#anyway I'm so fucking impatient now can my voice please drop immediately or something

[frankensteinmutual]

so uhm, anyway. I'm on t

[saturnandhope]

All for You (Bonten)

SUMMARY: Mikey decides to watch as his Executives fuck you.

Content Warnings: pwp lol, dark content, gangbang, slight noncon, mildly dubious consent i guess, cuckolding, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blowjobs, orgasm denial, voyeurism, noncon filming, spitroasting, breeding kink, explicit language, female reader

a/n: goodbye bonten, it was nice while you lasted :) anyway support and ship byler for clear skin, i haven’t recovered from stranger things yet.

“Excuse me—you want me to do what?" You stutter at your boyfriend, Manjiro Sano, Bonten's leader and titular head.

"You heard me." Mikey says, settling into his plush chair resembling a throne facing the bed. He is the epitome of elegant perfection, dressed entirely in black. "Let my executives fuck you."

"W-wouldn't that bother you?" You softly mumble as you whip your head to look at the seven expensive-looking men lounging around you and your boyfriend’s shared bedroom.

He only waves his hand as if dismissing something trivial. "I want to watch."

Your jaw drops at the thought. Your head is spinning so fast that you suddenly can’t tell what’s left or right. In spite of this, molten fire flows through your veins as your heart thumps in your chest. Your boyfriend? Wants to watch you get fucked? By his executives?

"Undress." Mikey commands

"Huh—" The immediate embarrassment and guilt at the notion of undressing in front of his executives makes your skin feel icy.

"Mikey." You utter his name so softly and quietly.

"I'm not repeating myself." He tells you. It's a one-time warning. Even when it comes to his own lover, Manjiro Sano is not known for mercy.

Tears well up along your waterline, and you take a deep breath before reaching towards your chest to unbutton your blouse.

Your fingers quiver as you slide your dress over your shoulders and onto the ground. You know better than to cover yourself with your hands; after all, who cares who looks at you as long as you're Mikey's?

Who cares about the men whose gaze is drawn down the length of your body which is draped in a tight bra and thong?

Your breath trembles as you unclasp your bra and bend down to remove the stringy underwear.

“Now entertain me.” Mikey calls as he points to the king-sized bed you two share, urging you to saunter towards it.

“Wait, please. Mikey…” Comes your small whisper. The pit in your stomach still begs you to ask him to stop whatever he plans to do, but his cold obsidian eyes pierce yours— a silent command to continue.

There is something utterly appealing about being hungrily stared at by seven men in the room who are ready to outright devour you; it sends waves of heat through your body and between your thighs, knowing what is soon to come.

Seven horrifyingly familiar men prowl around, slowly slinking towards the king-sized bed where you sat. They are eagerly waiting for the moment they’re able to pounce and take what they want from you. The pink-haired madman smiles widely, scars wrinkling at the corners of his mouth.

Impatient and eager, the slow, heavy footsteps of Mikey's most trusted men echoes in your ears as your stomach twists in anticipation of what they can give you. But the men didn't move on you yet, they are waiting for permission as their leader sits on his throne, watching, teasing you from afar without even lifting a finger.

"M-Mikey," you call again. Your eyes shift to him, full of questions and doubt. "Please, it's you I want—not them."

Bonten’s number two, Sanzu Haruchiyo clicks his tongue and shakes his head in displeasure, “Y/N, you heard the boss.”

The Bonten leader remains silent, however, and instead just leans back on his throne comfortably, crossing his pale arms over his chest. They're taking too long, these men.

The curl of displeasure on Mikey's lips sends a trickle of fear down your spine. This can't go on.

"I’m sorry—please," you suddenly say, and you cannot bring yourself but to be embarrassed when it comes out cracked and thin. Your voice immediately silenced the room as they all turned their attention to you. You keep your head down, eyes squeezing shut and arms trembling. "Please just fuck me already."

Those must have been the magic words, because all Mikey did was give a slight nod of the head before his executives came lunging around you.

"Can she take us though?" The lanky purple-haired executive from the corner wonders.

"She can and she will," Mikey says confidently. "Kakucho, since you're her childhood friend, you get first taste." The leader's command brokers no room for an upheaval. The remaining guys glower in envy when Kakucho got up from his position. In all honesty, Mikey is aware that Kakucho has been eyeing you. He's well aware that Kakucho has been pining for a taste of you.

As he splays you across the bed, Kakucho's eyes are widening and his heart is pounding like thunder inside his chest. With that, he lowers himself to his knees in front of you. Mikey stares cooly as he watches Kakucho pry your legs open.

His heterochromatic eyes remain on yours as he leans in and very slowly drags his tongue up. He only does that a few times before sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth, sucking softly—teasingly—and swirling the flat of his tongue against it. Your thighs clamp around his head like a vice, a shocked cry escapes your lips. The first lick turns your muscles to jelly, and your hips immediately rock against his mouth.

"Fuck!" You let out a loud yelp as you grab the bedsheets on either side of your body. He continues by pushing the tip of his tongue between your lower lips and sliding it up to your clit, flicking against it. Part of him wants to tease you, to tell you that he's just started, but instead he keeps licking your clit, hungrily lapping at it.

So, as you come undone, your legs quiver on either side of Kakucho’s head as you grip the sheets, loudly moaning. Still, he doesn’t bother pulling away. He sucks on your clit even harder, his tongue roughly grinding against it as he did. His dick twitches in anticipation as you let out more wanton moans. He wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to bend your body—wants to see the woman of his dreams beg for his dick.

“Oh, God!" You shriek, squirming.

A quiet laugh escapes him, the noise vibrating around you as he continues, refusing to let go, though he soon finds himself wincing at your tight grip on his hair while you arch your back.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," he confesses. His face is glistening with your slick. "I can't believe Mikey would let us."

"And you might never have again if you don't shut the fuck up," Kokonoi snaps. "Move."

Without warning, two fingers push into you, working their way to the last knuckle. The man with long silver hair starts roughly fucking you on his fingers, his arm quickly moving back and forth while the pads press and stroke at your sweet spot.

