#for not bettering myself and going out and meeting people and instead waiting for a future where I’m no longer disgusted with my body

[i-am-l-ananas]

just because your peers are reaching “life milestones” before you doesn’t mean you’re falling behind in life. You’re not behind in life. You’re not you’re not you’re not you’re not and maybe someday you’ll believe it

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[boowritess]

notsobaddasssoldier!reader who is kinda a cunt

reader who just doesn't give a shit about the 141 rank or title.

"you think just cause your captain of some lil task force i'm gonna bend over backwards for you? be serious."

"cool you're lieutenant...and.... anything else interesting? like how you think halloween is 24/7, or...?"

"oh so it's a big accomplishment you're sergeant at your big age? tell someone who cares."

you're just so... eh about their ranks. but they get some power trip when you call them said rank. makes them feel some sort of way that depsite your snark, you still call them by rank. showing the clear difference of inferiority and superiority between you and them.

till you notice and shut that shet down.

"your so fucking stupid. it's like if i met The Pope. I'm gonna call him Pope because he's The Pope. I still don't give a shit though."

"or like meeting a Doctor and calling them Doctor. I don't give a fuck that the persons a Doctor. I'll still call em it."

"better yet. hate the king. hate the queen. but i still call them the queen and king. because their dumbassary is just linked to their 'ranks'. if you keep annoying me the same is gonna go for you."

you have so much sass and snark that it becomes a truly humbling experience. and it's like - damn. they could put you over their knee and really put you in your place but reader takes things from 0-100 real fucking quick.

"you wanna what you fucking freak?"

"excuse me-?"

"you're so fucking dumb. get a braincell dumb bitch. do it and fucking find out what happens."

"shot me in the head and watch my corpse not give a fuck because I don't."

and when the guys get a lil too fucking serious about putting reader in their place. reader suddenly has a gun pointed at their face. you see what I mean by taking things to 0-100 real quick?

"dummy. really tryna fuck with me when we're surrounded by guns? fuck outta here with that bullshit."

"matter fact I'd just kill myself-"

"NO!" *141*

it's obvious you may be young and perhaps a little too mouthy for your own good but it's clear you're not going to be pushed around.

but it's obvious you ain't here for the 'greater good' and just doing the work to get the paycheck. while the guys find your snark to be really fucking annoying.

it turns out that you definitely have some perks.

you may not be able to hold yourself very long in battle, just a very basic solider with basic skill sets- your mouth and attitude can really work wonders on people.

in particular, the egotistical rookie who things they're all that. taking their sweet time with basic tasks, belittling other recruits who can do the bare minimum. just in general, an asshole. that's when you step in.

"you ain't shit bitch cause at the end of the fucking day turdface, you ain't bullet proof. i can shoot you right now, and all your running and yapping will cease to exist. your corspe will rot. people will stop knowing you as the loudmouth rookie, and you will just become nothing. infact. you are nothing."

*the recruit opens their mouth. you interrupt.*

"Nothing."

*recruit tries again.*

"Nothing."

it's an endless cycle that ceases when your hardened glare doesn't stop and you pick up a rock intending to throw it at the recruit. the blank, dead, serious look in your eyes showing you are more than fucking serious.

what really works wonders though, is they way you aren't worried about putting a superior in their place. the other 141 have basically been beaten in and to not question anything. they have been made to believe they are weapons more than human.

that gets shut down real quick.

you all have just come back from mission, that was grueling. a couple of you were injured. everyone looked worse for wear. dirts, scratches, blood. someone no longer had their vest. a few lost weapons. barely had any inventory. needing food, sleep, and then a long shower shower.

but instead waiting for the task force, was a superior officer, holding the next mission file. a mission they were supposed to be getting ready for and practically leave as soon as they got back.

before price could grab for it, you intercept. grabbing the mission file and throwing it at the superior officers face.

"you giant fucking anal peice of dried solid dog shit. we're not fucking doing that. we just got back from hiding in a fucking forest for three weeks with enemy surrounding us to get intel from a camp- THAT WASN'T FUCKING THERE. so you better turn and take those pretty polished shoes to another task force."

"what is your name, soldier?" *superior officer growls.*

"Dolly Parton. Now Dolly has just worked longer than a nine to five and Dolly ain't got the patience for dealing with a man like you. i got two bullets left. one for you and one for me. and if you think i won't do it- well we can put it to the test now-"

perhaps it was the utter dead look in your eyes, or the gentle yet seething venom in your tone. the superior officer simply growls and turns on their feet, leaving the task force.

it's funny cause you do get the respect, you are barely a good soldier but dang you can get shit done when need be. so price doesn't transfer you. he still keeps you close.

ghost is the one who loves the feral little shit you are. gaz and you talk mad shit about everyone on base. soap just absolutely adores you, you're the little sibling he's always wanted.

a/n: inspired by the feral nature of gen z.

[gguk-n]

Your brother's Oscar Piastri? (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

I've had this idea in my head since I found out Oscar's sister is a K-Pop stan.

{Reader's POV}

Getting tickets to a K-Pop concert got exponentially more difficult as their popularity rose. It took so many attempts and almost losing the hair on my head before I got tickets to the TXT concert in town. I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as the confirmation email rolled in.

On the day of the concert, I might have gone all out and dressed up but everyone dresses up for the concert and it was the most exciting day I've had in a while. I love that I get to spend my adult money on stuff I enjoy. At the venue, I got to meet some people I had connected with online and made some new friends.

There was a girl next to me in the seating, who I ended up vibing with. We had a lot of fun as we sang along to all their songs; our voice went hoarse by the end of the night. As we walked out while talking about the concert, "Ugh, my mum won't answer my calls" the girl next to me, who I was introduced to as Hattie groaned. "Is there an issue?" I asked. "My mum's supposed to be my ride back and she won't answer my calls" she whined. "I could drop you" I suggested. "Oh, no. That would be too much to ask for" the girl shook her head to avoid causing any inconvenience . "It'll be fine. We're part of the same fandom so it makes us family" I laughed. She seemed to mull over my suggestion before nodding her head, "OK, but I'll pay for the petrol" she suggested. "Done. Let's go" I said pointing to my car.

The drive to her house was entertaining as we got to know each other better and sang along to the songs. We become concert buddies after that. I didn't really have many friends I could drag along to concerts anymore; having a friend made things much more exciting. She was a joy to have around and we shared the same bias for most groups we liked so it made stuff even more chaotic then they already were.

This went on for a couple more concerts until the latest one where I took the bus to the venue since my car broke down and a non-functioning vehicle was not about to stop me from seeing Enhypen. I met Hattie at the entrance who had been waiting for me. We hugged and grabbed some stuff from the stands outside and walked into the venue. The show was great, the fan service at K-Pop concerts was unmatched.

Hattie knew that my car had broken down and offered to drive me home as a pay back for the favour I had done at the start of our friendship. We were waiting outside for who I assumed was Hattie's mum but instead I was greeted by a tall pale Australian man, I knew more as Oscar Piastri, Formula One driver for McLaren. My jaw almost hit the floor before I caught myself and greeted the man before entering the car. "Hi, I'm Y/N." I said while climbing into the back seat while Hattie sat shot gun. "Hey, I'm Oscar" he said giving me a smile before he started the car.

Hattie kept looking back at me every time I sent a message. As soon as she read the last message, "Oscar, Y/N loves you" she laughed. Man, I hate the friends I have sometimes, I thought. Before my mind could react my body did, "No" I shouted. Oscar turned around to look at me, "no?" he asked. "I mean yes" I stammered. "yes?" he quizzed. "I mean, I love Formula One and since you're a Formula One driver that's why I asked her to ask if could get your autograph" I rambled. If the earth swallowed me whole, I don't think I would mind right now. I could hear Hattie snickering in the background.

The rest of the car ride had me sweating. Oscar dropped me off in front of my building; I bolted out of the door. "Don't you want that autograph?" Oscar shouted. I stopped dead in my tracks with slumped shoulders; if I'm going to embarrass myself, let's leave no stone unturned at this point. "Yeah, sure. I have some merch in my house you could sign" I mumbled walking back to the car. "Maybe you would like to join me for some tea" I offered. Hattie nodded along from inside the car and the three of us headed up. My house, I must've forgotten was not clean enough to be seen by anyone but me; I had to literally stop them, throw everything in the nearest closet and then open the door. I ran a kettle for hot water and asked them to sit on the sofa while I grabbed the Oscar Piastri hat and shirt I had bought recently. He graciously signed it for me and I handed them the cup of tea. "Your house is lovely" Hattie commented while looking around, "I don't see any of the albums or merch" she continued. "they're in my room" I said. "Must be fun explaining to the guys who come over" she spoke more to herself. "It's hilarious watching their reaction" Hattie added at Oscar's quizzical expression. "If you guys are done, would it be harsh to ask you to leave, I have an early shift tomorrow" I asked nervously. "No, thank you for the tea. We'll be leaving" Oscar said while lifting Hattie up. "I'm not leaving yet. I haven't seen your room" Hattie whined trying to get free from Oscar. "You know where she lives, come over at a more acceptable time." Oscar told her and dragged his sister away, "Good night Y/N" he called out as I closed the door.

Thank god she didn't see my room, I don't know how I would explain the Oscar Piastri poster I had above my bed and in my closet. My life got interesting to say the least.

Hattie and I weren't able to meet after since there weren't any concerts for a while but there was a Formula One race in a week. Hattie called me asking if I would like to join her family. I was more than grateful to be going because I got to see the race for free. God knows my saving's are crying.

I got dressed for the race and met them at the venue. It was the race day and the hustle and bustle at the paddock had adrenaline pumping through me. Hattie greeted me and introduced me to her family, 2 sisters and her parents who were very kind and welcoming. "It's nice to finally meet the girl who's accompanying our daughter to concerts and the subject of my child's interest" Nicole chimed extending her arm out. "It's so nice to meet you too Mrs Piastri" I said while shaking her hand. "You make me sound old, call me Nicole" she said. "What did she mean by the subject of my child's interest?" I whispered to Hattie. "Nothing" Hattie answered quickly. We walked in to McLaren to be greeted by Oscar and Lando. Starstruck was an understatement. After exchanging pleasantries and me asking for Lando's autograph and a picture with him and then tripping over the wire on the floor almost discharging vital piece of equipment found my way back to everyone and decided to sit in place. Oscar did ask if I was okay but I couldn't really focus on that since I keep embarrassing myself in front of him, of all the people.

