by the tight canal. His deep groan mixed with your higher one when he buried himself to the base. Holding your knees to his waist, Rafe kept a steady pace as he pulled in and out. 

This felt unreal. You’re currently in another wet dream. You imagined yourself currently in bed, arousal slowly waking you up, and finding yourself alone. Rafe’s thick cock isn’t really in you right now. His hands and lips aren’t exploring you while his hips are pushed to yours. He’s far away and you’re dreaming. If he’s not, you’d hang onto this dream as long as possible.

“Stay still,” he grunted, holding onto your neck and moving faster. “Stay just like that and take my dick.”

He stared down at you, blue eyes taking in the sight of you under him. You stared right back, wanting to memorize every detail of him. The bed frame gradually began knocking on the wall in each thrust, joining the sound of his hips hitting yours. This could alert anyone walking by, but you didn’t care. You wanted them to know. If his friends heard how good he was making you feel, it’d boost his reputation for sure. You’d make him the envy of all his friends. You didn’t care what they thought of you; only his opinion of you mattered. His hand on your throat, his grip tightened as he went faster. The few breaths that did come through kept you going, bringing you closer to another climax. You wanted this forever. You didn’t want to wake up right now; not when his cock felt so good. 

His strength turned you on once again when he rolled onto his back with you on top. You let out a long cry once you were planted on him. Your hands locking with his, you started rocking back and forth on him. The both of you moaned as he moved around inside you, pushing against your walls and your g-spot again. You kept yourself slightly leaned back for him to see himself stretching you out. He needed to see what he does to you; how wet he makes you. Rafe looked down to see this, watching the scene intently and licking his lips. Hands rubbing up and down your thighs, one of them reached down to your clit. 

“Oh my god, yes,” you whined when his thumb played with your clit. “Rafe…Rafe, don’t stop…”

“Keep saying my name,” he grunted as he started meeting your hips. “I want them to know who’s fucking you right now.”

“Rafe!” It came out louder than you intended when he changed angles under you and went faster. Bringing you forward, your tits bounced in his face while his hands grabbed your ass. “Rafe, oh fuck, Rafe!”

You couldn’t stop. Your body found a rhythm and ran with it. Even when your thighs started aching and arms burned from holding you up, you kept going. His cock warped you completely, almost as if resetting your entire being. Whatever dream you’re currently in could be your reality forever. You never wanted to wake up. When another orgasm started building again, Rafe held onto you as you shook. You didn’t look away from him. Sweat gleaming on his body, cheeks flushed a light pink, and lips parted in constant groans, he was beautiful. You wanted to take a picture of him this way. His lean body rolling up into you; his arms flexing as he helped you keep your pace; slight veins starting to show from the strain all brought you right to your climax. 

“There you go,” he awed, working your sensitive clit again and smiling at your trembling. “There’s my girl…Cum all over my cock, just like that.”

He pulled you down to him as you rode the last seconds of your orgasm. Kissing you deeply, he held you in place and pushed up to you. You couldn’t handle the sparks of pain the overstimulation brought. Squirming around on top of him, you tried moving away from it but he kept a tight hold on you. 

“Rafe,” you giggled, pushing on his shoulder, “It’s sensitive.”

“I know, baby,” he said. He gave your ass a hard smack that forced a moan out of you, “But just one more time, okay? I want you to go one more time for me.” 

“I don’t think I can,” you whined. Yes, you totally could. You practiced with your toys at home, working yourself either to edging or going over multiple times. 

“Yes, you can, baby,” he smacked the other side, “You can go as many times as I want you to.” He pressed his lips to your ear, “What was the point of all that practicing if you can’t cum as much as I want?” 

He took your stunned silence as a moment to flip you over. On your stomach, Rafe hurriedly put a pillow to prop up your hips. How did he know that? You gripped the pillows in front of you as he pushed back into your pussy. His hands gripping your ass, pinching and spanking you, you pictured Rafe somehow watching you train. You’d be laying on your bed, legs spread wide as you fucked yourself with a toy. Sweaty, panting and mewling, you’d have no idea he was outside looking in through your window. You’d bring yourself to orgasm over and over, saying his name as you used different toys. 

“Just one more time, baby,” he panted, spreading your ass cheeks apart. “I know you can. Daddy knows you can.”

The magic phrase. ‘Daddy’. Cringey, you knew, but it suited Rafe perfectly. It made you feel owned; you belong to somebody who'd take care of you forever. You started pushing back onto him, ass smacking his hips and getting a moan each time. His praises and encouragement worked alongside you starting to rub your clit again. Despite the pain, you kept going. Fingers wrapped your hair around them and yanked your head back, causing your body to bend backwards. You grunted and groaned as Rafe pushed you into another orgasm. This one shook through every bone and muscle in your body. You couldn’t control your volume this time; the position didn’t let you muffle it either. 

“See?” He huffed, still pumping in and out of you. “You can do it. My-My baby can do it for me…”

“But I-I want to make you cum, Daddy.”

“Trust me, baby, I’m going to. I’m going to. I’m so fucking close,” he said hastily, pounding faster. “Daddy’s so close. Stay-Stay right there and let me-me use your pussy.”

You remained firmly planted on the bed, and focused on his moans. “Gonna fucking breed this pussy,” he grunted, “Fuck, YN.”

“Yes, breed me,” you spread yourself out for him. “Please, it’s all I’ve wanted. I want to be yours. Breed my pussy and make me yours.”

And then he did. You almost felt his dick twitch like a heart beat in every shot. The both of you moaned in unison as he finished inside you. You pictured it spilling out the sides onto your thighs. It made you want to go again. You wanted to pleasure him as much as possible. Rafe kept going until he squeezed every drop into you, then settled on top. His weight kept you trapped under him, which you loved. You pulled his strong arms around you, holding his hands to your chest like a pillow. 

“Perfect,” he breathed, catching his breath. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Only for you,” you replied, eyes closed and heart hammering. 

“As it should be.”

He pecked a few kisses on your shoulder, then pulled away from you. You felt him spread your thighs to see his cum inside you. With a little push from your stomach, more thick cum dripped from your entrance to your clit. Rafe swiped two fingers over the stream, then held them to your mouth. Salty and sweet, you eagerly swallowed what he’d given you before he kissed you. 

“Do we have to go back?” you asked him in a small voice. “I want to stay up here with you.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” he whispered, giving the outer edge of your ear a kiss. “Why would I go down there when I have my girl here with me? Besides,” he smirked, “I brought a few favors up here for us.”

“Let me guess: real prime shit, huh?”

“I wouldn’t let you snort anything less than.” 

He cuddled you a bit longer, the two of you enjoying each other's presence. The soreness and stiffness of your body didn't matter. Rafe’s warmth and touch put you on cloud nine. The cocaine he lined up on a small mirror made it better. His bedroom became your own personal world. The party continued while you two shared this special moment together.

“I don't want to go back,” he said, sniffing and pinching his nose. 

“To what? The party? Me neither.”

“No,” he handed you the mirror next, “To what we were before. I don't think I can now that we've…done this.”

“I didn't think we were. Did you think we were?”

“No,” he said. He watched you do a line, then said, “You're mine. Even before now, you were.”

“That's all I've wanted to be.”

The two of you laughed, the drug starting to take over. You shared another kiss, then you let him start exploring you all over again. 

It felt good to be his. 

****

A/N: nobody loves weirdos finding each other more than me lol Hope you guys liked this one <3 feel free to reblog and like <3

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 14

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

CW: Insecurities

Word Count: 2191

Series Masterlist

Part 13 || Part 15(upcoming)

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year: 39 Year Under the Mountain: 35

     Estella spent the next five years avoiding Eris at all costs. Not that it was hard, as her mate was doing the same to her. She missed him—missed being in his arms. She missed the sex, the attention, the affection, and everything that came with it.

     But what he had said to her hit her hard. It had struck a chord so deep in her, bringing back insecurities she thought she had already gotten over. Still, that bond in her chest longed for him. It longed for his embrace.

     Things had been lonely without him. She tried to seek out Rhysand more often, and he did his best to be there for her. But he couldn't always, and she understood that. 

     She was lying in his bed, waiting for him to return from the throne room. Her wings wrapped around her body, her knees pulled to her chest.

     Every day that she ignored the bond in her chest, every time she avoided Eris's gaze, her heart broke a little more.

      He had finally begun growing soft with her. He had been showing her a sweet side of himself. But she had pushed too hard, and his walls had gone back up. He had been cruel, yes, but part of her wondered if she had deserved it.

