#She still a merciless bitch to me

[osiiiris]

I may be a little confused but I really can’t find the moment Sister Imperator moved from “Merciless bitch” to “Saint” status.

[lotuseye]

KINKTOBER 2024, I DIDN'T CHANGE MY NUMBER.

don't take it out on me, i'm out of sympathy for you. maybe you should leave, before i get too mean and take it out on you ( and your best friend too! )

suguru geto & satoru gojo. it was so, so difficult to put up with satoru sometimes- especially when every 9 of the 10 words that left his mouth was lies and excuses. in a particularly rough patch where there seems to be a whose-d*ck-is-bigger contest between the two stubborn idiots, she runs into geto in the bar they frequent and decides he deserves an earful for enabling gojo to be atrocious- but a torture can come in various forms, can't it?

word   count:   6902.

genre:   one-shot, kinktober product.

characters:   suguru geto & satoru gojo & reader.

notes:   hi so this is an insane idea that i could not help but write. satoru being a bad boyfriend. suguru being an even worse friend. pr*ise. degr*dation. kind of ch*king. car s*x. pet names. mean dom!gojo. submissive leaning p*ssydrunk switch!geto. switch!reader. dont even perceive me with this one i have no clue how we got here even.

“ you are such an… such an asshole.” 

“ and your learning curve is horizontal, sweetness- i don’t recall you leavin’ me.” 

the liar, the bitch and the master manipulator, she hated every single bone in satoru’s body. 

well, except the one he was burying her to the sheets with. 

the same old unfinished story of broken promises, it is a rinse and repeat now with the vibrant colors of their relationship is diluting in the waters of exhaustion and exasperation. oh it was limitless alright, the number of times he could have let her free fall from the tallest skyscraper of tokyo and be forgiven with how he catches her right before the fall, a honeyed coo or two in her ear. no language on the face of earth is adequate when it comes to explaining the way satoru exists on the axis of the world he’s tilted, but the words detached & displaced are the first ones that come to mind. she is simply one of the many things bound to be lost in the infinity between him and the space he occupies, a hard-swallowed pill that she couldn’t still digest even when he had his veined hands splayed on the curve of her hips, his steel of a bicep pressing against her throat as the bed rhythmically creaked beneath them. 

it felt too good, and he knew it- he knew he had her when she left that airy sigh into the pillow she had been drooling in with the spot he found without effort, he knew he had her when she preened underneath him with her shoulderblades against his ribs. it’s lazy, lazier than satoru usually indulges in, his hips maintaining an angle that let him bully the spongy g-spot tucked between the snug walls with such fervor that he has her reeling with each languid thrust. his damp locks are tickling the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat collecting at the conjunction of their limbs, wetting the already messed sheets. she can hear each grunt, each breath of his, feel it vibrate in her chest. the same old tale, he does something rancid enough to piss her off and then instead of an apology he fucks her until she forgot what she was mad about in the first place, but like any trick, it has a point where the audience tires of the repetitive schemes. 

“my baby’s pissed at me, huh? would ya’ look at that. ” he coos, his mouth pressed against the junction of her jugular and her neck, his mouth wet. she has no choice but to listen, no choice but to take it- he doesn’t leave anywhere for her to escape, having her stuck beneath the mattress and his heavy figure, with her throat sitting tight and cozy in the crook of the arm he has wrapped around her neck like a shackle. her maroon nails are digging into his sinewy forearm until crescent moons shine with a painful pink color and it is not only a rightful response to the merciless pounding, but also a subconscious punishment, a silent outlet of her anger.

satoru doesn’t like that. 

the position shifts, the man atop her whining rather dramatically before his weight lifts off of her. “ naughty girl, so ungrateful.” he chastises breathlessly, and just when she thinks she’s free of the torment she can’t stop cumming from, he yanks her up by the fat of her hips, propping her up on her knees but her attempts to rise on her hands is strictly prohibited, satoru lets out a “ tch tch,” as he catches both her wrists in one large palm to cross them on the small of her back, right in the middle of the twin dimples before his empty hand grasps the nape of her neck and push her face into the sage green, satin pillowcase she had been moaning into few moments ago, burying himself to the hilt in one go simultaneously. “ this is why we can’t have nice things,” he clicks his tongue, and she can almost see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, all educated deductions from the way he speaks through his gritted teeth. complain he might, but he cannot deny that he lives for the thrill of her, lives for the thrill of having her in his bed, the taste of cherry lipgloss stuck in the back of his throat and her laughter his favorite siren song. “ because you don’t appreciate ‘em, baby.” 

“ don’t even start-” she groans, and his hips snap harsher the next time as a silent yet effective method of shutting her up, liking her pliant and obedient as always. “ sorry, what was that?” he leans over, asking with a faux undertone of surprise in his tone. “ can’t hear you over the sound of her, babe,” he pulls out temporarily, just to bring his palm down for a hard smack on her swollen cunt, only pleased when he hears her cry out and shudder to grasp the base of his painfully hard cock and nudge it right back inside her to resume. “ wanna’ repeat that f’ me?” 

but she can’t, her vision already having painted white as she stiffens and seizes with a whimper choked on her throat, clenching around satoru impossibly as her climax pulls her right under the crashing wave, a steady ringing in her ear that deafens her briefly- she can call him every single name under the sun and he’d deserve each one of them, but she cannot deny that the bastard has a way of pushing her to the brink of feelings & sensations she didn’t know was possible. it’s what makes it all so alluring, it’s what makes her heart swell with the ease of familiar affection when he follows her almost immediately, his hips slapping against the back of her thighs faster as he falters, the feeling of wet ropes fill her to the brim a one that makes her toes curl, a nice warmth spreading through her system. 

“ why are you adamantly trying to get me to leave you?” she asks, breathless, rolling to her back- her knees hurt, and she’s definitely pulled a muscle in her neck with how strained it feels. the heel of her palm presses against the junction of her neck and shoulder, rubbing in idle motions to alleviate it a bit. she watches him collapse next to her, just as breathless, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips, snowy lashes fluttering with exhaustion, gaze heavy lidded. “ didn’t i tire you enough? ” he mutters but she doesn’t need to know him as well as she does to hear the whiny undertone. he blindly reaches through the sheets to find her warmth next to him, yank her to his chest without paying any mind to the way she yelps, and nuzzle his face against her spine. “ you talk too much, go to sleep.”

it had been a long shot, but at least she wouldn’t say that she didn’t try. “ get off of me,” she sighs, exasperated more than anything as she pushes satoru’s heavy arm to slide further away in the sheets. still drowsy & a bit lightheaded but still not relaxed or prideless enough to fall asleep next to him. “ ‘m gonna’ go take a shower.” 

oh, that gets his attention. his head slightly lifting from the sheets, he watches her go, wearing nothing but his shirt. “ can i come?”

the only response he gets is the door that slams shut on his face.

****

she hadn’t expected suguru to be home. by the time she takes a stroll to the kitchen with her damp hair tucked in a soft towel, having switched back to her own clothes to deprive satoru of the pleasure of seeing her in his own clothes, adorned in a pair of rust nike shorts and a hot pink crop top. she finds suguru by the stove, cooking something that smells like thyme with his headphones on. she would have snuck her head in to get a good sniff of the pot, but since sneaking up on someone who is handling a hot pan while wearing headphones is never a good idea, she makes her way to the fridge as intended. he notices her by the shadow that falls on the counter, pulling the headphones down to his neck. “ hey there,” he greets, simple as he spares her a single glance. he doesn’t need to look at her twice to imagine what went down, sighing before turning to his meal.

“ i can feel you judging me,” she says as she pulls the bottle of milk out before closing it shut with a sway of her hips. suguru snorts. “ i am.” 

ever the honest.

“ you don’t get to,” she comments simply as she occupies the same counter he’s cooking in. their shared apartment having memorized by now, she pushes on the side of his head slowly to avoid him hitting his forehead on the cabinet she pulls open ( thinking about it, maybe she should have let it hit him ) to get the coffee she had been desperately craving. she releases him a moment later, putting the coffee jar on the counter. like the calm before the storm. “ you’re the one who told me he was home when he was out with the bitches, if my memory isn’t failing me.” she states thoughtfully as she licks the spoon she delved into the coffee jar earlier. “ and you were the one who told me not to worry when i, in fact, should have been worrying.” 

suguru sighs, clearly discontent to be in the conversation but too bad- he wasn’t discontent when he was lying straight to her face. her gaze is keener than a knife when she turns it on him, the smile that curls on the corners of her mouth is cold enough to look cruel. “ you’re a disappointing friend, suguru.” she comments, her tone sing-song-y enough to sound eerie. too serious and unserious at the same time, like his mistake was spilling her favorite coffee on the floor or forgetting to pick up groceries on his way home. “ and you’re not one bit innocent.” 

“ don’t get me involved in your shit,” he exhales, keeping his gaze on the pan- chicken pesto & rice, hm. delicious. what a pity she felt too nauseous to take a bite. “ it’s not my responsibility to keep your deranged man in check, satoru is the way he is and you know it.” he places a large palm on top of her head but not ruffling her hair, instead bending over a bit unnecessarily to get down on eye level with her, his voice reeking of condescension. “ aren’t we a little too old to be blaming others for our bad life decisions, missy? ” she smiles at him, as sweet as a plum. “ fuck you, suguru.” 

he grins. “ oh, i’d bet you wish. ” 

***

it has been two months without satoru, two months with letting his calls go to voice mail or turning the flowers away from her doorstep. he’s using every trick in the book, from the gifts to the soft epilogues he is murmuring into the mic in the late hours of the night, hoarse and truthful but satoru’s truth as subjective as it can be- his emotions shift with the weather, and so does his intentions. his detachment applies to his ability to hold onto his promises, and the last couple of years he had not learned from his mistakes or her pleading, and she doesn’t necessarily deem herself the teacher he loves being. it’s not in her nature to be coddling a man that is not getting the message, at least not without making him regret every bit of a wrong he’s done her. 

early 2010s are playing in the club that smells like pot & cigarettes & sweat, the fog of everything & anything that’s been smoked blurring in her gaze and dimming the moving purple & pink of the lights, coating the glitter on her cheeks prettiest of technicolors. four martinis in, she’s feeling the buzz in the marrow of her bones, not drunk enough to be stumbling on her feet but drunk enough to not try to see satoru’s white head in the packed crowd. the soles of her butterfly shoes are hitting the back of her ankles, and the polyester of her cheap dress is sticking to her damp skin in ways uncomfortable enough to assure her she definitely is getting a rash the next day. still, it is not nearly as bad as the urge to check her phone every twenty minutes to see if he’s texted. he probably has, and not that she’d text him back, but still it was a reassurance of its own to know that she occupied his thoughts. it was hard, for someone like satoru, to stay focused without drifting away. she’s even surprised he seems to have object permanence altogether. 

just when her tired feet are dragging her to the bar for a refill of her empty martini glass, a similar figure draws her attention. the oversized black sweater that’s ridiculously loose on his shoulder, the fresh wolfcut, the black circle earrings and the cargo pants that also sit nonchalant on his waist and that goddamn manspread. he’s been staring at her. 

if he was here…

“ the pot and its lid, how lovely.” her smile is forced when she leans over him, to the bar, yelling inaudibly over a loud remix of lady gaga for a refill, trying to contain her suddenly restless heart in her ribs, over the prospect of satoru popping out of somewhere to tap her on the shoulder with his disgustingly saccharine smile, sticking a tongue out through his perfect teeth. her knees feel weak and the alcohol is not the only culprit. suguru chuckles, taking another sip of his own drink, neat whiskey as usual. “ he’s not here.” 

thank fucking god. she breathes, and he takes the sight in, nursing his whiskey, slowly twirling the glass with leisure movements of his wrist. “ you want me to call him?” he asks, mocking, teasing. she doesn’t give him the reaction he probably had been pulling and poking around for, instead waiting patiently with her elbows on the counter, a little bent, her midsection resting on suguru’s knee. she’s too occupied in her thoughts to notice it, but he’s not. though, it remains a silent acknowledgement. “ no,” she tells him, mouthing a thank you to the bartender before she turns to suguru eventually, her blue eyeliner having smudged around the corner of her eyes. he offers a grin. “ why, you here with someone? ” he shakes his head at the possibility of that being true, accompanied by a disapproving sound. “ don’t let him know, princess- he can dish it out but he can’t take it. such is the man, your boyfriend. ” the cynical undertone is laughable, so she does- it is swallowed by the slender glass in her hands. “ look at the one talking,” she gestures, amused. suguru shrugs, his head tipping back with the big sip to down the rest of his whiskey, adam’s apple bobbing and the chain that shines distracts her, gleaming under the now red hues. “ jus’ saying,” he shrugs. “ i know him. and you know him. don’t understand why you’re so obsessive over things you know that ain’t good for ya’.” 

well, that had been a little too real than what she expected. she blinks, her expression shifting into one of confusion and of restlessness- a question she cannot answer truly, as she herself is yet to discover the big revelation. instead, her limbs retract, the ghost of a smile playing on the corner of her mouth. “ careful, suguru.” she muses, words laced with honey but not without the sting. “ you don’t know me like that. you don’t know me at all, actually. ” how would he, when all he has seen of her was her reflection created in satoru’s image? he hasn’t known her the way satoru or even shoko did. he knew her as the girl satoru couldn’t treat right a day in his life yet the girl he simply was too entranced to move on from. 

his expression remains untouched, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth catches her eye. “ you’re here for him,” he says, without an attempt to correct her. “ you’re wearing that skimpy little dress for him. you’re drinking, laughing, dancing- for him. and he’s not even here.” it feels like a dare, the way his shoulders move, how he leans back. “ what a shame.” her ears are burning, the root of her hair red, and the flush on her cheeks is reeking of shame. she feels exposed, at the way suguru pecks at her open wounds without a care- but she asked for it, didn’t she? she stills, then leans, until both of her hands press against the cold edge of the marble counter, caging suguru in. she can smell the whiskey on his breath, can smell the cologne he wears, earthy and woody, lacking the sharp scents satoru uses. he leans back in his stool, carefully curated expression watching every single movement of hers to see what she’s after, decipher the secret message except there is no secret message- she’s angry, and she feels like a lesson has been due by yesterday. 

“ and you’re here for me,” she says eventually, cracking into an eerie smile with the dawning of the revelation. “ oh, suguru, you sneaky bastard,” she can’t help the airy chuckle that escapes her, her eyes having widened with something she’s found in the poker face he had been wearing. he is good at this but so is she. “ you’ve almost had me, gotta’ give it to ya’.” she coos, mingled with mockery in the worst way possible as her head cranes aside, withdrawing to take a good look at him. “ who knew?”

he laughs, the tormenter that he is, and it’s pretty. has it always been this pretty, or is the newfound depth to dabble in make her see him in a light she hasn’t before? “ please,” he snorts, shaking his head, asking the bartender for a refill and tossing his empty glass on the counter. he makes no moves to get out of her symbolic cage, pretty content to be sitting where he is, a knowing look painting him more annoying than he already is- but how could he not be, with the pretty girl lodged between his knees? satoru’s girl, at that. or not. that part was always confusing, even for them. “ i’m flattered, but you’re… not my type.” he finds the words he had been looking for eventually, clicking his tongue with satisfaction. “ i don’t like ‘em as whiny and loudmouthed as you.” she can’t tell if he’s joking or not, can’t tell why the room went up a hundred degrees all of a sudden. “ do me a favor and pick up the next time he calls, yeah?” he murmurs, digging around for something she assumes to be a cigarette, no longer focused on her. “ he’s been nagging like a bitch all day, ‘m tired of it. we both know you’re not going anywhere.” 

she didn’t think it was possible to despise someone as much as she did satoru, but suguru is full of surprises. even if he is not able to find that one particular vein satoru adores pressing with the soles of his pretty, expensive shoes, he finds a completely different one- condescension dripping off his mouth, that lazy stare boiling the blood in her veins. he deems her not worthy of him, whiny and loudmouthed. 

she kisses him just for that. 

it is short, it is confused- it is filled with the urge to prove something, unsure to herself or to him. he tastes like whiskey & mint and it burns the back of her throat, and for a brief moment, he parts his lips, to which she takes as an invitation to push her tongue in and lick at the roof of his mouth as her hands grasp the collar of his hoodie. 

it is short because suguru breaks it, his hands on her elbows, eyes widened and the cherry hue of her lipgloss smudged on his lower lip with the saliva that it shines with. “ ‘m not the revenge you want,” he warns, perhaps the most serious thing he’s said to her that night- but she lacks the fucks to give. “ shut the fuck up,” she says in return instead, before pushing him incessantly to return to the bittersweet taste she had been craving before it even died on her tongue. this time, suguru doesn’t reel back or stop. this time, his tentative hands slide around the small of her exposed back, pulling her flush against him as his teeth sinks into her plush lip. it’s dizzying, how he kisses the breath out of her lungs, and how it sets a dozen fireworks in her ribs. 

“ oh, fuck, i can’t- he’ll kill me,”  the sentiment returns, and she doesn’t remember hearing him so desperate in her life- doesn’t remember hearing him so out of breath and pleading, a begging more to himself than her as he rests his forehead on her temple and draws in heavy breaths like it might make him want her less. it doesn’t. satoru doesn’t plead the way he does, doesn’t look at her with the same pathetic insurmountable need in his eyes. maybe it’s what makes her bold enough to push her thigh between his knees, watching the way his jaw falls slack, slender fingers tightening on her hips as if he can’t decide if he wants to stop her or not. “ you’ve been lying to me for him long enough,” she murmurs, hot and breathless into his mouth, watching every single way his face contorts with shame and pleasure like a hawk through heavy lidded eyes. “ time to lie for me, sugu.” 

it’s how they end up in the back of her car- with her perched atop suguru’s large thighs, moaning into each other’s mouths, raven locks bunched in her incessant palm and his hands splayed out on her thighs. it’s sloppier than anything, and all she can think about is how utterly beautiful he is, with his heavy breathing he is pointless trying to regulate and the way he keeps clutching at her, ridden with guilt & lust at the same time. she doesn’t carry the same concern as he does, doesn’t care about satoru- not in the way she should, at least. it was time he stopped underestimating her. it was time he stopped believing her lack of retaliation on his bullshit was because she thought he could be a better person than he was, not because she was weak enough to stay. she only realizes her mistake now, how wrong it was of her to try to handle things the way adults did- but forfeiting grudges, by trying to forgive and communicate. he mistook her kindness. he thought her sweet, thought her all bark no bite.

but looks could be deceiving.

no clothes are coming undone, but suguru is half unraveled underneath her thighs. “ look at you,” she says in pure admiration, catching his chin between the knuckle of her index finger and her thumb, tilting his head to her liking- which is straight at her, having no choice but to see the diabolical grin that turns her into something he has never put his hands on before. something he wouldn’t know what to do with, if he had. “ whiny and loudmouthed, you said?” she quotes, and a single shift of her hips is enough to drown out any response he might have, to which he responds with a grunt of restraint and a kiss harsher than loving. “ shut up,” he kisses it on her teeth, and she has no objections to that. his presence is overwhelming. it’s unusual, the attachment that comes along- suguru is intense in a way she cannot define to be good or bad. so explore she does, tilting the corner of his jaw with a stubborn push from her nose, teeth grazing at his jugular. she can feel the way his breath hitches, feel the way he twitches. he attempts to take control of the situation by manhandling her on his lap, squeezing the fat of her hips in his palms with a grunt as he forces her into movement. the sticky material of her long drenched panties stick to her, the zipper of his pants getting caught at her clit and making her jolt with each drag. it gives him a momentary release from her evil clutches, but it is questionable how it can be considered relief when he has that drunk look on his face, jaw setting with a low grunt. “ such a fucking slut,” he whispers it against the column of her throat, freeing one hand to resume the movement by lazy & languid rolls of his hips, having her gasp on top of him, boneless on his lap. “ grinding on me because your boyfriend just can’t act right, huh? is this how you get back on him? ” 

she nods, even if she doesn’t want to, too caught up in the way he pseudo-fucks her, unhurried and devoid of any rush- like they had hours to spend in the back of her car. his pants might be deceiving her, but even the outline of him pressing against her is enough to have her mouth watering for the real deal, satoru half forgotten in suguru’s warm lap. his fingertips trail beneath the hem of her blue skirt, and they dance around the edge of her panties without ever getting to business. she squirms, desperate for a taste of something she can’t go back from, but his hold is a one of steel- “ if you want something, you’re gonna have to say it,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing hers without properly kissing her, each thrust making her jolt on his knees. she melts halfway, face contorted in pressure. “ are you this much of a headache for satoru too, or is it special f’ me?” 

that does it, her lower lip trembling as she rests against his chest, hips lazily grinding back into his to keep up with the delicious rhythm that has her seeing stars before anything. the fingers that now ghost over the damp spot of her underwear is her undoing. “ performance anxiety, sugu baby?” she lets a breathless, airy chuckle, accompanied by a sweet aw she manages to utter. “ don’t worry, i’ll guide yo-ohhhh shit,” he tucks her words back into her mouth without batting an eye, he’s good like that, of course he is. there is nothing to be questioned in his abilities to touch a girl, it seems- he doesn’t struggle as he slips underneath the wet fabric and plunges two fingers deep inside her, the sudden intrusion sending an electric jolt down her spine. for a moment, it becomes so, so hard to speak, toes curling in the pretty heels satoru has gotten them as an apology gift for one of his many fuckups. she doesn’t think suguru would like to know that. 

“ sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’?” he hums, a pleased, toothy smile tugging his mouth upwards as he takes in the sight of her squirming on his lap to handle the pressure. he brings an end to those wiggly hips by pressing the forearm that has been on her thigh even harder to pin her nice & tight. “ uh uh, don’t run away from me, now, you wanted this, remember? ” he tuts, still keeping his slow grind her swollen bud as his fingers pump leisurely in & out. “ suguru,” she shudders, gripping the car seat behind him just to be able to have some sort of anchor but even that is failing her. suguru is an asshole of his own kind, so instead of easing up on her, he tugs on the lace ribbons of her dress with his teeth, like an animal, just so he can nuzzle his nose between the valley of her breasts. he’s not as chatty as satoru, it turns out. not as hurried either- it’s not the same rush, not the same avid sense of detachment. this is not turning out the way she expected it to, not the mindless fuck she had been going after just so she could see the look on satoru’s face when she told him she fucked his best friend. 

“ mhm, i see what’s got him so hooked alright,” he reveals to himself, half mesmerized and half amused, an afterthought as he drags his tongue on the velvety edge of her dress, dipping it underneath. “ i’d be tweaking too, if i fumbled this.” the this he is talking about is not her sparkling personality, she assumes, but it has her chuckling breathlessly anyway. it’s one thing to be wanted by satoru who wants everything he can get his hands on all the time, but it is another to be wanted by suguru who seems to want nothing at all. well, except the girl he lied to the face of repeatedly. just for that she thinks of leaving him blue-balled, but all thoughts flee her mind once his teeth catches her hardened nipple and his fingers crook in that delicious way, pulsating around his fingers as the tight coil in her guts snap. 

she doesn’t realize the buildup, nearly panicking with how sudden it all crashes into her- eyes widening impossibly as she clutches onto suguru desperately as the man holds her still. “ keep cumming, keep cumming, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts with his nose pressing hard against the column of her throat, effortlessly handling the mess of limbs on his knees that is stiffening & seizing with the pressure it takes her to release it all. she thinks she’s seeing sounds, she thinks she’s hearing colors- by the time she comes back down to earth, she has half a mind on her to breathe, and only through the demanding of him who is now holding her chin in his palm: “ don’t pass out on me now, keep breathin’, keep breathin’.” 

it feels cold, when his fingers finally vacate their cozy home, but they are soon to find another- he uses the hand on her chin to pull her jaw a bit down, fingertips squishing into her cheeks to make her open up so he can stuff her mouth with the very same fingers with a dazed look in his eyes. “ polite girls clean up after themselves,” he murmurs. the tangy taste melts on her tongue, sucking on suguru’s fingers as he slowly rocks them a bit, imitating the lewd imagery of her sucking his cock. it would be a pretty sight, she thinks. to see him with his head tipped back, to rob him stark naked of any control he might have, to own him by the balls, as they say. but suguru doesn’t seem interested in the idea, as he just sighs, contently watching her suck on his fingers. she’s always thought he had pretty eyes, violet hues that have been shining with brilliance from the day she’s met him. “ i can’t be doing everything around here, can i?” the way he asks is so fucking condescending, she can’t help the way her ears burn as he pushes his hips into hers to remind her of the very painful hard on that’s been straining against her thigh now. “ ‘m not satoru, sweetheart- i don’t give out free dick. if you want it, you earn it. ” the now empty hand comes harsh against the plush fat of her ass, making her let out a muffled cry through his fingers. “ ride me like you mean it. ” 

he doesn’t have to tell her twice. 

the unbuckling of his belt and the freeing of his hard on is unceremonious, but the thrill of it is so, so heavy in her blood she thinks she’d ride this high for a good year, if she was lucky. he’s not as long as satoru, but the girth of him makes her gulp with the unsavory calculation- it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s going to be a hell of a stretch. suguru, who seems to have noticed her hesitation, grins a little. “ aw, afraid of dick, now?” he mocks, and she hates how much she really likes the genuine laugh he lets out, even when he’s bullying her. “ it doesn’t bite. go on, now. ” she wraps a hand around the base of it, her knuckles brushing against the dark happy trail as she indulges herself in a leisure stroke, watching his eyes roll back with an animalistic pleasure. all she knows is that she wants to see more of it, so when her thumb reaches the angry & leaking tip, she makes sure to apply all the pressure she can manage. “ i think the dick is afraid of me, baby. ” she teases, teeth grazing the corner of his jaw. “ you’ve been packing this the whole time? damn, maybe i got the wrong bestie.” 

suguru can’t manage a response with the way he looks like he’s on cloud nine beneath her, and she finds it sweet, the way he leans into her touch, the way he’s lost in it. having decided that she doesn’t want pleasure if it doesn’t involve hers, she aligns him with her slick entrance, letting the fat tip nudge against her folds with a shaky breath, and tilting her hips to let him sink into her without further teasing. 

the moan they let out when he’s finally inside her is in unison, but his is much whinier than hers and she finds that she revels in the sound- she’d never think him to be whiny in bed, never think him the one to release control. but here he is, holding onto her hips in the backseat of a honda civic, the living and breathing embodiment of pussy whipped. “ holy fuck,” he gasps out, his adam’s apple bobbing as his head tips back to the headrest. “ holy fuck.” 

“ you’re gonna eat your fucking words, suguru,” she confesses in his ear, in the most saccharine voice imaginable as her thighs part to dig her knees on the leather seats so she can ride him to her heart’s content, moaning every single time he bottoms out, every single time his head kisses her cervix, filling her up so nicely. all she can think about is how he deemed her unworthy of him in the bar an hour ago. “ oh, no words? the whiny girl’s pussy got your tongue, baby?” she latches onto his throat just so she can leave a pink mark of hers, just for him to see in the mirror, just for him to have to sit down in satoru and try to explain where that came from. what a scene it would be, how she would have given a kidney and a lung to see it. suguru, to the proof of her point, is too focused on not busting on the spot all her teasing is returned by radio silence except for grunts and whines. he looks so drunk, she wants to kiss him just for that, but she bites on the inside of her cheek instead, wanting him to know what real desperation was. his hands are so, so tight on her waist, and his mumbles are her favorite song. 

well, except the ringtone that disturbs the perfect rhythm she has found, an unexpected caller. 

it is coming from suguru’s pocket, to which she has no problem digging around to find. “ i’ve got you, sweetness, keep moaning like that,” she kisses his forehead just to drive her mockery home, before her eyes lock on the screen. 

gojo. 

if it wasn’t lucky. 

“ no, no, give me that back-” suguru attempts to get his hands on his phone but she is already answering before he can manage, and the first thing they hear is satoru’s voice, who never lets anybody speak first if he’s the caller: “ dude, i’ve been calling you all fucking night, ” he complains. “ where the hell have you been?” 

suguru is looking at her with pleading eyes, but seeing how that desperation erodes with a single roll of her hips is so satisfactory there is no shame in her voice as she responds: “ he’s busy, satoru babes,” she laughs, giddy. and it takes a hot minute for the white haired walking ego on the other end of the line to register her voice. “ what?... how?... what the fuck?” by now there is no fucking way he’s not hearing the sweet moans suguru is releasing, too pussy-whipped to realize the situation she put them in, too pussy-whipped to stop. “ say hi, sugu.” she plays an evil more diabolical card, shoving the mic right in the corner of suguru’s mouth, who is now scrambling for the last bits of his late composure. “ sato-oh, fuck, satoru, i can’t- i couldn’t- oh my fucking god, ‘ts so tight, ” unable to string a form of coherent sentences, she thinks she could cum from just how mouth-watering the view is. 

“ suguru, are you fucking my girl right now?” satoru is asking with a bamboozlement she has never heard in his voice before but before he can get an answer she hangs up, tossing the phone somewhere in the messy seats- not everything is about satoru, and leaving him hanging is a bigger punishment than letting him stay on the phone for the whole thing. there was no knowing with the bastard- it wouldn’t be a punishment if he turned out to be into it, after all. torture or not, suguru is hers for the moment, and there is a prized possession in such belonging, she honors it with wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking into him like there is no tomorrow. “ you feel so good,” she breaths into his ear, honest and genuine. “ you feel so fucking good, suguru. you’re so beautiful, look at you,” she slides his chin into her palm, gaze boring into his heavenly visage with an adoring look, even when he looks so utterly fucked out. “ who’s passing out on who now, hm? ” 

maybe he would have panicked at the aspect of being caught red handed, maybe he would have stopped or would have actually do something about it when satoru calls again immediately after- but all he does is to shift deeper in the seat, spread his legs wider and start fucking up into her in a rhythm so unforgiving they go back to square one, all power evades her, being reduced to a ragdoll in his arms as he hooks his arms beneath her thighs and spreads her all the way open. “ you got wetter when he heard this,” he tugs on her earlobe, hoarse and teetering on the edge of his own pleasure. “ you got tighter when you picked up, such a fucking whore,” he grunts, and she is reeling, nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to take the pounding without screaming. “ little slut is gonna cum from being caught,” he mocks, breathless. “ go ahead and fucking cum.” he is so right there is no fighting it- he commands with that growl and she is falling apart before she can stop it, and suguru is right behind her. 

it takes minutes, for both of them to come down from their highs, as suguru keeps spilling into her with no end and she keeps milking him for all he’s worth, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. knowing that satoru had stopped calling somewhere right before they came, it truly might have, as there was no knowing what he would be doing right now. his silence was scarier than his reactions, but at the moment she really can’t bring herself to care. “  you doin’ okay?” he asks, making her jolt on his thigh just to get a reaction out of her, brushing her damp strands away from her face, revealing her hazy gaze and unfocused eyes. “ cockdrunk,” he grins. “ look at yourself, poor little thing.” her limbs still work enough for her to give him a slap on the bicep along a roll of her eyes. “ says the man who moaned like a bitch to the boyfriend of the girl he’s fucking. who knew you were such a whore, suguru?” her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “ you’re full of surprises.” 

“ and you’re so full of unnecessary words,” he sighs, both to how she immediately became annoying again and how it feels when she finally lets him slide out of her, remaining seated on his thigh. none of them make an attempt to leave this cozy nest they have been indulging in for a good hour or two now. “ at this point i just think you are incapable of going fifteen minutes without hearing your own voice.” she snorts with the response, shifting off his lap to collapse right next to him, both of them breathing heavy in silence for a moment. “ what now?” he asks after a few minutes, looking over at her with those heaven of violet eyes. 

she offers him the most charming, dazzling smile of hers. “ what happens is that you tell satoru i said hi,” she says. “ and get out of my car, suguru. i’m done with both your asses.” 

© written by lotuseye. do not translate or copy my work.

[bvidzsoo]

Marionette

The second star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female reader

☆ Warning: nudity, cursing, consensual smut, corruption kink, blood, violence, cutting off a hand, allusion to pedophilia (but he pays for it lol karma is a bitch)

☆ Word count: 8.6k

☆ Rating: nsfw

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Yeosang is Aphrodite's son, forbidden relation

☆ Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Second instalment of this series is here, and I swear to God this is the last time I write it in one setting bcz my wrist is falling off currently lol. I really really like this part, I am so curious to hear what you all think of it ! I genuinely appreciate your feedback, and the ones you've left on the previous part legit had me giggling and in tears, I love you all! <3 The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. This is a small side note, but I've read not too long ago a Yungi story that is absolutely amazing and is a Greek mythology au, and whenever I'm writing a part for this series I get reminded of it, so, let me share it with you if you are curious to read it, it's so good!! I'll point out a few things before I let you read the story:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Hera is the Goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth ★ Athena is the Goddess of war, handicraft, and wisdom and the patroness of Athens ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Dionysus is the God of wine-making, orchards and fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre ★ Tartarus lies far beneath the disk of the world, under Hades' underworld, it's used as the ultimate of prisons, unpleasant and inaccessible ★ Elysian Fields is part of the underworld and is where the good go ★ Athenai are a group of women who followed and worshiped Athena ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ★ (Athens is the capital city of Greece) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @madebysvt

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Right by the foothill of Mount Olympus and just a few hours away from the lively village of Dion, hidden in a little meadow of the evergreen forest, almost a day long walk from Lake Naia, lay the fun house of Dionysus. Men and women, Gods and Goddesses were welcomed here, scrutinizing and judgmental eyes turning into indifferent and lustful ones, whatever your heart desired a possibility to become reality if whispered to the right person or deity. Selfless and desperate men found solace in the caresses of nymphs that ventured down from Mount Olympus to the fun house, desperate to get away from the clutches of merciless deities that took advantage of them at the smallest chance given. Gods and Goddesses who were tired of the mistreatment enabled by their superiors and were in desperate need of a night where they could let go, often stumbled through the threshold of the fun house. Dionysus loved calling it a fun house because that’s what it truly was, a house that offered you whatever you had in mind when you thought of the word fun. It came in the form of alcohol, music, entertainment and dancing, but it also came in the form of wanton moans, desperate touches, and whispered climaxes. Whatever you had in mind, you’d probably find it at the fun house. The wine was unlimited here as long as you left something of yours behind and promised to return for another fun time, making you rather addicted to the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you anticipated your reward. Whether this was in the form of a beautiful nymph or innocent maiden, a hunky man that liked it rough or a young lad whose touch was soft, or perhaps the unlimited alcohol that intoxicated your mind and sometimes killed you before your time…it was all the visitors choice. Dionysus took great pleasure in watching the mere mortals crumble at his feet, and he loved it even more when he managed to break a deity beyond the point of madness.

Everyone here knew who I was. The empty jug lay next to my hand almost mockingly as my eyes bore into the table, head slightly buzzing and ears ringing from the loud music the few drunken musicians attempted to play. The harp had a beautiful sound if in the hands of someone that could yield it, but the one mortal that attempted to play it here made it sound borderline scratchy, fingers caressing the strings rather unprofessionally. Despite how crowded the fun house was, not a soul took it upon themselves to share a table with me, and I understood why. I wasn’t necessarily here for company, especially not that of a man, but it would’ve felt nice to lay my worries upon an ear willing to listen. I knew the sharp daggers secured onto the belt around my waist intimidated men, but I expected women to be more than willing to share stories with me. After all, it wasn’t a secret to anyone that I was part of the Athenai, Athena’s loyal followers, the leader of a cult that brought forth possibilities for women eager to become more than what their society instilled on them.

A rather young girl passed by the table, head hanging low as she clutched the large jug of wine to refill the thirsty men’s glasses, and I watched closely as she walked between the tables, pouring more wine for the one’s asking. She was young, too young for a place like this, but I figured her family was living scarcely and they needed every little penny they could get. Knowing the nature of the men that were so eager to frequent places as such, it came as no surprise when the young girl’s shoulder was clutched by a calloused hand, yanking her back violently. The girl’s eyes widened in panic as she looked up, clutching the jug to her chest as if afraid to spill anything. It was pure instinct by now to draw my weapons at the sight of a female getting harmed, and it came as no surprise when I felt my blood boil underneath my skin. The man that dared touch the little girl was laughing, gripping her chin and trying to force her to sit down at his table filled with six more men, all watching her with a predatory glint in their eyes. Athena has taught me her virtues, has passed her beliefs onto me, raised me as a strong and independent woman, one that would not sit idly by and watch an innocent soul get harassed, especially if so young. The cult of Athenai have sworn celibacy to Athena, and have sworn to protect maidens and women in dire danger until their last breath.

I moved stealthily, barely leaving a breeze in my wake as I stood from the table, eyes burning anyone that dared look my way, right hand gripping the handle of my most loved dagger. Hephaestus was a marvelous craftsman, every piece of armor was designed by Athena and myself, and then later on perfected and strengthened by him. I had great trust in my weapons and my abilities, having led a war by Athena’s side more than once. As I made my way towards the table full of vile men, the little girl’s body had started shaking as she struggled to fill their glasses with wine, the man that was holding her had his hand sliding down her fragile body. I tensed my muscles and willed my mind to remain focused, knowing that if I saw red right now, not even one man would leave this house in one piece. As a quiet and scared whimper left the young girl’s lips, my jaw clenched and I unsheathed my dagger, the other men sitting at the table finally noticing me as I came into their vicinity.

A wide smirk stretched onto my lips as I saw the terror in their eyes, and before they could alert their companion harassing the young girl, my dagger had long come down against the nimble skin of the man, the steel cutting through his flesh and bones, severing the hand he had on the table. The cry that left his mouth was gut-wrenching and it made everyone stop in their tracks, eyes wide as the lively music had cut off at once, the young girl jumping away with watering eyes as the man tried to stand and whirl around. But I just chuckled and grabbed his greasy hair, yanking his head back as I pressed my sharp dagger against his neck, making him suddenly become still. His chest was heaving and he had broken out into a cold sweat, whole body shaking as blood gushed out of his severed limb. I leered, leaning down close to his ear.

“You are in great luck tonight, my friend,” I hissed against his ear, his body reeking of alcohol and grime, “I cannot kill you unless you do something unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean I cannot teach you a lesson, you stupid mortal.”

The man had started sobbing, snot running down his nose and into his mouth as he tried to splutter out apologies, his companions frozen as they didn’t know whether to help him or not. I pressed my dagger just a little more against his skin, making sure to draw blood as the man cried out in agony again, making me grin widely as I released him, but not before banging his head against the table hard enough to knock him out. His companions jumped to their feet and rushed over to the passed-out man as I turned my head to search for the young girl, finding her cowering behind a woman that was silently crying. I wiped down the blood from my dagger onto the white cloth I had hidden in my pocket as I walked towards the two, motioning for the woman to step aside. She did so quickly, revealing the young girl to me. I sighed as I leaned down to be eye level with her, gently wiping her tears off her face.

“Do not cry child, you’re safe now.” I muttered to her gently, unlatching a satchel from my belt, “Take this and head to Athens tomorrow, take your family with you if needed. Pray to Athena tonight and tell her that her most trusted apprentice saved you from a vile man, ask for her blessings and protection.”

“Won’t she want something in return?” The girl’s voice was shaky as she reluctantly accepted the coins, probably the sum more than she’s ever made here at the fun house. I smiled and gave a pat to her head as I stood up straight again.

“You are a smart girl; Athena will like that.” I hummed, fixing her hair behind her head, tilting her chin up to look in her eyes, “If you wish to be strong and able to protect yourself, all you have to offer to Athena is a promise to remain a maiden, child, and she will have you. You’ll thrive under her cult and you’ll have a good life in Athens.”

Gratitude graced the young girl’s face and she bowed her head deeply, bending at her middle to go even lower, making me smile at her display of gratitude, “Thank you, my heavenly protector.”

I chuckled as I gave a last pat to the girl’s head, looking around the still deadly silent fun house. I grinned and took my leave, knowing that the mood would be ruined as I wasn’t welcomed anymore for the night. When I reached the door, I turned around and bowed mockingly before I was out of the crowded and warm house, welcoming the cool breeze of the summer night. As the door closed behind myself, the music picked back up and the chatter and shouts resumed like nothing had happened, and I took a moment to clear my mind. I headed to the corner of the house and leaned against its structure, sighing as I looked up at the stary night, wondering whether I should return to Olympus now, or head back to Athens myself. But something snapped next to me and the unmistakable aura of an Olympian God invaded my sense, forcing my body to remain alert as I gently clutched the handle of my dagger.

“No need for that, dear,” I slightly relaxed at the familiar deep voice, but failed to spot the figure in the pitch-black night, “I am not here to harm you—or any of the women you protect.”

“Then why are you here?” I snapped back, growing a little irritated that the God wasn’t showing himself to me.

“I’m here to collect a very dear soul.” The deep voice answered back, sounding amused at my irritation as the nauseating scent of tobacco filled my nose. Sometimes, I wondered whether Death was timeless, whether he could travel between times unseen and unknown to us. Even as deities, we couldn’t predict the future nor if we truly were everlasting, but there was a glint in Death’s eyes that held secrets nobody but him knew about.

“I didn’t kill the man, you don’t have to snitch on me—” His deep giggle cut me off, and there he was, finally, showing himself to me as he stepped out of the shadows. His body was clad in a midnight black suit, tailored to fit his body perfectly as if it was his second skin. He had cut his hair shorter sometime not long ago, and it stood up in a way that made him look like he didn’t belong amongst us. Hades’ sharp eyes were crinkled as he smiled widely, his front teeth crooked as the cigar hung loosely between his teeth.