You start moaning right away at the sudden stimulation. Your back arches again, and your legs tremble beneath you while you attempt to stifle your moans. But Kokonoi doesn’t let up, he increases his pace instead, and the way your pussy tightens around his fingers tells him you are growing close to your peak again.

Just as you are ready to tip over it—just as you are right on the precipice—Koko pulls his fingers out, leaving you on the edge and clenching around nothing. And then his palm comes down on your ass, smacking both cheeks at the same time with a loud crack echoing off the walls.

You whine, your brows furrowing. "Oh please"

Leaning down enough so his lips are right beside your ear, his voice drops, "Only good girls get to cum. And you haven’t gained the boss's commendation yet, princess.”

He immediately sticks his fingers down your throat, tasting yourself and gagging you.

You can hear the sound of belt buckles coming undone as the next men start to pull their pants down, panting in anticipation. The first dick that came out was the ruddy one in front of your face, owned by the tall, smiling, gorgeous man with gelled locks, Ran Haitani. Kokonoi's fingers had been removed from your throat not long after they'd been forced in there. And after being hoisted up on all fours now, with Ran's cock in front of your face, you know your job.

You open your mouth wide, tongue lolling out, as Ran slides the underside of his shaft along your tongue, rubbing it against the wet muscle before pushing it into the confines of your mouth. He goes slow at first—which is surprising, if not annoying, because you need him to fuck your face right now and get this over with—but it doesn’t last long as he grabs a fistful of your hair and holds your head still while he starts fucking your throat.

Since you’re on your hands and knees, the angle of your throat was a straight path, making it much easier for him to slide right into it, and you had learned long ago to let your jaw go slack and to open your throat up so you wouldn't gag when in this position.

“Fuck, so damn good, ” Ran whispers to himself.

A second cock pushes inside your cunt, and that push isn’t a simple push, it’s a shove, and there’s no time to adjust before you are being slammed into over and over and over. You can’t hold back the keen that starts to leave you, but it is immediately cut off by Ran, who is fucking your face, his rhythm alternating with that of Rindou, his younger brother, who is fucking you from behind.

You can feel the cock in your mouth nearly pulsing as it keeps going in and out, in and out, and you know he is close; plus, he’s gripping your hair tighter, pulling your face into each thrust he makes into your mouth, even as Rindou behind you is pulling your hips back into each thrust he makes.

Ran soon comes, and when he does, he pulls your face completely against his groin to where your nose is buried against his bush and your chin is pressed against his balls as his spend spurts down your throat. You swallow around him, taking it all in, hearing him groan above you from the feeling of your throat constricting as well as from his climax; when he pulls out, you gasp for air before coughing, attempting to regain yourself.

A rough snap of hips against your ass makes you yelp. The cock fucking your cunt is pulled out as the man with the purple mullet moves around and is suddenly in front of your face. A quick glance upward told you it was Rindou Haitani before he shoved his dick in your mouth just like his older brother had.

"You look amazing," Rindou tells you. "So damn beautiful.

You can taste yourself on him; the slick from your core is strong and tangy and mixed with the salt on his own skin; it is intoxicating, to say the least, and you can’t help but swirl your tongue around his shaft to get as much of that taste as you can while he’s thrusting into your mouth.

Another cock is suddenly shoved into your pussy, this one a little thicker than the last, and you groan around the one in your mouth. Rindou curses beneath his breath as he hilts himself in your mouth just as the pink-haired man does in your cunt, grinding his hips against your ass teasingly and making you wiggle yourself against him, silently asking for more.

When they’re both beginning to fuck you again, your throat is already sore, but you can’t care less as you eagerly suck Rindou hard, your cheeks caving while you try to please him, hoping you'd get some sort of pleasure in return. Thankfully, Sanzu reaches around and beneath you, rubbing calloused fingers against your clit— the moan you let out just as your back arches is the end for Rindou as he spills inside your mouth, his spend salty on your tongue.

You haven't gotten the chance to swallow it down yet, however, before he slips his cock free and gently takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Let me see," Rindou quietly orders, and when your eyes meet his—a pretty lavender they are—you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, showing his cum on the pink muscle; you close your mouth again and swallow it, before showing him your tongue once more that his sperm is no longer there. "Good girl," he purrs, brushing his thumb along your lower lip before he stands and starts pulling his pants up as he leaves the bed, but not before eyeing the grinning pink-haired man behind you, pocketing something.

You watch after the younger Haitani for a second before strong hips snap against your ass again and you yell, your head dropping, and there is a coiling of heat in your belly. You spread your legs a bit more for Sanzu, encouraging him to keep going, begging him to take you harder, faster, deeper, to give you more, more, more as that coiling grew tighter and tighter and tighter.

While Sanzu knew how he got to the point of you lying on your stomach, ass slightly sticking up in the air as he straddles your thighs and fucks you from behind, what he wasn’t sure of was how his phone ended up in his hands with the video camera turned on to the point where he’s recording himself fucking his boss’s girlfriend.

"Fuck, princess, you are so goddamn hot," Sanzu breathes, his words slurred. "Mikey is a lucky man." He focuses the camera on how his cock moves in and out of you while his free hand grasps one of your ass cheeks, pulling to spread you open and show exactly where his dick disappeared before releasing and clapping his hand down on your rear, coaxing a quiet yelp from you. "I’m going to watch this so much. You have—ohhfuck—you have n-no idea."

His thrusts are speeding up, garnering louder noises from you while his eyes focus on the way your ass ripples with each thrust; the sight alone is too good not to focus on, and he moves his phone around to get a shot of it. But just as you're ready to explode, ready to tip over that edge, his hands are pulled away along with his dick—

"No cameras." It’s Mikey who speaks up as he yanks Sanzu away from you before snatching the device and throwing it across the room, breaking it to smithereens.

You crane your head backward, bending your neck even when it’s painful just to see Mikey’s reaction. Irritated. Annoyed. That’s what he looks like right now.

A rush of fear runs down Sanzu’s spine as he gathers himself up, uttering words of apology to his king. You know better than to try to reach between your legs to satisfy yourself. Instead, you push through it, gritting your teeth as Sanzu, who'd just edged you, is now in front of your face.

"I’m sorry pretty thing. I should’ve known Boss would get mad." Sanzu apologizes, whether he means it or not, you do not know. "Now you’ve got a job to do, don't you?"