     Her gaze slowly slid to the door as it creaked open. Rhysand grimaced as he took her in. It was risky not to notify him before seeking him out. She knew that. But she was so lonely.

"What have I told you about--"

"I know, I know," she cut him off with a grumble. "But I really needed company."

"You don't look well," he acknowledged, sitting down next to her. 

"Thanks," she glared, fidgeting with the gloves on her hands.

"You've been wearing gloves a lot lately," he observed as he eyed them. "You used to do that as a teenager, but I thought you got over it."

"It's cold down here," she shrugged, her cheeks flushing.

"Did somebody say something?" he asked gently.

     She didn't meet his eyes as she shook her head, Eris's words replaying through it. He didn't seem to believe her, but he let it go.

"You'll never guess who approached me yesterday," Rhys mused. Estella hummed in response, turning her head to look up at him. "Eris Vanserra."

     It took great effort to school her features, to keep them from revealing everything that was going through her mind. Estella remembered everything Azriel taught her about that, and she kept her face expressionless.

"Really?"

"He wants to make a bargain," he scoffed. "He wants our help killing Beron."

"Oh," Estella said softly, brows furrowing. "In exchange for what?"

"Well, he's no idiot," Rhys said. "He knows that if we get out of this mountain, there will be a war. He's offering to be our ally in the war."

"We could use that," Estella said, sighing deeply. "If we ever get out of here."

"We will, Stella," Rhys assured her, nudging her shoulder with his. "But I told him I'd think about it."

"Do you trust him?" Estella dared to ask, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

"Not in the slightest," Rhys snorted. "But if we make a bargain, he'd be unable to betray us, unless he wanted to die." Estella hid her wince. "And I have to admit, I wouldn't mind seeing Beron in the ground."

"Me neither," she murmured.

"Eris is a cruel snake," Rhys acknowledged with a grimace. "But he's not as cruel as Beron. And while I don't particularly want to see him on the throne, having Beron off of it would be beneficial for all of Prythian."

"Especially the Lady of Autumn," Estella said, thinking of the bruises she saw on the lady's wrist half a decade ago.

"Well, it would be good for her, yes," Rhys nodded. "Eris tries to hide it from everyone, but it's obvious he cares for his mother."

"Yes," Estella agreed, thinking of how fiercely he defended her when Estella brought her up.

     A tug at her chest brought her out of her thoughts. She frowned, cringing at the new sensation. As if someone had a rope around her heart and was yanking on it.

     It was incessant, a sensation she'd never even felt during the highest climaxes with him. He was calling her like a dog, and she hated the feeling.

"I love you, Rhys," Estella said to her brother, sitting up. "Thanks for keeping me company."

     Estella kissed his cheek, and then was out the door. She was fuming as she stormed down the corridors, the string getting tauter as she neared his bedroom.

     She stormed into the room, ready to confront him for the first time in five years. She slammed the door behind her, and let her anger explode down the bond.

"What the fuck was that?" she snapped, hand on her chest.

     Estella was not met with the smirking male she expected.

     No, he was sprawled on his bed, shirt unbuttoned, a nearly empty bottle of wine in his hand. His eyelids were fluttering open and closed, his hair a mess.

"Are you drunk?" she demanded, nearing his bed.

"I want you," he slurred his words, reaching out to grab her hip.

     Estella sighed, taking the bottle from his hand. He verbally protested, but couldn't move fast enough to take it back.

"You're a mess," Estella cringed, wrinkling her nose.

"You're a mess," he shot back, glaring at her.

     She pursed her lips, studying his features. She'd seen him drunk, but never liked this. He'd be furious with himself for seeking her out when he sobered up.

"Come on. Let's get you in the bath," Estella decided, taking pity on him as she tried to help him sit up.

     As she got close to him, he took her face in his hands, trying to kiss her. She yanked away before he could, sending another wave of anger down the bond.

" I want you," he repeated, a slight whine in his voice that she'd never heard before.

"You don't get to do this, Eris," she scolded him. "You don't get to insult me and shut me out for five years, then expect me to fuck you whenever you want me. That's not how this works."

"I didn't mean it," he intoned, the words barely audible. She didn't know what he was referring to, but she took a deep breath, preparing herself. 

"You need a bath. Then bed. Now, come on."

     He grumbled as she helped him to his feet. She assisted him to the bathroom, turning on the hot water to the bathtub.

     He leaned against Estella, kissing her neck. But it wasn't the normal sucking and biting he used to do, the ones that left marks she always had to cover. It was small pecks, sweet kisses, more affectionate than sexual.

     She sighed, deciding to allow it. It had been so long since she'd received affection. He kissed her delicate skin, and she intertwined her fingers with his hair.

     When the tub was full, she gripped his hair and pulled his head off of her. She ignored his groaning, reaching to take his shirt off.

"I can do it myself!" he argued, yanking away from her.

     His limbs flailed as he tried to get out of his shirt, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. He eventually gave up. Estella stepped forward, and he allowed her to undress him.

     When he was bare, she did not allow her gaze to linger. She helped him into the bathtub, holding onto his hand as he lowered himself into the water.

     Eris's grip lingered on the gloves on Estella's hand. He murmured something under his breath that she didn't quite catch, then slowly slid the glove off. She tried to yank her hand away from him, but his grip was too strong.

     Eris pressed a kiss to her scarred skin, then another, then another. He peppered kisses across the burn scars, and it made her breath hitch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her skin. Estella's heart skipped a beat at the words.

"You called them repulsive," Estella said quietly, her voice trembling.

"I lied," he said, then let go of her.

     She stared at him, watching as he washed himself. I lied. Why would he lie about such a thing? Why would he purposely hurt her like that?

     When Eris was done with his bath, she helped him dry off, got him into a robe, and led him back to his bed.

"Lie on your side," she instructed as she helped him into the bed. He obeyed, to her surprise. "Good." She went to stand up, but he placed a hand on her wrist.

"Don't leave, 'Stel," he whispered. "It's been so long since I've heard your voice."

"That's your own fault, and you know it," Estella replied, raising a brow at him.

"Stay," he pleaded. "Please."

     She never heard him use the word please. It caught her off guard. Had five years without her really turned him so soft?

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," she decided. "But no longer."

     He nodded, closing his eyes. Estella watched him closely as he drifted off, and once he was asleep, she found herself unable to leave his side.

»»————-　♔　————-««

     Estella did not get a wink of sleep. She spent the entire night watching her mate as he dozed off, sleeping deeper than she thought he ever had. She'd watched him sleep before, and he had never looked so peaceful.

     He groaned before he even opened his eyes, alerting Estella that he was waking. He grunted, his eyes squinting at her.

"It's been so long since I've woken with you beside me," he mumbled, blinking furiously against the light.

"You're the one that screwed that up, so don't complain," she replied swiftly. He grimaced, but didn't deny it. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

"Bits and pieces," he admitted. "I remember tugging the bond for you. I remember you putting me in the bath. Nothing after that."

"I put you to bed after that. Nothing more," she informed him. "And you do not get the tug the bond for me. I am not a dog."

"I was drunk," he defended himself.

"I'm well aware," she scoffed. "You were acting ridiculous."

"I apologize for that," he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes, you apologized for a lot last night," she admitted, crossing her arms. He glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

"I am sorry," he said. "For what I said."

"You told me it was a lie," she recalled, her back stiffening. "But you didn't elaborate."

"It was," he confessed quietly. "I've never found a single part of you repulsive."

      The words slithered their way into her heart, and made her shoulders slump with a bit of relief.

     But she didn't allow herself to throw her body onto his and kiss every inch of his face, no matter how much she wanted to. She had more self respect than that. Even if he had lied, he had still hurt her intentionally. And she needed to knownwhy.

"Then why would you say that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I was trying to drive you away," he explained. "For your own safety."

"My own safety?" she demanded, her brow quirking. "That's all?"

"That's all?" he repeated, sitting upright. "If my father found out you're my mate—"

"I know," she snapped. "I've heard the stories of Jesiminda."

"It would be worse than that," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Jesiminda was not Lucien's mate. You . . . he will make you marry me, then he will use you to control and punish me. If I step a toe out of line, he will torture you for it and make me watch. He will force you to bear my children, whether you want to or not. And if you are unable to provide them within a timely manner, then he will kill you. Slowly and painfully."

      Estella processed the words, considering if she was willing to risk that for him. And she found that when she recalled how numb and lonely she was without him, it was worth it.

"I don't scare easy," she said. "Besides, my brother would never let that happen."

"Then there would be a war for you," he said. "Autumn against Night."

"We will keep it a secret," she decided.