“I’m not here for that man,” Hades chuckled as the cigar bobbed with every word he said, “he’s going straight to Tartarus. I’m here for someone else.”

I followed his line of sight as he gazed inside the fun house through the window, eyes settling on an old man who was smiling and chatting by the bar with a beautiful young woman, “He’s lively, but his heart has weakened. I hope he hasn’t forgotten about our little trade back when he was still youthful and handsome.”

“You love making trades.” I sighed under my breath as I watched Hades grin, then take a long drag of his strongly smelling cigar. I never dared ask where he got those from, I never saw anyone else smoking them. It felt like it was somehow beyond me and our times, like it was better if I stayed naïve. Hades was an enigma nobody could fully decipher; it was best if you didn’t ask many questions. He had a way with his words, he could easily trick you into trades and deals that were only beneficial to him. The tale of signing your soul away to him unassumingly was more common than not, and I appreciated my life, cherished it dearly even.

“That I do, indeed.” He hummed, sharp and dark eyes falling on me again. He also loved flirting with people that he wasn’t supposed to flirt with, “Still worshiping the lovely Athena?”

I snorted under my breath, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned against the building again, “It’s what I was created for.”

“Ah, yes,” Hades hummed, taking a long drag of his cigar, smoke wafting up in the air around us, “my bitch of a sister sure loves sending out other people to do the dirty work for her. If only Zeus wasn’t such a man-whore—”

“You speak rather freely, Mingi.” I narrowed my eyes at the God of death, interrupting what was supposed to be his inner monologue.

“Of course, I do.” He chuckled upon hearing his real name leave my lips, throwing the cigar onto the ground as he stepped on it. I’ve seen him do that many times, yet I still haven’t figured out why he did that, “What? What are they going to do to me? Banish me? Chase me away? Kill me? Death is everlasting, my dear, just as birth is. Even when you will stop existing, I’ll be still here. I’m one with Gaea. Unlike many of our kin, I do not need to be worshipped to exist.”

That made me think, made my mind dwell on thoughts that they weren’t supposed to dwell on, “Are you saying we won’t always be here?”

“I’d love to chat more with you, my dear.” Mingi smiled mischievously, his eyes narrowing into playful slits as he stepped closer, caressing my cheek gently. He was perhaps the only man that’s ever touched me—the one I willingly allowed to touch me—his touch lacking the lust no other man could even as much so as hide, “But my old man really needs to go now, and Hera’s called for you.”

“Are you stealing Hermes’ job now?” I chuckled, patting his hand before I removed it, dusting my hands off.

“No,” Mingi chuckled, shaking his head, “I’d rather die then be the messenger of these bored deities that love beefing with each other for no reason.”

“Do you reckon why my mother is asking for me?” I raised an eyebrow as I chuckled at Mingi’s humor.

“No idea, but she looked beyond devious.” He sighed, slowly stalking towards the entrance of the fun house, Dionysus would certainly hate that there would be two deities tormenting his fun house tonight, “Perhaps has something to do with lovely Aphrodite.”

I hummed, nodding my head in goodbye as Mingi disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the darkness of the night. Well, off to Mount Olympus I was.

            And Mingi was right, my mother did summon me due to something concerning Aphrodite. The palace was brightly lit despite it being after midnight by the time I made it home, and my steps were silent against the marble stones despite how lightly I walked. Athena made sure teach me that. As I had knocked on the door of my mother’s bedroom, it opened up instantly and allowed me inside. She sat on her sofa, snacking on some grapes as her two servants fanned her with big leaves, looking stoic and avoiding eye contact at all costs. My mother’s mouth pulled into a wide smile upon seeing me, her eyes a bright color and glimmering under the divine light. I fixed my posture and bowed my head in respect as I walked closer to her, the armor I wore completely the opposite of her satin indigo dress.

“Daughter,” She cooed, her voice warm and loud in the confines of her bedroom, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

That was true, indeed, she only met me when she needed something from me. I wasn’t to any use for her unless she was sending me out to kill the people she didn’t like, or have tried to bewitch her bellowed husband. I have long come to terms with the fact that Athena was more of a motherly figure than my own mother would ever be.

“Indeed, mother, how may I help you this time?” I asked emotionlessly, resting my hand on the handle of my dagger as it brought me comfort.

My mother chuckled as she raised her hand, the servants stopping their actions, “Out.”

They wasted no time in scurrying out, and I watched as they bowed deeply to my mother then to me, and fled the room at last. My mother sat up, pushing her dark brown hair behind her shoulders, her satin dress falling down on one shoulder. She was a Goddess almost as beautiful as Aphrodite, Hera could have anyone she wanted. Many worshipped her and tried to whisk her away from Zeus, but she only had eyes for that tyrant.

“Well, now that it’s just the two of us,” Hera chuckled, her expression twisting into something sly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Aphrodite’s children, my daughter.”

“I have.” I confirmed as I raised an eyebrow at my mother. I have even met a few, but they weren’t very likeable, much like their mother.

“What about Yeosang?” My mother’s voice dripped with venom, palms curling into fists.

“Mere tales whispered by naiads is all I know of him.” I answered, gulping when my mother raised to her feet, a deity easily taller than most men. She stepped off her pedestal and slowly approached me, hand extending as she cupped my cheek. Unlike Mingi’s tender caress, hers was cold and borderline painful.

“I have a very important mission for you, my daughter.” My mother’s eyes sparkled with a vicious glint, teeth showing as she leered, “Someone had spoken ill of poor Aphrodite and she wants the man dead. But we know she never directly dirties her hands, and instead sends one of her children. Yeosang is her most prized child, my daughter, I need you to go find him, and kill him.”

I withheld the snort that threatened to bubble past my lips, impressed by my mother’s ignorance and the irony of her words. Wasn’t she sending me out to take care of her dirty business? The hatred between the two Goddesses runs deep, the two never settling their differences and finding ways to torment not just each other, but those around themselves as well. I was raised to hate Aphrodite, by my mother at least, because Athena’s teachings taught me different things. I wasn’t supposed to hate no woman, nor Goddess, but my mother couldn’t know that. I was more loyal to Athena than to her anyway.

“Is he going down to the mortals?” I questioned and pulled my head back slowly to get rid of my mother’s uncomfortable caress against my cheek. She hummed, giving me a scrutinizing look as her eyes took me in, a small grin spreading onto her lips.

“You’ve become a fine warrior, my daughter, I knew handing you over to Athena was a smart choice.” My mother sighed happily, eyes hardening at once, “You cannot fail me, my daughter, Aphrodite never lets Yeosang out of her sight, this is your one and only chance to kill him for me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” I bowed my head and my mother hummed, turning her back to me as she walked back towards her sofa.

“He’s in Dion, you’ll find him at the brothel in the East side of the village.” She sat back on her sofa, snapping her fingers as the doors opened instantly, the two servants rushing back inside, “And do not worry about recognizing him, you’ll know once you see him. He resembles Aphrodite a lot.”

And perhaps my mother hated that even more than the fact that Aphrodite was more beautiful than her. I didn’t worry about recognizing Yeosang, amongst mortals, an Olympian could be easily picked out in a crowd.

            Life in the village compared to the life of the Olympians was rather lamentable. Few people were well-off to live in spacious mansions that resembled the homes of the Olympians, as most of these mortals lived in humble and small cottages. But no matter how poor or rich, the nightlife in Dion never lacked as inns and brothels were overfilled with rowdy and insatiable people. I had disguised myself as a maiden of the village, a simple white dress that’s seen better days replacing the armor that felt like a second skin and brought me comfort. I felt exposed as my dark hair flowed freely against my shoulders and back, making me more vulnerable as anyone could easily grab onto it. The only time I wore it like this was when I bathed, in a battle you couldn’t allow anything to distract you. The sleeves of my dress were long, covering my arms as my two daggers were strapped tightly against the inner parts of them, I would never willingly bear myself vulnerable around anyone I didn’t trust.

Since I was disguised, nobody could tell that I was Hera’s daughter and Athena’s apprentice, making men boldly approach me and try to flirt their ways into bedding me for the night. I hated every single second of it, narrowly avoiding their touches and turning down their offers in a charming manner, not wanting to anger anyone and draw attention onto myself before I was done with what I was here for. The brothel was overspilling with people at the ungodly hour of the witches, and it turned out to be a hard task to find Aphrodite’s son, Yeosang. I didn’t know who I was looking for, but I would know upon seeing him. After walking around and watching the crowd carefully, I let the people push me towards the bar as I ordered a pint of beer for myself, leaning against the surface as I surveyed the crowd once again. The music was loud and the dancing people grew in number as others disappeared upstairs, occupying the empty rooms for mere seconds of pleasure. I had just taken a sip of the rather bitter beer, when an overwhelming feeling of warmth made me look up alarmed. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to pinpoint the direction it was coming from, my blood boiling underneath my skin as a weird sense of calmness tried to push through my alert disposition. My heart was racing and my ears had started ringing at once, and I knew the few sips of beer weren’t the cause of it. I was in the presence of another divinity. And upon realizing this, through the dancing people emerged an ethereal looking man.

The seemingly white glow that no mortal seemed to notice was almost alarming, coating his skin fair and making it glow as the softest and gentlest smile settled on his blood-red lips upon noticing me. Even from a distance, his eyes were gentle and warm in color, golden swirling around his irises as he graciously walked closer, hands clasped in front of him. Somebody crashed into him, but instead of screaming and pushing them away, he continued smiling as his lips moved slowly, probably reassuring the person that it was no problem. His hair fell around his face in a light brown curtain, framing his forehead and cheekbones as his nose was petite, his jawline sharp. My grip tightened around the pint of beer, suddenly my heart racing in my chest as the warmth I have felt previously only worsened the closer the deity walked. I found myself struggling to intake air, as if the man had his grip around my throat, refusing me the air I desperately needed. His smile only widened as I felt my legs weaken, the man now standing in front of me. His scent was sweet like honey and roses, overpowering the unpleasant odor coming from the humans.

“Another deity,” His voice was deep, unlike his soft features and what you’d expect to hear from him, “it’s rare any comes down to this brothel.”

“You’re here too.” I found my voice, completely surprised by how breathy it sounded. I gulped and took a quick sip of my beer, hoping it would help fix the dryness of my throat. The deity, Yeosang, watched my action closely, chuckling lowly as his lips pursed. The longer I looked at his face, the more I understood why he was Aphrodite’s favourite child. He was beyond perfect and gracious, well-mannered, and soft spoken. Perhaps if Aphrodite didn’t exist, he’d be Aphrodite instead. But nobody, no mortal or deity, could be prettier than the Goddess of beauty herself, and I noticed with mild surprise that Yeosang had a blood-red discoloration around his left temple in the shape of an almost heart.

“Are you here to satiate your vices?” His warm eyes shifted onto the beer again, and I chuckled, looking down at it too. I had to play my part if I wanted to kill him tonight, therefore, I lied.

“Some vices you can never fully satiate.” My expression was serious as my eyes bore into Yeosang’s, “I am tired of the fakeness of the Olympians, I want to feel something real.”

Something alluring flashed inside Yeosang’s eyes as he, too, leaned against the bar, reaching out for my pint of beer, “Mortals are fun little toys—until they start playing Gods and want to replace you.”

“Good thing we are irreplaceable, then.” I grinned as Yeosang chuckled, bringing up the pint to his lips. They parted slowly, his gaze burning into mine, a heated feeling suddenly encompassing my whole being. I have never felt that before, and suddenly I was nervous. Could it be that Yeosang was manipulating me somehow? All deities had powers to a certain extent, but his and mine were limited, we weren’t any major God the mortals ardently worshipped. I tried to reassure myself that it couldn’t have been him as he slowly lowered the pint from his lips, placing it back onto the bar.

“A deity like yourself certainly cannot enjoy that vile thing?!” Yeosang sounded almost appalled as he pressed his bony fingers against his lips, making me chuckle as I pulled the pint back towards myself.

“Someone as sophisticated as yourself would enjoy wine, I suppose.” Yeosang blushed as he hid his mouth with his hand, averting his eyes down to the floor. I smirked, feeling victorious as I raised my hand for the waitress to come over. She was quick on her feet, thankfully, and I swiftly ordered a glass of wine for my prey. My plan was perfectly working out, I didn’t think it’d be so easy to lure him into my trap. Perhaps Aphrodite shouldn’t have kept her precious son so sheltered, he was too naïve for his own good, and it would bring his downfall tonight. As Yeosang shyly looked up, I fixed my expression, trying to look as inoffensive as I could.

“I have always believed there is no point in hiding who we are,” I tensed as Yeosang suddenly leaned forward, invading my personal space as the waitress delivered his glass of wine, “after all, at some point people see through your façade. It usually falls when you think others aren’t watching you, even if it’s the slightest crack, somebody will notice.”

Feeling speechless, I could only watch as Yeosang smiled shyly and took his glass of wine, murmuring a quiet thank you before he took a tentative sip of it. My heart hadn’t stopped hammering against my ribcage ever since he walked over, and I could only pray to Athena that I wouldn’t start sweating now. There was something about Yeosang’s aura that exuded calmness but alure at the same time, and I found it hard to make sense of these new emotions surfacing in my body. Everything tingled and burned, suddenly finding his proximity not close enough, needing him to push me up against a wall and devour me. If Athena were to hear these vile thoughts, she’d be just as disgusted by them as I was. I tried to gulp down the nausea rising up through my stomach, and as I opened my mouth to speak up, a man tumbled into Yeosang. His wine was almost spilled, but he saved it last minute as he helped the man stand up straight.

“Oh,” Yeosang whispered, face lighting up in recognition, “old friend! I thought I have forever lost you to the crowd!”

The man reeked of every odor one could think of, yet Yeosang went and placed his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his side. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as the mortal hiccupped, eyes half lidded as he struggled to stand up straight. The glass of wine was abandoned as Yeosang’s full attention was on the man, and I took a deep breath as I felt my pulse quicken even more. I took a quick glance around myself to make sure nobody was watching us, and then reached inside my dress, finding the hidden vial between my breasts easily.

“You abandoned me, boy!” The man’s words were slurred as he clumsily exclaimed, and I acted in a swift moment, pouring the poison into Yeosang’s glass unnoticed. My fist curled around the vial until I crushed it into small shards, the pain never reaching my skin as it instantly turned into dust. I watched the poison quickly dissolve in Yeosang’s drink just as the deity chuckled and looked back at me. My eyebrows shot up as I quickly smiled, hoping I didn’t look suspicious.

“This old friend of mine loves dancing,” Yeosang chuckled as he maneuvered the man around so that they stood side by side facing me, “I had to abandon him for a while.”

“Yes, you did.” The man’s head fell a little forward before Yeosang steadied him, making me wonder just how strong the deity was. His muscles were lean and not bulging as most Gods liked to look like, yet it was unquestionable that he was rather strong as he held up the man twice his size.

“Old friend, tell me something.”

The old man perked up as he tried to open his eyes more, “What, boy?”

“The young lady you introduced to me earlier,” Yeosang’s smooth voice turned slightly darker, subtly sneering. My eyebrows furrowed as the soft expression swiftly slipped off his face, “what have you said to her?”

“Oh!” The drunk man exclaimed, lips pulling into a drunken smirk as he looked at me, eyes raking over my body. I wished to wipe out my daggers and gauge his eyes out, but tonight I had to behave, “That lady cannot be compared in beauty to anyone else, she’s more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.”

The air seemed to freeze around us as my breath halted. Yeosang’s smile turned cold, eyes narrowing as he hummed, his grip on the man’s shoulder visibly tightening, “Hmm, I see.”

I didn’t know what to do as Yeosang turned his head, one eyebrow raised as if in question. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes as I instead grabbed my pint and threw back the remained of my beer. Yeosang’s eyes slowly shifted onto his glass of wine and he paused, then reached out and took the glass. I watched with a hammering heart as he raised it up to his lips, then slowly tilted the glass, the wine almost touching his blood-red lips.

“Drinking in front of your elderly without offering it to them first?!” The old man coughed a little, giving Yeosang a glare as if his respect had been broken. Yeosang froze, then I watched in mild alarm as he lowered his glass, shooting the man an apologetic smile.

“Where have my manners gone?” He shook his head at himself and the man hummed. I opened my mouth to interject into their exchange, but instead felt my jaw fall open in shock as Yeosang forcefully grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it open, pushing his head back by it, pouring the wine down his throat aggressively. I gasped as I watched the man gargle and try not to choke on the poisoned wine, my palms turning into fists as my muscles tensed.

“There, you can have all the wine.” Yeosang snickered, throwing the empty glass onto the floor, it shattering loudly as he slowly turned his head, tilting it to the side. My eyes hardened in an instant as I noticed the change in his demeanor, the serene and innocent look gone from Yeosang’s face as he smirked, leaning towards me, “Those who speak my mother’s name in vain shall be punished, right, Y/N?”

There hasn’t been a time before where a man won over me. I was trained for war, I have fought battles that took the lives of hundreds of men, I have slain men who have mistreated women and yet…a pathetic son of a Goddess had me fumbling in panic as he released the old man who had started heaving for air, clutching his throat. Yeosang stepped back and watched as I caught the old man, eyes wide as the poison rather quickly brought him to his demise. I didn’t know what to do as his body started growing heavier, and when I made eye contact with Yeosang, he was already backing into the crowd with a poisonous glint in his eyes and a vicious smirk on his lips.

He had won this game.

I felt anger surge through my body, but I couldn’t act on my desires to chase after the deity and have his head. And so, I played the part of my disguise as I released the man. Then, I opened my mouth and shrieked.

            The slap stung no more than a battle scar yet had to, and still, my ego was bruised beyond my body has ever been. I gritted my teeth as I refused to cower under my mother’s seething eyes. Something broke next to us and I jumped, not used to my mother’s hysterical displays. Now I understood why Zeus never tried to anger her, and yet still failed miserably each time.

“You wench,” Hera hissed, grabbing my chin and yanking my head forward, “You’re good for nothing.”

I tried not to snort as I looked down, avoiding eye contact. I have never failed before. I was more than good, but she was too blinded by her childish hatred for Aphrodite to actually notice that.

“You are a disgrace and an abomination!” My mother continued to hiss, her grip turning painful on my chin, “Look me in the eyes, you stupid wench!”

Fury licked under my skin, igniting my veins and making me tense my muscles and calm my mind as I yearned to reach for my dagger and push it through her nonexistent heart. I gulped and looked up into her eyes, remaining emotionless like Athena had trained me.

“You are not my daughter.” Hera hissed, leaning in my face, “I banish you from my home, you are never to step foot inside my temple and sanctuary. Perish from in front of my eyes before I turn you into nothing.”

She pushed me away like I have burned her, and I gulped, biting down on my tongue to keep myself calm and level-headed. I didn’t want to turn into nothing, that I knew. So, instead, I bowed my head and took off towards the door, grabbing the handle of my dagger for comfort, “And to think I nourished you and cherished you for nothing.”

My grip faltered around the handle of the door and something coiled in my chest as I took a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from what was about to come out of my mouth. I ripped the door open and chuckled, turning my head to look smugly at Hera, “Thank fuck I won’t have to see your stupid face ever again, you hysterical bitch.”

The scream Hera let out only made me laugh as I slammed the door shut behind me, fury making my body feel like it was on fire. That feeling was only ever present when I was in battle, and protecting women. I felt my whole being vibrate as I left the stupid home of Hera, steps hurried as I knew who to seek out for guidance. I will find Yeosang and I will kill him, Athena may you be my guide and protect me in my quest.

            Hunting came as second nature; I could do it even with my eyes closed. The ground of the forest was solid underneath my feet and the trees tall and offering shade from the blazing sun as I swiftly advanced towards the meadow. There was nothing in this world I couldn’t track and hunt down. Man, woman, animal, deity. Athena had let me know in a whisper where Aphrodite’s pond resided, a place that only her, her nymphs, and Yeosang knew about. The deity often came here to spend the hot days of summer cooling off in the ever-clear Pond of Beauty. Aphrodite had created it herself for her offspring and those that she considered worthy of her treasure. The pond resided close by the foothill of Mount Olympus, on the territory of the Gods and Goddesses. No human could come here, unless they wished for a painful death.

My bow and arrow lay snuggly in my hands as I held onto them tightly, eyes narrowed as I listened closely to the sounds of the forest. The meadow was just one step ahead, I was hiding behind the bushes and the tall trees, eyes surveying the area before I looked out onto the meadow, the pond vast and its water glimmering under the sunlight that fell directly on it. Sweat had gathered on my brows as I took deep breaths, remaining calm as I noticed ripples on the surface of the pond, a head covered in light brown hair slowly surfacing. My heart started hammering against my ribcage as I watched the deity swim around in the pond, a serene look on his face as he seemed to be glowing in the sunlight, his light brown hair turning almost as golden as the swirls in his warm brown eyes. He floated around graciously, his milky skin translucent as it made contact with the water and the sunlight.