A soft whine escapes your throat just as you open your mouth, expecting him to push in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands motionless, waiting for you to work his cock instead of him fucking your face; and while this is certainly a blessing, you still disliked him for what he did.

Your tongue comes out of your mouth again, this time to drag up his length before you slip the head of his cock into your mouth. However just as you did, Takeomi Akashi, Bonten's Advisor slips into you from behind, shoving deep in your cunt and making you keen around the pink-haired man's dick in your mouth.

You close your eyes at the admission, pouring all your attention on the cock in your mouth. You cannot do more than bobbing your head slightly and lapping at it. Every time Takeomi thrusts in, it moves your head to take Sanzu's cock further in. You're rocked between the two executives like that, used like a toy.

It doesn’t take long for either of the two men to finish; Takeomi—having done the same as Sanzu by rubbing your clit and bringing you so close to the edge, only to pull out and away just before you tip over into your orgasm.

Thankfully, none of them came inside you—Takeomi comes on your back while Sanzu comes on your face, his cum stringing along your cheeks, nose, and mouth.

"Mochi, your turn. I want you to show me," Mikey orders.

Mochi moves, but he does not understand immediately. You do. You bring yourself up to lean back against Mochi's wide chest and whisper, "Show him how you fuck me."

Mochi breathes in deeply. "Fuck," he exclaims. He sits on the ball of his heels, leaning back. He's a massive man, and you're folded in half as he lifts you up by your knees to sit on his cock.

Everyone can see his huge member inside your hole from this position. Kokonoi and Kakucho appear in your peripheral view, hand massaging in their pants as they look at where you and Mochi are connected, while the Haitanis are shamelessly stroking themselves beside you.

And then you hear somebody clapping. It’s Sanzu. “Excellent!” he cheers, “Give us a show.”

You throw your head back onto Mochi's broad shoulders, tongue lolling out as his cock drives in deeper than before. Slick drips down his cock to the sheets below, staining the places Mikey and you slept. With your legs spread out for anyone to see, you feel exposed, but it's also extremely arousing due to the way they look at you being treated like a sex doll.

You look for your lover, expecting him to look as cold as ever. When you find him with his cock in hand, pumping at the same rate as Mochi, the coil in your gut snaps.

Slick leaks from your clinching hole as you scream. Electric euphoria washes over you, and all you can say is "Mikey" over and over. Never once did you take your eyes off of him.

Mikey follows suit, seeing your lust-blown face, chest heaving with your orgasm. His seed spills down his cock, and all he can think of is your angelic voice singing his name.

Mochi pulls out and comes with a deep rumble of his chest staining the sheets. His cock was covered in your cum, the white streaks decorating his shaft. "There you go," he pants, once finished, he slowly and carefully lowers you to the bed and disappears from your sight.

All of the men leave you alone on the bed, you ache between your legs, the horrible feeling of being unsatisfied by the man you want is still present. Your head droops and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Your boyfriend gets up cock still hard, quickly pacing towards you. Leaning down, his lips kiss yours roughly. "That's my girl, you did so well. "

"I need you," you whisper as he towers over your form. You'll let Mikey ravage you in front of these men. Let him feast on your body as he should have.

You’ve had fun, sure, but none of them is Mikey.

Mikey’s rough hand slides onto your back. His fingers touch the area where one of his men had cum on you, and you feel him wipe the spend from your skin before that same hand is brought up to your lips, two fingers held out as he waits, silently and expectantly.

You didn’t need to look at him to know what he wants. You open your mouth, dragging the flat of your tongue along his fingers to clean them off; and he does the same for the cum on your face too, ensuring he got every string of it before finally speaking.

"Good girl." he praises, and you feel your stomach flutter as heat pools between your thighs again; you rub them together to try to gain some friction. Mikey lowers himself to his knees then. "C'mon, love, on your back. I want them to see everything.

You are quick to obey, scrambling to lie on your back. You watch as he undoes his pants, pushing them down enough to pull his cock out. Mikey gives himself a few strokes—already fully hard and probably having been that way for a while now—before hooking his arms beneath your knees and pulling your hips up a little, then pushing himself into you in one quick, deep thrust.

A sigh escapes your mouth when he’s finally, finally inside you.

With your legs hooked over the insides of his elbows and his hands on your waist, he starts fucking you—his thrusts are somewhat slow but also deep as he hits that bundle of nerves inside you that immediately makes you keen; your hands go down and grab onto his wrists, holding them as a means to ground yourself.

He fucks you harder than anyone else that night. He fucks you hard and deep yet slowly, as if he's savoring the moment. He fucks in just where it feels great every time. Even though your voice is worn out, you continue to moan and gasp with delight. Your legs meet behind Mikey's back, and you hook them up to pull him in even deeper, you can feel him in your stomach.

Mikey starts speeding up his thrusts, his cock still rubbing against that same spot over and over and over again to the point where a familiar heat is coiling deep in your belly tighter and tighter.

"Oh god, Mikey," you breathe, your legs already trembling around him. "Harder, baby. Please fuck me harder."

Mikey's fingers dig into your waist as he grunts, taking you harder, his hips snapping against you roughly. "My men knew better than to come inside you, love," he growls, and you mewl from a combination of his possessive words and how he slams into you. "That's my place. That's only for me. You wanna get bred? You get bred by me and only me. Remember that you are mine. "

"Yes, I'm yours," you pant, your words breathy and combined with a light moan. He hikes one of your legs up to his shoulder as he curves his arm around your thigh, his thumb finding your clit between your legs, and you let out a sharp yelp at the sudden sensation. It brings you close to the edge almost immediately. "Oh, fuck, Mikey, I'm so fucking close."

"Are you going to come for me, my love? Gonna come all over my cock? Go ahead and show these boys how pretty you mewl for me. "

"Fuck yes. I'm gonna—"

His hips snap harder against you a few more times, and that’s all it takes to send you over the edge—nails digging into his wrists, and your body trembling, keening.

"Fuck, you sound so goddamn good," he breathes, his thumb still rubbing circles on your clit while your hips and legs jerk from sensitivity. His thrusts are beginning to falter, and you can tell he is getting close, but with the digit still touching your sensitive bud, he is about to send you straight into another climax.