"My mother already knows—"

"Then, we will be more careful."

"We can't guarantee anything," he pointed out. "We could easily be seen and reported. Your brother is a Spymaster. If we get out of here, and he—"

"I am also a Spymaster," she reminded him. "And the first thing I learned was how to hide things from Az."

"I cannot have you getting hurt," he whispered, pain in his eyes.

"The only one who has hurt me lately has been you," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"And the guilt has been eating at me for the last five years," he stressed, his hand reaching out for hers. She yanked it away from him. "Please, 'Stel."

"It will take me a while," she said to him. "Before I let you touch me again."

"I understand," he said quietly. "I won't touch you until you're ready."

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog @libraryofshan @historygeekqueen @eyes-capone @prettty-thing @lomahdu @batboyslutt

Eris Taglist:

If there is a line through it, it won’t let me tag you.

Comment to be added to the tag lists!

»»————-　♔　————-«

[tenderjock]

rewriting 2o2g In My Head

first off we're gonna ditch tuah being an old friend of andy's because i dont think that makes sense. like theres these other immortals for centuries, and joe and nicky and quynh havent dreamed about them for some reason altho nile has, and andy's been lying about them, and whatever? dumb.

instead, we'll have tuah and uma both exist largely as the same characters only they will have figured out some [handwaves] way of keeping themselves separate from the other immortals because they Dont Want A Part Of What Andromache Is Doing. for different reasons: tuah's become something of a pacifist, wants to be with his books, and uma thinks they shouldnt interfere with the lives of mortals.

fast forward to now. we forget the whole first/last plot, the whole losing/giving immortality thing. uma's figured out some way - maybe using the research merrick managed to do? - to slow and even stop the immortality, and kill them.

she's going after them.

tuah reveals himself to andy and the crew, and theyre not sure if they can trust him, but he's a good guy and he proves it. etc etc

quynh stuff happens more or less the same, i think.

nile isnt a fucking plot-convenient weapon who is being used without her knowledge or consent. dumb.

booker never loses his immortality because suicidal people shouldnt be handed a noose and told to just have at it. andy is mortal the entire movie, and when uma tries to leech her immortality from her in their fight scene, she just laughs.

i think also theres a bit here where theres like - uma has figured out how to kill them, the thing booker wanted merrick to do. so nicky doesnt trust booker to have their backs in a fight against her. and booker says he's on their side, he's not gonna betray them again, and thats enough for joe, and it drives the wedge further between nicky and joe.

i'd cut down the whole final sequence to about eleven minutes of action total tbh. and then i'd end with uma managing to escape, but our gang victorious, with some injuries (andy, copley) and a big happy dinner scene or something ending it on a high note.

yeah i'm a sucker for a soft ending okay?

[justplainwhump]

"I'm sorry"

wij day 3

It's impossible to keep secrets from Renee; and Rosa pays for it.

Set a while after [Laundry Room], definitely works as a stand alone.

[Pet Safety Masterpost]

Tropes / warnings: BBU setting, punishment, multiple whumpees, forced to hurt a loved one, humiliation, burning (implied), recorded whump (implied).

"I'm sorry."

Renee archs an eyebrow. Her manicured hand is soft, where she holds Rosa's arm, but Rosa knows too well how easily these soft fingers can turn into an iron vise.

She's been dusting the bookshelves in the living room, tiptoed to reach the higher shelves, not noticing that her sleeve had slid back, nor that Renee had been watching.

Now it's on full display, burned into her flesh, the memory of the day in the laundry room, when Rosa had desperately tried not to fall in love, and spectacularly failed.

"Sorry? Huh. Elaborate. What for?", Renee asks, her other hand pushing the black fabric of Rosa's blouse up to her elbow. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration, as she calmly studies the patchy pink and white scar the hot iron has imprinted on Rosa's forearm.

Rosa's mind is racing.

Nothing. I'm sorry for nothing.

The truth. Surely, a wrong answer.

But of all the lies she can come up with to answer her owner's question, she doesn't know which one it is Renee wants to hear. Or if Renee knows, herself.

"Well?" Renee's grip tightens.

Rosa bites back a yelp. "I... I'm sorry for damaging your property, Madam. It is my responsibility to keep this body effective and functional, and I... I failed. It was an accident. I was ironing. I burnt myself. I'm sorry."

A flat smile tugs at Renee's lips and she shakes her head. "You should be. But think harder. There's a lot more you need to be sorry for, pet." Her fingernails trace the scar. Rosa can keep herself from flinching - her owner may always touch her - but she can't help the shudder running down her spine.

"I... I wasn't honest with you, Madam. I didn't tell you."

"That's right." Renee's voice is almost a purr. "And you know I always want to be informed about anything out of the ordinary. You're so good at it, Rosa. You always tell. You tell me when you broke a glass. You tell me when you see strangers visiting our neighbor. You tell me when my husband refills his ket stash."

Rosa wants to close her eyes, but she doesn't. She keeps them open, head tilted, holding her owner's gaze. Just as Renee orders it. "I'm sorry," she whispers again, even though she knows this isn't what Renee wants to hear from her any longer. "I'm sorry for disobeying you like this."

"Pets don't lie to their owners," Renee says. "Isn't that a rule?"

I lie. Blanca's body on top of Rosa's. Her warm skin. Her soft hair. Her loving mouth. And I think you can, too.

"Yes." Rosa's voice is raspy. "I would never lie to you Madam."

"You did," Renee says. "Not telling me about this accident, this injury is a lie already. Because it betrays my trust." Her hands wander over the healing wound. She doesn't press on it. Rosa wishes that she would. She wishes this would be over. "Now. Who are you protecting, my dear pet? There aren't that many options, am I right?" Renee smirks, doesn't even bother to turn her face away from Rosa's, as she rises her voice and yells, "Blanca! Living Room."

Rosa's breath stills. "Madam," she whispers. "I am sorry. I am so sorry. Blanca doesn't have anything to do with it. She helped me clean the wound. She helped me fix it so I could keep working and serve you. And I did."

From upstairs, Rosa hears the soft click of a door opening, light footsteps approaching the stairs.

"Please." She drops to her knees, her left arm still firm in Renee's hold. "Please, Madam."

"The little fucktoy doesn't have it in her brain to take care of such a wound," Renee muses, unimpressed. "You're protecting my husband, too, aren't you? He had a call from that... fuckthing, while we were on the way to the beach house." She laughs dryly. "My loyal husband. My supposedly even more loyal housekeeper. Keeping secrets from me." She snaps her fingers at the door, just as Blanca appears, not even bothering to turn around and look at her. "Blanca. I suppose you know the laundry room downstairs. Go there and pick up the iron." She lifts Rosa's arm, a painful twist from Rosa's kneeling position, and presses a finger on the scar. "If you're fucked too stupid to know what that is, it's shaped somewhat like this mess here."

Tears threaten to well up in Rosa's eyes. She forbids herself to look up, even though she is deeply aware of Blanca's gaze on her. She feels her lover's horror just like her own.

Blanca turns around and leaves without a word. There's no Yes Madam from her, not ever. Renee doesn't want to be bothered with Blanca's entire existence. She doesn't want to see her, hear her, be aware of her at all.

Rosa doesn't know if she's ever even heard Renee call Blanca's name at all before today.

She just knows she never wants to hear it again.

Rosa's arm falls down limply when Renee lets go of it and steps back.

"Get up and clear the dinner table," her owner says, matter-of-factly. "I want it bare."

Rosa hurries back to her feet, mind blank. She can't let herself think about what Renee wants. She's a good pet. She does as she's told. Practised and quickly, she puts chandelier and flowers on the sideboard, stows the stack of Sir's books in the shelf, before she pulls down the tablecloth and folds it into a neat square. She's finished, just as Blanca returns with the iron and sinks to her knees.

Wordlessly, Renee takes the iron, plugs it in the socket closest to the table and turns it on the highest level.

"You know, Rosa," she says. "What they say about a pet's discipline."

"Yes, Madam." Rosa inches towards where Blanca is kneeling. "It... It's important for a..."

Renee lifts her hand, and she stills.

"I trusted you, Rosa. You betrayed that. You're mine. Only mine. And I need to ensure your loyalty. And discipline."

"I am sorry," Rosa breathes, eyes on the heating iron. "Truly, madam, I wasn't thinking clearly, I will be your good and loyal pet, I -"

The little LED on the iron indicates it's reached the highest temperature.

Renee smiles.

"Lay the fuckthing on the table, Rosa."