The race ended with a pretty decent finish for Oscar that had all of us cheering. He came back to meet everyone after all the formalities and celebration. After a while we started to pack up to leave; "you should help Oscar pack up" Hattie said while making a quick exit with the family. "What? Why?" I asked but was ignored while everyone left. "Hi" a small voice came. "Hey, Oscar. Great race" I said trying to making things less awkward. "Thanks for coming" Oscar said. "Hattie said you guys had extra tickets and plus I couldn't say no to a race" I rambled. "Umm" he scratched the back of his neck, "there were no extra tickets, Lando lent me one of his so I could invite you" he said. "What? I'm so sorry for the trouble" I apologised. "What? No I mean, I wanted you to come...so I asked Lando for the extra ticket" Oscar corrected me. "You wanted me to come" I repeated. "This is so stupid" he muttered to himself. "Let's go, or we'll be late for dinner" Oscar said packing his stuff. "What dinner?" I asked. I was so lost, what was going on? "We're going out for a family dinner" Oscar stated. "You're going on a family dinner, I'm going home. I'm sure they must be waiting for you in the garage." I said grabbing my stuff. "They're not" Oscar lamented running a hand through his hair.

"I could drop you there if you would like" I offered. "No, I...ugh" Oscar sounded frustrated. "Is something wrong? Maybe I can get help" I suggested. Oscar looked at me with the softest puppy eyes, "I got tickets for you, specifically even though I didn't have one, I was ready to not have one of my sisters attend so that you could have a ticket" he said now staring at me. "I don't" I began. "Fuck, Y/N IthinkIlikeyou" he mumbled. "Oscar, I don't know what you said" I said. Lando peeped in, "This is getting frustrating, I thought it would be fun to watch but it's not. That muppet means he likes you, go out with him." Lando chimed. "You like me?" I asked shocked. Oscar just nodded his head slowly. "Put the kid out of his misery and go out with him. I don't think I can take pining Oscar any more or watch him stalk your Instagram profile" Lando quipped. "Can you shut up Lando?" Oscar glared. "I would love to go out with you Oscar" I cut them off; "really?" Oscar asked. "Yeah, I mean you are my favourite driver on the grid" I stated. "Really" Oscar shouted making me and Lando jump. "Let's go now" Oscar said while holding my hand and dragging me out.

[atlabeth]

i crumble completely (when you cry)

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem ravenclaw reader

summary: there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

a/n: hogwarts legacy was 70% off, i bought it and it's good but not good enough in all the ways that matter so im fixing it for myself. no i dont know why this is where my inspo is when i have so much unfinished stuff but just go with it

wc: 2.1k

warning(s): angst but hurt/comfort angst! a more in depth scriptorium scene so crucio is used but this is from seb's pov so lighter descriptions of all that fun stuff

“Ominis, you have to.”

“I’m not doing it!” he exclaimed. “What do you not get?”

“Would you rather die here?” Sebastian spat. “Because if you don’t, that’s what will happen. And I’ve become rather fond of my life over these past few minutes.” 

“I refuse to use dark magic,” Ominis seethed. “You of all people should understand, Sebastian!” 

“I don’t understand why you’d let us die instead of casting one spell!”

He barked an incredulous laugh. “It is not just one spell! God, you—”

“Can you do it?” 

Sebastian’s anger faltered for a moment when you spoke up, and he frowned when he saw you were looking at him. “What?” 

“Can you do it?” you repeated. “Can you cast the curse?” 

“I—” His mouth fell open and shut as he looked between you and Ominis, before they finally settled on you. “—I think so. Not well, but—”

“Then you can do it,” you said. “Cast it on me, and we’ll be out of this mess.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he said your name in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”

You stared at him. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ominis cut in. “I know what it feels like—you’re not putting yourself through that. We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.” You gestured at the letters on the ground, his aunt’s last mark on the world. “You’ve got the answer right here, and a willing victim. What are you waiting for?”

Sebastian grimaced. “Calling yourself a victim isn’t helping.”

“The only reason you’re willing is because you don’t know what you’re signing up for.” Ominis’s blank gaze pointed at the ground, but his sharp words hit you all the same. “It’s unimaginable, excruciating pain. Every one of your nerves exploding, your bones being crushed to dust, your blood turning to fire. You will never forget what it feels like.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the chill settling over you. “Well, it’s either that or we sit around here until we die.”

“Even if he wanted to—”

“Which I don’t!” Sebastian cut in. 

“He would have to really mean it,” Ominis finished. 

“Again, which I don’t!” he exclaimed. 

“That just means it won’t hurt as much,” you said. “Should take away some of your reservations.”

Sebastian huffed. “There is something wrong with you.”

“And you were all for this when it would be Ominis casting it on me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I— I figured he would cast it on me!” His eyes widened. “I— I could teach it to you, and you could cast it on me!”

“Will the two of you stop bickering?” Ominis asked. “It’s not making this any better.” 

“Of course,” you nodded. “Sebastian will cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, and we’ll be out of here. Okay?” 

Sebastian stared at you, your steely gaze having already met his. You’d always been stubborn, unyielding—he’d known it since you bested him in a duel in your first ever meeting. 

Ravenclaw hardheadedness, he figured. Always assuming you knew best (you usually did), that you were right (you usually were), that you could handle whatever ended up in your path (you usually could). 

And here you were, standing right in front of him, those determined eyes unwavering as you practically begged him to cast an Unforgivable Curse on you. 

Did you know that he wasn’t even sure he could cast it on you? Not just because it was near unthinkable, but because he had no idea if he could scrounge up enough ill will towards you to even partially want to hurt you. 

Did you know that you were the reason he’d started doing better in classes? That, no matter how much he complained about your study sessions together, that he could have been doing something much more productive, he treasured every moment with you? 

Did you even know that the mere thought of causing you pain made him want to retch? That, yes, he may very well choose death over imparting the torture curse on you? 

Did you even know how he felt about you? 

Sebastian pulled his wand out his robes, his grip tightening in an effort to stop his hand from shaking. “You’re sure about this.” 

You nodded. “It won’t leave any physical wounds. It’ll be over sooner than you know it.” 

He huffed as he glanced away. “You shouldn’t be the one reassuring me.” 

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged. “Just… buy me a pint of butterbeer when we get out of here. Then we’ll be square.” 

“You’re not exactly aiming high,” Sebastian said wryly. 

You smiled. “My mum always told me it was the simple things. Now, do it before I lose my nerve.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, once, twice, three times as he adjusted his hold on his wand. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember the wand movement, but instead, he saw your face. 

The first time he met you, when you embarrassed him in front of the whole class by beating him ina duel. When you asked him to take you to Hogsmeade for the first time, and you ended up taking down a troll—how beautiful you looked with the glow of exertion beneath your skin, when you turned to him with the widest (and maybe first) smile he’d ever seen from you in the wake of your efforts. 

How could he do something like this to you?

He pushed the doubt down. There was no other way. You wanted him to do it—wanted him to save them all from a very boring, very preventable death. 

Something in the scriptorium could save Anne. That was worth anything. 

Sebastian took in a deep breath. He brought forth every negative thought—the goblin that cursed his sister, his housemates that believed in nothing but blood purity, his uncle that refused to believe in him, refused to even try to save Anne. 

None of it to do with you, who had done nothing but support him since you helped him up from the ground after pummeling him into it, but he tried to project it onto you anyways. 

He raised his wand. 

He opened his eyes—your gaze hadn’t moved. They showed no fear, no anger, no emotion at all but steely determination. 

“Crucio!” 

Red light arced from his wand to your body. You crumpled to your knees the instant the spell reached you, skull-splintering screams echoing throughout the small room as the curse wrapped its way around you. 

Your scarf fell from your neck, your robes pooled around you, your knees and palms scraped the stone as you tried to support yourself in any way. Your agonized wails were deafening, and Sebastian nearly lost it right then and there, nausea rising in his throat. Ominis’s blank, widened gaze fell on the wall, his hands clenched into fists as he fought to keep his expression even. 

You were one of the strongest people Sebastian knew. Always infallible, always so smart, so level headed in the face of his impulsivity. Naturally gifted at magic, and somehow willing to tolerate him. And he’d been forced to reduce you to this. 

But it worked. Your screams of pure torment unlocked something in Salazar Slytherin’s sick design, and the door of tortured faces pulsed with red energy before sliding into the stone. 

Sebastian rushed over the moment the door started to open, his wand falling from his grasp in his haste and his eyes wide with fear and concern. He went to touch you, but stopped just before he could—he didn’t want to hurt you more. Your entire body rose and fell with your beleaguered breaths as you rolled on your side, your every movement labored. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I— I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t respond, the pain still arcing its way through your body despite the curse being done. You inhaled sharply as your eyes screwed shut, and you nodded. 

“You’re clearly not okay.” The slight waver in Ominis’s voice betrayed his unaffected stature. “That was remarkably stupid.”

“Ominis—” Sebastian started, but you shook your head. 

“It worked,” you interrupted as you lifted a shaky hand to point at the now revealed scriptorium. “Couldn’t… couldn’t be too stupid… could it?”

“There is something wrong with you,” he whispered. You could only manage a pained laugh at his words. 

Sebastian stayed there with you as you fought through the last few convulsions—he said nothing when you grabbed his hand, bit back his wince when you squeezed tighter than a vice. After what you just went through, he could bear something so small. 

Your breathing was still labored when he finally helped you up. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, but he kept you upright. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, desperate to reassure you. “You— you’re okay.”

“I told you I would be,” you said. 

“You did,” he conceded. “I keep forgetting you’re always right.” 

He got the slightest smile from you at that. Sebastian glanced over when he heard footsteps, and he saw Ominis approaching. His whole body still held a tenseness, but he was sure it was for a different reason this time. 

“…You took that well,” he finally said, and he held out your scarf. 

Again, another laugh and another wince. “I really didn’t. But thank you.” 

You reached for the scarf, but Sebastian got to it first. He gently draped it around your neck, taking special care to keep the Ravenclaw emblem in the front. You had a lot of pride in your house. 

“How’s that?” he asked softly. 