"Oh, god," you gasp.

"How bad do you want me to fill you up, princess?" The hand that isn’t between your legs goes to one of your breasts, squeezing and groping and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"So fucking bad. Please, Mikey. Please come in me. "

Your mouth falls open, from the combined pleasure of Mikey's cock sliding in and out of you. You squeal loudly as your cunt squirts, throbbing, almost forcing him out. Through your half-lidded eyes, Sanzu, the Haitanis, and even Kakucho are all looking right back at your coupling with your boyfriend. You can't help but whimper when you see them lick their lips, even though you should be used to it by now.

"Fuck," the man above you groans, hips snapping faster and faster.

Mikey isn’t far behind. He slides the hand from your breasts to your throat where he wraps his fingers around the column. Your eyes open to look at him, but you don’t try to push him away; instead you just submit, allowing him to do as he pleases.

He pounds into you a few more times before burying himself balls-deep. You hear a guttural noise from him as his hips stutter, and he's coming, coming so thickly inside you. You can feel the warm liquid painting you filthily. When he's coming down from his high, he's still thrusting in and out, as if ensuring he's pushing his sperm a little deeper.

"Good girl." He pants above you, blissed-out eyes hazy as sweat drips down his neck. Your body aches as the afterglow of your orgasm petters away. Your body is used and spent, but for Mikey, you'd do it all over again.

[hwauas]

🎭: "belladonna"

jung wooyoung | 정오영 - 2,086 words

you couldn't believe this day came. the adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Wooyoung, the Jeong Wooyoung, coming over tonight. you spend the day preparing your house, cooking the dinner, and of course getting ready. you needed everything to be ready, and to be perfect.

     the table was ready. some flowers in a vase. two plates, two cutlery sets, and two glasses for water. you dispatched few pearls on the white tablecloth. you created a soft atmosphere thanks to candles on the table, and little lamps in the rooms. you made sure all your apartment was cleaned. everything needed to be at its place.

it looked like you were having your boyfriend over. but Wooyoung wasn't your boyfriend. and would never be your boyfriend. who would like to date someone like him? it was just a formal dinner between you both.

     of course, over the year, you learnt to stop having pity for wrong people. your work forced you to build your heart into a heart of stone. people were bad. and you couldn't do anything for them. it was the path they choose, and so they chose the consequences. they were aware few people — or nobody — would appreciate them. and these person would slowly turn themselves into agressive and antisocial, becoming lonely, so lonely. this is how it works.

Wooyoung was one of them. he was searched by a lot of mafia gangs. sometimes for little crimes: swearing, assaulting, or for some debts. but also for big crimes: stealing important informations from these gangs, spying on them.

among these mafias looking after him, the popular S-SK band of mafias. according to rumors, S-SK was for Seoul-South Korea. yet, any informations ever leaked before about that or something else.

     anyways, Wooyoung was clearly involved into the dark side of the city, and even S-SK was chasing him. you were doubting about something or someone saving him. he was in too big troubles.

     tic. toc. tic. toc.

     the clock announced 8pm, and quickly after, the doorbell announced someone was here. Wooyoung, of course.

you didn't really like the fact you were having someone's like him over. but you had to do it for your boss. it was just an evening. just a moment, before getting rid of him.

     “y/n. thank you for receiving me.”

Wooyoung entered your apartment and removed his shoes.

“i was surprised when i was told to come here instead. weren't we supposed to meat at your boss's place?”

     “yeah, that's right. but there is a hold-up. he asked me if i was okay with seeing you without him and i just couldn't cancel this dinner less than twenty-four hours before. i hope you don't mind?”

     “not at all. i appreciate you didn't cancel. i'd have get mad. thank you.”

     you faked a smile, and asked him to follow you to your living room. you made him sit on your sofa. and after giving your dear Wooyoung something to drink, you sat besides him, on the sofa.

     “so. about this deal. what is it?”

Wooyoung asked as he sipped on the whiskey you gave him.

     “oh come on. we have so much time to talk about this. don't be this formal.”

Wooyoung only sighed and sank into your sofa.

“when did it all started?”

     “start what?”

by his behaviour and the tone of his voice, you recognise a nonchalance. he was annoyed — you cut him to the quick.

     “being... bad. stealing, spying on, having debts on purpose. all that.”

you had a serious gaze on him. you knew you needed to have a control on yourself not to help him — anyways he was a lost cause. you just needed to stall for time.

     “i don't remember when exactly. i was just... young. it started with little things. and i was failure to my parents. they never encourage me to do something. the only one that believed in me left. since i've never been a fan of school, i never did anything by myself to study, to work or anything. you know.. just people here and there got me into this. and i'm not complaining. i have somewhere to sleep. something to eat everyday. somewhere to take showers. clothes. it's enough i guess.”

he was avoiding your gaze, looking straight in front of him. there was the turned off TV.

     “who left? who was he, or she?”

you were curious about what he just told you. it was very intriguing: you needed to know more about this for your own pleasure.

     “San. a friend. my best friend.”

Wooyoung sipped on his whiskey again, and so you did on yours. you didn't really know what to say.

“but you don't need to know much about him, right? so leave him alone.”

     with that, Wooyoung finished his glass of alcohol in one gulp. you understood what does this mean: you couldn't ask anything about this San anymore. you then stood up and went to the kitchen. Wooyoung wandered around to find the dining room, and sat on a chair in front of a plate. the atmosphere got him less tensed, and you immediately knew you did good.

    you came back with the dish, and served you both. it was steaming, yet once you came back from the kitchen to put back the dish there, you both started to eat.

     “so i was saying, about-”

     “about the deal. i know. this is what you're waiting impatiently since you arrived here, Wooyoung. okay. then let's discuss about this.”

you didn't say anything, wanting him to go first. after all, he was the one obsessed with that. right?

     “so, since this agency is holding files we are both interested in, but since their security is very strong, i thought about infiltrating someone in there. we can pretext it's for an internship, for few days. but then, the person there has to be very cautious.”