Blanca shuffles to her feet but doesn't step back. Doesn't run. She should, Rosa things. She needs to. Blanca needs to get away from this. Please. Please.

"Madam," Rosa tries. Her voice is strained with fear.

Renee tilts her head, eyes hard. "Every word you say to avoid this only serves to prove your disloyalty. Do what I say, Rosa, and do so in silence." She grins. "Be a good pet."

Blanca still doesn't run. She steps forward, brushes past Rosa, as she briskly walks to the table and lays down on her back. Tears are shimmering in her gray eyes.

"Huh." Renee chuckles. "Unexpected to see the little whore being a better pet than you, Rosa."

"Sir... Sir wants my body to be-" Blanca says softly, but Renee interrupts her.

"Well, your Sir, my husband, needs to learn a lesson as well. Nobody goes behind my back where my things are concerned."

Renee narrows her eyes as her eyes wanders down Rosa's lean muscles, then over the petite, immaculate, naked form of Blanca on the table. She's trembling.

"The whore will struggle. But - you're strong enough to hold her down, Rosa, aren't you?"

Rosa nods. She is. She knows. She hates that she knows.

"Well then. Take the iron." Renee taps a finger on the inside of her own forearm. "Make it match yours. And -" She waits until Rosa looks up and holds her gaze. She's blurry. Everything is. Rosa's head spins. "I'll count to three. Do not dare to take the iron off before that. You understand? I want to hear you say it."

"Yes," Rosa chokes. The words are stuck on her throat. "Yes, Madam."

With a content nod Renee steps back and pulls out her phone, idly pointing the camera at them.

"Yes, Madam," Blanca echoes and stretches her right arm firmly on the table.

Rosa's stomach lurches. Her words aren't not too reassure Renee. They're meant to reassure her. Blanca will carry Rosa's punishment. Blanca forgives Rosa for it.

Rosa will never forgive Renee.

She takes the iron in one hand. There's only one way to make sure Blanca stays down. She climbs on the table herself, swings one leg over Blanca's belly , forbidding herself to think about how often she's dreamt about being that close to her.

She leans forward, pins Blanca's shoulder down with all force.

Blanca's lips move, not more than a desperate breath. I love you.

Rosa can't return it. Not now. Not like this. She can only repeat the words she's muttered at Renee, over and over, to no avail.

"I'm sorry."

She brings the iron down.

-----

--

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[theonescreencap]

i'm serious when i say this is one of my favorite moments in all of fiction. i got to this part and i was like where has one piece been all my life???

i love the way luffy cares about people. he doesn't do good deeds or help people because "it's the right thing to do" but he fights with all his heart for others to have the freedom to achieve their dreams, if he feels like taking action when he's asked to step in. he doesn't ever want to get in the way of someone else's fight. but just because he doesn't go out of his way for everyone he meets doesn't mean he doesn't love and cherish his friends! he knows exactly what he wants to do and be and he values the people closest to him. not because they're useful to him, as he openly refutes a handful of episodes after this, but because they're kindred spirits who share the same drive to achieve their dream. he gives 200% always and he wants to know that you will too; a plea for help means you're still fighting and he fully understands that

and i love nami so much she is such a good character. even though she had to put up a mask for so long and stay detached and alone she cares so much and loves so fiercely. at her lowest point, she finally has the courage to ask someone for help, and it IS courage... that can be the most difficult fucking thing to do and the narrative doesn't treat her as weak for it. luffy is so strong and so unbothered by everything that she finally feels like this is someone she will not hurt by asking for help. he is the embodiment of freedom. help me. of course i will.

this is such an early arc and the stakes aren't anywhere as high as they get later on but the character stakes are still so intense. this moment is when i went "oh okay nami is fantastically multifaceted and interesting and i love her more than i ever knew i would" and when luffy's character first fully clicked for me. i think one piece really understands the "power of friendship" thing - it's not just some flimsy "well friends are good so i can do anything because i have friends" but instead "friendship and trust and loyalty enrich your life and give you the power to do things you can't do alone because everyone brings something to the table, and relying on others and taking up space is good actually" it shows this to you over and over and over again until you believe it too. i love one piece <3

[trappedinafantasy37]

Welp, I just did the embrace Bhaal ending with Daedra and I gotta say, this is objectively the worse ending. And it is very much the ending I never wanted for her. Because this was always going to be the ending for a Durge who embraced Bhaal. And Minthara being killed was always going to be her ending too. What makes all of this worse is that Minthara saw it coming too, she just did not realize it.

When she first tells you about Orin, she criticizes Orin by saying that if she could turn the plot of the Absolute towards slaughter, she would take it. Minthara also criticizes Orin for wanting to be Daddy's Little Girl who would do anything to please Bhaal. She perceives these to be character flaws within Orin. Sadly her analysis is incorrect, because these are innate characteristics of Bhaalspawn in general, including Durge. All Bhaalspawn are born with the same urges: kill other Bhaalspawn, breed more Bhaalspawn, and then kill everything. Of course, a Bhaalspawn can fight these urges. But it is a never ending fight, one we see Durge struggle with throughout the entire story. They only "beat" these urges by having Bhaal's blood removed from them.

But because Minthara sees these as character flaws within Orin, she fails to see them in Durge as well. And when Minthara learns that Durge is a Bhaalspawn, of course she is elated. Durge is the child of a god. A deeply religious Minthara would obviously admire that, almost as far as borderline worshiping Durge (cause old habits die hard). She truly believes that Durge is nothing like Orin and would never be anything like Orin, and she has to believe this to be true because she does not want to be afraid of Durge like she is of Orin.

Despite popular belief, Minthara is indeed capable of love and has a strong desire for it. I have always read Minthara as a person who strongly wants what she feels she cannot have. And in Menzoberranzan, genuine love is frowned upon (or at least making it known). So of course she wants it. And there is no shame in that. It is trust that she struggles with, and she always has good reason to be distrustful. And the moment she became an exile, we see her start to deconstruct her previous ways of life, but with great difficulty as it is hard to let go of the only things you have ever known. She wants to love, she wants to trust, she doesn't want to be afraid, and she doesn't want to kill her lovers.

Thanks to the business with the Absolute, Minthara finds herself in a unique position in which she actually can read someone else's mind. And for the first time in her life, she has guaranteed certainty that the person that she loves won't hurt her, or betray her, or use and abuse her, or kill her. And that was a promise Durge made to her. And so she openly embraced Durge with everything that she has and becomes devoted.

Sadly, devotion is Minthara's fatal flaw. There is nothing wrong with being devoted to someone or some god, of course. But Minthara is too devoted in which her devotion makes her blind, and she has spent so much of her life being devoted to someone other than herself, and she does not know how to live a life without being devoted to someone. She does not realize the crux of her devotion until she is turned into a sacrificial lamb by Orin. It is Minthara who questions the worth of devotion if it only leads to death and she starts to become a little more selective of who she devotes herself to. Cause she was once devoted to Orin and was willing to be devoted to Bhaal if given the chance, and yet she was still put on that altar. But this never happens if Orin never takes her.

Edit: I forgot that Patch 7 added in the second part of Minthara's dialogue about Orin. Meaning Minthara can still come to question the worth of devotion, even without being a kidnap victim to Orin. However, she questions her devotion after Durge has made their choice in regards to Bhaal. Despite her beginning to question devotion, she still remains devoted to Durge as she perceives Durge as her savior, and not being like Lolth or the Absolute or Bhaal.

Her devotion to Lolth, still ended with her being abandoned (or so she feels) and left vulnerable to the Absolute, because her devotion to Lolth did not make her an exception. Her devotion to the Absolute still led to her mind being ripped apart, because her devotion to the Absolute did not make her an exception. Minthara may be of a feline nature, but she does not have nine lives and cannot always get lucky. Every time she has devoted herself to someone, it always led her close to the grave. Her devotion to Durge, encouraging Durge to embrace who they are, will get her rewarded with death. And death was always going to be her reward.

And of course she thinks this could never happen to her. She read Durge's mind and Durge did show her that they would never hurt her. That Durge would never do to her what Lolth or the Absolute did, or even previous lovers did to her. That her devotion would be rewarded with mutual devotion. But this is coming from a Durge who has not embraced Bhaal just yet and does not yet want to become Daddy's Special Baby. And Minthara is not stupid for believing that Durge was sincere. No one wants to believe that the person that they love would ever hurt them. That does not make someone stupid or weak. Minthara could only read Durge's mind, not Durge's future.