I tensed my muscles and drew my right arm back, aiming my arrow towards Aphrodite’s beautiful creation. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, tuning in to the sounds of nature as I relaxed my body, preparing to release the arrow the second my eyes opened. I felt my body move slightly, align in the direction Yeosang was, and I sighed quietly, feeling the warm breeze caress my skin tenderly all of a sudden. The birds seemed to sing louder here, the grass seemed to brush up against my ankles gently, and the breeze carried a soft smell of pomegranates, honey, and roses. I gulped, feeling my lips part in another quiet sigh as suddenly my ears started buzzing, my skin jittery out of nowhere. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, feeling a little unnerved as my body grew warmer and warmer, flesh burning underneath the heavy silver armor. I gulped and willed my mind to focus, to let go of everything that served as a distraction, and opened my eyes as my fingers holding the string had started slipping, about to release the arrow aimed towards the mesmerizing deity.

But when my eyes opened, my body froze as if someone else was controlling it. Yeosang’s brown eyes shone golden as they bore into mine even at the great distance, and I felt my fingers tremble as I reluctantly lowered my weapon. I struggled to breathe as I felt my legs moved forward, guiding me towards the pond, away from the safety of the trees and the high grass. There was something very wrong as my skin burned and my heart raced, and I couldn’t stop myself from approaching Yeosang. His blood-red lips pulled into a faint smile as my hand raised to undo my bun, my dark hair falling down and fawning my back as I sighed in content. Another step towards him had me unclasping the silver armor from around my torso, my hands trembling as I couldn’t look away from Yeosang. I felt drawn in, mesmerized, and charmed. A madman would say it was witchcraft, but I couldn’t tell what was happening to me.

Yeosang’s lips parted as he whispered something I couldn’t hear just yet, and I felt my hands undo the bindings of my corset as it soon fell from around my body, leaving it bare for Yeosang’s eyes to drink in my exposed skin. I shivered and my arms got covered in goosebumps as Yeosang’s grin turned wider, beckoning me into the pond as he extended one hand. My mind was screaming at me to stop, to unsheathe my dagger from my belt and throw it at Yeosang, but instead, my body moved on its own as I undid my belt and then the bindings of my pants, stopping for a second to push down the garment after I stepped out of my boots.

Yeosang’s tongue darted out to lick at his blood-red lips, and I gasped as my feet came in contact with the cold water of the pond. I was bare in front of a man, walking towards him, offering myself up to him. What I was doing was forbidden, I would be banished and probably killed, but I couldn’t stop. No matter how much I wanted to, my body didn’t stop moving towards Yeosang. The cold water clung to my overheated skin and my heart pounded in my chest as I couldn’t feel the soil underneath my feet anymore. I was forced to swim further inside the pond. I wanted to stop, but my body wouldn’t until it reached Yeosang. My lips trembled from both fright and the cold, and the closer I got to Yeosang, the wider his grin got. He was preening at me, eyes flashing golden like his hair in the sunlight, and suddenly, I was face to face with him. I shuddered out a breath, chest contracting as I tried to yank myself far away from him, but suddenly the water felt like it had hands and had immobilized me to my spot.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice carried amusement, eyes twinkling in the same manner, “it’s rude to impose on someone that’s bathing.”

I couldn’t find my voice, my throat had gone dry, my whole body was trembling. I couldn’t be seen bare by any man or deity, I had to kill Yeosang. I would be never forgiven if I didn’t, if he touched me…I would be punished for an eternity.

“Why are you here?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering himself under the water until his eyes and hair were visible only. I tried to calm my frantic heartbeat, to regulate my breathing once again.

“I’m here to kill you.” I hissed out, eyes hardening as Yeosang pushed his head above water, giggling.

“Without your armor, you’re nothing but a woman, Y/N.” My blood boiled under my skin, and I wasn’t trembling from the cold anymore, it was from anger. My jaw clenched as I glared at Yeosang, still trying to break free of this invisible spell he’s put on me.

“Is this where your mask slips and you show just how rotten you are at your core?” Yeosang’s head lulled back as he laughed, water dripping from his hair once he faced me again.

“You think I’m doing something to you,” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as his eyes darkened, just like at the brothel. He didn’t look innocent anymore, he looked menacing and dangerous, “but I am not. The pond brings out your deepest, darkest desires.”

Something coiled in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up, mortified at what Yeosang was implying, “How dare you?! I am an Athenai, I have sworn to serve Athena. I have no such desires like the one you’re implying I have—”

I stiffened as Yeosang reached out, his warm fingertips softly touching my skin, “Then why is your skin ablaze? Why does your flesh sing to me to come closer? To feel you? To touch you? To devour you?”

I gasped as Yeosang swum uncomfortably close, palm caressing my cheek bigger than it, eyes boring into mine as I felt unraveled by the simplest touch, “Why do you want me to fill you up here until you’re a begging mess, until you have forgotten who you are?”

It felt like the sunlight was cut off and my neck was snapped into half, when, underwater, I felt nimble fingers trace the outline of lips untouched before, slipping between them and drawing out a sound that’s never left my mouth before, “Why does it throb for me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against my ear as I moaned loudly, head falling back when his fingers touched a spot that had the name of Gaea on my lips, praying to be forgiven for the sins I was committing, “Kill me with your bare hands, Y/N, and I shall grant you one wish.”

I whimpered as I finally felt released by the clutches of the water, hands flying out as I clung onto Yeosang’s shoulders, eyes screwing shut when the heel of his palm pressed harder against my core, massaging it in a circular motion, toes curling at the blinding feeling that had my whole body on fire like no battle could ignite it. Yeosang’s blood-red lips pressed against the vein pulsating in my neck, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to muffle the sounds I was making as he dipped his fingers lower, prodding at a hole I didn’t know existed before, “Yeosang.”

“Say my name, my goddess.” Yeosang growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as I felt him grip onto my hip with his free hand, “Tell me how badly you want me dead.”

I moaned as one finger slowly slipped inside that hole, my mouth falling open in a loud gasp as I felt my muscles contracting, clenching down on his digit, “I shall skin you alive and deliver you to your mother myself.”

Yeosang moaned as his lips left my neck, eyes boring into mine as he faced me again. His hand from my hip slowly slipped down onto my thigh and he guided it around his own hip, flushing our bodies together as he moved his finger in and out, making my eyebrows furrow at the unusual pleasure that erupted in my whole body.

“If you do,” Yeosang whispered against my lips, gently biting my bottom lip, “I shall persuade Athena to forgive you for your sins.”

I gasped as the pace of his finger quickened, his thumb pressing on the bundle of nerves again, and his name echoed in the meadow as I cried it out loudly, body shaking from the overwhelming new feelings I haven’t felt before, “Oh, Yeosang.”

“I know,” He whispered, suddenly his finger gone from my throbbing core, and I whined as my eyes flew open, searching his face for an explanation. His golden eyes had glazed over and were a dark brown, his skin and hair not that bright anymore as clouds shielded the sun for us, almost as if they were shielding us from the eyes of the Gods and Goddesses themselves, “it’s overwhelming for the first time, but you’re doing so well for me, my goddess.”

He guided my other leg too around his hip, and I anchored myself against his lean body as I crossed my ankles behind his bottom. I could feel something hard and heavy press against my thigh and Yeosang smirked, pushing the hair out of my face as his lips pressed against mine featherlike, experimentally. My heart was beating fast, skin on fire as I felt the hard member line up at the entrance Yeosang’s finger had been inside previously, and I gulped, feeling fear for the first time in my life. No man, no battle, no war was scarier than the sin I was about to commit. But I wanted it. I knew now, I’ve always wanted it, I’ve just been repressing it desperately in honour of my oath.

“Yeosang, my god, take me.” It was a bare plea against his lips, and then they were devouring mine, coaxing them open as his tongue slid against mine at the same time as my hole was stretched open as the hard and heavy member seemed to split me apart at once, drawing out whimpers of pain as Yeosang’s lips tried to muffle them. I felt full, yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough as his hands gripped my hips bruisingly, guiding me up and down on his member as Yeosang whimpered, tongue tangled with mine as the painful sting in my core resided, but wasn’t as bad as it had been a second ago.

“Promise yourself to me and you shall live.” Yeosang’s low voice demanded as he mercilessly slammed my hips down, turning my mind into a jumbled mess as I was impaled again and again, wondering if the slice of my dagger would ever come close to this feeling.

“I am protector of maidens and women,” I groaned as a hand groped at my exposed chest, fiddling with the nipple, my nails digging into Yeosang’s back until they drew blood, “I will never promise myself to a man.”

“Then savor this feeling,” Yeosang hissed, and a yelp mixed with a loud moan left my throat as the next thrust was sharp, hitting a spot that had my hips moving more desperately on its own, trying to set a faster rhythm than the one Yeosang tried to set, “because Athena is on her way here, and when you leave this pond, you’ll be dead.”

My fingers slipped into his hair and I yanked on the wet strands, moaning as the new pace kept hitting that spot again and again, my mind wishing for nothing but to bring pain to Yeosang, “And you’ll be dying with me, my god.”

Yeosang moaned as I slammed my lips against his, painful and bruising as our teeth clanked together, noses pressing harshly against each other as I found it harder and harder to make sense of my thoughts as I had started succumbing to the pleasure completely.

Whether the promise of giving myself to Yeosang slipped past my lips or not, the clouds were witness to it, and Athena’s arrow would be the judge of it when Judgment Hour comes. Perhaps Hades would be sweet enough to let me reside in the Elysian Fields in the afterlife, “Does it feel real now?”

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[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Sunshine [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Summer Loving Challenge by @pedgito. Thank you so much for creating it and letting me be part of it. You're a star! Or shall I say, sunshine??

pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

wordcount: 1.7K

warnings: reader is she/her, sexual content/mild sexual themes (implied only), mild language, mentions of violence, overall safe to read.

prompt: ROADTRIP #2

She smiles too much, he thinks. 

And Joel ain’t too fond of folks who smile all the damn time. Reckons they must be hiding something behind those shiny white teeth. 

Thing is, he ain't even sure how Tommy managed to rope him into this foolishness. He’d stopped by his brother’s place for a cold one and somehow left having agreed to ferry his obnoxiously cheerful sidekick across the state to some new job she landed in Joel’s neck of the woods. Must have been the quiet begging in Tommy’s eyes that did it, he supposes. Joel may be a surly son of a bitch, but he ain’t heartless.

So here he is, with the sun barely up and her sitting pretty beside him. Sneakers-clad feet up on the dash like she owns the place, skirt of that yellow sundress riding up her tights.

Tommy’s friend. The motormouth. The endless goddamn ray of sunshine that Joel just knows is gonna make his jaw ache from clenching before they even cross county lines.

“Mind if I turn this thing on?” she breaks the silence, stretching a little to fiddle with the radio dials. 

He fucking does. He’d rather drive in silence. But just shrugs instead.

Figures out it’s not worth the argument.

And as expected, her taste in music is as saccharine as the rest of her, all twangy guitars and lyrics about truck beds and tan lines. When she starts humming along off-key, he has to work very hard not to grind his teeth to dust. 

It's going to be a long drive.

Joel sighs and glances over at her. Shifts a bit in his seat and admits, albeit grudgingly, that she's easy on the eyes. Has been ever since he's known her.

But the problem is, she’s just so… much. Never still for a minute, fingers tapping, foot bouncing, mouth running a mile a minute. He can practically feel all that restless energy buzzing under her skin, setting his own nerves alight. Makes him wonder if she even knows she's doing it, all them little twitches and squirms. If she's got any idea how it gets him all riled up without even trying. Joel ain't sure quite what to do with her.

And sweet Jesus can she talk. About this, about that. Everything and not a damn thing. About the weather and politics. The heat and some harvest festivals she’s helping throw. A whole slew of crappy dates, some dog she’s thinking of adopting. The gossip about people Joel barely knows and could care less about. So, he tunes most of it out, just grunts now and then so she thinks he's listening.

But at some point, whether because he’s getting bored or because of the heat, Joel catches himself actually paying attention. Learns she's a teacher, spending her days trying to cram knowledge into the heads of a pack of rowdy kids. 

"It's thankless work," she laughs, "but I guess somebody's gotta do it."

Joel thinks it's pretty admirable, choosing a job like that. Lord knows he's had his share of crap gigs. Brings to mind those long, hot days pouring concrete under that merciless Texas sun. The way heat would shimmer up off the fresh pavement and make him feel like he's in some kind of fever dream.

“Look, I didn’t expect you’d want to give me a ride,” she pipes up after a bit. “I appreciate it.”

"Mm," he grunts, committing to nothing.

“I mean it, Miller. I was really close to sticking out my thumb and hitching.”

Joel's hands tighten on the wheel at the thought. "That's a good way to get yourself murdered."

She cuts her eyes over at him. "How do I know you're not some kind of murderer?"

He snorts. "Do I look like a murderer to you?"

"I don't know. What's a murderer look like?"

"Not like me."

"Hm. That's exactly what a murderer would say, I reckon."

He shakes his head, more than a little annoyed now.

This damn woman.

When they pull over for gas and to stretch their legs, Joel finds himself watching her as she arches her back like a cat in the sun, that sundress pulling taut across her chest; the skirt riding up even higher. Makes him look away real quick.

“I’m going inside to pay,” she chirps. “Want anything? Coke maybe? A three-day old sandwich?”

Joel peers at her. Mutters, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, Grumpy.”

Grumpy. 

It's hardly the worst thing he's been called, but it chafes at him for some reason. For a second, he wonders what it would be like to be someone different. Someone who said yes to Cokes and gas-station sandwiches. To yellow dresses and sunshine smiles.

"You ever think about how weird it is that we can just go anywhere these days?" She starts in again before he even gets back on the road.

He squints over at her. "How do you mean?"

"I don't know. Cars and planes and those talking maps on phones. World's gotten real small. Used to be folks who didn't stray more than a few miles from where they were born. And now here we are, two random people rolling down the road in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. Just 'cause we felt like it."

Joel's not sure he'd say he felt like it, exactly. But he gets her point. "I guess," he allows. "Makes you wonder what it musta been like. Back then."

"Doesn't it? No AC, no snacks, no radio to bicker over." She grins at him, teasing. "Though I suppose you would've done just fine without that last one, huh?"

He huffs, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “They wouldn’t need a radio with you doing all the talking. Probably would've driven the whole wagon train up the wall with your yammering."

“You mean, I would’ve livened things up?”

"Livened," he repeats, dry as dust, and she laughs. It's a good one, Joel thinks. Bright and uninhibited in a way he hasn't heard often in this life.

Suddenly gets the strangest urge to reach out and touch her. Trail his knuckles down the line of her throat, feel the vibration of it under his fingers.

Wraps his hands around the wheel instead, wondering where the hell that came from. If she notices his odd moment, she doesn't let on. Just keeps rambling on about dysentery and fording rivers and how she definitely would've been the first to die of cholera. Joel lets those honeyed tones wash over him and tries not to dwell on the tight, hot feeling in his chest.

By the time they pull up at the little house Tommy helped her get settled in, it's pitch black out. He can just make out her face in the glow of the dome light, those big eyes soft and serious for once as she gathers up her bags.

"Thanks again for the lift," she says, real quiet. "I know I'm not exactly your favourite person to be stuck with."

"Wasn't so bad," he admits, and it's almost not a lie. "Glad I could help."

She hesitates with her hand on the door handle, worrying that plump bottom lip with her teeth. "I'd invite you in for a beer but I know you probably want to get home."

He does. He should. But maybe it's that little waver in her voice, the uncertain set of her shoulders. Maybe it's knowing that the second she steps out of this truck, the strange little bubble they've been floating in is going to pop. Things will snap back to how they've always been, her grating on his last nerve from a nice safe distance and him avoiding her as best he can.

And maybe he's just not quite ready for that.

"Well..." he drawls, "I reckon I could come in for a cold one."

The smile she gives him could put the sun to shame, all dimples and crinkly eyes. Makes that tugging feeling in his chest pull so sharp it steals his breath. 

He follows her up the porch steps and into the cosy hallway, his chest tight and his palms clammy like some nervous teenager. As she putters in the kitchen, fetching beers and clinking glasses, he stands in her living room and looks around at the organised clutter, the artfully arranged photographs, the bunches of wildflowers stuck in mason jars.

The whole place is so absolutely, utterly her it makes something behind his ribs ache fiercely.

When she comes back with two frosty beers, pressing one into his hand, they just stand there for a minute. Look at each other with the heavy weight of something hanging in the air between them. She takes a pull off her bottle, throat working as she swallows and it's more than he can take. The urge to put his mouth right there, to lick the sharp tang of hops right off her skin.

“So…,” she murmurs softly as she places her beer on the counter behind her and looks back at him. Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze latches on his mouth. It’s a split of a second but Joel decides that he’s had enough. 

He sets his own bottle down carefully. Cradles her face in his rough hands and leans in slow, so slow, until he can taste her shaky breath. She meets him halfway, arms winding around his neck as she opens up for him, soft and sweet as summer rain. He tips his head to kiss her deeper and she mewls into his mouth, hands flexing against his shoulders, and Joel is lost. 

It doesn’t take long before they are stumbling back to her bedroom, all tangled up in each other. When he rids himself of his shirt and hovers above her, she is smiling, her fingers moving slowly to graze the warm skin of his back, and it’s so good Joel feels drunk on it. 

Later, after, with her curled up asleep on his chest, Joel stares up at the lazy spin of the ceiling fan. Marvels at the strange turns a life can take. How somebody can get under your skin until one day you wake up and realise you forgot how to breathe without them.

He runs his fingers through the wild tangle of her hair, feels her sigh contentedly against him. Lets himself imagine, just for a minute, that this could be his life. That he could have something this soft, this sweet, and keep it.

Joel blows out a long breath.

Drops a kiss to the top of her head and lets his eyes slip closed.

Maybe there's something to be said for all that sunshine after all.

[romanshomeonwattpad]

Awaken Me | Tobias Eaton

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings : none i think?

authors note : i forgot about this and decided to upload it even tho it’s unfinished…

© elliotsblunt 2022. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your eyes burned slightly as you blinked away tears, confused as to why you couldn't find that certain...

Anger.

Wren, a curly haired blonde that belonged in Amity—somehow landed in Dauntless. But during combat, her frail arms would summon the strength of twice the muscle capacity she contains. If you hadn't seen her flip a man twice her size over her figure—

You wouldn't have believed it.

Anyways, Wren had told you that she had reached that certain level of fighting simply by thinking of what angered her most. The the thing was, nothing horrible had happened to you.

You were born and raised in Amity, where the crime rate remained a negative 0–if that were possible, it would be rated just that.

Your ma and pa sheltered you, as you were their only child. You were also extremely close with them, but after getting your screen test back—it was time to begin a new chapter in your life. One that would drag and smash you to the ground like a bug.

Which is what happened now—basically.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over to dodge one of your opponents lashes. Fortunately, the girl wasn't a merciless bitch, and let you stand up whilst getting back into position. With shaky fists, you gulped, muttering a quick curse before her own swung towards your chin.

But—

The beating never came. The throbbing rush of warm blood thrashing in your veins never crashed. Your jaw was in tact, and you weren't flopped on the ground like a beaten animal.

Your eyes snapped open, flashing over to the strong hand wrapped around Turner's wrist. Turner, the girl you were fighting, gulped as she stood back from Four. His chest radiated of a warm essence that burnt your cheeks—especially with the smirk dripping off his face.

"Turner," he released her grip, not glancing at you, "It appears the Mary Poppins hasn't improved. Isn't fair to you, is it?"

Your throat went dry, remembering how much of a total prick he was. At first, you thought he was hot, so you deemed him to maybe be a good person. But after you figured one of his life goals was to torment and embarrass you—you checked your values and common sense.

His eyes were dark, but still weren't ever fluttered onto your figure—almost as if he didn't even want to look at you. It damaged your confidence more, knowing you were probably going to be factionless if you didn't shape up soon.

Turner only shrugged, dropping her arm back to her side before placing both hands on her hips. She raised a brow at you as you let out a sharp breath, wiping the imaginary dust off your palms before looking down at the ground and stepping off the fighting podium.

Your ears ring as her blows caused you some damage. Chewing on your bottom lip, you held back your defeated thoughts as Wren threw an arm around your shoulder,

"It's okay. I got a few beat downs my first year here. It gets better," she attempted to cheer you up. You merely hummed as she continued, "Anger, _ _. That's what powers you. You need—“

“I know,” you snapped, stopping your feet before rolling your eyes at her, “I know. But I’m not an angry person, and I’m shit at fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Pity isn’t what makes you a Dauntless, _ _,” she stepped towards you, poking a nimble finger into your heart, “So instead of whining, kid, maybe you should just stop thinking and fight.”

Slowly nodding, you stood there as she headed over to the cafeteria for lunch. You noticed that the boxing bag area was empty—and it clicked in your head what Wren said.

Fight.