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

He nodded too, and Ominis cleared his throat. Sebastian turned back to him, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. Ominis held his wand, and he took it back before shoving it back into his robes. Casting any sort of spell felt dirtied right now. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I… I’m sorry about all this.” 

“…Thank you,” Ominis echoed. “Let’s just get out of here before any more of Slytherin’s tricks find us.” 

“No arguments here,” you mumbled. 

Ominis walked in, and though your eyes followed him, you lingered back with Sebastian. He still supported you, one of his arms interlocked with yours. A part of him was worried that you would collapse again the second he stepped away. He could feel your chilled skin even through your robes—no wonder you always wore your scarf. You ran colder than a mermaid. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 

“You already said that.” 

“Because it’s true,” he said. “These curses are unforgivable for a reason. You never should have had to go through this.” 

“Well, I forgive you,” you said. “We had no choice, and I asked you to do it. And,” you gave him a wry look, “it didn’t hurt that much, so you clearly didn’t mean it.” 

He couldn’t even laugh at that—he kept hearing your piercing screams, agony beyond all reason. He would surely hear them for weeks to come in his sleep, see your prone form every time he closed his eyes. 

He felt you nudge him in the side. “Hey. Perk up. I’m okay. Besides,” you gave him a sideways smile, “Rowena would be proud. Anything in the name of knowledge, eh?” 

That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and he shook his head. “There’s—” 

“Something wrong with me, I know. That’s the third time today.” You tilted your head towards the scriptorium. “Now, shall we get what we suffered for?” 

Sebastian nodded, and the two of you walked in, him still supporting you. Ominis had already made his way up the stairs—he really did want to get out as soon as possible. You had your wand in your free hand and had already murmured a quick Revelio, eyes darting around in an effort to unearth any secrets. 

“That brain of yours never stops, does it?” 

Your lips quirked. “Never.” 

Another beat of silence as you searched the alcoves together. He couldn’t help but watch you—you were a Ravenclaw in her natural habitat. Your brow creased just so, your pretty features honed to a single point of focus, cycling through all your thoughts at breakneck speed despite what you just went through. It made his heart swell with something he couldn’t quite name, right beside a gnawing hole filled with guilt.  

“I really do owe you a pint,” Sebastian murmured.  

You laughed. Lighter, this time, and with only the slightest grimace. “Make that two.” 

A smile crossed his lips without him even thinking. Sebastian was so glad he had you in his life—he was only sorry he had to wait until fifth year. 

“Deal.”

[solxamber]

Can't wait to request Skully boy, but let's do a part 3 of White Rabbit!Reader since the overblot aftermath is usually somewhat of a positive effect on the overblot person, I want it to do the opposite to White Rabbit!Reader since before their overblot, they were always jumpy, timid and anxious.

Now, I kind of want them to be like this half the time whenever someone bothers them:

Aftermath of White Rabbit! Reader's Overblot

Characters: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya

Original White rabbit! reader ask ; White rabbit! reader overblot ask

thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is probably the first to notice the difference. While he usually relied on your obedience to the Queen's rules, your newfound bluntness shocks him. He asks you to organize paperwork, expecting the usual nervous compliance, but instead, you sigh and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it, don’t have a heart attack.” Riddle is speechless for a moment, his face flushing. Though he won’t admit it, he’s at a loss. “What… happened to you?”

Trey Clover

Trey has always been the calm, stable figure in your life, a grounding presence in Heartslabyul. But even he’s taken aback by your sudden shift. “You’re not the same nervous bunny I’m used to,” he remarks when you snap at someone who’d pushed you too far. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Guess I finally had enough.” Trey offers a small, understanding smile, knowing all too well the pressures of keeping up appearances. “If you need to blow off steam, my kitchen’s always open. Just don’t burn out.”

Cater Diamond

Cater, who usually plays things off with a lighthearted comment or a perfectly timed selfie, can sense the change in your mood. "Whoa, who flipped the switch on you, bunny?" he jokes, holding up his phone for another pic. You barely glance his way, grumbling, "Put that away before I snap." Cater's smile falters briefly, unused to you being so short with him. "Yikes. Someone's in need of a chill day. Maybe a group selfie will help?" He backs off but keeps an eye on you, curious how long this new attitude will last.

Ace Trappola

Ace is taken aback but more intrigued than anything. He used to enjoy teasing you for fun, always expecting a shy or flustered response. Now, you roll your eyes and say, “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Ace laughs nervously but is secretly impressed by your sass. “Hey, I liked you better when you were jumpy. You were easier to mess with.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce feels bad. He didn’t realize how much the teasing had affected you until now. He approaches cautiously, noticing your new, weary demeanor. When he tries to help, offering to carry something, you grumble, “I’ve got it, I’m not helpless.” Deuce scratches his head, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’m sorry if we pushed you too hard.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona finds your transformation amusing at first. As one of the few prey beastmen in the school, he always enjoyed calling you "herbivore." But now, when you meet his taunts with a dry “Yeah, real original, Leona,” he raises an eyebrow, both impressed and a little curious. “Finally got some backbone, huh? Good. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just ‘cause you stopped cowering.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is caught off guard by how done you seem with everything. He tries to pass off some chores, as usual, but you just give him a deadpan look. “Do I look like your personal assistant?” Ruggie chuckles nervously. “Whoa, you’ve changed. Guess I’ll just… do it myself, then. Heh.”

Jack Howl

Jack, being the most straightforward, notices something is wrong immediately. He never liked the way people teased you, and now your exhaustion worries him. “You don’t look so good. Is there something I can help with?” When you respond with a tired “Just let me get through the day, Jack,” he frowns, unsure how to handle this new side of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul appreciates how compliant you were before, especially when he needed help with contracts or deals. Now, your indifference makes his eye twitch. “Care to assist with a little… business?” he asks. “Do it yourself, Ashengrotto,” you reply without even looking up. Azul’s smile falters. “How… unfortunate.”

Jade Leech

Jade enjoys your shift in attitude. To him, it’s fascinating to see prey become more assertive. “My, my, you’ve grown quite bold, haven’t you?” he muses. You don’t even glance his way, muttering, “Bold? I’m just tired.” Jade chuckles, intrigued. “I do hope that exhaustion won’t stop you from keeping things interesting.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd used to love squishing you just to see you jump. Now, when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and you groan, “Not now, Floyd,” he pouts. “You’re no fun anymore, Little Rabbit. Bring back the scaredy-cat!” He sulks but also seems weirdly fascinated by your new attitude, poking you to see if he can get a reaction.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s sunny disposition remains unchanged, but even he notices that something’s off. He invites you to join a party, only for you to respond, “I’m not in the mood.” Kalim blinks, genuinely concerned. “Hey, is everything okay? You always used to come… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is more analytical about your change. He senses something deeper at play and approaches cautiously. “You’re different now,” he observes. “No kidding,” you mutter, pushing past him. Jamil hums thoughtfully, wondering if there’s something he can learn from your overblot experience—or if it’s just another thing he needs to keep an eye on.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is used to elegance, control, and composure, so your new bluntness strikes him as unbecoming. “You’re really letting yourself go,” he comments sharply. You simply stare at him, unbothered, and say, “And you care because?” Vil frowns, his perfectly crafted facade slipping for a second. “Honestly, how disappointing.”

Rook Hunt

Rook finds the change in you utterly fascinating. “Ah, the hunted has become a hunter in their own right! Magnifique!” You stare at him with exhausted eyes, muttering, “I’m just trying to get through the day, Rook.” He laughs, completely unfazed by your exhaustion. “Every day with you is an adventure, mon lapin!”

Epel Felmier

Epel, who never liked being underestimated, gets where you’re coming from. He nudges you with a grin. “Bet you’re sick of everyone treating you like you’re fragile, huh?” You shrug tiredly, “Sick of a lot of things.” Epel chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. Don’t let ‘em push you around anymore.”

Idia Shroud

Idia is a little freaked out by your change. You used to be predictable, easy to understand—now? Not so much. He glances at you from behind his tablet and mumbles, “Uh… you okay? You seem… different.” When you snap back, “What do you think?” Idia recoils, instantly regretting his question. “Yikes… never mind…”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho, ever the optimist, immediately notices your shift in behavior and tries to cheer you up in his own enthusiastic way. “I can analyze your stress levels! Maybe we can find a way to relax together!” he offers, his eyes lighting up with data scans. You give him a tired look and sigh, “Thanks, but I just want to be left alone.” Ortho frowns, his usual cheerful energy dimming. “Okay… but remember, I’m always here if you need help!” He can’t quite figure out how to help you, but he makes a mental note to keep monitoring your well-being.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus can feel the weight of your exhaustion and frustration. He’s perceptive and doesn’t need to hear you say much to understand how deeply the overblot has affected you. “You carry a heavy burden now,” he says quietly. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a choice.” Malleus watches you with a somber gaze. “You do. You always have a choice.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is concerned but also intrigued by your sudden shift. “My, you’ve grown up in such a short time,” he teases, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Not sure if that’s a good thing,” you mutter. Lilia’s eyes narrow. “Be careful not to lose yourself, young one. This world can be… unforgiving.”

Silver

Silver, ever the calm and observant knight, is probably the least surprised by your change in demeanor. He approaches cautiously, noticing your exhaustion even before you speak. “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t push yourself too hard,” he advises softly. When you sigh and mutter, “I’m just tired, Silver,” he nods, understanding in his quiet way. “If you ever need to rest, I’ll stand guard for you.” He’s not one to pry but offers his silent support.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is offended by your change in attitude, especially since you no longer respond as deferentially as you used to. “What happened to your respect for authority?” he barks. You shoot him an irritated glare. “Respect is earned, not given.” Sebek’s jaw drops, his mind struggling to compute your audacity.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo has always had a certain disdain for the chaotic nature of magic, and as someone who seemed so harmless before, you were never a particular blip on his radar.

But after your overblot, when you return to a more cynical, jaded version of yourself, Rollo is... intrigued. “I see you’ve shed your naïveté,” he comments one day when you cross paths, eyeing your newfound sharpness.

You sigh and rub your temples, muttering, “I’m too tired for whatever lecture you’re about to give me, Rollo.” He raises an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Perhaps you’ve come to realize that order, after all, must be maintained by force. Even for someone like you.” His words are clipped, but there’s almost a sense of kinship as he recognizes the exhaustion that comes from living within strict expectations.