When Durge embraces Bhaal, she still believes them to be the same exact person with the same exact desires as when she read their mind. Durge has finally followed her advice and embraced themselves, become exactly what she always saw them to be. Durge is now on the path to ascension, to true godhood. And Minthara's proximity to it all will keep her safe from all threats because she would be that god's consort. She can finally have a life without fear or distrust. She will have a god to worship, someone to love, and a new house in Durge's name. She will have everything she could have ever wanted and all she had to do was be devoted. All she had to do was be herself.

In that moment, her devotion to Durge makes her blind to the reality that Durge has changed and has become the very thing she herself criticized about Orin. She still believes that Durge won't hurt her and that Durge won't use the Absolute as a tool for slaughter. Her devotion makes her blind to the fact that Bhaal is like Lolth and the Absolute and most certainly will use Durge like a puppet. Her devotion makes her blind to the reality that Durge has only become a master of their urges, because they are willfully giving in to them and no longer fighting them. And the urge wants to kill everything, no exceptions. Her devotion makes her blind to the knife that Durge will inevitably turn against her, because her devotion was never going to make her an exception.

[leafatlaw]

I need to write essays about ls kab /negative

[verekatt]

Inspired by @greenglowinspooks post

I love the Danny Phantom fandom's medical gore, but why not torture our DC blorbos too?

Lots of fics make Jason an underdeveloped halfa. Lots of fics make Danny basically unkillable because he's a halfa.

I'm going Maximum Angst Route on this one.

The Justice League buys the GIW's rhetoric. They hear about these dangerous energy imprints, these volatile mimicries of life that are hurting people. The GIW claim they've controlled it in the rest of America, but this one small town has a strong one that protects the rest and helps them attack. They ask for help stopping this one, assure them that once Phantom is neutralised, it'll be easy to deal with the rest. The JL agrees. The JL captures Phantom and hands him over to the GIW.

It takes months to capture most of the other ghosts, as they slowly trickle through the portal to find each other. The JL gains an appreciation for the GIW, having previously fought off entities like Skulker and Plasmius without hero help. They trust the GIW, and so when they ask to scan the heroes for any lingering radiation, they agree.

They're alarmed to find many heroes are mildly irradiated. The GIW removes the lingering ectoplasm from most of them, and they're drained afterwards, but they recover. Damian, who had much higher levels than most, seems almost sedated from his usual fury and violence. Cass privately notes that she can't read people as well anymore, and Damian's lethargy looks uncomfortable for him. She gets suspicious, but when no one listens to her concerns, she leaves for Hong Kong again. She's scared that if her levels get higher and they drain her again, she'll lose the ability to read people entirely. She doesn't want to lose such a fundamental part of how she interacts with the world.

When scanning, however, Batman gets pulled aside. They explain they've found a parasitic ghost in Red Hood, and removing it will be a much longer process. They show the ectoplasm levels, the scans with a visible core. Bruce connects this to the Pit Rage, and agrees to let them take Hood, hoping he will finally get his son back. Jason is cautious, but eventually agrees. This could be the cure he never thought he'd get.

The GIW is estatic. They've discovered a new halfa, and if they do this right, they'll be able to study halfa development. They have Phantom to tear apart to see what an actualised halfa looks like, but watching Hood grow and form? Trying to influence his development, maybe even weaponise him? This is an opportunity they have to make the most of. All they have to do is claim the parasite killed Hood before they could remove it, and they can keep him forever.

The second Jason is alone with the GIW, they sedate him. He wakes up in a cage too small to stand in, right next to the very Phantom he helped capture. The kid is asleep, curled on the floor, bleeding through loose stitches on an autopsy wound. He immediately realises they fucked up, and his rage/guilt/panic attack wakes Phantom up. He expected the kid to be angry, upset, even gleeful that Jason was caught too. He didn't expect the kid to look at him with sad pity, to calm him down and say he's sorry that Jason was mislead and betrayed like this. That yeah, shit's gonna suck now, but Danny (as he insisted) would be there for him for as long as their cages were kept together. That unlike Danny these past few months, Jason wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

The scientists slowly feed Jason ectoplasm, and cut him open daily to monitor how it affects him. Ironically, his Pit Rage is cured, but that doesn't make it any better. If anything, it's worse, because now he's fully cognizant and has no extra energy to fight with. He still does fight at first, even without the Pit, but he knows no one's coming to his rescue. Eventually, he joins Danny in his nihilistic snark and dead-eyed stare. And yeah, they joked about that pun.

Time becomes meaningless. They do whatever they can to escape the hopelessness. Horrifyingly morbid jokes, empty bets on what form of torture they'll endure next, whispered stories about the people they miss. They reach through electrified bars just to feel a hand that doesn't mean harm. They spill their guts, metaphorically and literally, exchanging their deepest fears and secrets until they know each other entirely. Their necessary codependency becomes actual love, because how can you go through this together and know each other so deeply and not love each other? Platonically or romantically or the secret third option that's just insanely codependent affection.

Not sure who ends up rescuing them, but I'm thinking either a) Tim gets suspicious, b) the Outlaws go hunting, or c) Cass realises they have Jason and immediately freaks out. Whoever, they meet up with Team Phantom. Tucker and Sam been on the run since Danny was caught, and Jazz could be in Arkham? Or dead, or on the run too. Team Phantom was only held back by their lack of muscle (that's usually Danny), and now that they have trained fighters on their side, they're able to break in and get their boys. Cue long healing journey and revenge time.

[pythonmoth]

cw: anxiety. post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is traumatized. reader is a bit unreliable. military inaccuracies. hurt/comfort (I guess?).

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141..

Part 7

Being home is incredibly boring, especially if you can't move much.

Your brother's been taking care of you, making sure you're eating, that you let your injuries breathe, and soon enough, the cuts on your feet allow you to move around on your own. It takes a whole month for your brother to leave you alone for longer than a few hours. It's a good thing, really, because if you want to spend hours just laying in your bed and crying in silence as you stare at the ceiling, you can. He would only come whenever you needed a ride, anyway.

Despite being able to move around and now even managing to use your sensitive fingers, you dread the idea of going outside. You have to wear sandals and loose pants, because your toes cannot, by any means, be touched by any kind of fabric yet, or else you're grimacing in pain. Feeling defenseless hasn't been a thing ever since you became part of the team. Not even your skills could take down Simon, but you could put up a fight with them all, easily; never won, but you were confident with anyone else on the street.

No doubt you could still beat them up, your skills are still there, but the idea of someone somehow restricting your movements felt like torture all over again. The idea of anyone getting a hold of you makes you want to throw up. Your mind and body betray you, making you remember those awful moments, and you don't realize you're pulling a face.

"You're spacing out".

You look up at the therapist, giving her a little nod as an apology, getting comfortable on the seat. Restless, you can't help but look around for a moment again. The office is incredibly white, clean, filled with mirrors for whatever fucked up reason, and the only thing that isn't grey or white is one of the cushions on the couch on the other side of the room. It's deep purple. It looks awful.

Seemingly realizing you won't be of much help with the question she just asked you, she gives you a smile. "How are your nails? I can see you're using your hands a lot more".

"They're healing" you reply, looking down at your fingers instead of focusing on the cushion. "I can use my hands pretty normally now, but I can't use the stove for long".

"Because of the heat". An affirmation. You've already mention it before, and you're not surprised she remembers that. Probably read it on her notes.

"It hurts, yeah".

"And how are your feet?" she asks, looking down at the way you absentmindedly drag your hands on your pants from your thighs to your calves in slow movements. You only realize what you're doing because you can hear the way her pen drags across the paper, distracting you.

"Well... I can only wear sandals. Doctor said I should be okay to move around with real shoes in three months".

"And what do you think?"

"He's the doctor. I want to believe he knows what he's doing, so I can't really question it. I do hope it heals sooner, though".

The therapist writes down on her notebook. With an uncomfortable feeling, you desperately want to know what she's writing, your eyes drifting to the movement of the pen, but you can't make out a single letter.

"So you trust the doctor, right?" she questions, moving one of her erasers to the other side of her desk. Your eyes are fixed entirely on it, on the little thud the eraser makes when she sets it down.

"He knows best, that's for sure. If he's there, must be a reason" you answer, tilting your head as she keeps moving her things around, making them fit somewhere else on her desk. The pencil goes to the left, then to the right, the eraser from top to bottom of the notebook, as if she's as antsy as you are.

"Do you apply that thought somewhere else? Like... at work? Or if you need help at a store and find an employee, maybe?"

The therapist's eyes are on you all the time, your hands, your anxious feet; your little habits coming to light with a single look. The way you bite the inside of your lower lip, the little double blink you make when she moves something in her desk yet again, even if you don't say anything.