Wooyoung didn't say more after, and continued to eat. it seemed he was liking what you've done.

     you waited longer, hoping him to continue — which he didn't. you then frowned, and stopped eating for a moment.

“what for?”

     “the security. all the parts in the building are well secured.”

he rolled his eyes, as if you asked the dumbest question ever. but you were too focused on his lips to notice this. Wooyoung was eating everything. and this fulfilled your heart with joy and happiness.

“do you think somebody will make it through the whole security system to steal the files?”

     ”of course.~”

     you kept in mind all the informations he gave you until now, eating your plate till it was empty. you were thinking again and again about what he told you. you had to remember everything. every single details. but you wanted to stare at your victory too.

     “i'm getting thirsty. can i have some.. water.. please?”

Wooyoung's voice was very low. every words seemed hard to say.

     “of course, Wooyoung.”

you sat up and went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from your fridge — one you prepared on purpose for him before, meticulously. you came back, and opened the bottle to pour it in his glass.

“by any chance, you don't have any information about the security? where are cameras? where are stocked the videos? where is their room to look through these cameras? any motion detector, or metal detector?”

     Wooyoung tried to drink, but he couldn't swallow more than three times. he gave up for the moment, and just focused back on you.

“i do. it's in my phone. but as long as i'm not sure we're both into this, i won't show anything.”

his voice got raspy, and he ended up almost whispering. you faked a reaction, worrying about him.

     “are you okay? you wanna lay down maybe..?”

you asked with fake worried eyes. but deep down, you were happy. everything was working. everything was going well.

     Wooyoung nodded. he took a deep breath as he was trying hard to keep his head up. his pale skin under his dark clothes started to shine: he was sweating. drops here and there were forming, rolling, and disappeared somewhere on his clothes.

     you stood up and went by his side. you tried to get him back on his feet, and almost pulled him through the rooms to lay him down on your sofa — but you knew this position wouldn't help at all. you made sure he was comfortable in your sofa, and left to clean the table. once you were in the kitchen, far from him, you couldn't help but squeal in happiness.

     “y/n: 1. Wooyoung: 0.”

you whispered to yourself, all happy about what you achieved. you were cruel, but you were loving this part of you — even though it already scared you in the past.

     “oh please don't scream like that! my head! it hurts even more!”

Wooyoung tried to shout out, but it hurt him even more than the squeal you did. since you knew what happening to him, you knew this noise you made have been altered: the sound seemed closer, stronger, and higher.

     “i'm sorry.”

once again, you used your talents to fake your emotions. worry, and guilty about your squeal. you put down the bottle of water and the glass on the coffee table.

“i'll get you some medicines. and a wet towel. wait for me.”

     you rushed through your apartment to get these. once you were in your bathroom, the door closed, you took out your phone to call your boss. of course, you tried to stay as discreet as possible. you even put a random towel in the washbasin and turned on the tap to pretend you were indeed moistening the fabric for him.

     “about time! i thought you would never call me!”

     “i'm sorry boss. it got a little bit longer. but everything's fine. he ate everything. and i managed to gave him water too. and of course, i watered the poison down in this water too.”

you said with shining eyes. you were proud of yourself. it was an another mission you accomplished.

     “okay but the way you're getting rid of him, i don't give a fuck, Belladonna. i wanna know about the informations you've got from him.”

     you tried to sum up all the informations your boss needed. anyways, you would meet him to tell him everything in details.

and you smiled as your boss again complimented your work.

     “i knew you wouldn't disappoint me. you're not the best S-SK member for no reason.”

     you finally hang up with him quickly after. looking at your reflection in the mirror, you offered yourself a smirk. you made sure to arrange your top, making sure to reveal a tattoo on your collarbone. the words 'S-SK : Belladonna' were written here, under your skin.

you were a member of this mafia band. Belladonna was your code name, and somewhat your new identity since you chose this path.

even though you did horrible things, you would never ever give up on  S-SK.

     you took the towel, and barely wrung it. you came back by Wooyoung, slowly dying in your sofa. and the first thing he noticed what your tattoo. the fear slowly appeared in his eyes, and all over his face.

     “S-SK..? Belladonna..? i trusted you..! how could you..!”

Wooyoung tried to do something, but he was too weak. even screaming was hurting him even more.

     “shhh, honey... the poison is taking the leads. give up. you have no chance.”

    “the.. poison..?”

     “the belladonna, honey. why do you think my code name is Belladonna? because i kill with the belladonna, of course.”

you put the towel on his forehead. it would change nothing. of course.

“belladonna, a flower. isn't it paradoxical that a flower.. so precious, so delicate, so beautiful.. can kill a human? i look harmless. but i kill. just as you, i'm a bad person, Wooyoung. you're not the only mafiosi here, honey.”

    as Wooyoung finally gave up, you took his phone from his pocket. you left your apartment, locking him up in there. anyways, as he was dying, he couldn't do anything.

you texted two S-SK members to ask them to get rid of the corpse for you. and of course, your boss and you would use Wooyoung's information without any misgivings.

     in this life, the strongest makes the rules.

it's killing.. or being killed. and guilty or sorrow weren't feelings anymore for you. a S-SK mafia.

[sereneterrene]

Always Been

Short story, but might continue | After being rescued, the trauma of being stranded on an island weighs heavily on Terra's mind. Unable to control her racing thoughts, she experiences insomnia. There's only one person who could help her.

TW: language, slow pace, suggestions of depression, mentions of therapy, insomnia

A/N: Characters and story are mine. Please do not repost on Tumblr or any other platform without my permission.

Terra couldn't sleep. She laid in her bed, eyes wide open, staring at her ceiling through the darkness of her room. It was quiet, but it was a different quiet from what she had experienced in the past two months. Terra turned on her side, curling up into a ball. She tried to force sleep to take her, but it didn't come. Her mind wandered too much.

It was impossible for her mind not to wander. She had so much to process. If it weren't for that airplane passing through, if it weren't for the accidental fire they had caused, she and Vlad would surely have died on that island. The thoughts raced through Terra's mind. She was sure of it -- had they remained on the island, they would have died from starvation, thirst, infection, or an animal attack.