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is disheartened by your exhaustion. He approaches you with genuine concern, his wide, innocent eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry if anyone’s been making things harder for you,” he says softly. “You don’t deserve that.” You give him a tired smile, “It’s fine. People just… don’t know when to stop.” Neige nods. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Che’nya

Che’nya finds your new personality endlessly amusing. “My, my! You’ve finally joined the cynical side of Wonderland!” he teases, popping in and out of view. You roll your eyes, unimpressed. “I’m too tired for your games, Che’nya.” He grins, floating above you. “That’s what makes it so fun, friend.”

Crowley

Crowley had always seen you as one of the more manageable students—timid, hardworking, and, most importantly, someone who didn’t cause him headaches. But after your overblot? Let’s just say he’s... mildly concerned. “My dear White Rabbit, surely you don’t mean to talk to your esteemed headmaster in such a disrespectful tone!” he blusters, feathers metaphorically ruffled when you brush past one of his long-winded speeches with an eye roll and, “Please, for the love of Seven, just get to the point.” Crowley is left gaping, unsure whether he should reprimand you or seek out some sympathy for your newly discovered spine.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is quick to notice your shift in attitude and respects your newfound bluntness—though only to a point. “You’ve finally found some grit,” he comments, his voice sharp as usual. “Good. Just don’t let it cloud your judgment.” You nod wearily, “I’m way past judgment.”

Mozus Trein

Trein raises an eyebrow at your attitude shift but doesn’t comment much. He simply sighs, “I hope you’re not letting stress affect your studies.” You shrug. “Stress is part of the deal, Professor.”

Sam

Sam’s sharp eye notices the change immediately when you stroll into his shop, a bit of a scowl replacing your usual fidgety demeanor. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bunny. What’s got you hoppin’ mad today?” he teases lightly, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

But when you shoot him a tired look and say, “Sam, please, just give me the potion before I scream,” he lets out a low whistle. “Whoa now, partner! You’re wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box! If anyone knows about stress, it’s me—how ‘bout I toss in some tea on the house?” He’s concerned, but he can’t resist a little ribbing, hoping to ease your frustration.

Masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[woso-story]

The Weight Of Love And Loss - Part Four

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One Two Three Five Six Seven Eight Last Part

The morning of the meeting, your nerves felt like they were eating you alive. Every step toward the café felt heavier than the last, as though the gravity of your decision was pulling you back. For days, you’d debated whether to come at all. You’d imagined every possible outcome: Alexia apologizing, Alexia blaming you, Alexia trying to win you back. But no matter how much you rehearsed your responses, nothing prepared you for the reality of seeing her again.

The café was quiet as you approached. It was early, not many people around. Through the glass, you could see Alexia already sitting at your old table, her back slightly hunched, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug.

For a moment, you stopped in your tracks. Memories of the two of you flooded your mind—happy days spent in this exact spot, laughing, dreaming, planning your future together. The air had always been warm with love back then. But now? Now it felt like that love was gone, leaving only bitterness and heartbreak behind.

You inhaled deeply and pushed open the door.

---

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Alexia’s attention. She looked up, her eyes meeting yours instantly, and she stood, as if she wasn’t sure whether to stay seated or greet you. She hesitated before giving a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Her voice was small, unsure, and it tugged at your heart in a way you weren’t ready for.

“Hi,” you replied curtly. No warmth, no familiarity. Just the distance you’d carefully built since the day you walked out of her apartment.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?” she offered, almost nervously.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s just get this over with.”

The words were sharp, but you needed them to be. You needed to protect yourself, to keep the walls you’d built from crumbling the moment she looked at you with those pleading eyes.

Alexia flinched slightly but nodded, sitting back down. You followed, keeping your distance, your arms crossed defensively as you waited for her to start.

---

The silence between you stretched on painfully. Alexia fidgeted with her mug, her eyes darting between you and the table. You resisted the urge to fill the void, to make it easier for her. This was her meeting, her chance to explain. You weren’t going to make it easier for her.

Finally, you sighed, irritation creeping into your voice. “If you’re not going to say anything, I’m leaving. I don’t have time to sit here in silence.”

“No—wait,” she blurted out, her voice breaking slightly. She looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I need to try.”

---

Alexia took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly together as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m sorry for everything. For the way I treated you. For shutting you out. For not listening. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to focus on getting better, but...I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you in the process.”

You stayed silent, your expression unreadable.

“When I got injured, I felt like everything I’d worked for my whole life was slipping away,” she continued, her voice cracking. “Football isn’t just a job for me—it’s who I am. And losing that...I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was angry, scared, lost. And instead of letting you help me, I pushed you away. I thought I could handle it on my own. But I couldn’t.”

Her voice broke completely now, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear, I didn’t. But I did, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I made you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You always did. You’re...you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it.”

---

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For months, you’d begged her to open up, to tell you how she felt. And now, here she was, pouring her heart out—but it was too late.

“You’re right,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “You did ruin it.”

Alexia flinched as if you’d slapped her, but you didn’t stop.

“I tried, Alexia. I tried so hard to be there for you, to support you, to love you. But you didn’t let me. Every time I tried to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you, you weren’t there. And do you know how that felt? To feel like I was invisible? Like I didn’t matter?”

Tears were streaming down your face now, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “You broke my heart, Alexia. Piece by piece, over months. And I can’t just forget that.”

---

Alexia sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself. “I know,” she whispered. “I know I messed up. But...please. Please give me another chance. I’ll do better. I’ll change. Just...don’t give up on us.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “It’s not that simple, Alexia. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can trust you not to do it again.”

Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

“I think we need time,” you continued, your voice shaking. “Time to heal. Separately.”

Alexia’s tears fell freely now, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispered. “You’re my rock. You always have been.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Your rock? I felt more like your punching bag these last few months. I took every hit, Alexia. Every argument, every hurtful comment, every time you brushed me off. I took it all. And I broke because of it.”

She sobbed quietly, her hands trembling as she reached for yours. “I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just...don’t leave me.”

You took her hands in yours, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “You need help, Alexia. Real help. Talk to a sports psychologist. Work through everything you’re feeling. Because I can’t be the one to fix this for you. I tried, and it nearly destroyed me.”

Her tears fell harder, but she nodded slowly, her grip on your hands tightening.

After a moment Alexia’s sobs quieted, and she wiped at her face with shaking hands. “So...that’s it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“For now,” you said softly. “You need time to heal. And so do I. We can’t do that together.”

She nodded slowly, her tears falling silently now. “Is there still a chance for us? Someday?”

You hesitated, your heart breaking all over again. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if it’s meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. For now, we have to let go.”

Her face crumpled, but she managed a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” she whispered.

You stood, your heart heavy as you looked at her one last time. “Take care of yourself, Alexia,” you said gently.

“You too,” she replied, her voice trembling.

And with that, you walked away, leaving behind the woman you once thought you’d spend forever with.

As you stepped out into the crisp morning air, a single thought ran through your mind: Maybe someday.

But for now, you needed to heal. Alone.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 3)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer decides that you are the perfect person to be his baby mama.

Rated E, but the smut has been delayed due to personal matters. I apologize! Still not for kiddos though.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“Hello there!”

Teeth. 

This man in your apartment — 

‘He was a duck. A fucking duck and now he’s a man. Oh my fucking god what the fucking fuck.’ 

                                                 — had shark teeth. 

If you’d had better control of your faculties — if you were capable of doing anything more than staring airily with mouth agape — you would’ve screamed bloody murder.

Instead, you sat there, unable to move and quickly succumbing to a sensation you could only described as detachment. 

His pointy smile gleamed despite the darkness. His whole person appeared to glow, in fact, giving you a clear view of his demonic approximation of a man in what could only be described as circus attire. 

You stared.

There was silence. The expression on his face fell slowly, showman’s smile melting until it barely lingered on his pallid face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get loud, heh.” The man-creature adopted an inside voice. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I mean we’ve met before, obviously, but it’s nice to be able to meet you as me a-and you as you!”

The blond cleared his throat. Enthusiasm in full force as he pulled a cane out of behind his back and spread his arms out wide. 

“Allow me to introduce myself! I am Lucifer Morningstar! King of Hell… and I am at your service, my lady.”

Lucifer bowed until his strangely nose-less face just about touched the floor. 

“… King of Hell…?” Your voice came out steadier than you thought it would. “You’re… Satan?”

“Ah-ha, ha, that’s a common misconception. Satan is actually a friend of mine!” Lucifer sprung up, pleased as punch to hear you finally speak. “People have called me a ton of different names; that’s what happens when you’ve been around for like, ever. It all gets jumbled and lost in translation. Like that game! Telephone!”

“Wait, no.” He snapped his fingers together a few times. “Is that…? No that’s not it. It’s, it’s, ah shit.”

“No, you’re right.” You replied mildly. ”It’s Telephone.”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up like firecrackers. He moved closer to you, step by step, while excitement squared his shoulders. 

“So, are you taking me to hell now?” Your flippant question stopped him dead. 

“Wait, what?” His shock snapped into nervous laughter. 

Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling contemplatively. “I didn’t think I was special enough to be brought down by the Devil himself.” 

“No! No, no, no, no, no!” Lucifer waved his arms frantically. “I’m not! You’re not! I would never!”

“I’m flattered. You didn’t have to come all this way, you know.”

“Hell is for sinners not — not for you!” The very real panic on his face was amusing to some part of your hindbrain as you stared back at him airily. “You’re - you don’t deserve to go to Hell. Ever!”

“… Why?”

Lucifer’s shoulders shook, eyes still bugging out of his skull before he took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Well, because! Because you-uuu are a good person. Good people go to…” He inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily. “H-heaven.” 

You humored him with a smile, a kernel of pity lodged in your heart. It made sense that the Devil would hesitate before even naming Heaven. 

“No,” You course-corrected gently. “Why are you here?”

“Oh! Okay, yeah that. Great question! Thank you for asking!” The man-thing cartoonishly wiped at his brow, a silent ‘phew’ following. “I just wanted to, um…” 

Black gloves gesture wildly like Lucifer was fishing for words out of the air. 

“Ahh, I guess? The short answer is that I just wanted to meet you.” He smiled sheepishly. 

Your face felt numb, but you imagined that he could make out the want to raise your eyebrow questioningly from the blazé energy you were exuding. 