Bringing your fists up, you got into a fighting stance and threw your first punch. With gritted teeth, you felt the material bruise up your knuckles—but you wanted to feel it. Feel the pain. If you couldn’t feel the pain, then pity would just Pool around in your chest instead.

And you hated pity.

Hissing as you retracted your first, you did it again. Then repeated on the other fist. Every time the cool leather collided with your knuckles, it sent a sharp pain up your hand. But you stood through it, until the next time you swung, you didn’t realize the bag had made its own hit towards you—swinging and hitting your body with a harsh force.

Letting out a grunt, your body slammed into the cold cement of the training sector. Your ribs ached as you didn’t twitch to get up, instead accepting that you were going to be factionless if you didn’t get back up.

Get back up, _ _. You have to.

Sweat dribbled down your forehead as you landed another punch to the bag. You made it a mission to skip lunch so you could train, because you'd rather starve than be factionless. Breathing harshly through your teeth, you felt the muscles slightly tense in your arms.

"Mary poppins hasn't improved, has she?"

You felt your lip curl as you delivered another brutal hit, finally taking victory in the bag. You released a grunt as your fists kept colliding with it.

You were going to show that stuck up son of a—

"You're supposed to eat in order to gain muscle. Didn't teach you that back in Amity, huh?" You heard a voice quip, a deep and gravelly voice.

Jumping from surprise, your head snapped over to see Four leaning against one of the bags. His eyes were focused on you, smoky and stormy. You looked away from him instantly, but kept your focus on him, "Skipping lunch won't make you a Dauntles—"

"If someone tells me one more time what does or doesn't make me a Dauntless, I might just fucking shoot myself," you raised your voice, feeling the patience that usually you held snapped like a tree branch. Four's eyes stayed narrowed as he now crossed his arms, the muscles protruding from that caramel, ink covered skin of his.

You gulped, "I meant—"

He stood up straight, a smirk creeping into his plump, pink lips as he stepped towards you, "You're nothing but a farmer. You cannot train remotely enough to become one of us," he hissed, venom laced in his words. Something swirled in his eyes, making your jaw lock,

"You don't have anger. You have self pity, and Dauntless don't pity themselves. They fight, and are willing to give up their life for people. How can you fight others when you're fighting yourself already?"

You blinked, feeling anger begin to rise within you. It was a foreign feeling—but you didn't hate it. If anything, your veins welcomed the poisonous rage, but you bit your tongue.

Four laughed darkly, "You can't even speak up for yourself. Surely, you should go back to those farmers," he continued, making your fists balled up at your sides. As he continued to degrade you and your home, well— people who used to be your home, it rose.

The anger rose. It felt as the ground begun to shake, sudden flashes of all the combat you had witnessed before your eyes playing like a rapid slideshow in your mind. The cracks of the bones whenever someone would slip their foot beneath someone—breaking their balance.

Your eyes flickered up to his. He paused right before you, the scent of cologne filling your nose as your chest heaved deeply. Every sense of angst within you was on fire as he tilted his head.

"You don't belong here. But I doubt you'll be able to go home, since your parents disow—"

Your foot slipped under him, trapping him to the ground with a grunt from him. Your teeth clenched as you aimed to punch him, but he immediately snapped his eyes into yours. With furrowed brows, he grabbed your wrist and striked your leg with a harsh kick.

Your knee buckled, a bullet of pain shooting through your muscles. The cold concrete pavement of the training sector burned the flesh on your cheek, ears ringing as a dull ache formed in your back from the landing.

“C’mon, _ _,” Four chuckled, more so in a tiresome way than a tormenting tone. His chest heaved as I blinked, “Get up. Don’t give up now.”

It clicked. Was he…training you?

A boost if adrenaline shot through you. He believed in you. That was the push you needed to balance your wobbling arms off the ground, barely being able to push your body—but you did. Your fists balked at your sides as you gulped, accidentally melting into his cold eyes.

They weren’t as cold, though. As if the ice had slightly melted—but there was still another thick layer.

“Fighting is a dance,” he murmured firmly, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You let out a harsh breathe as he held your back against his chest, before roughly pushing you away. You hit one of the punching backs, grunting as he smirked, “Until it’s not.”

“Can’t imagine dancing with you,” your eyes narrowed—only making his smirk grow.

But you didn’t hear a response, instead your eyes noticed he was about to take a step forward. Then, you watched his arm twitch—ducking before delivering a jab to his side. He flinched, which broke the barrier, and you didn’t wait to kick him down to the ground.

With a loud thud, you watched as his braid figure slammed against the ground. Picking up your feet, you darted towards him. Every single insult he’d ever thrown at you replayed in your head. He was trying to anger you.

Did he perhaps…care?

Sliding your knee across the ground, you grabbed both of his hands and held him down. Your hair fell over your face, panting deeply, as you used the rest of your strength to fight off his. His hues twitched to yours, something flashing in his eyes as they met yours.

Your throat became dry. Butterflies erupted in your tummy, a warm feeling hugging your heart.

Feeling the cheeks in your face burn—you felt the world slowly silence around you as your eyes melted onto his. You didn’t know if it was your imagination, or the adrenaline pumping in your veins—but you swore you felt his long fingers slowly graze your thigh.

Wait—

How did they get fre—

And in an instant, you were flipped into the ground. His strong hands held you down, gripping your wrist, as his muscular chest held down yours. Bodies pressed against one another, his grunts filling your ears…it was truly a sight.

A musky scent flooded your senses as you felt like you were high, wanting to reach out and touch that sculpted jaw of his. The stubble poking from his skin is probably scratchy against your palm, but his flesh still looked smooth and supple.

Despite his appearance coming off ragged and rough.

“That’s how you fight like a Dauntless,” He taunted darkly, making your brows raise in shock, “You’ll do just fine in ranks if you uh—“

His eyes fluttered to your lips, before he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the floor, away from you, before dusting off his pants, “You should do just fine, _ _.”

Before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and made his exit.

[ninii-winchester]

Crossed Allegiances (Final)

Pairing: Dean Winchester X reader

Word count : 4k

Warnings : angst, canon violence, language, mentions of blood, torture, character death, fluff. Not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Y/n groaned as she came back to consciousness. She blinked a few times and recognised the place she was in, the briefing room, the same room where Ketch had shot Mick. She felt herself being pushing forward slightly and she winced when the movement put a strain on her leg, the bullet was still stuck above her knee cap and a piece of cloth was tied over it, to stop too much blood loss.

She would’ve felt relieved or even a bit grateful that they weren’t going to let her bleed to death but she wasn’t. She knew the Brits were sadistic like that. They’d kept her alive, to torture her. Tilting her head upwards she came face to face with the woman she loathes more than Ketch. Dr. Hess’ wrinkly face and her smug smile made Y/n want to rip the older woman’s hair out.

“Y/n L/n.” The woman tsked walked closer to her as Ketch held the Y/e/c eyed woman. “You’ve failed to accomplish the task regarding the Winchesters.”

“Fuck you.” Y/n spat earning a slap across the cheek. Blood splattered on the ground as her head jerked to the side.

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in? You ran away from us, you failed the task and you cost us Mick.” The woman listed off the reasons Y/n was in trouble for.

“You didn’t have to kill him, you bitch.” Y/n snarled, glaring at the woman who just smirked turning away.

“Incompetence is not something we tolerate in this organisation.” She replied. “I believe you’re still useful for us, though.” Y/n’s face turned into one of confusion at her words. “You do know more about the Winchesters than you let on. And I know you wouldn’t tell us willingly. So we’ve called Lady Bevell to acquaint you.” Y/n’s eyes widened when she heard the name and she internally shuddered. She knew that woman was merciless when she wanted to be. And she was too loyal to the organisation to spare her. With a flick of Dr.Hess’ wrist Ketch dragged her away.

Back at the Bunker, Dean was pacing the war room while Sam tried to track Y/n’s location. He had hoped she’d have her phone on her and he could track her down easily but it was harder than he expected since her device had been turned off. And now he was trying to at-least find her last location.

“Dean stop pacing.” Sam chastised his brother who was walking relentlessly, his mind going a few hundred miles an hour.

“Sam she told me they’d kill her. She pleaded to me and I told her to fucking leave. And they’ve got her now.” Dean growled and closed his brothers laptop. “Stop this, we’re going to their bunker, guns blazing and we’re getting her back.” Dean ordered.

“Dean that place is a fortress. We need a plan. We can’t just barge in.” Sam argued, clearly knowing the place will be swarmed by guards. “We need backup.” Dean nodded and made some calls. Within an hour Jody, Donna and a few other hunters showed up.

“Wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.” Dean said to Jody as she pulled him in a hug.

“What’s the deal boys?” Donna asked doing the same.

Sam explained the hunters that they’re going to raid the British Men of letters bunker and they need all backup they could. The hunters nodded in understanding. They were also fed up by the Brits trying to make them work for them.

“You shoot anyone who tries to stop you and don’t die.” Sam commanded.

“There’s hostage in there too, don’t shoot her.” Dean’s voice was hard as he spoke.

“Ah now I see.” Jacob, a fellow hunter spoke. “You’re using us to rescue some fucking girl.” He gritted feeling he was being used. He looked at the other hunters, “they want us to die for a girl.”

“It’s not some fucking girl.” Dean snapped. “You’re free to leave if you’re afraid of a fight. This is as much about taking back control as it is about saving her. Those brits have meddled in our business long enough.” He added and Jacob gulped taking a step back. He didn’t speak any further but he didn’t leave either.

Y/n screamed out loud while she was tied to a chair and Lady Bevell was cutting up her skin to make her speak. To make her tell everything she knew about Sam and Dean. But Y/n wasn’t letting up. She was trained to bear all this. She was told the monsters could capture her and torture her for all sorts of secrets. She was prepared for worse than this considering monster were merciless and but she’d came to the realisation that these people were worse than monsters, downright cruel.

“You can rest peacefully once you’ve told me everything you know. We don’t have to do this.” The blonde woman said softly but there was nothing kind about her.

“Fuck you.” Y/n managed to choke out that made Toni grab her face in her hand. Y/n spat at the woman infront of her staining her white shirt with her blood. “That’s even one percent of blood you have on your hands.” Y/n sneered.

The blonde woman was pissed off, she picked up a syringe and stabbed Y/n in the neck with it and left the room. Whatever it was in the syringe made her hallucinate. She saw Dean, but he wasn’t looking at her with kind eyes or giving her soft smile. He was approaching her menacingly, dragging a blade all over her body. She screamed and trashed in her chair. None of it was real but she didn’t know it. It felt real to her.

Dean’s heart was thudding against his ribcage as he drove the Impala towards the BMOL bunker. He thought of the worst. What if they had already killed her. He never would get an explanation. He would never get to tell her he loved her despite everything. That once again be was too late. He waited ten years to find her, hell he didn’t even find her himself and now he was too late to go to her apartment. If something happens to her he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He should’ve asked her to stay and tell him the whole truth.

Sam’s voice calling his name brought him out of the black hole he’d managed to get himself into. Sam told him they’re here and Dean should get out of his head and focus or he’d get someone killed. Or worse, himself.

Jacob’s truck broke through the security gate and Jody’s car followed behind. Dean stepped on the brakes and the Impala came to a screeching halt. The brothers jump out of the car and straight into action.

“I’m gonna go find Y/n.” Dean yelled over the sound of gunshots. Sam nodded before shooting at the guards.

“I’ll back you up.” Jody said following Dean without waiting for his approval.

Dean ventured inside the bunker shooting anyone who came in his way, kicking down doors and praying, to whoever was out there, for Y/n to be alive. Dean’s eyes darkened as he ran into Ketch. Just his luck and—the latter’s bad luck.

“Ah Dean. Here for the rescue I see.” Ketch taunted smugly. “I’d say you’re a bit too late.”

Dean’s jaw clenched at his words and he didn’t bother saying anything before attacking. “You see when I shot her in the leg, she lost a bit too much of blood.” Dean threw a punch at his face shutting him up. He grabbed his collar and smashed his head against the wall and continued to do so until Ketch managed to elbow him. He grunted before kicking him in the stomach. Ketch pulled out his gun and aimed at Dean. He heard a few gunshots from behind him. He turned to see four more guards shooting at him, he grabbed Ketch’s arm and made him shoot a guard and shot another with his own gun. The distraction had caused Ketch to slip away. The other two guards dropped and Dean turned to see Jody.

“I got this.” Jody yelled nodding at him to keep going. He gave her an appreciative nod and ran to find Ketch. He wasn’t gone too far and Dean didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head. As much as he wanted to rip his body limb to limb he didn’t have time to waste. He had to find Y/n. After making sure the asshole was dead Dean kicked down another door. His gazw landed on a figure tied to a chair. It was Y/n. He didn’t know how to feel. He was relieved over the she was alive but her seeing her in this condition was heartbreaking. Bruised, bloodied and broken. She was squirming in her chair begging and yelling,

“Don’t hurt me please.” She cried. “No…” she was breathing heavily and the what she said next broke him. “Dean please.”

It was as if Y/n was stuck in a loop. In her mind, Dean was torturing her, he was speaking vile words to her, telling her that she was just another girl in his bed. But standing in the doorway, Dean didn’t know what she was seeing or hearing. He needed to get her out of her. He quickly moved towards her and untied her wrists and ankles from the chair. She was still mumbling his name, begging him not to hurt her and Dean tried his hardest not to break down right there. He picked her up in his arms and ran out of the room.

The shooting seemed to have stopped. He found Donna on his way and she helped him get Y/n to the Impala, he laid her on the backseat as she seemed to have completely succumbed to unconsciousness. Before Dean could ask Donna about everyone’s whereabouts Sam and Jody came out helping Jacob walk, who seemed to be shot in the leg.

“Is she okay?” Sam asked as soon as he reached his brother. He shook his head and Sam urged him to quickly drive back to the bunker. The brothers got inside the car not before quickly thanking the fellow hunters for their help.

“Lay her there.” Sam instructed as he rushed to get the medical kit while Dean laid her on the map table. Dean watched as Sam dug the bullet out of her leg, disinfected the wound and stitched her up. He placed the bandage on it, wrapping it tightly to avoid it infecting the stitches. Dean held her hand tightly.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” He kissed her hand tightly. After Sam was done cleaning up her other wounds, which were mostly on her face and one on her collarbone. Dean picked her up took her to his room and laid her on the bed. He ran a hand over his face remembering how just a day before she was here in his bed, and he woke her up by kissing her all over her face and she smiled that beautiful smile he fell in love with.

Hours passed and Y/n didn’t wake up. Dean was quickly loosing faith but the only thing that gave him hope was the her slow heartbeat. It was weak but it was better than nothing.

“Y/n.” Dean voice cracked as tears were dripping down his cheeks. “Sweetheart please wake up. I need you. I have to…no I need to tell you I love you. I want to see those gorgeous eyes, baby please open them for me.” Still nothing.

“Dean.” Sam said entering the room. “You should clean up man, I’ll stay here until then.” He said standing next to his brother. Dean shook his head telling him no. He didn’t want her to wake up without him by her side. But Sam forced him to leave. He told he reeked of blood and it would overwhelm her once she woke up.

Another hour passed and Dean was back beside Y/n. He was sitting on the chair by his bed, staring into space. He heard a loud intake of breath beside him and he thought he had imagined it. He looked at Y/n and she her eyes were wide open. She looked at Dean and tried to sit up, backing up against the headboard, despite the pain she felt at the movement.

“Woah easy, sweetheart.” Dean raised his hands up but she looked terrified. Though it hurt him immensely he didn’t think too much about it. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” His voice soft and gentle. Not menacing like she last remembered. Her breathing regulated and she relaxed just a bit. He carefully reached his and glanced at the space beside her and she nodded. He took a seat at the bed and cupped her cheek, very slowly, not to scare her at his immediate touch. “You’re okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was convincing her or himself. For a whole minute neither of them spoke, he wanted to make sure it was all real and not some dream of his and she was too scared to say anything at all.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water okay?” Dean said softly and she nodded. He left the room and quickly found Sam to tell him she’s awake. He told Sam to bring something for her to eat and some painkillers. He handed her the glass of water that she gulped down in one go.

It seemed that after having a minute to herself everything came back to her. She looked at Dean with a guilt ridden face. Seeing him take care of her after all she’s done, she broke down.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.” Dean quickly wrapped his arms around her and she sobbed him his chest. “Please don’t hate me.” She cried while he held her close to him.

“Shh, we’ll talk about this later. Just calm down.” He sushed her to the best of his abilities. She shook her head, crying hysterically.

“I want to tell you everything, Dean. Everything.” She sniffled. “And I’ll accept whatever you decide but please just hear me out.” She begged him. She didn’t want him to leave her. And as much as she hated talking about it, she needed to tell him.

“Okay okay.” Dean said calmly, pulling away from her to look at her face. “We’ll talk, I promise. But first you gotta eat.” Dean said sternly. As if on cue, Sam entered the room with a tray in his hand. After she finished eating much to Dean’s satisfaction. She nervously wrung her hands on her lap not sure from where to start. Sam went to excuse himself to give them space but she stopped him.

“I owe you an explanation as much as I owe one to Dean.” Sam nodded, and stayed.

“First let me start off by saying I am sorry, I know sorry doesn’t cut it, I betrayed you when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “The truth is, hunting was not my family business.” She looked at Sam who nodded at her to continue. “Hell I didn’t even know my parents.” Dean gave her a empathetic look. “Me and my sister were raised by the Men of Letters. We were trained to be ruthless hunters.” She closed her eyes for a second before she opened them back. “I didn’t like their ways, i hated killing people, i hated shooting guns or using blades. I was fifteen….” Both brothers frowned at the information. “They had this initiation procedure, Doctor Hess locked me in a room with another girl. Only one of us was supposed to get out of there alive. The one who was worthy of being a part Men of Letters.” Sam and Dean looked horrified at the new information.

“How could they even-“ Sam trailed off and tears sprung to her eyes. Dean held her hand tightly.

“You don’t have to continue, sweetheart.” Y/n shook her head. She needed to let out now. She’d been holding onto it for years. It’s time she let go.

“Doctor Hess told me that the other girl wasn’t worthy and it was a test just for me. If I let her kill me deliberately she’d kill my little sister and it wouldn’t be an easy death.” She sobbed, her chest tightening with each word. “I had to kill her. I couldn’t let my sister be tortured by monsters. I killed her, I became worthy. I ran to Mick and cried in his arms. He was older and had been through the same thing, he had to kill his friend. But he wasn’t like them, heartless or cruel. He he consoled me. Then I became Men of letters. And then my sister died. Ketch shot her because I didn’t follow rules to save her during a mission. I started hated those rules, their methods more than I already did and four years later Mick helped me escape.” She turned to face Dean completely.

“When I first met you Dean, I had left all that behind. Hunting, monsters, Men of letters. But then years later Ketch found me. He wanted to kill me and I honestly should’ve let that happen. But then he decided to give me this job. He didn’t know I knew you. It was just cruel fate that I had been assigned this job.” She cupped his cheek in hand, her eyes sorrowful and guilty. “I didn’t want to do it the minute I found it was you but I had no option.” She cried and Dean placed his hand over hers, gently squeezing it. “I swear Dean, if it was just me I would’ve told you everything right away. I would’ve asked you to protect me and i knew you would’ve done it but I couldn’t leave Mick behind, again.”

“I understand, sweetheart.” Dean said wiping her tears away. Sam quickly slipped out of room since it was something only Y/n and Dean should talk about.

“But then he killed him too and I just couldn’t take it anymore. So many people have died because of me.” She was breathing hard, trying not to choke on her tears.

“Hey, look at me.” Dean gripped her chin with his fingers making her look at him. “None of it is your fault.” he cooed, urging her to calm down.

“Dean I’m so sorry, I know you must hate me but please don’t make me leave. Everything we had was real. It was all true.”

“I don’t hate you, baby.” He cupped her cheeks in his large hands. “Yes I was angry and I felt betrayed but now I know you’re not the culprit just a victim.”

“You believe that?” She asked through her tears.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head. “I need you to rest now. Can you do that for me?” She nodded her head, she knew she was exhausted but she wanted to talk to Dean first and that it’s over with, all she wants to do is rest. He helped her lay back on the bed.

“Dean, can you stay?” She was scared, that Ketch might get to her. That he will find her and kill her. Dean didn’t reply instead he joined her on the bed wrapping her in his arms. She immediately snuggled closer to him. “You know Dean, I feel safe with you.” She spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“You’re safe here with me, no one’s gonna hurt you here.” Dean replied tightening his hold on her.

“Not just physically.” She replied and he looked at her confused. “I don’t get night terrors when I’m in your arms. Do you remember I woke up panting the first night we slept together?” He nodded, remembering feeling the need protect her even then. “I saw her, that girl. She haunts me in my sleep but not when I sleep next to you.”

“Well I’m gonna keep you safe from every bad thing that’s out there. And you’re stuck here with me.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Dean. For giving me another chance. There’s no where I’d rather be.” Dean placed a kiss to her head.