"Ugh," she groaned, sitting up. If she was going to stay awake, she might as well do something to take her mind off of the island. Grabbing her phone from her nightstand, she scrolled through her messages. Most were from friends and family who were showing their concern and checking in on her. She didn't want to keep saying that she was ok, especially when she was clearly not. Then her eyes landed on a name she wanted to see. Vlad.

Vlad: You're probably sleeping. I can't, so I thought I'd try you anyway.

So he couldn't sleep either. Terra couldn't respond fast enough.

Terra: No, I can't fall asleep either. Glad I'm not the only one.

A few minutes passed without getting a response and Terra was about to throw her phone across her room.

Ring, ring, ring...

Terra picked up the phone. "So..." you trailed off, skipping the formalities of a typical phone conversation.

"So," a familiar voice cooed back. His voice wasn't particularly deep, but it sounded like his tone dropped an octave. Perhaps he was trying to keep quiet around his family. "How's normal life going for you?"

"Honestly...not the way I thought it would."

Silence. Vlad's dramatic pauses caused Terra to roll her eyes.

"You still there?" she asked, impatience clear in her tone.

Vlad chuckled. "I am. I was just thinking how we're both unhappy even though we're back to our normal lives."

Now, Terra paused. She didn't expect Vlad of all people to say something so introspective. And something so...comforting. She had tried to explain it to her family and friends, but none of the really understood where she was coming from. But Vlad did. He was on the island with her after all. Tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to muffle her sobs, not wanting Vlad to think she was weak, but she was too late.

Sounding more alert, Vlad asked, "Terra? Are you ok? What happened? You know I don't know what to do when girls cry."

"Woman," Terra corrected through her sobs. "I'm sorry, I just...no one here really understands me right now, so hearing you say exactly what I feel was..."

Vlad sighed, relieved that Terra wasn't in any immediate danger. "Have you gone to see a therapist?"

Terra forced back a sob, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes on her bed sheets. "Yeah..." she whispered.

"That's good. They can help you process."

"Sure, but I still can't sleep."

"It might take some time, but we'll get there," Vlad reassured. It warmed Terra's heart to have him to optimistic about their future.

She moved to lay on her right side, her phone balancing on the opposite ear. She hugged herself. "I..." she started, not sure if she should be admitting something so intimate with this man. She opted for a safer sentence, "...miss having you around."

Another pause. Was he taking it the wrong way?

"I miss sleeping beside you," he whispered, causing Terra's brows to raise. "Maybe that's why we can't sleep. We're too used to each other's company."

This time, Terra was quiet. It was true. For two months, they had no one but each other. Terra was shy about sleeping beside him when they were on the island and insisted that they keep a generous distance between them as they slept. She had even altered their makeshift "house" to have two separate "rooms". However, the nights were frigid, and she came around to the idea that sharing body heat would only increase their chances of survival.

After two months of sleeping beside him, she remembered how he would turn to face away from her in an attempt to make her more comfortable. She stared at his back during those nights, keeping a far enough away to not be touching, but close enough to share body heat. Eventually, they became less self-conscious around each other, not feeling so awkward when they woke up in different positions than they had started with.

"I kinda...miss hearing you breathe," she finally said, earning her a low chuckle from his side. Hearing him laugh made her smile. She closed her eyes and imagined him beside her.

"Was I your island ASMR or something?" Vlad joked. "I guess I miss your snoring the most."

"Hey!" Terra scoffed. "I do not snore."

"Whatever you say, princess," Vlad said sarcastically. Terra could practically imagine him rolling his eyes.

"But I guess you're right about needing each other to fall asleep," Terra said in a quiet voice. Her eyelids were getting heavy. "Keep me company until I fall asleep?"

He chuckled to himself. Terra could hear the smirk on his face, "Why the fuck not?"

"Your ASMR is already working. I'm getting lulled to sleep," Terra whispered.

"I'm glad one of us can get some rest," Vlad responded. His voice was still steady.

He started talking about how life was going on his end, not sure what else to talk about. For as long as Terra was still conscious, she managed to give him a few Mhm's and Yeah's to keep the conversation two sided enough. But when she started lightly snoring, all Vlad could do was smile to himself.

"Good night, Terra," he whispered before hanging up. He slid his phone into his back pocket and sighed. What he really missed was being physically beside her.

A warm body? he thought. After taking a minute to think about locating a more accessible woman, he shook his head. No, it's always been Terra.

He swiveled on his chair to face the dual monitors glaring at him on his desk. Mindlessly, his fingers alternated from keyboard to mouse, pressing keys and clicking things. Eventually, he found himself having purchased a one-way ticket.

[omgkatsudonplease]

Hi um that princess diaries thing was perfect and I'm obligated to ask, would you please please pretty please with a cherry on top write more?? I'm just like in love rn???

finally getting around to this hahahaha. oh god. there’s so much. -whispers- so much. oh and also, reminder that yurio’s approaching 21 in this series because let’s be real. why would you let a 16 year old rule a country.

The Midsummer Ball has barely started, and Yuri Plisetsky, ward and heir to King Viktor Nikiforov of Petersburg, already wants to leave it. 

By Petersburg custom, as an unwedded heir, he is obliged to dance with every single eligible person on the guest list. The problem with that is, of course, that a significant number of guests are eligible. And many of them are… well. Viktor would probably disapprove, but Yuri would rather stick out his eyes and chop off his legs than have to dance with another one of these chucklefucks for another moment.

It had started out innocently enough, with one of his partners speaking absolutely no English or Russian. The lady had been an okay dancer, even if all she spoke was Greek to Yuri’s ears. 

(No, really. She spoke nothing but Greek.)

Then there had been the English nobleman who had been counting his steps the entire time they danced (and Yuri had to roll his eyes every time his miscounts threw them off the beat), and then the too-boisterous French business magnate who danced like he was trying to land a plane, and the American steel tycoon who believed that dancing fell under the purview of the Ministry of Silly Walks. After a while Yuri had moved away from the dance floor in order to regain his wits, and is now standing off to the side, surreptitiously cutting himself a slice of cake. In the shadows, he could see Agent Porker – Yuuri Katsuki, head of security and the King’s personal bodyguard – muttering something into his earpiece. 