“See, actually, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself for days. You were moving in and I saw you and I wanted to say hello because you looked… ”

Fang-like teeth bit into his lower lip as Lucifer eyes darted to your form. That sheepish look had morphed into a mortified one when he could no longer make eye contact with you. 

“You looked like a ve-ery nice, helpful person and I thought to myself ‘gee, I don’t get to talk to a lot of nice, helpful people often — being as I am the ruler of Hell, and that’s not the nicest place around, right? Hah — so why not stop by and see if this person would be willing to talk to me?’” 

The cane in his gloved hands tapped against one palm impatiently, a shiny red apple glinting at the top. 

“Well, I, I mean that’s what I wanted to do when you first got here…” He trailed off with uncertainty. 

“But I just… I just kept fucking it up!” Lucifer knocked a fist against his face as if to say ‘stupid! stupid!’. “Every time I come up to knock on your door, I start thinking about all the ways it could go wrong and then I’d start getting antsy and I didn’t wanna freak you out!”

The Devil raked a hand through his platinum-blond hair. 

“I was just so afraid you’d run away screaming.” He sighed. “Which, while I thought that would be the worst case scenario, made a little more sense than right now with you taking this whole thing exceptionally well.” 

“Hmm,” You hummed, turning his words over in your mind. “Well I can’t run away, but I’m definitely screaming internally, if that’s helpful?”

Lucifer had the nerve to pout at your deadpan statement. 

“Maybe whatever you gave me at dinner caused a bad reaction?” You suggested. 

“Oh no. Well, maybe. I mean — I didn’t give that stuff to you. This was their idea.”

A bit of feeling was returning to your nose, and you could feel it scrunch up in confusion. “Your friends wanted to drug me?”

“My frie — Hah! Oh no, sweetie those aren’t my friends! Well, I mean they’ve let me crash at their place when I’m up topside, but that’s all part of our little agreement.” 

“Your agreement to-oo provide them with joy and laughter in their golden years as a pet duck?”

Lucifer guffawed loudly. “Oho! You are — that was funny! Hah, funny, kind, pretty, you’re the whole shebang aren’t ya?! — I knew picking you was the right move!”

‘Picking me?’ That got you to tilt your head with some effort, mouth opening to ask just that.

“Aha no, actually.” Lucifer cut you off. “That’s the other thing I was going to mention. I wasn’t gonna bring it up until a little while later, after we got to know each other.” 

Before you knew it, Lucifer had scuttled to your side and was sitting on the edge of the couch beside you, propping up the side of his head on one arm against the back. 

“Now’s as good a time as any.” You replied serenely. If you could shrug, you would’ve. 

Lucifer frowned while patterns into the couch cushion. “I wish I knew why you’re so darn agreeable. I mean, I love it! Makes this so much easier. But it’s also a little… weird.” 

You shifted to better face the Prince of Darkness, feeling a tingling sensation along one side. “I find it’s best to go with the flow during dreams. When I question things, they’re more likely to change into nightmares.” 

“Wh… what?” Your companion flinched back like you’d smacked him in the face. “You think this is a dream?”

“What else could it be?” Came your nonchalant response. “It’s either that or a hallucination from the drugs. I wouldn’t know, I don’t usually partake. But I’m pretty sure I fell asleep after my neighbors brought me back to my room, so I’m leaning toward that.”

The devil remained silent, that earlier expression of mortification making a comeback, as well as a slow-growing horror that made the unusually red spots on his cheeks drain down to pink. 

“No, no I’m not… I’m not a dream! This is real! I’m real!” Lucifer lurched forward suddenly, hands hovering centimeters from your lifeless arm. 

He swallowed thickly, making a decision in real time to peel off his glove and reach out to you with alabaster fingers. 

“See?” He asked softly, brushed against your shoulder down to your forearm with cautious claws. 

The nerve endings in your body had been waking up throughout your conversation with Not-Satan, but felt unusually sharp as his nails grazed your flesh. Lucifer’s hand was smoother than smooth, and cold like a glass window in winter. It was as if he were made of porcelain, solid yet fragile. 

And yet you felt a burgeoning warmth when he took hold of your hand. There was a faint heat coming from beneath his skin; a candle still burning somewhere beneath layers and layers of ice. 

You shivered violently, body and mind syncing as you both rejected and sought that impossible sensation. 

Lucifer, meanwhile, was staring at your hand in his, fingers entwined. He marveled at the image, hope blossoming from within, after an eternity of being grounded. 

Just to touch you, to be near you and bask in your body heat and the presence of your soul did wonders. 

“This is no dream. This is really happening.” He repeated softly. 

———————— Tag List:

@crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch

[anonymouscheeses]

Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)

Look at her! "Teehee"

Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯

STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)

*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏

KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR

DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN

Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.

I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭

More foreshadowing!

AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!

Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable

If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)

JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH

Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??

Hot-

That's it.

SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.

But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP

THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever

Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh

Haha penis 🫵

SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.

Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying

Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.

Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)

I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)

VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA

Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.

ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭

Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?

Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).

Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨

Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)

OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.

Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.

HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D

Imagine this. No- shit. Just-

JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.

*SWEATS*

Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool

I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅

Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨

Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.

Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.

Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?

I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-

[animeangel21]

BACK SCRATCHES PART 2

Hanma Shuji got around once upon a time, then one day he went to the right convenient store and tgats when he met you. It wasn’t his usual spot to go to but he was in the area, had no cigarettes and needed them or he’d probably kill someone.

You were in there buying a few snacks, had a drink in hand too and he could also see that some scum bag was following you around the store. He watched him while waiting in line, the guy peeped through the isles and eventually when you were gonna check out he waiting till someone was behind you to get in line with some random drink from the fridge.

He turned to you looking down at you which caught your attention making you look at up to him.

He would never admit it but he fell in love for the first time in that moment you first made eye contact, he heard wedding bells, but he’d never admit it aloud.

“You have all in your hands, would you like to go infront of me?” He asked and his voice alone was attractive to you but so was him being so kind and looking like he could beat someone to death.

“It’s okay really, I’m just getting one thing.” He lowers his voice and looks ahead. “Also someone’s been following you around the store, just so you know.”

You tap his arm and nod your head. “ I know I saw him” he steps aside so you can get infront of him. “I know how to protect myself, purses aren’t just for show.” You said proudly. He found your words very attractive. Not just in a he wanted to sleep with you but he needed to be around you for a long time.

“Hm, a woman who knows how to defend herself, well I would’ve put a bullet in his head if you didn’t first. But, could I take you out on a date instead, promise IM not the creep.” You turned to face the tall man in his suit and looked back into his gorgeous eyes. “I don’t take you for a creep, you’re quite sweet, a gentleman for sure, and willing to kill someone for me? I’d like that.” You replied and just as you turned around that person finished checking out.

“Add a pack of those cigarettes to whatever she’s getting and put it on this card” he pointed at a pack over your head and placed his card on the counter.

“What are yo-” you started and he just looked at you and winked making you blush.

“My treat doll, besides we have a date no?” He said grabbing the bag after being checked out and grabbing your hand with his free hand.

And from that day forward you and Hanma went on dates, started dating and now happily engaged. Nobody knew, he never told Kisaki and he never expected it. Hanma just told him he was meeting up with someone every day and he assumed he was sleeping with different people but he wasn’t, it’s always been you and always will be.

Sometimes He had relatively bad days like today but even so he never physically or verbally took it out on you But, Hanma also never missed the opportunity to fuck it all out.

Your caring nature and empathy really shows when you know he’s having a bad day. You see it in his face, his text messages, hear it in his voice. He loves when you sit in his lap and play with his hair while he rants about his day, you massage his shoulder then the back of his neck, down to his collar bones and then back to his hair.

But once he feels your less of your palm and more of your fingertips he can feel how hot his body really is just after his day but now he’s getting horny. And once you start dragging your fingertips down his back while looking back up at him listening to him speak he darts his tongue out to lick his lips.

He swears he feels your fingertips twitched on his back But knows your thighs definitely did and he only knew because you’re sitting on him and his hands are right on top. “Tryna make me feel better by making me hard? Only gonna frustrate me more if you’re teasing me.” You giggled at his statement which made him raise an eyebrow at you but he couldn’t help but smile right back.

“I’d never do such things, just wanna make you feel better” you continued dragging your nails up and down his back softly and it was so soft but he wanted more, he wanted to feel you digging them into his back, he needs to feel anything besides the stress and anger from today.

As weird as it was he wanted to feel pain right now and he needed that slight adrenaline rush, just so he could take that all out on someone that just happened to be you.

“Let me help you help me, I know you can’t do it on your own, cant take it by yourself either” he began to kiss and suck on your neck his tongue dragging against the skin he bites too hard with a firm grip on your hips.

“Really? From what I recall I swallow your dick without a single complaint or gag” you said panting, gasping between words as your body grew entirely too sensitive from the ticking sensation on your neck in addition to his teeth pulling the skin.

It’s not like you could run or squirm away from his mouth or touch he had you in a tight grip and you wouldn’t get away that easy and you knew that already and what would follow.

“Yeah it’s the only way to keep your smart mouth shut.” He kissed you before you could open your mouth and gave your butt a hard squeeze and laying you flat on your back against the pillows the scent of his Cologne lingered in the air and against the pillow.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of the sweats you’re wearing (they’re actually his) And he’s met with a wet patch on the crotch of your panties. “you like when I get all rough with you hm? Keep those pretty lips shut and maybe you can cum” he ran 2 fingers against the wet spot, now it was starting to hurt how hard he was.

Soon enough he was between your legs spitting and sucking on your clit while fucking his spit and cum in and out of you with his fingers. He’s kept your legs pushed up one to your chest with the other hand holding it up, the other on his shoulder and he’s getting exactly what he wanted you pulling on his hair while digging your nails into his scalp.

“Ya legs are shaking baby” he smirked and dug his fingers in deeper making you squirm feeling overwhelmed and arching off the bed. He sucks harder than he was before using his tongue to circle around your clit.

He pulls his fingers out replacing it with his in your words ‘freakishly’ long tongue before taking it out to give you a long lick from the ass to your clit before swallowing what’s on his tongue and with another long suck you gripped his hair harder and arched into his mouth and he didn’t even need to breathe he could die happy right then and there, with you whining and moaning so nicely while cumming all over his face.