They held each other close, their bodies perfectly fitting together. Wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms, a quiet peace settled over them. No words were needed—just the steady rhythm of their breathing in sync, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of their chests. Fingers lazily traced small circles on backs, while heads rested against one another, eyes closing in contentment. In that moment, the world outside faded, and all that mattered was the safety and calm found in each other’s embrace.

“Ketch’s dead.” Dean spoke and gasped looking up at him.

“What?”

“Yeah. I killed him. It was foolish for him to think he’d be spared after he what he did to my girl.” Dean growled and Y/n felt at her heart flutter at being called his girl.

“I love you Dean.” She blurted without thinking. Dean looked at her a bit shocked and she wondered if she’d ruin it all. Maybe she got too much inside her head. He had said he didn’t hate her, he said he understood her situation and maybe even forgave her but they never talked about beginning again, she had gotten ahead of herself.

Dean placed his lips on her softly and all of the bad thoughts were thrown out of her head. She kissed him back, desperately. As if her life depended on it. And maybe it did. Because was sure she wouldn’t be able to live a without Dean Winchester. He had her heart and her soul.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He whispered, brushing his lips against her ear and it sent a shiver down her spine. She hasn’t expected him to say it back, she didn’t expect him to be so sure.

“Dean..”

“Yes baby?”

“I just wanted you to know that I am ashamed for what I did and I need you to forgive me please.” She apologised, although she knew Dean didn’t have hard feelings for her but she needed him to know that she knows what she did was wrong.

“Don’t fret over it, honey.” Dean grinned at her, remembering that what she told him months back but when she didn’t smile his grin faltered.

“I just need you to say it.” She whispered lowly avoiding eye contact. He made her look at him.

“I forgive you Y/n.” He said firmly. “And I love you.”

Leaning in, their lips met in a kiss that was both a promise and a beginning, the final piece clicking into place. They’d been through so much, but they chose each other anyway. In that choice, they found something stronger than all the pain—each other. And that was enough.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Devils' Triangle Part 10

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine too) Imagine by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch (@tammykelly on hiatus) (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘) --> ALL CHAPTERS

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, succubus magic, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘 *divider by firefly-graphics

That's the thing about Midnite's. There is no shortage of cloistered nooks and crannies in which to stage a debauchery. John Wick already seems to have scoped this, as he carries you like you weigh nothing to the nearest shadowed booth, settling in with you on his lap like you never parted ways and it's just another Tuesday in the club. Even now, he will not give his back to the room. You try to turn but he holds you fast with one of those big hands around your throat, and the other already sliding up your thigh, under your skirt.

"John, I need–”

"Hush," he tells you, quiet but firm. "We've done things your way. Now, we're doing it mine."

As his long fingers dip past your pantyline you whimper and writhe back against him, that delicious hard bulge already pressing into your bottom. You've  never been so determined to be a good good girl for this very bad man.

"Please…" It's all you can manage, with his thick fingers exploring your wet slit, and this clawing, excruciating magic singing through your veins, wanting sex with every fibre of your being, undoubtedly made worse by your forbidden longing.

"What are you on, honey? Don't lie to me." His breath against your ear is just gasoline on the fire.

You laugh, and it comes out as a sob. "Succubus shit." It's all you can really think to call it.

You feel him pause behind you, a rare moment in which the legendary assassin isn't really sure what to do. Maybe he's seemed to take the eldritch aspects of your new world in stride, but it's still all pretty fucking weird to him.

"Ok, baby. We'll deal with it. I've got you."

“Call…Constantine,” you beg him, even as your hips are bucking against his hand. You should feel guilty. You should stop, because Constantine deserves better than you grinding on your ex in the den of your boyfriend’s enemies…but you can’t. You just can’t, and you are sure that bitch demoness planned it that way, but right now you are a slave to the magick she infected you with.

John, however, just snorts behind you. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, before snaking a hand into your hair, pulling your neck at an almost painful angle for a kiss. He devours you, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the magic has infected him too. His strong fingers between your legs are as merciless as his mouth, remembering maybe not how you like to be touched, but how to make you cum in spite of yourself. 

That howling need rises inside you, fierce as a hurricane, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Thank God & gods for John, for the inexorable strength in his arms–a lesser man couldn’t handle you, in this state. As it is, he struggles to hold on as you writhe against him, utterly, hopelessly desperate for relief. Surely that will break the spell? Sate whatever arcane magick the succubus filled you with?

In the end it is hard to say who is claiming whom, as you manage to turn in John’s lap so that you can straddle those tree trunks for thighs, and press your aching center to the hard bulge in his trousers without a care for who or what might be watching. 

And at Midnite’s, there is always someone watching.

You’ve never really got off on exhibitionism before, but now you are too power-drunk to care, having managed to loosen John’s tie and undo some of his shirt buttons in your ravenous craving for bare skin. “I need you.”

He slides down in the booth, giving you access to his belt while his paws for hands continue to roam under your skirt, his thumb never leaving your clit. He makes you work for it, smirking up at you, maybe taking some revenge for having to watch you in the arms of another man these past weeks. But when you free his impressive member into your hand, giving that thick velvety-smooth flesh an appreciative squeeze, you see it in his eyes. How badly he’s missed you–and he needs you too.

With zero patience left to your name you push your panties to the side and impale yourself upon him, taking him nearly to the hilt in your drenching wet cunt. This wins you a groan that feels like a victory, and you ride him at the pace you need. He can come along if he wants–but he’ll have to catch up.

“Fuck, baby…” He loops one arm around your waist, holding you against him, angling deeper.

“Make me cum, John,” you half beg, half taunt him. “I feel like I’ll die if I don’t cum.” The magick is riding you, filling you like searing hot lava beneath a volcano–if you don’t find a way to release it, it’s going to burn you alive.

“I’ve got you, y/n. My pretty girl, my perfect little one, still so tight for me.” He finds your nipple through the bodice of your dress, pinching and rubbing as he thrusts his hips for you. It’s all so good, and you know you’re done for a moment before it takes you, mind-numbing pleasure curling through your loins and up your spine with such force you feel like a tree split in two by lightning. The violence of it brings him with you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed. That is when you feel it–his very life essence, so proud and strong, and some of it passes into you, absorbed as your rightful due. 

This man has the heart of a wolf, and somehow you know, somewhere in the hindbrain where the seed of this ancient magick dwells, that he could feed you for days.

As though somehow he senses something of your new predatory nature, maybe even that you took something more from him besides his blown load, he meets your eyes, so defiant even while he sits beneath you with his hair still tangled in your fingers. “Alright, princessa. You want to play? We’ll play.”

Dark laughter spills from your lips that does not sound like you at all. Something is changing in you, and you don’t know how to stop it. You need Constantine. The thought surfaces and sinks again like a tiny toy boat whipped amongst stormy waves, scuttled to the depths by the weight of this ravenous magick coursing through you.

You’ve barely managed to right yourselves again, before he is bundling you out of the club through a side entrance, half carrying you with a firm arm about your waist. A vintage mustang awaits down the street, a sleek black ‘69 that purrs like a jungle cat when he turns the key.

If you were in your right mind, you would have noticed that John took off in the absolute opposite direction of the humble house your share with John Constantine. He goes north, up, up through the winding roads of the Hills, until it feels as though you are on top of the world.

If you were in your right mind, you would have been worried about the fact that you are in John Wick’s power again, and the formidable assassin seemingly has zero interest in returning you to your home or your chosen partner in life. He pulls up to a modern style mansion perched precariously on the peak of a mountain.

“What’s this?” you ask, lounging back in your seat, unconcerned as a cat.

“Rental,” he answers. “Got tired of that shack you're calling home.”

You find this amusing, reaching across the seats to run your hand up his thigh. “Does it make you mad, that I like my little house, John, with my wizard boy?”

The mention of John Constantine should absolutely fill you with guilt, but the grip of the succubus magic still doesn’t allow for it.

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve what makes me happy,” you answer cheekily. “It’s nice, not being totally poor,” you admit. “I do thank you for that. But the greed in this town is nothing but a rat race.”

“Money is power, malushka. I learned that a long time ago. So did you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s just a means to an end.” You climb into his lap, and he doesn’t stop you, kissing you with those long fingers twined in your hair. “Does all your money keep you warm at night?”

“Cruel. You know you’re the only woman I’ve wanted.”

“Do I?” you ask, tugging on his hair. “Then why’d you let me go?”

“No fucking idea anymore.”

Then he is guiding you out of the car, leading you by the hand through the front door, eager as a child on Christmas. The space is big. Luxurious. Modern. Huge banks of windows that look over the glittering city below. You only vaguely take it all in, because John’s mouth is on yours, and he is sweeping you off your feet in a bridal carry, porting you up the stairs like you are nothing but a feather. The magick has awoken in you again, no longer sated, ready for a second course. Something very far in the back of your brain is alarmed by this, afraid of what you will do to John, if this goes on without intervention.

For maybe the first time ever, you have this feeling that John Wick is not, in fact, in charge here, no matter the outward appearances.

He carries you to a bedroom, sets you onto a mattress that is soft as a cloud. Immediately he is on you, his hands and his mouth, pulling your sundress over your head and dragging your panties down your thighs. “I missed you. So. Fucking. Much.” Every word is punctuated with a wet kiss upon your skin, traveling higher and higher until he is so close to your center. His dark gaze rakes up your body, and something gives him pause.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your eyes are glowing.”

You smirk, even when you should be alarmed. 

“Rethinking calling the calvary?” you challenge, this time knowing Wick will never admit he can’t handle you himself.

“No,” he answers, his voice low and rough with desire. “I don’t feel like sharing you tonight.” He touches his tongue to your clit, licking lightly, tickling you the way he knows you can’t stand. You try to squirm away, but he holds you down with one big hand upon your belly, licking you harder, making you melt. He smirks up at you again, a dark glint in those polished jet irises that raises the hairs all across your skin, the magick surging to an unbearable prickling, an army of angry fire ants doing their worst to your tender flesh unless he touches you. “Tonight,” he tells you, “you belong to me.”

It may be true, but it’s a double edged sword, and he has no idea how sharp this supernatural blade can be.

***

You are killing him. 

You can feel it, every time you bring him to yet another luscious climax, some of his life force passes into you. This man, so indomitable in his strength, has finally met his match in this strange succubus magick that infects you.

You are sure it does not help, the fact that he is in love with you, has longed for you while watching you in the arms of another man. He cannot keep his hands off you, even past the point where even he would be dead asleep usually. It’s ironic, that his legendary stamina may prove to be the death of him. 

In the twilight just before dawn, the sated beast that dwells inside you grants you a moment of your own lucidity, a rare chance to regroup before you need his cock ramming inside you again. “John…” you urge him, kissing his chest because you cannot help yourself. “You have got to call them. Please.”

He strokes your hair with that careful tenderness that always filled your heart, made it so difficult to hate him when you had every fucking right to.

“Tired of me already, baby?” he teases sleepily. You can tell he is bone tired–utterly exhausted, almost haggard in a way you’ve never seen him. Spent and drained, in a way that is concerning to his health. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness to his cheeks.

“You know something weird is going on. Please? I’m scared. That succubus did something to me.”

“Why were you there, anyway?” he asks lazily, slowly turning to rifle through his discarded clothing on the floor for his phone. Relief floods you as he produces the device.

“I had to talk to Midnite.”

“About?”

“It’s personal.”

He snorts at that. “How many times have I been inside you tonight?”

Touché.

“Ok fine. I think I’m cursed.”

“How so?”

“It’s like…I’m some kind of magnet.”

“For?”

Bad men. 

Looking at him like this, rumpled from your lovemaking, those soulful dark eyes fixed on you–something shifts in your heart, and you can’t bring yourself to say it. This swell of emotion in you begins to call up other things, and you recognize the first signs of the demononic sex magic kindling inside you once more, lust stirring in your loins. You bow your head, your fingers clenching in the high-threadcount sheets.

“John. Call them. Now.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, tapping his screen with his thumb. It only rings once before you hear Tex’s voice on the other side of the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“Been a wild night,” John answers with a smirk. 

“The fuck does that mean?”

There’s a tussle, Constantine in the background trying to get the phone. You hear him demand, “Did he find her?”

“I’ve got her,” says Wick, sounding unbelievably smug. “Come to this address. Bring Wizard Boy.”

He gives the address and hangs up before they can ask for more details, or in Constantine’s case, sling more threats.

Hearing Constantine’s voice should absolutely inspire direst guilt within you, but at the moment all you feel is excitement. Tex and John are on their way, and you can’t wait to see them.

“We’ve got just enough time,” he muses, rolling on top of you with that half smile that always short circuited your brain.

“John…” you protest, even as you are twining your legs with his, rolling your hips against his growing hardness. Your clit pulses and purrs with approval, as his thick tip kisses your wet entrance.

“You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, y/n. I’d die a happy man in your arms.”

As his mouth claims yours you let the wave of scintillating magick wash over the both of you, losing yourself yet again to this insatiable lust, and your last real thought is that Constantine better hurry.

Sweetwolfcupcake: 

"Slow down wizard boy, I don't think we've got extra lives stacked up in your fridge."

"What is he even doing there with her? When did he even buy that house?" Constantine is fuming, yes. But more than that, he is concerned.

Tex's words do little to deter Constantine as he pushes on the accelerator firmer.

If a man like John Wick is asking for HIS help, he knows that something is awfully wrong. There is this feeling in his stomach...

"He's John Wick. What did ya expect? He'll wait and watch you parading your relationship with our girl."

"She isn't your woman anymore." He snaps, glancing at Tex briefly before focusing on the road again.

Constantine pushes on the accelerator harder, speeding through the isolated roads towards the given address. The fact that it is by the woods makes him anxious. Those woods have some tales he would rather not think of. You see, darkness lurks at every corner.

"We'll see about that when we reach their Wizard Boy."  Constantine knows that Tex knows John better, and his confidence in John unsettles him.

"How are you so chill about it all?"

"What's the matter Wizard boy, afraid to lose?"

This man...

"I wasn't the one who abandoned her, you know, I found her, she found me. We rebuilt each other."

"Careful there."

He won't admit it, but the way Tex's voice drops, it makes a man like Constantine straighten up a bit. Tex is a seasoned assassin after all. He and John, both are bad news to you, in Constantine's eyes, but it is ultimately up to you to decide. Hailing from a world people like him would rather not deal with.

You and Constantine were doing fine, were happy even. In his mind, he could trick himself into believing that happily ever after, or at least something akin to that existed. His happily ever after, if, he can dare to dream, was and is with you. But then, the night your past came knowing at his door. And everything changed.

Looking at Tex right now, there is something selfish in Constantine that likes to imagine what if the two of them---Tex and John never came back. It would have been just you and him.

But whom is he kidding? He sees it in your eyes, he feels it. Your love for them runs deeper than it is apparent. But there is something else at play. He hasn't been able to focus or put a pin on it but...He can feel it. it's like a faint smell at some corner that he hasn't been able to figure out.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence before his car reaches the place. The closer Constantine gets, the faster his heart beats.

He presses on the doorbell desperately, and his hold on his took box tightens in anticipation. Oh, he is familiar with this energy. He knows this energy. Something demonic.

John answers the door with dishevelled hair and tired eyes.

"Where's she?"

Even before John can answer, Constantine pushes past him, letting his intuition take the lead. He opens the bedroom door to see you sprawled on the bed. You are every bit of a seductive painting from a classic and the room is vibrating with the energy, the spell that pulses in your veins at the moment.

"Oh boy..."

The box drops from his hold as soon as your gleaming, blown-out eyes meet his.

"What's wrong with her?" Tex comes up behind him, his voice lacks the usual playful tinge as he eyes you.

"It's killing her. Consuming her, getting hold of her. Her body, mind, now her soul."

Constantine whispers out, pushing Tex behind him. He is the most vulnerable out of the three at the moment.

"I found her at the club. Some succubus spell I guess." John runs his fingers through his wild mane, telling Constantine what he knows and can decipher.

"Gear up,"

Constantine warns before reaching for his box on the floor. Perhaps, this is his true test.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

“Watcha doin Johnny?” You ask, stretching like a lazy cat, eyes dulled pink and wide, the length of your body novel and vintage all in the same. His cock is already much, much harder than it should be.

“Fuck.” Tex leans on the doorway. “Look at you.” 

John’s T-shirt rides up your thighs as you scooch to the end of the bed, smiling and glowing, imbued with wicked sex magic that even Constantine is having trouble thinking past. 

“Tex,” Constantine warns, “I wouldn’t. This type of magic puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, “fuck the life out of you.””

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Tex murmurs, stepping a little further into the room. 

The part of you that cares whether or not you drain the life from each of them through their cocks is dwindling terrifyingly fast. You’ve never felt so powerful, or horny. Salivating for Tex’s broad frame and big, veiny hands that you know the capabilities of. 

“It’s not bad at all,” Wick agrees, kneeling down next to Constantine. “A great way to die.”

Constantine glares at both of them. “How about back the fuck up?” He thinks for a minute, putting his sweaty head in his hands, trying to shake some of this raw, possessive feeling clouding his mind. It’s hard to do, especially when you’re fucking his. His girl. His. They lost their chance a long time ago. 

“Too late for that,” John says, watching him rummage through the confines of his suitcase for something useful. It’s a bit like trying to focus on reading while at a Metallica concert. 

“John,” you say, before he can wrap his hand around Wick’s throat, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I just needed—“

“Angel,” he interrupts, eyes soft milk chocolate for you, Adam’s apple bobbing in that way it does when you have him tied to bed, slowly nipping and sucking your way down his tummy to his leaking cock. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna fix this.” 

“I know I just…I missed you so much. Can you hold me?” It’s the most convincing argument he’s ever heard, especially when you stretch out your arms to him with those big candy pink eyes. 

“Christ,” he grits. 

“Fuckface,” Tex is saying to Wick. They are toe to toe. “How long were you planning on keeping her all to yourself, huh?” 

Wick smiles, pretending to think about it. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” 

You put yourself between them, fast and agile, like little Catwoman sliding into a 1v1 with Batman and Superman. “Stop it,” you tell Tex, leaning up on tiptoes to thread your arms around his neck. 

John’s hands wrap around your hips, and you lean back against him while Tex eyes the kiss bruised skin of your throat. It doesn’t take long for his teeth to sink in. 

“Stop,” Constantine commands, trying to get you out from between them. John grabs him by the collar while Tex licks and kisses down your sternum, into the valley of your breasts, saliva coating John’s shirt. 

“Gonna fuck you stupid,” Tex says against the pert flesh of your nipple. 

“Let me go, you fucking idiot,” Constantine hisses, as Wick backs him up against the wall, nearly removing his feet from the ground with the force of his body. Even drained of his eight lives and clinging weakly to the ninth, John’s strength is un-fucking-matched. It makes you throb. 

No, you’re already past throbbing. Convulsing, as Tex sucks on your nipples and kneads your ass. 

“John,” you call, and the low whiny pant of your voice stops this testosterone quarrel dead in its tracks. “Please don’t fight.”

“Angel…” Constantine says, while Wick just grins at you. 

“Just…C’mere.” 

As far as these men are concerned, you might as well be a famous lawyer with the way you win that fight before it can even start.

You’re not sure whose hands or mouth is whose. Only that they are all over you, and you are ending and beginning all at once. A fire in you, blazing so fully it consumes and destroys everything you are or want to be. Just a fucktoy, a cocksleeve, a desperate fucking whore who gets on her knees and licks and sucks and swallows. 

John’s lucky he has a big enough bed to fit all of you. Lucky he can devour your tits while Tex lets a big glob of saliva fall from his tongue onto your pulsing pussy, then dives in. You’re not sure where Constantine is, until you feel his mouth on yours, kissing you like you mean something to him. Like you’re the only thing in this fucking world that matters. 

He pulls away, hand on your chin, pushing your sweaty hair back from your face, and you know that he loves you. That they all do. But it’s not enough. You need more. Need something that transcends love and devotion. 

Wick is right, money is power, and so is sex. You look up at Constantine, hand threaded through Tex’s hair, chest red and swollen from John’s tongue, panting and heaving and drooling after losing yourself and finding God so many times already. “John,” you call, “come to me.” 

“We’re fucked,” he says, before descending back into your mouth.

tbc...

[aeferfckr]

stress reliever

"if you ever need a stress reliever, i'm here." he wonders just how willing you are to live up to your words.

content warnings. smut read at ur own risk. gender neutral reader. asshole aether agenda (delulu). overworked!aether. petnames (slut, pretty, whore). degradation. rough sex. (kinda) aftercare (717 wrds.)

"traveler! help me deliver this package!"

"hey, traveler! wipe out this camp for me!"

"traveler! i lost my keys!"