“Sneaking food already?” he hears, and turns around to see a diminutive Chinese man, sharply dressed in a suit with a glass of punch in his hands.

“Guang-Hong!” It comes out a lot more enthusiastic than Yuri might have liked, but in truth, he’s too relieved to see his old classmate from Georgetown to care. “You made it! Is Leo here, too?”

“Yeah, he’s helping himself to the pear and brie crostini,” says Guang-Hong, gesturing over his shoulder. “Is the party treating you well?”

“If someone could shoot me in the head right now, that would be a small mercy,” mutters Yuri. Guang-Hong laughs at that, albeit a little hesitantly, and pats his forearm.

“Well, at least the food is good,” he reasons. Yuri nods, biting into his cake and leaning against the table as he does so, ignoring the strange looks directed at him by some of the older guests. 

“When I’m king, I’m never going to invite old people to my parties,” he mutters. “Too much judgement.”

“Sounds reasonable,” remarks Guang-Hong as he sips his punch from next to him. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be king by the end of the year. Why’s King Nikiforov stepping down? He’s still pretty young himself.”

“Don’t let his age fool you,” says Yuri with a snort. “He’s practically decrepit. Going bald and everything.” He pauses. “It’s probably because he and Agent Porker have some sort of understanding, and part of that understanding includes not getting married while Viktor’s still king.”

“Really?” asks Guang-Hong, wide-eyed. 

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just guessing, based off the way they can’t stop sending googly eyes at each other from across a fucking crowded ballroom.” That last part is slightly louder than appropriate, and directed right at Viktor, who’s currently greeting Prime Minister Feltsman with his usual public smile. 

Viktor catches wind of it, and raises an eyebrow at him, the spoilsport. 

Yuri sighs, and returns to clearing his cake. “That’s my theory, anyway,” he says, and Guang-Hong laughs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he says. After Yuri finishes up the last bites of his cake, Guang-Hong begins to lead him over to where Leo is examining the other refreshments, and Yuri takes the opportunity to drop his plate and fork with a passing server.

He then collides with someone, the quiet ‘oof’ and feeling of stepping on a foot jolting him back into the present. 

The person he’s trod on is tall. Not too tall – coming up only half a head or so taller than Yuri himself – but fairly broad, with a carefully chiselled face and dark hair in an undercut. Yuri balks a little at his stony expression, and takes a step back. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t see where I was going.”

The man looks at him. “I’m sorry I was in the way, Your Highness,” he replies, his voice smooth and deep, reminding Yuri strangely of standing in a waterfall. He quells the shiver down his spine, and nods.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” replies the man, managing the faintest of a smile. A little spot of pink has appeared in his cheeks. “As I said, the fault was entirely my own.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Don’t want to exchange licenses or proof of insurance?” he jokes, and the man chuckles at that. 

“These shoes were a little big,” he says with a shrug, and Yuri tries to focus harder on the medals pinned to the man’s suit, instead of how nice his face is when he smiles. “Swelling should make them fit a little better.”

Yuri’s heart races a little faster. “How about a dance, then? To break in your new feet?” he suggests.

The man considers it, and then extends a hand. “The honour would be mine, Your Highness.”

“Yuri,” says Yuri immediately. “I prefer Yuri.”

“And I prefer Otabek,” replies the man. “Just Otabek.”

They step out onto the dance floor together, Otabek’s hand coming down to rest lightly on the small of Yuri’s back. Yuri puts his hand on Otabek’s shoulder in return, and steps with him in time to the waltz. It’s almost perfect. 

“I’m glad to see the swelling hasn’t affected your dancing, Otabek,” says Yuri after a couple turns. The words sound stupid even as they come out, but for some strange, miraculous reason Otabek seem to take them in stride.

“You could step on my foot any time you want, Your Highness,” he replies, and had it been anyone else at this moment Yuri would have gagged at that sentiment. As it is, he just smiles a little, and looks down at the medals on Otabek’s suit, and wonders why a man who looks so young seems to be so well-decorated.

But he doesn’t have long to wonder, because suddenly Otabek stops, and Yuri looks past him to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than twelve, waiting impatiently at Otabek’s shoulder.

“It is Princess Alex’s turn!” she declares, and Yuri sends a tight-lipped smile at Otabek, who shrugs and steps away to let Yuri dance with the newcomer. 

“Alex,” says Yuri, looking down at the girl as she tries to lead him in the waltz. “Don’t you have the Nishigori triplets to play with at this party? They’re usually here.”

“I’m almost thirteen,” she snaps in response. “They’re just eleven. They’re boring.”

“You’re twelve,” Yuri points out, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of her perfume. “You’re not turning thirteen until the end of the year.”

Princess Alex completely ignores the comment. “If this were my party, we’d be kissing by now,” she declares.

“I’m twenty-one,” Yuri states, sending a baleful look over at where Guang-Hong and Leo are clearly laughing at his misfortune. What friends.

“Can I blow in your ear?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Can you reach it?” 

Alex glares as she tries to step on her tiptoes to reach, and in turn, Yuri’s almost grateful for the end of the song. He glares over at Guang-Hong and Leo, before scanning the crowd for any sign of Just Otabek, but to his dismay, there is none.

With a sigh, Yuri resigns himself to dancing with everyone else, hoping that maybe, at least before the night is over, Otabek will come back for another dance.

[ravenvsfox]

Hey err lmao idk if I'm doing this correctly? But I love ur writing and sob at all ur one shots so I have to ask please can u write an andreil w a daughter??? Ik it's not their style tbh but I'm lowkey obsessed with my ships having kids. ANYWAY THANK YOU UR AMAZING AND I HOPE U HAVE A LOVELY DAY !!

(ur such a babe honestly this is too kind

There’s a blonde girl sitting cross-legged at the end of the hall, huddled amongst the medical waste baskets and supply shelving. Andrew spots her on his way to the vending machine, and she hasn’t moved at all by the time he makes his way back.

She’s maybe six or seven, utterly silent, her bangs long enough to get in her eyes.

He stops, holding a bag of skittles and a shitty mineral water for Neil, watching the girl try to look like nothing at all. If she were crying, the staff would notice, he knows. They would coddle her and take her to the bustling front desk and call for help and smooth back her straggly hair.