“Fuck baby, give it all to me” his sentence was muffled as he still had his face buried in your pussy.

“Shu, shuj- wanna make you feel good” you gasped and moaned trying to catch your breath which seemed impossible the way he’s latched to you.

He pulls away with the entire bottom of his face wet and lips swollen and red, face blushed, and his pupils were dilated, he knew he was in so deep.

He crawled up your body till he was face to face with you still keeping your legs in his grip just slowly sliding his hands upwards till he’s got both hands behind your knees and he presses them to your chest and sticks his tongue in your mouth making you Taste yourself on his saliva.

He pulls back dropping your legs to give them a break knowing they’re gonna be sore, maybe bruised a bit. He stripped off the pajama pants he had on which was all he had on then he grabs onto the end of the sweater you wore (also his) and tosses it somewhere across the spacious room.

He wraps your legs around his waist and he can feel your nails on his back already just from his leaky tip dragging through your soaked folds right now, his shaft between your lips and the head occasionally catching against your sensitive clit was overwhelming the feeling making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Keep going sweet girl, so good fa’ me” he said between kisses on your neck and swelled hbitten lips.

He pushes himself in with no warning and from the start he can’t find it in him to be merciful. You gasp, moan, cuss all at once and you know how fucked up his back will look tomorrow. He was too big to push in so quickly and even with the prep he was so hard to take and the first reaction you had to the pain was to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Fuckin pussy has its own heartbeat or ya tryna push me out?” He joked giving your neck a hard bite

You clenched around him when he didnt do much but give you a hard thrust to finally make you scratch him down his back slightly. “Shu’ please, please fuck me” you moaned out of breath. You needed him now and he wanted you just as much but he couldn’t help but tease you a bit, rile you up like you did him, but he really wants to push that limit, how long he could hold back from pounding you into the mattress, he wants to build up his own adrenaline to make sure he lets it all out, just like you tell him.

“Just keep laying there all pretty for me baby, I’ll give everything to y-” he’s cut off when your legs wrap around him.

“Please Shu, wan’ it all, T-Too deep baby please move.” You begged and continued to stare down at you with a smile on his face that would be mistaken for loving but his mind was twisted.

“Oh it hurts? Prove it to me baby” he dipped his head into your neck whispering such a filthy sentence causing you to grind upwards to meet his hips, you know what he wants too you may be brain dead when he fucks you like this but you’re still cunning and smart enough to know he’s a sadist and a masochist.

From his shoulder blades to about mid back as far as you could reach you dug your nails into his skin and pushed your hips into his as far as you could “please SHU-” your voice gets louder when he bites into your neck with a growl cussing under his breath but those sounds only made you clench around him tightly.

“You like this shit, as much as you try n’ run from me” his grip tightens on the pillow next to your head you could hear his knuckles crack his other hand grabs onto the crown of your head pulling back with a slight giggle.

“So pretty, My. Pretty. Slut. My. Fucking. Wife.” With each word it was followed with a hard thrust. The heels of your feet dug deeper and you already knew his back would look fucked up tomorrow the way you tried to hold him close plus it sounded entirely too sexy hearing that from his mouth.

His hips picked up momentum and he continued to use the weight of his hips to fuck into you harder. It’d sound painful to anyone who heard that but it felt ridiculously good.

You could just whine and cry out moans into his ear mumbling some nonsense he doesn’t bother to try and understand. He feels like his back is slightly on fire but the adrenaline from that only makes him to want to keep going for hours, how could he not when your pussy had a vice on him and was tightening every time his tip smashed into that sweet spot in you.

“ you hear the way she’s talkin back, practically soaking the sheets cryin fa’ me” he pulls your head down to look where you’re connected at the hips, he groans at the sight of your glistening cunt leaking white milky cum onto the bedsheets, the base of his cock had a white ring slowly dripping down his balls.

He damn near gives you whiplash when he uses your hair to pull your lips to his and he kisses you so tenderly COMPLETELY contradicting the way he’s effortlessly fucking you stupid. That doesn’t last Real long he smirks into the kiss and sucks your tongue into his mouth taking over the kiss completely licking every little crevice of your mouth, a mix of both your spot covers your chin and leaks from the corners of your mouth your lungs start to burn from the lack of air that came with such an intense make out session with each thrust knocking the wind out your lungs.

Your nails dig into the back of his neck and drag down to his biceps while you attempt to pull away from his mouth. He catches your bottom lip in-between his teeth biting down firmly “ told ya, always running from me”

“C-can’t fucking breathe shu-” you used whatever brain cells you had left to roll your eyes at him.

“Oh?” He smiled down at you, he released your hair and swiped his thumb across your lips while his hand rested on the side of your face and slips his thumb in your mouth, immediately you sucked it in-between your swollen lips the feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb made his heart race. “You tighten up so fucking nice when you can’t breathe even more so when you’ve got something to suck on.” He smirks down at your face red with embarrassment.

He pulls his thumb away smearing your saliva over your lips and smirking down at you before picking up the pace. He thinks he could cum alone from the sound coming from between your legs, the look on your face and the pleas and cries of pleasure. He groans deeply from the chest with clenched teeth.

“Shh-Shu, wanna cum please,please” you’re hotter than you think when you beg. He never understood why or how you make begging so attractive, maybe it’s your eyes, your alluring voice or the fact that you’re begging for him.

“My wife can cum anytime she wants, I’ll make you cum all over me baby.” He slides his hand from your face, down your neck to give you a nice firm squeeze to feel how you tightened around his base as he slammed into you.

“So fucking pretty like this” he gave you another squeeze making you look him in the eyes making sure you’re almost nose to nose.

His other hand quickly took hold of the back of your knee pushing it to your chest while his hips never let up more and more pressure building up so quick it became slightly overwhelming your body acting out of reflex and attempting to arch away from his hips.

“You’re gonna cum? I feel her trying to hold on for dear life. Just fucking take it and Don’t. Run.” He punishes you with harder thrust to punctuate each word. His grip tightens on your leg, however he doesn’t even think about tightening the hand around your throat again letting it sit around your throat with a featherlight Touch.

He swears you whine about it and only smirks and slams his hips into you harder and you clench around him more. He slows down laughing at your desperate pleas for him to fuck you faster instead he pulls almost all the way out and focuses on a pretty decent looking love bite he’d put on your neck just moments prior. He softly licks on the bite and bites down before he slams his hips into yours burying himself in you fully.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time, that pressure building up more and more, you knew he knew it and he could feel just how close you were to falling over that edge. He pulls back and slams into you and when you arch into his thrust and gasp like you just had the wind knocked out of you.

“Cum for me baby” he grinds his hips in deep with another thrust and gives your throat a firm squeeze watching your eyes roll back as you cum.

He picks the pace up as your cunt clenches around him while you’re still cumming he works towards his own orgasm. The overstimulation made you dig into his back and tears gather in your lash line.

He felt himself twitch seeing your reaction. “Fuck, you can take a little bit more baby, m’ almost there.” Your legs felt like jello, everything he said was falling on deaf ears. The overstimulation caused you to grip onto shujis back like it was the only thing that could keep you grounded right now.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill this pussy up” he groans and you could see him bite down on his lip holding back those noises you love a bit too much. You clenched around him just at the thought, hearing such vulgar noises from his mouth is a one way ticket to an orgasm. He lets out a soft moan, and pulls out slamming himself deep in you and cumming with a smirk in his face moaning right in your ear.

“F-Fuck Shuji too, too deep!” The feeling of his head pushing almost into your cervix.

“But your pussy loves it, make up your mind darling. You took it so fucking well already” he was panting between every few words little moans and groans slip out from the way you’re clenching on him.

After a few moments of heavy breathing and coming down from your earth shattering orgasms,he tries to pull out and you just pull him closer wrapping your legs around him and digging your nails into his back harder than before.

“Fuck, my backs already on fire ya wanna go again?” His tongue licks from your neck to your jaw then behind your ear biting down hard enough to make you gasp.

“Oh my god shuji I’m sensitive! Give me a few minutes, you’re gonna brea-” he kisses you and swallows up your cries when he pushes your knees to your chest

“One more time, cum for me.” He starts thrusting giggling like a psycho while moaning in your ear as your nails tore his back up further.

It was gonna be a long night.

——————————————————————————-

Waking up was easier this morning, he didn’t dread getting in the shower, or having to leave you, or kiss you good bye. Seeing you passed out in his arms with love bites and a few teeth marks and bruises covering your neck and chest.

He only added the ones on your chest while the sheets washed last night because you laughed at him the entire time for his reaction to hot water hitting his back in the shower. Of course you cleaned them for him and apologized for some of the deeper ones, kissing them better while sitting on his lower back massaging his shoulders.

So obviously he had a good day till he has to kill someone then several people and he’s in his office stripping his shirt off to change into a clean one before his next meeting.

A secret knock at his office door has him yelling ‘Come in!’ Without a second thought while pulling the shirt off his shoulders. “You are aware you have 5 mi-” kisakis voice falls as his gaze locks onto the crime scene on his right hands back.

“Who’d you fuck to look like that?” Kisaki points out sitting on his desk and Hanma is internally facepalming. How could he possibly forget that you had mind blowing sex less than 24 hours ago and then he thinks about it.

He doesn’t have shit to worry about and no way in hell he’s ever lose you.

“Well, bout time I told you I’m engaged. I was gonna wait longer but you’ve seen her damage already.” Hanma laughs to himself.

“Hmm, when’s the wedding? I never thought I’d be asking you that.” Kisaki snickers as his gaze goes up and down his back sets Of horizontal and diagonal scratches on his shoulder blades, mid back, down his arms and biceps. Blotches of Red and purple on the side and back of his neck and a bite mark on his shoulder.

“Don’t know yet, I told her she can have whatever she likes, whenever, and I’ll make it happen, you’re invited so don’t cry.” He teases Kisaki who rolls his eyes.

“Yeah no. I won’t cry but because you seem to have your ducks in a semi straight row I’ll make you a deal.” Kisaki could be doing one of two things either way he was intrigued.

“Hm, what’s that?” Hanma buttons his new shirt up.

“Bring her around sometime, just us three and let me hear her ideas for the wedding, I’ll pay for it whether it’s private, family only, or family and friends. You’ll have security, nobody in who’s not welcomed.” He simply said.