"traveler!" this, "traveler!" that, "traveler!" "traveler!" "traveler!" he was sick of it.

the last thing aether expected was becoming everyone's little service dog while making his way through teyvat.

sure, sometimes it paid off. the connections he's made have definitely been used in multiple scenarios, but nothing could really prepare him for the workload dropped on him.

he always accepted their requests with a smile, and a quick 'i'll see it done!' but what about when he needed something?

trying to find his sister was the main mission for his journey. he asked for help but all he got was missing person posters placed in peculliar places (its the thought that counts, amber...).

when he found out the reason for his sister's disappearance, the reason for why she woke up before him, he shut down.

maybe by fate he ran into you that night, his body falls at ease in the couch as he sits beside you, while his fists ball up at the comment you made the other day

"if you ever need a stress reliever, i'm here."

his vision darkens, he wonders just how willing you are to live up to your words.

:::

the mouth that curves into the sweetest smile while helping others spew degrading words with ease — slut, bitch, whore, and the like.

his pace as relentless as his words, his dick piercing you with such ease as the sounds of skin making contact fill the room.

he had you face down ass up, holding you down by the neck as he recently attacks your hole. your screams muffled by the silk flower sheets as aether growls into your ear.

"you fucking slut. you like to be pounded like this, huh?"

he’s met with muffled grunts and whines as he laughs deeply

“hmm? pretty little thing to cockdrunk to respond? i know how to make this slutty little hole of yours shout my name”

and that he did.

he adjusts his hold on your nape, moving it under your chin to hoist you up to him. he presses his chest against your back as you hold onto his thighs for dear life, screaming while choking from the merciless grip on your throat.

“you like that, whore?” he whispers to you, using his free hand to tweak your budding nipple “like being fucked dumb on my cock?”

you nod with scrunched up eyes your mouth agape and a small trail of drool coming from your mouth. aether laughs again as he kisses your cheek then attacks your neck, blooming dark spots along your neck and collarbone with his teeth.

“ae– hmmgf– aether!” you manage to moan out, “g-gonna cum!”

edge after edge and you still declare when your orgasm is approaching? god…

“you’re pathetic.” he spits, tightening the grip on your jugular as he quickens his unbelievably fast advamces. “cum for me, slut.”

your voice hits an all time high as your orgasm crashes over you, (more like shocks your core and rocks your entire world) the position that you were in made sure that aether’s dick kisses your cervix deliciously.

you crash back onto the sheets as aether hurriedly rubs his cock, spurts of white decorating your back and ass as he growls praise’s through clenched teeth.

:::

"oh my gods. i am so sorry"

maybe you were too into it to remember your fairly busy schedule the next day. you had to call in sick at the very last minute as aether's stress has rendered you weak in the knees. no literally, it hurt to walk.

aether isn't fairing any better as he profusedly apologized for going too hard.

"i can do what you were gonna do today! i don't mind!" he offers with exaggerated expressions, his arms flailing around as his face scrunches up with anxiety.

you cup his face to calm him down,

"aether, the only thing you can do for me right now is to stay with me until noon." you yawn, "the both of us needs the rest, okay?"

his thoughts slow down as his heart aret speeds up, looking at your dazed smile and the tears that are created along your eye when you yawned,

"okay."

© aeferfckr // mlist.

[aliciavance4228]

Finally Made a List With Modern Interpretations of the Greek Gods Which I Personally Dislike

Zeus is an incompetent asshole uncapable of rulling who took Hades' rightful position as the King of the Gods by cheating during the Division of the Cosmos;

Poseidon is just a cool funny chill uncle who likes swimming and probably smokes weed;

Hades is an emo feminist woobie who only wants to love his pastel goth wife and his beloved dog Spot;

Hera is only a victim of Zeus and every bad thing that she does is 100% because of him;

The polar opposite where Hera is a complete monster and a psychotic bitch who only cares about cursing and killing the women her poor innocent husband has slept with and his bastards;

Demeter is a Helicopter Parent/Overbearing Mother who still used to treat her daughter like a child before Hades kidnapped her and is completely horrible for standing against their pure and innocent love.

Hestia is a hypocrite lesbian (you know what I'm talking about);

Hestia who?

Athena is a shy, socially awkard nerd;

Athena is a feminist who only wanted to protect Medusa and hates love (and men);

Athena is a pick-me girl who never helped nor supported any woman during her entire eternity;

Hephaestus is an Incel who deserved to be cheated on;

Ares is the protector of women who is unfairly hated by the other gods, never raped nor abused any woman during his entire life and wants to overthrow his father for being a patriarchal figure;

Aphrodite is a brainless slut who only cares about herself, and the only way to redempt herself is being together with Hephaestus again;

Apollo is a piece of shit who thinks that he's better than anyone else and ruined Patrochilles FOREVAAAH!!!

Apollo is a bicon and femboy who never raped, murdered or cursed anyone.

Artemis is a lesbian misandrisst feminist icon;

Hermes is just the comic relief;

Dionysus is a dirty drunk old man;

Dionysus is an LGBTQ+ feminist icon ready to kill the bigots; (Yeah right, the LGBTQ+ Community of Ancient Greece...)

Persephone is an innocent flower girl who still looks and acts like a child and had no idea what sex is until she had her sexual awakening in the Underworld;

Persephone is a bad bitch, she's more dreadful and merciless than Hades, hates flowers or being a goddess of nature and 100% wanted to be kidnapped/willingly went with Hades;

Feel free to add anything else.

[octoberautumnbox]