"Of course. If they know their way around, it's only right that I ask for help, and trust that" you answer, frowning. You don't think that question is relevant at all, but she keeps writing, and writing.

"I see. Thank you. Now, you mentioned you've been texting G- Simon. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

You go silent for a moment, your fingertips dragging across your arm, so softly you can barely feel it. "It's better now".

During the first three months of being home, Simon would text you nearly every single day. He didn't expect a text back and you knew that, because you told him you wouldn't promise to be responsive. Simon would send you pictures of their plain meals, of Gaz sleeping on your bed, Johnny posing next to Price with their thumbs up, or terrible selfies of himself. Always without a mask.

Tuesday

11:27

"Price scolded Johnny because he had crumbs on his uniform. It was hilarious"

Saturday

03:26

"Just got back. Everyone ok"

Even Johnny would text you from time to time. It was mostly memes, awful stickers or ridiculous, random photos of Gaz mid talking, his face weird, or Price smacking Simon's head, or the entire team posing for a picture, Gaz' arm hovering to the side as if to hug your shoulders. You didn't even need to wonder why Gaz hadn't texted you; that man hated technology with a passion.

Still, you never texted back.

You didn't really pay attention to the texts, or the little voice notes, or the selfies. You didn't feel like reading them properly, always leaving them on seen or just grunting to yourself whenever you heard their distinctive tone. Why you didn't change it in the past few months, you don't know. Maybe that's a question for your therapist.

But then, the texts stop.

Monday

16:49

"Tough job"

"We leave at midnight"

23:42

"Text you when we're back"

Only, Simon doesn't text back. For days. For weeks.

You can't pretend you're not worried. It's impossible, really. You're half-tempted to call him, but you can't, you don't know how it will feel to hear his voice again. He said he'd text you and he hasn't, so he isn't back yet, and you don't want to feel vulnerable by opening up. Yet.

You go through Simon's chat, actually paying attention to whatever he sent you. You realize he sometimes sent you long texts, apologizing, accepting what he did, and even a few voice notes that you didn't notice before. They made your heart race as you listened.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you, and you don't have to forgive me"

"Garrick told me to tell you that if you aren't eating he'll go and— shut the hell up, Johnny, I'm talking!"

"Tell her we'll go visit her by the end of the month".

That's Price's voice, you realize.

Feeling incredibly choked up, you check Johnny's chat next. You're expecting to find nothing but memes, as you've seen in passing, but when you see he sent you long, long texts, you finally let yourself cry properly.

He's been apologizing since the day you left, too afraid to face you but his texts are so poorly written you know he was in a rush, or crying, or both. His voice notes, however... they just make you break.

"I'm so sorry. I can't undo what we did. You don't owe me anything, I just... really hope you can at least tolerate me. If not, please know I'll always care for you. I love you. Goodnight".

Something inside of your chest eases, maybe moved to the point of forgiveness, even if just a moment. Your therapist has been helping you unveil whatever you missed during that day— during the torture. It's been a tough process, and she insisted you visited twice a week instead of once, but it helped. You could now understand.

Still, understanding the situation only makes your worry grow.

"Text you when we're back"

For two long weeks, there's nothing, from nobody. Only silence and fear. For the first time since you left, you're scared for them. Scared you'll have to open the door one day and it'll be Price, or maybe not even him, telling you the team is dead.

On the second week, your therapist says you can give them a call, or text them if it's more comfortable. When you say you can't, she advices you to write them letters.

"Tell them whatever you wish to say. If you're angry, write it. If you're worried, write it. There's no good or bad feelings, and it's only right to feel them. Write them for yourself, and then you can choose to give them to your team, or not".

And you did.

A whole notebook of messy writing, some tears staining the paper, and your hate slowly turned to understanding. Real understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but it's progress.

By the third week with no news, you just can't handle it anymore. You press call without a second thought and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when it rings, and rings, and rings.

Hopeless, you lay in your bed, your mind working overtime as you stare at the ceiling.

A muffled dinging sound startles you awake, shifting on the bed to find your phone because that's Simon's tone. Adjusting your vision, you realize it fell from your hands to the ground when you fell asleep. You dive for it, grimacing when your sensitive fingertips brush against the carpet, but to see his name there is enough for you to endure it.

Thursday

01:22

"Safe. Couldn't text you earlier"

01:22

"You called me. Are you hurt?"

01:22

"Safe. Call me"

"Now"

His name pops up not even a moment later, his ringtone filling your ears. When you pick up, he's barely breathing, and you wonder if you're about to be told bad news.

Simon explains they were on a very tough mission, and that that was why he couldn't text you, or communicate with you at all. You could hear him shift, move around. Restless.

They got caught in enemy territory, surviving the best they could for two weeks, Simon tells you. Johnny was shot in the leg and Gaz was the one who helped him out, since Simon was too busy dragging Price, who was bleeding out because someone decided it would be fun to put a bullet through his left shoulder.

"I wasn't any better. Dr. Wilson called me a dick, and then made me lay down because I was shaking. Ridiculous" he grunts, his voice hushed on the other side of the line. "Got shot on my side, I just didn't feel it, but I was better than the other two".

He doesn't seem to expect you to speak, huffing and shuffling. You can tell he's in the clinic room, the echo incredibly familiar by now.

Of course, he doesn't tell you that the reason why he didn't text you the whole past week, is because he's been asleep, drugged out of his mind because of the pain.

"Everyone's okay. No risk. Garrick's the only one who didn't get hurt. I think—"

"I was worried, Simon. I'm glad everyone is okay".

There's silence for a long moment. Simon takes a deep breath from the other side of the phone, sighing deeply. You could hear the smile in his tone. "I wouldn't let myself get killed, luv. I'm sorry I couldn't text you before. We're safe now".

You two spend the rest of the night on the call, with you mostly staying in silence and listening. You can't believe how scared you've been for all of them, for Simon. You know it's gonna be hard to fully forgive them, if at all, but you can't help the way your body relaxes as you hear him breathing against your ear. You can't help the way your arms curl around the pillow, seeking his warmth. As before.

The call goes on for long hours. When your soft hums as he speaks stop coming to his end, Simon goes quiet, realizing you've fallen asleep. He sighs and shifts to look at the ceiling, holding the phone against his ear. Focusing on your soft breathing, he let's himself fall asleep, the gunshot wound completely unimportant if he gets to listen to you sleeping again.

He just wishes you were there.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

Masterlist | Part 8

Buy me a coffee

im so sick y'all, my head hurts, but I obviously couldn't resist! also, you guys like Marina? her new song is so good! mowgli's road's vibes.

the therapist's room I'm describing in the story is actually my therapist's old room. I hated it so BAD. the mirrors were a terrible decision. also, if you can't relate to this type of therapy, that's fine. it's just my experience.

again, styling is fully intentional. can y'all tell how our reader is feeling?~

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

(we're so many now, wow! thank you all ♡)

[cressidagrey]

The mysterious Mrs Piastri - Masterlist

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: The one where Oscar has been married since he was 18 years old and never bothered to tell most people.

Links:

In chronological order:

Cricket Whites

Oscar plays Cricket. Teenage Felicity is TOTALLY normal about it.

The Attic Room

Felicity and Oscar broke the same school rules every night for three years. 

delulu girl autumn

Caitlin Pritchard thought she actually stood a chance with Oscar Piastri at Haileybury in 2018. Reader, she did not. 

The Witnesses

Felicity and Oscar’s Years at Haileybury School through the eyes of their classmates.   

What's in a Name?

Oscar tends to forget to tell his family about major life moments. Or: How Nicole Piastri found out that her granddaughter was named after her. 

Didn't come up

 5 times another driver/teammate of Oscar found out about Felicity or Bee. 

The Alpine-McLaren Fiasco

The Alpine - McLaren Fiasco…and Felicity Piastri’s hand in it. (Or: why multiple F1 team principals are terrified of Oscar’s wife.) Set in the Summer of 2022. 

Supernova

Oscar Piastri realises that his daughter is more similiar to his wife than he thought. Set in Summer 2023. 

Building Blocks

 How to parent a genius: A guide by Oscar Piastri. 

Lavender House

Felicity Piastri was a genius, a mother, a wife, a homemaker, an interior designer, an engineer…not always in that order. Or: How Felicity made a House a Home. 

The Mysterious Mrs Piastri

Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even.

Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.

And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.

A McLaren Meltdown

Mclaren’s staff reactions to Oscar Piastri’s surprise marriage reveal.