“That’s it? Nothing more or less? Since when do you care?” Hanma said shrugging his suit jacket on.

“Cause if you keep fucking her like that you’ll be a dad and I’ll be an uncle, besides anyone keeping you in line is probably a saint” he said already exhausted with this conversation.

“I’m not that bad. I was, but I’m not anymore” Hanma said opening the door to let Kisaki and himself out.

“We will see about that.”

“Ya know Kisaki, I’ll let you in on a secret, if this little plan of yours goes well maybe I’ll consider letting you join in on the fun.”

“ drop it or I’ll reconsider.”

“I can pay for my wedding, yes id rather use your Money but im being dead serious. She said it first, after I asked though.” He shrugged walking away from Kisaki hearing him sigh loudly and mumble cusses at him.

———————————————————————————

BONUS!

Takemichi and Hinas wedding.

“Who’s the babe in the purple dress?” Chifuyu could hear Ran Haitani ask his younger brother who raised an eyebrow and looked back before looking straight ahead.

“No idea, which idiot left such a woman by herself?”

“Matsuno, do you know who that is?” The older Haitani looked at him and baji takes a quick glance and looks at Kazutora who’s also just as lost.

“I will be so honest I have no idea..?” He racked his brain and come to think of it he’s been around so many gangs and gang members he definitely would’ve noticed you.

Takemichi happen to walk by and chifuyu quickly pulled him to the side “do you know who that is? I can’t remember her ever being around” he turns to see you and scratches his head, and he himself cannot seem to pinpoint where you came from.

As if clockwork though Hanma Shuji slides his arm around your waist and pulls you close and proudly strolls over to where all 6 confused men stood ( 5 cause Rindou was still sitting, drunk already.)

“Hanagaki, congratulations. Bout time i introduce you to my wife.” Hanma said and everyone’s brain seemed to short upon hearing those words out Hanma shujis mouth.

“Wife? When did you get married? When did you even date someone? HELLO??” Kazutora was so mindblown by this new piece of information, while Baji congratulated him and whisper yelled at everyone to be polite and introduce themselves. The Haitanis had no issue introducing themselves while also very subtly trying to check you out but not subtle enough for Hanma not to notice.

You shook hands with everyone, met Takemichis wife and watched everyone dance with Shuji just holding you close while you had your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for letting me meet your friends today. They’re quite funny.” He looks down at you smirking.

“ anything for you, besides its nice to show some people what they can’t have” he knows what he has they only dream about having.

“Hmm, let em keep dreaming but it’ll never happen.”

[readsaboutreid]

Detangling | S.R. imagine

this is just gonna be a short little imagine because i can't bring myself to write anything more right now and i could imagine spencer being the absolute best partner about a situation like this

You walk into the door and Spencer follows behind you. You hadn't spent as much time at your apartment since you and Spencer started getting serious, but your place was closer to the theater he had taken you to for a showing of a documentary on your favorite subject he had surprised you with tickets to go see.

After about 45 minutes of watching Star Trek on the couch together he asks you a question you'd been hoping he'd avoid asking. "It's really warm in here, love," he mentions, "why don't you take off that beanie?"

"I-I'm cold," you mutter, not meeting his eyes.

"You're flushed and sweating," he reasons, stroking a finger down your cheek before putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel feverish. Is there another reason you're wearing the hat?" He asked with a knowing look in his eyes before you break down crying. "Wait no, please don't cry, I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to upset—" his panic is cut off by your sigh.

"It's okay, Spencer," you exhale shakily. "I'm just—I, uh, I've been feeling a little bit down recently and my hair is kind of a depression rats' nest." Your cheeks heat with embarrassment but you finally meet his eyes, which soften with understanding at your confession. "I've been hiding it with the hat until I can just go to a hairdresser and probably just have them cut it all off. It's what my mom used to make me do if I let my hair get this bad and it's kind of just the easiest way to make myself presentable again."

Spencer wraps you into a tight hug on the couch next to you. "What, uh, what if I were to help you so you don't have to cut it all off?" he asked softly, before hastily adding on, "unless that's what you want to do."

Next thing you know you're going into your bathroom and returning with a hairbrush and sitting down on the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry about this, Spencer," you mumble as you wait on the ground in front of the couch, between his open legs. More tears prick your eyes from embarrassment and your lip trembles. "You shouldn't have to take time out of your day to take care of me like this."

"Hush, I won't hear any of that nonsense." Spencer chides from above you as he grabs the hairbrush you had approached him with. "I like taking care of you, and that's why I offered do this."

"But I—I'm an adult," the tears that welling in your eyes start to fall down your cheeks and your voice breaks as you pull your knees up to your chest. "I should be capable of taking care of myself by now!"

You hear Spencer sigh above you before you feel him shift around on the couch. He stands and walks around where you're seated until he's on his knees in front of you. He gently pulls your hands from your face, kissing each one of the palm softly and then holding them in his own. In his eyes you can see none of the shame or disgust you're expecting to see. Instead his eyes are filled with love, understanding, and concern.

He's quiet for a moment before reaching out to wipe your tears away gently. "Did you know that there are approximately 280 million people worldwide who suffer from depressive disorder? That doesn't even factor in those who suffer from depression as a symptom of an underlying physical or other mental illness." He leans in and kisses both of your cheeks. "I know there's no magic thing I can say to make you feel better, but just know that there's no shame in struggling. Or asking for help from those who love you."

"O-okay," you stammer as you look at him again before he stands and moves back to his spot on the couch. He slowly begins working his way through the tangles, holding your hair and pulling the brush through until eventually your hair is fully detangled and in need of a wash. "Th-thank you, Spencer."

He pulls you up and kisses your forehead before wrapping you into another tight embrace. "Never be afraid to ask for help when you need me, sweetheart," he whispers.

[berryz-writes]

Jealousy

PART 2

Azriel x reader

Summary: Your forced to spend the weekend with Azriel the bane of your existence but little do you realize he doesn't completely hate you

Nfjznxsfdzfdxj this took a while my other WIP’s were distracting me. also ignore any mistakes, enjoy lovelies <33

part 1

It was torture. Downright torture. Pretending like last night hadn't happened was wreaking havoc on my brain. I didn't know how to forget about it. I couldn't.

The memory of Azriel pulling me closer, his face resting in the crook of my neck, the way his gentle hands rested on my waist, his legs tangled with mine pulling me impossibly closer. Gods I was going to go crazy.

Everywhere it went it seemed his reminders were there. The dagger I was using in training was the one Azriel had given me last solstice when mine had been snatched by an Attor. The laces on my boots were from his because apparently mine weren’t sturdy enough. 

“Where do you get your shoes from? These are awful quality” He asked, crouching down in front of me and taking his laces out to adjust them into my boots, all the while muttering about how I could have tripped and hurt myself. 

The coffee the cabin had made this morning on my command was made with a hint of cinnamon. Something Azriel had recommended to make the taste better. He was everywhere I went and it was driving me crazy.

He hadn't even mentioned last night once. Didn't even give me some sort of hint that he remembered or that it actually meant something to him. We had continued the day as if everything was normal, his biting remarks more constant and grating.

***

"We're going back on Monday" Azriel called out to me unwrapping the white gauze from his knuckles. I pulled out my dagger (yes the same one Azriel had gifted me) from the target piece of wood and frowned. Two days later? "Why aren't we going today?"

Azriel didn't look at me, instead he put his daggers in his belt making sure each one was in the proper position before replying "If I've said it there's probably a reason why. Do you have to ask questions every time?"

My frown deepened as I surveyed him from this distance. He had his wings folded together and his expression was foul as if a personal wrong had been done against him. So what if he was in a mood? Didn't mean he had to be so rude.

"I'm not going to follow your orders blindly. Tell me" I moved closer to him and stopped in front of him, the biting cold of the village hitting me now that I had stopped training. I waited for him to explain why we were spending any longer in a place like this. I yearned for the liveliness and warmth of Velaris. The golden sun beating down on me while I sat on the balcony and sipped on something cold.

We had been gone for one night and I know I was being dramatic but Azriel not giving me answers just annoyed the shit out of me even more.

He continued arranging his daggers and straightening his siphons until he deemed them perfect. Finally looking up to meet my eyes I could tell there was something wrong before he even opened his mouth. 

"There's a storm coming. It's not safe to fly tonight" His voice was controlled, as if he were trying to hide his emotions, his eyes not making direct contact with me.

I let out a scoff "And what? Winnowing doesn't exist anymore?" I knew the way I said it would rile him up. Yes I could have phrased it nicely but the way he was acting he didn't deserve it.

Eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching Azriel took a step closer to me. And then another until he was just inches away from me. His warmth radiated to me, my head having to tilt up slightly so I could look at his gorgeous face properly.

His voice was soft, the deadly stillness with which he stood unnerving me. "Velaris's shields have been compromised. Rhys is doing all he can from anyone finding out and if we break that balance. If we winnow in then that means the shield breaks." He scanned my features as if waiting for me to reply "Do you want the safety of all those people in jeopardy because of you?" His voice was quiet now, his breath blowing over me as he spoke.

A million thoughts invaded my mind as I thought of what he had stated. How had Velaris been compromised? And by who? And what was Rhys doing? I wondered if everyone back home was alright.

I took a deep breath trying not to get angry and understand the situation we were in “How long are we stuck here for?” 

It was Azriel’s turn to take a deep breath as if he knew the answer wouldn’t be one I wanted. “Minimum two more days''

Two whole days. I was going to go insane here. Either I would die from arguing with the brainless Illyrians or from hypothermia. A sudden blast of cold air hit me, reminding me of where I was stuck and who it was with. Sighing, I shook away my thoughts. I was being ungrateful. Azriel wasn’t so bad. And who knew what everyone else was going through. I opened my mouth to ask exactly that when he cut in “Everyone's fine. If it was serious we would have been called back for help whether the storm was brewing or not”

I nodded my head, the knot in my stomach loosening. As long as everyone was fine. Azriel nodded his head to the path that led to the cabin we were now sharing “You should go. I need to inform Keller of our prolonged stay”

I took it as his way of dismissing me and not wanting to talk to me. Turning around and starting down the frosted path, the warmth that engulfed me from Azriel's body evaporated completely, my footsteps quickening to reach the cabin. Slamming the cabin door shut I took out my hair tie and sat on the bed anger and disappointment flowing through me. The fire immediately started, the crackling sound the only noise in the wooden house. 