Kids are apparently only worth helping if they’re being cute or making a scene, and she’s obviously trying to do neither.

He realizes when he’s stalling his route back to Neil’s room that he’s seen this kid before. Last time Neil was in for a twisted ankle that he’d kept running on until it gave out, and they’d been in this emergency room, both of them stoic and impatient. That same girl had been in the waiting room with an intern crouched in front of her, her purpling wrist cradled between strange gloved hands. Andrew had noticed because the girl’s father had been on the phone, and he’d had one hand tightly holding the girl’s ponytail. A grip like fingers under a dog’s collar.

It could be a different blonde kid, but Andrew knows it’s not. He recognizes that silence.

“Hey,” he says. The girl’s little shoulders tense all the way up to her ears. He doesn’t get close. He keeps his back touching the opposite wall so she can see his empty hands and his relaxed posture. “Is someone hurting you?” He doesn’t put any effort into inflection. It’s like offering her an unused whiteboard.

Her mouth folds in on itself. She’s trying not to talk, and he can practically map out her thought process start to finish. He told me not to tell. He said it would be bad. He doesn’t lie.

“Is there anyone else?” Andrew asks. Her hands go up to her own knees and she grips them as she shakes her head. “Don’t go home,” he says. “Hide. Scream if he comes near. Say he’s a stranger. Do you understand?”

She looks up at him with frightened dark eyes. “Yes.”

Andrew nods. He drops the skittles in her lap and walks the first few backwards steps away from her, watching her blink down at her gift.

He swivels and grits his teeth, walking all the way back to Neil’s room with his grip hard enough on the vitamin water that it should burst.

Neil’s head jerks up when he enters the room, as always, which is a problem because he’s getting stitches down the curve of his brow bone.

The doctor groans, trying to pinch the skin closed with tweezers and steady Neil’s jaw with his other hand. “Steady, please,” he reminds for the dozenth time. “I’m getting more gauze. Don’t move. I mean it.”

Neil looks affronted at being ordered around but he doesn’t say anything. He bunches the covers to his chest and watches Andrew come close, looking eons more comfortable when the doctor is out of the room.

“No sugary shit?” he asks, reaching out for the water and looking amused at the warped, sweaty label. Andrew doesn’t answer, but he sees something change in Neil’s face; he stops unscrewing the cap and looks beyond Andrew’s shoulder. “Did you kidnap a child?”

Andrew turns and sees the girl in the doorway, holding her skittles with both hands and breathing shakily, like she ran to catch up with him. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Supposed to what?” Neil asks, bewildered. Andrew frowns between them.

“She followed me.”

“From where?” Neil squints at the girl, and then his eyes settle all at once, understanding. “She was here last month.” Andrew should’ve known that Neil has an eye for victims too.

“I’m here lots,” the girl says.

“You probably shouldn’t be,” Neil says, darkly unsettled.

“I’m hiding,” she whispers. He looks unimpressed.

“Hide somewhere else.”

She quakes, holding her skittles like a weapon. “He isn’t gonna like how long I’ve been gone.”

“Who?” Neil asks sharply.

“My dad,” she whispers. Neil’s expression twists drastically. He reaches one hand out, palm up on the bed. He doesn’t even seem to be conscious of having done it.

“Do you have anywhere you can go?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not supposed to run away.”

Neil looks at Andrew meaningfully and then back at her. “Sometimes you have to run.” She watches him with her face scrunched up, and then she steps forward unevenly, crossing the room to his bedside.

“What happened to your face?”

“He didn’t run fast enough,” Andrew deadpans, and Neil gives him the least impressed look he can muster when half of his face has been numbed.

“A mean backliner hit me with a big stick.”

“She doesn’t know what a backliner is,” Andrew drawls. She looks up at him indignantly.

“Sports,” she says. “It’s a sports player.”

“Nice,” Neil says, genuinely impressed, and Andrew rolls his eyes.

The door opens, and Andrew goes to step in front of the girl a second too late. The doctor stands in the doorway holding a package of gauze, his jaw slack.

“Uhh. She yours?” he asks, looking back and forth between the frowning little girl to the frowning men with their hands flung out in front of her.

“Yeah,” Andrew says.

The doctor looks unconvinced, and he paces warily forward, moving into a crouch when he’s close enough. “What’s your name?” he asks. She juts her lip, and lifts her skittles like they’re her ID.

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary, are these your dads?” he asks, gesturing up to Andrew and Neil without looking for their reactions. His back is tense enough that Andrew can tell he’s scared to.

She looks up at them, as if confirming.“Yes.”

“Where were you before?” he asks, voice slipping from high and condescending to something more genuinely confused.

“Daycare,” she says quickly. “They dropped me off when they heard my daddy got hurt.”

The doctor opens and closes his mouth, finally looking up and flinching at Andrew’s expression.

“Okay,” he says slowly, apparently defeated. “But you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, voice unusually empty for a kid who’d been walking the line of a meltdown five minutes earlier.

The doctor stands, finally, reaching for his pocket. He surveys them for a minute and then shakes his head. “I gotta make a call.”

As soon as he’s gone, the tension seeps out with him.

“You’re a little liar,” Andrew tells her. “You’ll fit in with him.” He nods towards Neil.

“Fit in?” Neil asks. “You know she’s not actually ours, right?”

“You know that doctor is checking your records as we speak, right?” Andrew replies.

“They’ll make me go back,” Mary says, voice wobbly.

“She’s not going back,” Andrew tells Neil, and Neil meets his gaze head on. They’ve never discussed having kids, but they’ve discussed what it was like to be them. They’ve discussed saving them, if they had the chance. They know where they stand on this.

Neil sighs, resigned. “Social services?”

“Fuck no.”

Neil touches his own temple, right near his head wound. He cracks one eye open and slants it at Mary.

“Your name isn’t Mary, is it?”

She shakes her head quickly.

“So much for my clean record,” Neil says. “We have to go now if we want to slip him.”

Andrew nods once and turns on the kid. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Yes,” she says immediately. “Yes please.”

“Forget that word,” Andrew says, and he tips her chin up when her face immediately ducks. “You don’t have to say it anymore.”