She Wasn’t a Secret

When Oscar casually mentions his wife during a fan Q&A, Lando Norris combusts on stage, the internet loses its mind, Nicole Piastri wonders why her son can’t tell people basic facts about his life—like the fact he’s been married for five years and Mark Webber is quietly regretting his life choices. 

Netflix Suffers

Netflix suffers through quietly private Oscar for 2 and a half whole seasons of Drive to Survive. 

Wait, What?

Oscar Piastri managed to keep his wife a secret on accident for nearly half a decade…

Come to think off, that was not the only one he kept a secret. 

Home Sweet Home

Oscar Piastri is just happy to be home with his girls. Lando Norris meets Felicity and Bee Piastri.   

Bribery remains effective

Oscar Piastri thought doing kindergarten drop-off for his daughter would be easy — until Bee negotiates like a Formula 1 strategist and declares that the chickens at home are better friends than her classmates.

Garage Time

Felicity and Bee Piastri: Two Peas in a Pod

Oscar vs. Influencers

Oscar Piastri suffers through the Miami GP after the wife reveal. 

Family Traditions

Lando finds out about a Piastri family tradition. 

Mother Nature

 Oscar wants some peace and quiet after the Miami GP. 

Aquatic Adventures

Oscar is gone for a Double Header. Felicity builds a sanctuary. 

A Secret Well Kept

McLaren finds out about the tiny genius Oscar has been keeping a secret. 

Sick Day

When Bee wakes in the middle of the night with a fever, a simple stomach bug drags Oscar right back to the memories of the night he nearly lost both her and Felicity.

Built to Last

Oscar and Felicity have their own Wedding Anniversary Traditions. 

Formidable

Andrea Stella figures out that Felicity Piastri is more than “just” Oscar’s wife. 

Brilliant

Lando Norris figures out that Felicity is not the only genius in the family. 

Override: Denied

Five times Bee’s intelligence left kindergarten teachers speechless—and one time they tried to go behind Felicity’s back, only to learn that Oscar Piastri is many things, but a husband who betrays his wife’s trust isn’t one of them.

Like Origami

Felicity folds their lives around Oscar’s.

The Red Notebook

Every season, Felicity Piastri keeps a red notebook—meticulously filled with race notes, corner analysis, and tyre data—not for the engineers, but for Oscar.

The Drawer

There is a drawer in Felicity's mind.

Undone

5 Times Oscar Piastri is undone by his wife and one time Felicity is wrecked by Oscar. 

A Secret no more

The world finds out about Beatrice “Bee” Piastri. 

The Old Wolves

Some other people have Thoughts™

In Denial

5 Times Lando Norris probably should have realised that his teammate had a child, but never did and 1 time Oscar Piastri made very clear that he is a father.

Her Papa’s Daughter

Oscar never sees how similar his daughter is to him. But Felicity does.

That Kind of Love

The most attractive thing about Oscar Piastri wasn’t his appearance. Or his mind, even though he was brilliant. It’s the way he loves his daughter. 

Money, Money, Money

Felicity runs Oscar’s life. Oh, and she also handles all the money. 

Lessons in Math (and Humility)

Kimi Antonelli thought he could handle anything — race cars, pressure, a wet track…but his math homework may destroy him. Enter Bee Piastri. 

Mr Oblivious

Oscar Piastri is absolutely oblivious to the fact that people try to flirt with him. It drives Lando nuts. Felicity finds it very amusing though. 

Love Letter

Other people write love letters, Felicity Piastri re-engineers tire degradation.

The Brush Off

5 Times people flirt with Felicity and 1 time Oscar sees it happen. 

Love in Bubblewrap

Felicity Piastri fixes things. Regardless of what they are. Even if they are her sister-in-law’s stolen K-Pop albums. 

Bonus Material:

The original version of The mysterious Mrs Piastri that started it all.

Originally it was supposed to be just this one shot. Then Bee showed up in my mind.

Moodboard - Felicity Piastri

The Playlist

[flwrstqr]

日语 ✶ THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE GENTLEMEN ENHYPEN ─────𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇. 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗄

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬 ㅤ𓈒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

( 𝑓𝗍 ) ㅤㅤ⠀⠀ ⦂ enhypen & fem!rea 𝑖𝑛 8OO fluff one shot head canon 警告 fluff, headcanons, petnames, kissing & click . . ( 𝓲ssue )

다니 ⠀⦂ ⠀hehe gentlemen enhypen is what we all need!! if my future boyfie doesn't treat me like this i might just die ㅠㅠ thank u jenn for help in won's :0

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung is the kind of man who notices everything about you—the way your eyes glow under soft lighting, the shades you favor in your wardrobe, the little details that make you, you. so it’s no surprise when he shows up at your door, a bouquet in hand, petals carefully chosen to match your outfit for the day. “thought these would look pretty with your dress,” he murmurs, his voice warm as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his other hand finds the small of your back, pulling you in just enough for his lips to ghost over your forehead. “and you deserve flowers just because.” his thumb brushing along your wrist as you hold the bouquet close.

PARK JAY

at every party, jay is the perfect gentleman—so much so that it’s almost unfair how well he knows you. he keeps an arm wrapped securely around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. after exactly three hours, when, like clockwork, you lean into his side, whispering a little complaint about your aching feet. he only hums, lips curling into a knowing smile as he gently tugs you closer. “figured,” he murmurs, leading you outside, where he effortlessly retrieves a pair of soft slippers from his car. “here, princess.” his hands are warm as he kneels, helping you slip them on before taking your heels from you without question. “i got them,” he assures, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, fingers intertwining with yours. you don’t have to carry anything—because jay always carries everything for you.

SIM JAKE

you’re mid-conversation when a stray strand of hair falls into your face, and before you can brush it away, his fingers are already there, tucking it gently behind your ear. “there, pretty,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with such love, thumb grazing your cheek before pulling away. “distracted?” he teases, tilting his head, his golden-brown eyes twinkling. you pout, and he chuckles, leaning in just a little too close. “can’t help it when you’re this cute,” he adds, voice softer now, meant just for you. his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly, as if they belong there. “what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs dramatically, but the adoration in his gaze says he wouldn’t have it any other way.

PARK SUNGHOON

he way you subconsciously rub your arms when the air turns chilly. without a word, he’s already shrugging off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you can protest. “don’t even think about giving it back,” he warns, smirking as he tugs it snug around you. his scent lingers in the fabric, making your heart do a stupid little flip. “cute,” he muses, tilting your chin up with a finger. “you look better in my clothes, baby.” you roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you, and he knows it. with a chuckle, he leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips—teasing, waiting. “gonna let me kiss you properly, sweetheart? or do i have to earn it?” oh, he’s insufferable. and you love him for it.

KIM SUNOO

his hand intertwined with yours, thumb tracing absentminded circles on your knucklelike he’s done it a thousand times before. “didn’t she do this exact thing last year?” he hums, tilting his head, and you pause—because yeah, she did, and you barely remember mentioning it, but he does. of course he does. “and didn’t you say you’d never trust her again?” he teases, lips curling into that all-knowing smile, and you groan, burying your face in his shoulder. he laughs, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “mm, my baby’s too nice,” he murmurs. you pout, and he only tugs you closer, like holding you this way is second nature. “but i love that about you.”

YANG JUNGWON

you’re standing at the counter, eyes lighting up as you take a bite of the pastry the worker hands you, and just as you’re about to tilt your head, he’s already there—gentle fingers brushing your hair back, gathering the loose strands and holding them behind you so they don’t fall into your face. “good?” he hums, voice warm, watching you chew with the softest smile. his hand lingers at the back of your head, thumb grazing your nape absentmindedly before he lets go. “mm, really good,” you manage between bites, and he chuckles, reaching for a napkin to dab at the crumb on your lip. “adorable,” he murmurs, tucking a lock behind your ear before lacing his fingers through yours.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“knew it,” riki grins, pulling a hair tie from his wrist the moment you sigh in frustration, fingers fumbling to push your hair out of your face. he’s already standing behind you before you can protest, gathering your hair in his hands. “my baby never remembers, huh?” he teases, tilting his head as he smooths down stray strands with practiced ease. you huff, crossing your arms, but the way he carefully loops the tie around your hair, makes your heart melt anyway. “there. now you can actually see,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair before you can stop him. you glare up at him, and he just leans down, eyes twinkling. “what? don’t i get a thank you?” he singsongs, hands resting on your shoulders. when you roll your eyes, he only smirks, leaning in to peck your cheek. “you should be grateful for my existence,” "shut up before i shut you up, ki"

[ostolero]

Mirroring Sheev's Plan by Sullivan

Performed by Austin Walker on AMCA

(originally posted on Cohost)

https://bsky.app/profile/dimosar.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/austinwalker.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/morecivilized.bsky.social

Sheev's Plan:

get elected to senate for naboo

start new sith order

work republic and separatists against each other. recruit evil guy to lead separatists.