https://x.com/RREFP22/status/1795434393097646152

YulYen campus threesome. The short skirts are making me feel things

AWW THEY'RE ADORABLE JHGKJSHFDKJH I MISS YULYEN SO BAD WHY DIDNT THEY JUST SING TOGETHERRRRR

~~~

(warning: con-noncon)

Yena slams Yuri right up against a nearby wall. Her palm connects with Yuri's throat, keeping her in place, and her fingers squeeze around her windpipe, not to choke, but to warn. "Don't embarrass me like that again." Her eyes are intense behind her shades, smoke nearly coming out the top of her head, but Yuri remains unfazed.

"Come on, you look ridiculous, unnie," she sings. She pulls off Yena's eye coverings and takes a quick look, then discards them off to the side. "It isn't even that bad. Nobody would have noti-- Ghk!"

Yena follows through with her threat, her hand constricting Yuri's throat harshly. It forces the younger's mouth open and the reflex makes her tongue stick out. The two make eye contact, Yuri's wide-eyed gaze against Yena's murderous stare.

"Fuck. You." The younger almost doesn't see it, but at the last second she's able to spot the older's other palm rise high and threaten her with a slap. She flinches, but for the wrong reason, and Yena swipes at the chance to take Yuri's tongue in her mouth.

All the while Yuri frantically tries clawing her unnie's hand away from her throat, she leaks her spit conveniently for Yena to lap up in the opportune moments and let her dongsaeng breathe just a little bit of fresh air.

And true to Yuri's own character, the continued semi-lack of air and her unnie's insistence on this poorly-timed makeout session send the wrong signal to her core, her libido rising in the worst possible situation for her at the moment. She feels herself getting wetter down there, and true to Yena's character, she knows.

The older tosses the younger to the floor by the neck, and Yuri chokes on her spit and the sudden increase of air she accidentally inhales. She tries catching her breath on the ground, the world still spinning around her, and before she knows it, Yena is able to maneuver her onto all fours.

"Unnie, please, I'm sor-- hngg~!" It turns out Yuri was less aware of her surroundings after all, and in the apparently not-so-short time she was on the ground Yena was able to strip her of her shorts. She was also able to push three fingers into Yuri's core, all the while threatening a fourth.

"Apologize by cumming on my hand, fucking bitch." In no way at all was Yena gentle or considerate, and Yuri felt every ounce of her wrath through the merciless fingerblasting she was being subjected to. The last rational thought in her head thanks her lucky stars she was wet to begin with, otherwise it'd be impossible to muffle the panicked moans that try to escape her mouth.

Yena feels her former member clench and leak more, telltale signs that she's getting close. She bends her finger inside her to start hitting Yuri's favorite spots, forcing her to increase in volume and shame.

"You fucking slut, being this loud when someone could hear you and just walk right in. You're even enjoying this, aren't you?" Each word stabs at Yuri's heart: all of it is true, and she can't deny it. She lets her unnie feel how tight she's getting to be, and it fills her with shame how she's nearly there, almost there...

And it comes earlier than expected. The pleasure finally peaks and Yuri's floodgates come crashing open. "AAAAHHHHHHH!!" she screams, having lost control of herself and now in a mere freefall of wrongful pleasure. Her cum shoots out of her in messy streaks all over the floor beneath her crotch, all the while she tries burying her face in her hands to hide how this feels so good.

Once her orgasm starts fading out, Yena pulls out her fingers from Yuri's abused pussy. She pulls Yuri up by the hair, making sure the poor girl can see as her beloved unnie licks up all she can of her essence on her fingers. It fills Yuri with a deep sense of embarrassment to get off in such a way, but she can't help it— it's Yena.

"Mmm, delicious. Don't disrespect me again, whore. Don't make me teach you this lesson another time." Yuri is tossed to the floor again, weak and out of breath. Just as Yena gets up, Yuri grabs her ankle in the hopes of delivering her final words:

"I thought... we only do this stuff... at home?" Her speech is impeded by deep breaths that try to make up for her sore lack of air.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Got carried away, hehe. You okay?" She kisses Yuri on the forehead in apology. "Text me, baby. Gotta go, my turn with the fans."

"Okay... Just finish the job later." Yena sprints off to the center of the stage, leaving Yuri lying on the floor.

[scoonsalicious]

8.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence, death, nightmares.

Word Count: 1.8k

Previously On...: Sexy times ensued, you went back to the compound with Bucky.

A/N: I got nothing today, lol

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

The sun was an oppressive force, beating down mercilessly on Major and her unit as they trekked through the rocky outcrops. The air was thick and suffocating, making each breath a struggle in itself. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes and soaking her clothes beneath the heavy body armor she wore. 

The weight of her gear – body armor, helmet, ammunition, weapons, and equipment – felt unbearable. Each piece pressed down on her body, making her feel trapped and weighed down, claustrophobic. Each step was painful– the metal elements of her gear, heated by the merciless sun, burned against her skin and the rough fabric of her uniform chafed, creating raw, painful spots where her gear rubbed against her body.

As Major moved beneath the blistering Afghanistan sun, she licked at her cracked lips, but her tongue was bone dry. Every muscle in her body was aching with fatigue, the oppressive heat sapping her energy. 

Her vision blurred, the combined effects of the heat and dehydration, and she blinked several times to clear her vision.

She looked back at the line of troops following her– the men and women who had volunteered for this mission, who were willing to put their already endangered lives at further risk to go behind enemy lines at her command. In the distance, she could still make out the sounds of battle around them: the distant gunfire, the low hum of helicopters, the crackling of radios.

Trying to ignore the pounding of her heart, Major paused to double-check her map and GPS before leading her unit through a narrow, rocky pass. The terrain was difficult and treacherous, and she needed to be careful of her footing. A slip or fall out here could mean putting the entire mission in jeopardy if they had to call for rescue. That was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

This hadn’t been the only route to reach their objective; after careful consideration, Major had selected the shortcut for the time it would cut off from their overall mission. Her second in command, Sergeant Lee Daniels, had protested, warning that the area hadn’t been properly scouted, and therefore the unit couldn’t be sure what might await them within the pass. In the end, though, it had been Major’s call, and she was confident in her decision. 

“I trust you completely, Major,” Daniels had said to her before they began the mission. “If you’re convinced this is the right way to go, I’ll follow you.”

The unit had trekked their way through the rocky pass, guns at the ready and eyes constantly scanning the outcroppings for any signs of an enemy presence, but so far, all had been quiet. 

The silence was broken by a deafening explosion ripping through the air, and Major was thrown to the ground. She struggled to regain her senses, ears ringing and vision blurred by dust and smoke. She fought to quell the rising panic surging through her as she tried to visually assess the state of her team.

They had scattered– some wounded, others scrambling for cover through the haze of dust and debris filtering through the air.

Through the chaos, she could hear the sound of one of her men shouting “IED! We’re hit!”

Scrambling to her feet, Major felt her heart nearly pounding out of her chest with both fear and guilt. She was the one who had insisted on this path. She was the one who had dismissed Daniels’ earlier concerns about potential threats in the area. And now, as the dust began to settle, she spotted Daniels, lying on the ground, his body twisted and covered in blood. Somehow, through the madness, his eyes had managed to find hers, and he locked onto her gaze with pain and confusion

“Daniels!” Major screamed as she rushed to his side. She reached down, trying to apply pressure to his wounds, but her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She watched helplessly as blood began seeping through her fingers, staining the tips crimson. “I’m sorry, Daniels. I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, but her apologies were no use.

In his final moments, Daniels’ voice was weak, but still he managed to whisper, “It wasn’t your fault, Major. It happens…” His words hung in the air, hollow and meaningless to her. As she watched, the life drained from his eyes, and his hand went limp in hers.

The next thing Major knew, she was standing alone in a vast, empty desert, the silence oppressive. The sky darkened, and shadows stretched across the sand, morphing into the shape of a man. As the shadows solidified, Daniels' features appeared within them, his eyes filled with the same haunting look of pain… and betrayal.

“Why did you lead us here, Major?” his voice echoes, blending with the wind. “You knew the risks. Was my life really worth saving a few hours?”

Major tried to explain, to beg for Daniels’ forgiveness, but no words would come out. Her mouth moved silently, her throat constricted with grief and guilt. The shadows multiply, surrounding her with an infinite number of Daniels that close in around her, their faces accusing, their voices a chorus of anguish.

“You should have listened,” they chanted. “You should have protected us.”

The ground beneath Major began to crumble, and she felt herself sinking into the darkness. She reached out, desperate to hold onto something, anything, but her hands only grasped at empty air. She was falling, falling into an abyss of her own making, surrounded by the echoes of her mistakes and the faces of the one she couldn’t save.

You woke with a start, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat; the t-shirt of Bucky’s you’d gone to sleep in plastered to your skin. You put a hand to your chest– your heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it might burst from your ribcage. The darkness surrounding you felt suffocating, and as your eyes adjusted to it, you began to panic– this was not your room, and in your anxiety-fueled state, you were convinced you were still trapped in the abyss of your nightmare.

No, you reminded herself. You weren’t trapped in the abyss– you were in Bucky’s room. You were safe. You were someplace where the memory dream could no longer hurt you.

“Sugar?” You felt Bucky sit up next to you and slide his arms around your waist. “Are you alright?”

As the adrenaline pumping through your system began to fade, you were hit with an almost unbearable weight of embarrassment. “Yeah,” you croaked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Bucky.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, leaning over to flick on his bedside lamp, and you breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the receding dark. “I know what a nightmare looks like, doll. Have to say, I’m usually the one waking up screaming from ‘em, though.”

You turned your head to look over at him, and saw no recrimination or judgment in his eyes, simply understanding. “You get them, too?” you asked him, your voice small.

Bucky nodded and reached over to tuck a strand of hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead. “Used to get them every night, when I first got away from Hydra,” he confessed. “Sometimes, my body would wake up, but my mind would still be stuck in the dream. I’d get violent. Hurt myself. Punched Steve once when he had the bad idea of tryin’ to wake me up from one.”

You offered him a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “How’d you get them to stop?” you asked.

Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned back against the headboard, pulling you into him so that you were leaning against his chest. “They didn’t,” he admitted. “They’re not nearly so frequent now– maybe one every handful of months, but they’ve never gone away.”

“It’s been a while since I had one,” you told him. “I think… I think sleeping in a different place might have set me off.”

Bucky’s expression turned apologetic. “Oh, doll,” he began, “I’m so sorry– if I’d known, I never woulda insisted on you spending the night here. We coulda gone to your place–”

You shook your head, wanting to dispel him of any notion of guilt he might have. “No, no, Bucky. It’s not your fault. I wanted to spend the night here with you.” You sighed. “How… how’d you learn to deal with them, without letting them drive you crazy?”

Bucky chuckled as he ran his hand up and down your arm, and you could feel the vibrations of it through his chest and against your back. It made you feel warm and safe. “Lily was actually a big help with that,” he said. “She was staying at the Compound for a few weeks while renovations were being done on her house in town, and one night, she heard me havin’ a nightmare. She busted through the door and woke me outta it. Offered to stay with me til I fell back asleep. Some nights, I just couldn’t, so she’d stay up til dawn just talkin’ to me, gettin’ my mind off of it. I think it’s what helped us become such good friends,” he admitted. “She was there for me when everyone else thought I was crazy. Unstable. She made sure I wasn’t alone.”

You felt a twinge of… something at Bucky’s words. While you were glad he’d had someone with him, someone to help him through all of those horrible nights, you couldn’t help but feel envious of the intimacy it would have created between him and Lily, the way she had been there for him and the bond that had resulted because of it. Just acknowledging the thought made you disgusted with yourself.

“I’m thankful you had her,” you told him, choosing to focus on the positive component of his revelation instead of your negative emotions. “I imagine having someone to talk to about your nightmares helped take away some of their power.”

Bucky hummed behind you. “That’s a really good way of putting it, sugar, and I think you’re right.” He kissed your temple. “So, let me be that someone for you, yeah? Let me be the person you talk about your nightmares with, so we can take away their power over you.”

His offer made your chest ache with gratitude and affection. Here he was, offering to create that intimacy, that bond, with you. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“We don’t have to start talking about them right now,” Bucky said. “Or even tonight. We’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” you said, turning your head so you could nuzzle your cheek against his chest. “I don’t know that I’m ready to talk about it right this minute, but knowing that you’ll be there to listen? Well, it means a lot to me, Bucky.” “You mean a lot to me, Major,” he clarified. “And I want to spend as long as you’ll let me proving that to you.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[charliedawn]

Hi Charlie, your stories are good and I wanted to ask you without bothering you what would happen if the reader who took care of the slashers would take care of the children of the Laika studio Coraline, Norman, Eggs, Kubo and Prue (it would be nice to see the reaction of Kevin or Brahms)

(Thank you for the idea ! I had to change a few things, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it !)

Agatha Prenderghast and the Penny Brothers:

It was not long after Penny was born. The witches trials were still common and a lot of people suffered from the unfairness of the world controlled by fear. Many people died, but the Penny Brothers didn’t care about any of them. They could eat their fill while enjoying the show with malicious satisfaction…until one day.

"AGATHA PRENDERGHAST ! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF WITCHCRAFT AND HAVE BEEN THEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH BY HANGING !"

Both the Penny Brothers looked up at the gallows—grinning at the familiar scent of fear and impeding death. But then…they saw a small child advance forth. Her eyes were filled with tears and she was shaking as the people of the town pushed her forward with nothing but loathing and contempt in their eyes as a cord was bound around her neck. She looked up at the dark sky above and started praying.

"…Please, god. I do not want to die." Her prayer echoed across the merciless assembly who started throwing rotten vegetables and eggs at her. But, she stood straight with her eyes fixed towards the sky. If she was to die, she found consolation about soon being with her mother. However, both Penny Brothers could feel that the child was different—special. They could sense the power emanating from her in waves.

Such a powerful child was sure to be a feast for them both once ripe…They looked at each other and grinned in silent understanding. They agreed. That child was to live. Aggie closed her eyes just as she was about to be hung…But reopened them almost immediately as she heard loud screams and desperate pleading and prayers unanswered as the townspeople were devoured by two horrifying monsters who ripped them to shreds in a matter of seconds. They tear through flesh like mere butter and drank their blood as if it was of the most exquisite wine—their eyes gleaming ominously in the darkness.

…And then, there was nothing but dead silence.

Agatha saw the two…beasts…approach her. They stood in front of her and Agatha’s breath hitched. Was it her turn ? She closed her eyes and prayed for a quick and painless death.

But…

She was shocked when one of the monsters cut the cord that held her in place and she fell onto her knees before them. She looked up at them and her lips trembled as she uttered a pitiful thank you. But both clowns only laughed mockingly at her misplaced expression of gratitude. Her eyes widened at their hellish laughters and she fell back—terror gripping her heart. She could now see that it wasn’t their mercy who had saved her…

"W-Who are you ?" She finally asked—terrified.

They both offered her a bloody smile who spoke for themselves of dark and terrible intentions.

"We have many names, Aggie. But you—child—will call us…god."

Eggs and Winnie/Bo and Freddy:

Freddy and Bo didn’t know how they had ended up in this weird town on top of a mountain, but they had nonetheless suddenly found themselves falling from the sky straight into piles of garbage. Bo was impaled by two old and rusty poles while Freddy landed on a pile of nailed wooden boxes. Both got stuck.

Freddy: "Get me outta those damn boxes, bitch !"

Bo *groans in annoyance* : "I’ve got a stick up my shoulder and another shoved up my ass—wait a damn second."

Freddy: "Hurry the fuck up and come help me then, you dumbass !"

Bo: "I said hold the fuck up, or I’m leavin’ ya here !"

They started bickering loudly and Eggs as well as his friend Winnie found them.

Winnie: "Who are those two ?"

Eggs: "Hum…I don’t know."

Winnie: "Isn’t that one a boxtroll ?"

Eggs: "Which one ?"

Winnie: "The short, red and angry-looking one ?"

Eggs *shakes his head negatively*: "Nuh-huh. Boxtrolls don’t swear that much."

Winnie *hesitates* : "…Should we help them ?"

Eggs *looks at the two men* : "I…am not sure."

Finally, they heard people coming and had no choice but to help the two men to get out of the garbage. Then the both of them who followed the kids—pursued by an angry mob who started throwing stones at them. But then, an infernal machine came out of nowhere with a man riding it—Snatcher as the kids called him. Snatcher started laughing before capturing the box trolls and the two kids who had helped Freddy and Bo.

Bo: "A’right ! Enough of this shit ! Release the kids, or am gonna pierce ya with so many holes that they gonna call ya swiss cheese, ugly !"

Snatcher *laughs harder* : "Try it ! I dare you !"

Bo—who had had enough of all this and couldn’t stand the guy—grabbed his rifle and started shooting at him while Freddy used his sharp blades to free the box trolls and the kids who had helped them.

Freddy *grabs the kids and runs away with the boxtrolls* : "I HATE THIS FUCKIN’ TOWN !"

Jason and Brahms/Kubo:

Both Jason and Brahms appeared during Kubo’s long journey to find a way to stop the Moon King. They followed him and helped him as well as protected him along his long and perilous journey with Kubo’s parents in exchange for something that both Jason and Brahms loved most—stories.

In the middle of the battle of Kubo with his grandfather the Moon King and his aunts, they saw the boy fighting and had no choice but to help him. They didn’t have the time to think too much about what to do. They saw the kid facing monsters and Brahms acted first. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Kubo and immediately thought *new friend* and *must protect*. He grabbed the boy and ran away with him. The aunts of Kubo tried to follow them, but Jason took the two of them by the legs and threw them to the ground and before either of them could protest or fight back, he brought down his machete mercilessly on them until they were but two piles of mush on the ground.

Kubo who had witnessed the massacre gulped and didn’t know if he should thank the giant or be terrified of him. Surely both.

Finally, the Moon King arrived and Kubo managed to defeat him. At the end, he thanked Brahms and Jason before the village threw a feast in their honour. Kubo then started telling a story…about two giants who helped the hero defeat the Moon King and bring back peace throughout the land.

Michael Myers and Coraline:

Coraline was walking around the Other House in search of the ghost children’s eyes when she found something that didn’t seem to belong…a pair of legs sticking out of a bush. She didn’t know what it was and thought it was a scarecrow at first. She decided to get it upright and was surprised to find that it was a man. A large, tall and very strong man.

They both seemed as surprised as each other as to this rather odd encounter and Coraline narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"Who are you ? Are you one of the Other Mother’s goons ?"

Michael didn’t answer and only tilted his head questioningly at her.

"…Are you a mute ?" Coraline asked and Michael nodded. She sighed before looking around the garden with a triangular green stone in her hand to keep searching for the ghost children’s eyes. Michael—who had nothing better to do—followed her. They started looking around together and Michael decided to protect Coraline as murderous plants and other crazy creatures tried to kill her.

And when they had collected the ghost children’s eyes, Michael saw the Other Mother about to attack Coraline and didn’t think twice before grabbing her and tearing her limb from limb—literally. He started pulling apart her arms and numerous legs as if she was nothing but a weak spider. He was covered with dark blood while the Other Mother was screaming, screeching and wailing in agonising pain in her own spiderweb…When he was finished, he started climbing up the spiderweb—but the Other Mother managed to bite his leg as he was climbing up. He groaned in pain before the Other Mother pulled him back down. He then proceeded to tear the Other Mother’s head off and crush it.

When he looked up, he expected the girl to have already left and closed the door behind her…but his eyes widened as he saw Coraline waiting for him. She held out a hand towards him and smiled.

"Come on. Let’s get out of here."

He grabbed her hand and they proceeded to get out of the Other World together. (Even though Michael had trouble going through the small door…)

[whatitshouldvebeen]

“…stops the moment being with you is more difficult than it worth…” ((this is from your post a couple days ago))

Imagine a timid, broken reader trying to win back Johnny’s affection. He’s abusive but to her its still affection he gives and she can’t live without him. She has attached herself to this killer.

“If it will make you happy… you can hit me… you can pull my hair.. or choke me… I’ll even make you feel good… just don’t stay mad…please”

Johnny Slaughter x Reader

Contains: extreme abuse, gas lighting, and the unhealthiest relationship known to man

Too Much Trouble

In the dimly lit room, Johnny's return was heralded by waves of pure hate that seemed to radiate off him.

"You stupid fucking bitch," Johnny snarled, his silhouette looming menacingly in the doorway, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed, collapsing to your knees with hands clasped in front of you, a desperate plea for mercy echoing in your voice, a prayer to a merciless, vindictive God.

He stood there, a simmering rage evident as his fists clenched and unfurled.

"Johnny, please don't stay mad," you pleaded, bowing your head submissively. "I'll do anything. You can hit me, choke me, or do whatever you want to me. I am so, so sorry."

"You're sorry, huh? How many fucking times have I heard that bullshit?" His open palm met your cheek with a resounding slap, reducing you to grovel at his feet, tears streaming down your face, your cheek ablaze with red.

"I don't need your permission to beat you, you little rat fuck."

"You're right, I'm sorry," you muttered, nodding erratically.

"You're gonna be sorry. This time, I'm not holding back."

His kick landed squarely in your stomach, the force sending you sprawling onto the floor, clutching your abdomen in agony.

The illusion shattered again. The happy façade crumbled, the façade you could pretend was your reality when Johnny was pleased with you, when you were perfect.

He had expected you to pack him a meal when he went out to "work," criticizing you for forgetting his snack for a week. You leaped up, ran to the kitchen, and returned with the snack, only to face his wrath.

"Just like you to be a full-blown fucking retard. Can't listen for one goddamn minute. If I wanted you to go get me a fucking snack right this second, I woulda said to do it," he complained.

"I didn't realize you'd been without one for so long, so I felt bad and wanted to fix it. I shouldn't have worried about it right now, and I'm sorry," you said, attempting to de-escalate the situation.

"Can't go a fucking week without making me explain some basic shit to you. If you thought I cared about the fucking snack, maybe ask if you should go pack it instead of running off?" he berated.

You ducked your head. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"You ain't sorry. If you were, you'd learn a goddamn thing without me needing to tell you a hundred fuckin' times," he growled.

Truthfully, you were amazed he wasn't beating you already. You peeked up at him. "I swear I'll try to ask you if something is bothering you rather than trying to fix it right away," you said, hoping it would appease him. His glare deepened.

"Always with the promises. The swears. 'Oh, I won't do it again, Johnny!'," he mocked.

You started to tremble. "I don't know what to say," you said, struggling to hold his cold gaze.

"If I gotta tell you what to say, it won't make a difference. Why the fuck do I waste my time trynna teach you any goddamn thing? You're useless, lazy, spineless, and pathetic," he spat before leaving the room and locking the door.

Alone, you curled up on the bed, replaying the event in your mind, wondering why he hadn't hit you this time. Maybe you weren't even worth correcting anymore. Maybe you were more trouble than you were worth.

The thought hit you like a sack of bricks. You clutched the sheets, sobbing, desperate to be enough, to be worth keeping.

A timid voice from outside the locked door interrupted your thoughts. "Mommy? Are you okay?"

"Honey, I'm okay. Go to grandma's house, alright?" you said, masking the pain in your voice.

"Mommy needs rest?" they asked innocently.

You smiled through the pain. "Yeah, honey, mommy needs rest. Go on to grandma, baby. I love you."

As their little footsteps padded down the hall, you lay in silence, trying to hold onto the scent of him in the sheets. For almost a month, things had been good. You could almost believe Johnny loved you.

If you had any self-preservation, you'd plan an escape or consider self-defense. But you're stuck, desperately trying to think of what you can do or say to make him happy, knowing deep down there's nothing. With him not having touched you, you feared he had grown tired of tormenting you.

So, as you clutched your aching stomach after he kicked you, part of you was relieved. If he was bothering to correct you, maybe he was still going to keep you.

"I fucking hate you," he declared, kicking you over. "I wish you'd die."

His words cut deep as he grabbed your hair, a blade scraping under your chin. "One little slit is all it'd take to be rid of you. To spare me and our kid from growing up with a shit-for-brains mom."

You said nothing, tears and snot falling onto the floor. Johnny looked disgusted.

"You got nothin' to say? Maybe I should cut out your tongue," he sneered, tilting the blade to nick your skin.

"Baby, please, I-" you started. His eyes narrowed, bloodlust evident.

"Say one more goddamn word. Give me an excuse. I'm dying for you to let me be rid of you," he hissed, eyes filled with hate. "God, it'd make me feel so good to kill you. I can feel the tension leavin' my body just thinking about it. Honestly, I'd probably cum the moment I saw the light die in your dull eyes."

Appalled and mortified, you said nothing. You needed him. He was all you had. You stayed silent as he unleashed his frustration on you, beating you within an inch of your life. When he got tired or bored with it, he left without another word.

You lay on the floor in a pool of blood, body shattered, eyes too bruised to see, but alive. A broken smile crept across your face. He still wanted you. You weren't yet more trouble than you were worth.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

wip wednesday

thought i would do this since it's gonna be really hot again over the next few days and heat always makes me super sick (i wouldn't last 5 minutes in avernus lol)

for context it's part of a fic i thought to write since i felt like i didn't fully explore the Raphael-hunts-Tav request i got from a lovely person (and i also wanted to write something dark again since i am not good at it)

welcome to me writing mean and angry raph lol (tbh can't be sure if i will finish this)

thank you laura for labbing raph's dialogue with me ❤️

-

“Why would a power-hungry magelet with a chip on his shoulder abandon decades of ambition for some little bint he found on the roadside, when he could have hundreds – thousands of warm and willing holes to wet his cock with if he becomes a so-called god? Do you think you’re worth that sacrifice? Does Gale think you are? I’m sure he says lots of sweet things when he’s inside you, just as I’m sure he said the same things to Mystra, and we all know how that worked out…”

“Stop,” Tav begged. Sobbed.

“No,” the devil sneered. Utterly merciless. “It’s high time you faced the reality of your actions. You have doomed a future for the githyanki free from tyranny, you have doomed your friends’ chance to escape the emperor’s machinations, and you have doomed yourself, sweet pet, to reap what you sow – all for the sake of a man who rolled over you because you were the first woman in years to say yes. You wanted to enter my house without permission? Then you’ll stay for eternity.”

“You can’t keep me here!”

“I think you’ll find I can, girl,” Raphael rasped, malicious, quiet. His gaze flayed her alive, peeled away layers of skin and muscle to stare at her very soul. “For in this house, in this pocket of Hell, I am the master, and that means I can do whatever I want.”

A sick, bitter pill to swallow: he was right.

“Fine!” Tav laughed maniacally, the futility of the situation driving her to anger. “Fine, you evil bastard! I suppose you’ll have a pet squid soon, then. Have you always wanted one of those? Was it a boyhood dream, if you were a boy once? I hear ink stains are a bitch to get out of silk rugs.” As soon as she said it, Tav wished she had kept her mouth shut. She’d done everything wrong since entering that portal. Everything. Raphael’s shrewd yellow eyes narrowed as he considered something. Tav watched him raise his fingers, ready to snap, with dawning horror; if he did this, she wouldn’t just be stuck with him forever. She would owe him forever. A fate so much worse. “No! Wait! You don’t – I’m sure I won’t transform! It’s different in Hell, right?!”

“I’d rather not take the chance,” Raphael murmured, enjoying this moment of despair. “I’m not too fond of tentacles, you see. And besides…I promised I could be your saviour, didn’t I? Even though you hardly deserve it, but I’m nothing if not magnanimous, after all.”

CLICK. Such a small sound heralding a monumental, irreversible change.

Agony. The likes of which Tav couldn’t comprehend. Her skull splitting apart, bursting from the inside, her brains chewed up and spat out, eyes and teeth and tongue destroyed, sinuses burning…it only lasted for a few brief seconds, maybe, but the next thing she knew she was on her hands and knees. Frothy blood and bile oozed from her nose and mouth. Her body shook violently. Her head felt like it was full of water. She wasn’t sure, but she might have pissed herself a little bit. She stared up at the devil through bleary wet eyes and saw him watching her. Savouring her suffering. Floating in his palm was her tadpole, sluggish and covered in gore. Covered in her brains.

“Hmmm…I suppose I could have used less force for the extraction,” Raphael mused, unapologetic. He squinted at the ugly cosmic horror larva with disdain. “I was lead to believe these things were near-impossible to remove. Clearly not. Such weak magic. That worthless boy still has a lot to learn.” He curled his fingers inward and the tadpole caught fire, writhing and screaming as it died. Rendered to ash. Then he smiled at Tav, placid, almost business-like, as if he hadn’t just up-ended her entire existence. Her suffering had greatly improved his mood. “There we are. Now you won’t have to worry about those lovely guts of yours dissolving any time soon. Not before I get to sample them, at least.”

“I’d rather be a mind flayer,” Tav slurred quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt hollow. Without that tadpole – as awful as it had been – she couldn’t reach her friends or even the emperor to beg for help. She knew they were pragmatic. They’d realise something went wrong and cut their losses. They wouldn’t risk storming this infernal psycho’s little castle to rescue her, not when the elder brain was so unstable and they were so close to vanquishing the Absolute cult, but at least pretending it was an option would’ve given her something to hold onto. 

“And ruin that delightful complexion of yours? Perish the thought.” The devil reached to wrap one big paw around her forearm and tugged her upright. Tav was too weak to pull away. She barely stayed on her feet. The room and everything in it swayed. Until it was forced to stop by his hot clawed hand holding her jaw firm. Raphael’s image swam into focus. He gently turned her head this way and that. He was examining her; examining his new property. “Can’t fault the magelet’s taste. You are a pretty little thing. And now you’re my pretty little thing.”

He pushed his thumb into her mouth. She could taste the sulphur and hellish magic even over the copper sticking to her gums and teeth. She bit him, tried to, but Raphael wasn’t phased. He dug his thumb claw into her tongue instead, pressing until he pierced the muscle, until Tav cried out. Fresh blood welled from the small puncture wound.

“Behave,” the devil simply said, like he was talking to a naughty puppy. 

“Never,” Tav spat. Raphael seemed to like that answer, if the sparkle in his eyes and his rich chuckle were any indication. 

“Oh, you’ll learn, my little mouse. One way or the other.” He dragged his thumb out of her mouth, smearing blood and spit across her lips. His pupils expanded as he looked upon her. He found this arousing, Tav realised, more repulsed than she’d ever been in her life. 

“You make me sick,” she hissed. 

“You have no idea just how sick I could truly make you,” he purred around a sinister smile, “but we have all the time in the world for that, don’t we, pet? Thanks to you, I’ve got a lot more work to do now. Plans to tweak, contingencies to set up, that sort of thing. I don’t expect you to understand, but unfortunately it means I won’t be able to break you in quite yet. But fret not, you shan’t be alone. Haarlep can keep an eye on you until I return.”

[gioiaalbanoart]

MIXED FRIED mode ON

(aka WRITING share)

OK, let's do this before it gets overcooked !

Various tag/open tag/tag list calls and so on. THANK YOU to :

@wyked-ao3 HERE and HERE , @cowboybrunch HERE, @the-golden-comet HERE and HERE and @tragedycoded HERE

******

Wip TSA / The scarred angel - CW violence

(and a BIG THANK YOU! to those kind hearts that helped me with this damn fight scene 😅)

****

Amy gasps. No way this is gonna end well.

Ashley might be brave but this guy is twice her size.

It all happens at once.

Frenzied voices haphazardly reach Amy's ears, a vague reminder they're not alone in the bar.

"I said - back off! -" Ashley growls, Amy's so close that she feels her body tensing before the action.

But the fucker decides to steps closer instead, perhaps not drunken enough to cope with his offended maleness and giving up what he must consider as a legitimate advance.

A hand hoists, grabs hard Ashley's jaw.

Amy gapes, everything else fades away and that fucking hand threatening becomes Amy's sole reason to bounce back.

As Ashley's body is pulled forward she snaps out from stillness.

A strangled sound caught in her throat, Amy harshly steps aside from behind Ashley and jumps at the man's arm pulling downwards with her full weight.

Oblivious of what will happen.

Probably he will squash her just next.

It's distracting enough.

The grip slacks, Ashley doesn't lose a beat.

The guy at close range, freed of Amy's presence behind her she iron grips violently his collar in a handful of fabric and flesh underneath and pulls him towards, a lifting knee striking full power at his crotch.

Ashley lets go of her grip, the man's reddish face twists in pain as he grunts and bent forwards, both hands on his privates now.

A muttered predictable : "Bitch..." almost get past his lips.

A quick step back and a second knee strike meets the nose cutting all obscenities but strangled groans of pain as a sinister crack almost echoes.

One hand leaves his lap and covers the damaged nose, a trickle of blood peering between fingers.

In the commotion Amy stumbles back, eyes wide, sweat coating her brow.

Ashley shifts to the right, kicks hard against the man's side enough to send him out of balance.

Another strike knocks him down on the floor.

Voices yelling overlap the buzz in Amy's ears as she assists in shock at the merciless blows hammering the mass on the floor, hitting everywhere but the head.

Preventing the man from reacting, never mind standing, as Ashley's clearly not ready to give up kicking his sorry ass.

******

Aaaaaaaaaand cut!

My beloved TSA tag list, you're up for the next round (np) :

@wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight @tragedycoded @kaeru483

+ @aintgonnatakethis @glacialfield @authorcoledipalo @lychhiker-writes @jev-urisk

+ @mapplesand @sableglass @alinacapellabooks @willtheweaver

@illarian-rambling

+ @avaseofpeonies + open tag and take a drink 🍻☕🍷☕ 🍹🍻 , I need one too!

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 1.2 - Bad Dreams Are for the Birds

[POV: MIKO]

The Art History department has two other TAs, but as far as Miko’s concerned, they’re both bullshit.

They haven’t proven themselves incompetent yet, but it's only a matter of time before someone drops the ball, leaving Miko to pick it up. It’s how it always goes down, which is why, despite feeling like absolute crap, she’s organizing the art supply room by herself. 

Next week, the undergrads will start working on pieces for their first critical review. A lot of them are talented, but they’re also inexperienced. And as silly as it seems, having their supplies clearly labeled with helpful hints will be a gift from the Watcher when some professor is picking apart their work and demanding they make quick changes. 

You mean when some professor was picking apart your work because you’re incompetent.

It takes everything to ignore the nasty voice in her head and her burning need to pee. It’s just stress, anyway. She slept like shit—horrifying dreams kept her up half the night—and she still needed to get here early to finish up before the other TAs arrived. 

Her nightmares made no sense. Miko is only 24; she shouldn’t be worried about running out of time. But the clock in her dreams filled her with terror, and she had the strangest sense that she never used to worry about time at all. 

In fact, she used to wield it. 

It’s the kind of bonkers thought she doesn’t allow herself to have anymore. 

Usually, she was fine once she was on campus. It was where she could pretend she didn’t live in a tiny clapboard house in a Newcrest neighborhood the mayor swore would gentrify but hadn’t changed much since Miko was a kid. 

Not that gentrification was good. By the time they cleaned up the drunks in the park and picked up the trash, the cost of housing would be too high, and Miko and her grandmother would have to find somewhere else to live.

And your mother? Did you forget about her, or are you just extra delusional today? 

Miko doubles over at the thought. The worst part is that she knows it's her. She’s being mean to herself and has no idea how to stop it. 

Maybe it’s not the negative voice, you idiot. Maybe you really do just have to pee.

Son of a bitch. That’s probably right. Ignoring the implications of arguing with herself, Miko hauls ass up two flights of stairs until she’s on the second floor of the Commons. 

“Watcher, give me strength,” she prays when she shuts the stall door. The Ojos aren’t religious, but spending primary and secondary school under the watch of cranky nuns gave her the habit.

Her prayers must be getting misdirected, though. While she’s hovering over the toilet seat, fighting for her life, the other two Art History TAs walk into the bathroom and start gossiping. 

“I just don’t understand why she would organize the closet when we already had a plan to work on it this morning,” Emmett says.

“Because she’s a bitch,” Hande laughs, “Seriously. You can’t take it personally. Some sims just don’t know how to act.”

“I mean, but what’s the point?” Emmett continues. “We’re all graduating. Maybe someone will write you a good recommendation for the Royal Arts Fellowship if you go above and beyond. But you can do that without screwing everyone else over.”

“Some sims are unhappy. Like it's a trait,” Hande assures him, “Just ignore her.”

Miko waits until she hears them leave before she limps out of the bathroom stall, bladder still burning and her cheeks joining in on the party. The old nuns were right: The Watcher was a merciless god, and Miko was clearly on her shit list.

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