(this jedi kid is wicked strong!)

get jedi in deep with clone army. (save some clone jars for later? just in case...)

PIVOT: Make the jedi kid evil. dont need separatist guy anymore. got a new evil guy.

make my evil guy kill his jedi pals when they come to arrest me. ill finish em off with my lightning attack

(fucking guy used his sword to bounce my lightning back at me! honestly my fault. takes a minute for the lightning to wind down and he got my ass on the bounce. fair play. now i look like a leather couch but its fine. can blame jedi for THAT too)

Use the clones to kill the jedi, have my evil guy kill the seperatists, keep the army, spin into empire

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

chill as emperor for a while. humiliate Vader for a laugh. make death star.

Endgame achieved.

(Vader's kid blows up my death star)

PIVOT: get new young apprentice by turning him evil once he kills his dad, or maybe make Vader cooler by making him kill his gay son. either way its a win-win for me.

(thrown down hole and killed.)

PIVOT: good thing i kept those clone jars!! make new clone body to inhabit. takes time to get right. need something to do until then

build enormous fleet of big spaceships, each with their own super death star laser. keep em on the down low... why use em? they lose half the value as soon as you fly them off the lot

(clone son betrays me but its no biggie. its fine. have loads of clones at this point. whats one clone son?)

create a DECOY fascist empire. put one of my weirder clones in charge. Not giving them any of my ships though. can build his own shit. dont look at me. get a bank loan

let failed clone recruit vaders grandson (will explain why later) let those guys take over the galaxy with a different super death star. assume they built this one themselves. very cute!

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(only via proxy tho. not done yet)

let(??) vaders grandson ("ben"?? ok) usurp failed clone and rule galaxy. wants to “kill the past” but whatever. can still make this work. NEED to keep this kid in the mix (will make sense when we get there)

drop the big news. Im not dead! Fortnite. awesome moment.

lead kylo ren to my base using complex scavenger hunt. puzzle knife.

tell him he’s always actually worked for me. big reveal. big moment. He's my lackey now. a little traitorous and unreliable, but this will pay off later trust me

use death star ships to take over galaxy even more

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(awesome... but not enough. something missing)

let kylo ren lead clone granddaughter to home base using complex scavenger hunt. Puzzle Knife cool enough idea to do twice i think

taunt granddaughter into killing me so i can possess her un-janked body. All part of my grand scheme...

Endgame achieved. (??)

(kylo ren betrays me)

PIVOT: Possession stupid plan anyway. Instead, use ben and reys Horny Essence to make my nasty old body normal again.

throw ben in hole (grandson purpose revealed)

destroy resistance with lightning powers. shooting spaceships down with magic lightning basically a solved problem at this point.

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

kill the granddaughter actually. dont need her anymore. lightning powers classic for a reason.

ive got this thing in the bag as long as she doesn't bounce the lightning back at me off her fucking laser sword.

Endgame achieved.

[aakaneeee]

Love is presented in many ways throughout Alien Stage: For Mizi and Sua, it's codependent, romantic to a worrying extent. For Ivan and Till, it's one sided, unrequited, and painful.

And for Hyuna and Luka, it's a curse.

Not only a curse, but one that haunts them. Jacob once told Hyuna to "Forgive yourself", which, to her, was misplaced. She could have forgiven herself. It was Luka who she couldn't forgive. But, in the end, she couldn't fulfill the legacy. She couldn't forgive herself for loving Luka. She couldn't forgive Luka for killing who she loved. And so, what did she do? She passed on the legacy.

The words "Forgive yourself" didn't help her. They built who she was, but in the worst possible way. She couldn't take his words, because she didn't consider herself the culprit, but the one she resented.

She told this curse, "Forgive yourself" again. She told them to Luka, sentence that almost sounded mocking on her lips. She couldn't have died before because she had to keep moving forward, but now, the pressure wasn't on her shoulders anymore.

She loves Luka, of course she does. But she cannot possibly forgive him. She knows he doesn't realize the suffering he inflicts. It's ironic, he's so unbearably smart, solving puzzles in a matter of seconds, but he doesn't know how to take in the real world, and the feelings of the ones around him, the most important 'puzzle' of them all. So, she gives him the biggest dilemma of his life. It's harsh, cruel, messed up in every sense. It's the puzzle she knew he could never solve, because she herself, who knew humanity, couldn't. Hyuna knew Luka loved her more than himself. And Hyuna cared for Hyunwoo more than for herself. Luka killed Hyunwoo, and so, Hyuna repaid him with the same coin, an eye for an eye. With an act that is the ultimate sacrifice, and the ultimate revenge.

As I have said, Hyuna knew the love he had for her, beyond the limits of his own body. She must've known how much her act would destroy his world: a fate worse than death. Her kind tone, telling him to take as much time as he needs to solve the newfound question she has proposed in such an ugly way, appears almost taunting.

And the way she holds him in her arms, purposefully close, and looks into his eyes, makes it just so much more painful. And yet, when she speaks her soul, passes everything she was carrying on her shoulders, over to him, her face is hidden away, buried in his shoulder. She's free. She finally had her revenge. She can forgive him, and then herself, even though the price was destroying him, without building him up again. Leaving him like pieces of a puzzle that never got solved. She's been cruelly betrayed, and she, even more cruelly, fed him his own medicine.

Hyuna is haunted by both Hyunwoo and Luka, similar to how Mizi is haunted by Sua. Hyunwoo brings the horror aspect: the bloodied blouse and head, while Luka has the smile that Sua has in the imaginations. The two people she loved most: the one who couldn't forgive her because she didn't get to apologize, and the one she didn't forgive. It's all so incredibly complex: she hates and loves, she resents and adores. Hyuna can't pick anymore. We're shown that she's such an active person, sociable, loving, having a whole group of humans just like her, and yet, we're told that she thinks all of them are selfish, even if they seem altruistic. She doesn't trust them, it seems it's a facade. In this, Luka and Hyuna are similar, but divided by the fact he wants to conceal his emotions, and she wants to make them more visible.

This page, specifically, made me click MiziSua and HyuLuka together. They look scarily alike. The same lovey-dovey expression, versus the distressed one of the lover, even the slight glow that Luka has is similar. I think this is meant to show that they still depend on each other, despite the fact that Hyuna seems to resent him so much.

Hyuna says Luka doesn't know the meaning of love. That the only thing he's ever shown, the only thing he genuinely knows, is suffering, and that his abilities basically stop at inflicting the same. (At least, emotional ones.) This is a parallel to Ivan, in my opinion, who didn't know love either, but he liked the idea of it. Instead, Luka loved with everything he had, even though he had no idea what it truly was. His love is obsessive, and somehow, so impossibly innocent at the same time. Because in a way, he's still a child. When he sees Hyuna, he becomes immature again, his facade of control dissipating into thin air. He mocked Mizi for her inability, but he's even worse.

According to his ear monitor, his heart was beating out of his chest. He could hear his own erratic heartbeat. It's painful, how happy he was, how excited, to be in her arms again. And yet, despite the love, the embrace was just as much of revenge.

Ever since Wiege, we've seen Luka smile so much. Just for him to never truly smile again.

I am a fan of the gentleness that Hyuna treats young Luka with. She seems awfully attached to the image of that innocence she knew. But it's not like Mizi's idea of Sua, the perfect one. It's an image she can't bear seeing again. "I couldn't stand seeing myself on those posters, because I knew exactly the face the you'd have. Yes, I bet you were smiling ear to ear." We've only seen him like this for the first time, but to her, it was so familiar, even years apart, she still knew.

Another thing I have noticed is that Hyunwoo's grave is right infront of a tree, almost separated from the others, just the way Luka was sitting before Hyuna found him. Now, this time, Hyunwoo lost Hyuna, and he's forever forced to be lonely in the garden he'll never grow out of.

Hyuna wanted to give Luka a rubik's cube he wouldn't be able to solve, something difficult. A rubik's cube can represent human nature, who Luka seems to have mastered completely. But Hyuna finally manages to postpone him: the puzzle is herself.

And in the end, after Hyuna's body goes limp, he finally manages to take her in his arms. He promised that there, she'd be safe, but he didn't manage to keep her that way. And suddenly, the words "My Savior" from Ruler of my Heart are awfully true.

[alexiroflife]

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

-

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

-

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."