He was ignoring what had happened yesterday. He was being insufferable. He hadn’t even asked me, talked to me, mentioned it to me even once. I shifted through each word we had shared this morning and none of them consisted of him acknowledging last night. 

Azriel didn’t even tell me he wanted to forget last night, instead he let my imagination run wild on thinking if he regretted it or not. 

Maybe I was the over dramatic one. We hadn’t had sex, we hadn’t even kissed. But it felt like there was something else when he pulled me closer except for mutual dislike. 

Flopping back onto the soft bed I decided thinking of other things would do me some good. Anything other than Azriel at this point. 

Sitting up again and rifling through the side table drawers I finally found a slightly inky pen and a scrunched up piece of paper.

Hi Feyre, I heard what happened with the shield. I just wanted to check in and make sure everyone was fine. Give lots of kisses to Nyx from me. 

Ending the note with my name I vanished it away hoping Feyre would reply with some good news. In the time that I had done that Azriel walked in, flipping a dagger in his hand, his shadows moving slowly across his wings. I rolled my eyes at his arrogance and refused to start a conversation with him. If he could ignore what happened yesterday and act like it didn’t matter then so could I. I wasn’t going to act like an attention whore. No way. 

“What do you want to eat?” Was what he asked, settling into the armchair opposite me. I refused to look at him and instead let my eyes travel to the window where the sun was setting. 

“I’m not hungry” I finally replied when I could tell from his relentless gaze that he would not look away, his hazel eyes fixated on my every move, my every breath. 

A scoff escaped him and I turned to look at him, my eyes narrowed. Moving further back on to the bed I kicked off my boots and sat cross legged. 

“You’re always hungry at this time, don’t lie to me” Azriel stated. Raising an eyebrow and waiting for me to contradict him. I couldn’t. I was being annoying and difficult on purpose. Of course I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since this morning.

Running a hand through his hair Azriel stood up and moved over to the small kitchen on the other side of the cabin. The cupboards contained any and every ingredient. I watched as he pulled out a different variety of ingredients and with the way he was looking at each one closely he didn’t know where to start. 

“Move. I’ll do it” I announced, getting off the bed and sliding across the floorboard to the mini kitchen. Azriel leaned sideways on the countertop, a slight smirk on his face as he watched me look at each ingredient. 

“What are you going to make?” He asked, clearly amused by something. Picking up the can of tomatoes I put them to the right, making a useful and bin category. 

“It doesn’t matter what I make, we both know you’re going to eat it” I replied, my eyebrows furrowed from concentration and the slight annoyance I held toward him. A sigh escaped his perfect lips as he folded his wings back 

“Why are you angry at me?”

I didn’t look at him, instead filled the metal pan with water and used my magic to heat it up. Once the bubbles had risen to the surface I added the raw pasta with a pinch of salt. 

“Y/n” His voice was sharp. Demanding. “Look at me” 

Finally turning to look at him my heart stopped beating for a good minute. Gods he was……he was something else. His warm eyes raked over my expression as if trying to find the reason for my annoyance, his lips looking as inviting as ever.

“What?” My voice didn’t come out as strong as I wanted to, instead it came out quiet and breathless. 

“What have I done wrong?” Azriel’s voice was softer than I expected, reminding me of last night. 

I decided to take the leap. I had had enough of evading the truth “You’re acting like last night didn’t happen. You’re ignoring me” 

Rather than an annoying smirk or a laugh coming from Azriel his eyebrows furrowed “I didn’t want you to feel like I expected something of you. And gods knows I can’t ignore you y/n. You’re perfect”

I let out an exasperated sigh, the steam from the boiling water making it warmer than it was before “I thought you wanted to forget about it. I’m not inside your brain Azriel”

Anger was there in his eyes but it vanished as soon as he saw my hurt expression “I’ve wanted you for so long. Every time I look at you I'm reminded that you aren’t mine. Every time you smile my heart beats faster and I don’t even know why” I swallowed at his words. What he was saying. 

He had liked me this whole time and I hadn't even realized. We were both as ignorant as each other. It was now or never.

“Make me yours then Azriel” I whispered back, waiting to see what he would say. His hands tilted my chin up and his lips met mine in the softest kiss possible. Moving his hands to my waist he lifted me up and sat me on the counter, slotting himself between my legs. Automatically my hands went to his curly hair, pulling him impossibly closer. 

The world had something against me I thought as the note I had sent Feyre arrived next to me. Azriel moved slightly back, giving me space to breathe. I didn't want that space but I didn’t say anything. I picked up the note and read it out loud, confusion increasing.

Hi y/n, 

Nyx says he misses you lots and wants you to come back. Everyone’s alright here, same as when you left. 

I’m not sure what you mean by the shield though? Is everything alright?

Putting the note down I slid off the marble top and looked at Azriel, hoping for answers. 

“Does Feyre not know about-” 

He cut me off, his hand against my mouth, startling me. His body pressed against mine, my back against the kitchen counter. 

“I lied. I wanted to stay with you for as long as possible. I would ask for your forgiveness but I’m not sorry for what I’ve done” His eyes twinkled with amusement, his deep voice washing over me. It took me a while to understand what he was actually saying, his proximity short circuiting my brain. He removed his hand waiting for me to reply. 

“Anything else you’ve lied about Shadowsinger?” I finally asked, my words coming out quietly.

His head dipped to my neck, his lips pressing small kisses on my collarbone and making his way up to my jaw. 

“I broke the cabin. I also fucked up that guy who called you a whore. Other than that…I’m an honest male” He murmured. My breath hitched as he attacked my skin, clearly wanting to leave a mark there. His hands had me caged, with no escape and I didn’t have it in me to be mad at him for lying. Yes he had broken the cabin. But if he hadn’t we wouldn’t have spent the night together and I would have never realized that Azriel harboured feelings for me. He had also gone out of his way to defend me when he didn’t need to.

I wanted to kiss him rather than shout at him for his confession. 

“I say we skip to dessert” Azriel whispered, his eyes full of desire, finally looking at me. My heart skipped a beat at his words but I swallowed and shook away my want for him. 

“Dessert is for after” I pushed against his chest to let me go but he held my wrists firmly “Promise I get dessert?”

I pretended to think about it, tilting my head “Hmm we’ll see”

Azriel’s eyes darkened but he let me go, my stomach tightening at the way he looked at me. I wanted him so bad. So god damn bad. But now that I had told him to wait I couldn’t go back on my words. Not to mention Azriel was probably already thinking of ways to make me beg for him.

I wouldn’t mind that of course.

MASTERLIST

[whimsimille]

KEMPS!

Minsung x Fem! reader

Summary: Where Minho uses sex and rough words to forget how shitty his life is. It all works pretty well until he meets two people that can only ruin his game.

alpha x alpha x alpha

Word count: ~ 10000

Warnings: angst with happy ending, ptsd mention, coping mechanisms, sex, smut, +18, toxicity, use of alcohol and drugs, knotting, piv, creampie, roughness, dom and sub undertones, f and m receiving, oral, anal, dp, light bondage, breeding kink mention

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

"When will I see you again?"

"There we go again."

Every time, the same scene played out: him tying off the used condom, thumb and forefinger working in sync while his gut churned with familiar self-loathing. His tanned legs slid from between the cheap cotton sheets like a lizard escaping midday heat and his shirt, reeking of cigarettes and bearing the evidence of pink lipstick on its collar, returned to its place along with what remained of his dignity.

"You didn't answer my question," she insisted, sitting up with her breasts exposed to the stale air. Her nose, red-tipped like she was fighting back tears, twitched as she caught his scent beginning to sour. "Why do you always run away like this? Is it because I'm a lower-class omega? Because I work at a convenience store instead of some fancy office?"

He had a headache, the kind that started at the nape where his undercut needed a trim and crawled upward. The kind that made his eyes throb as if someone was performing brain surgery with a rusty hammer. He needed to go home. He needed to go to her. He needed a scalding shower to burn away the shame. He needed to stop fucking thinking.

"Listen carefully because I won't repeat myself," he drawled while adjusting his hair in the mirror. "I'm not interested in seconds. I don't do repeats. I thought I made that crystal fucking clear. Or should I draw you a diagram?"

"But Minho-ssi..." she started, biting her lower lip in a way that probably worked wonders on lesser men.

"Cut the honorifics bullshit, Marina. We just fucked; we're not at a business meeting." He yanked his belt through the loops. "Got any coffee in this shoebox you call an apartment? And aspirin. Definitely need aspirin. My head's fucking killing me, and your omega pheromones aren't helping."

"Kitchen," she responded, finally pulling the sheet up to cover herself as if modesty had suddenly become a priority. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily as her own bitter strawberry pheromones filled the room, mixing with his acidic alpha scent to create something that smelled like regret. "First door on the right. We're out of sugar though. And for the last fucking time, it's Melissa. Not Marina, not Mariana. Me-li-ssa, you entitled knothead."

"Perfect. Sugar's for people who can't handle reality." He fished out the crumpled pack of Marlboros from his back pocket, tapping one against his wrist. "Don't wait up, sweetheart. Or better yet, don't wait at all. Find yourself a nice beta who'll remember your name and buy you flowers or whatever the fuck it is you're looking for."

And he wasn't lying, not even a little. Despite the fact that this omega—Melissa, definitely not Marina or whatever the fuck he'd been calling her—could do things with her tongue that would make a Catholic priest renounce his vows and had a laugh like wind chimes in a summer breeze, Minho simply didn't keep dead weight in his deck. Melissa was nothing but a two of clubs in a hand that needed aces.

It was like a game of Kemps, the same one he played on Sunday afternoons with his friends drunk on soju in Chan's apartment. In the game, four players formed two pairs, each receiving four cards from the French deck. The objective? Get four matching cards before the opponent, discreetly signaling your partner to shout "Kemps!"—a wink, absently scratching your nose. If you were wrong and shouted without your partner having four matching cards? You lost points, just like in real life you lost your sanity. If you missed your partner's signal? More points lost, like the nights of sleep he lost thinking about persistent ex-lovers. It was a game of observation, timing, and strategy.

In the game, as in life, Minho was an expert at this. A pair of toned legs here, full lips there, a cheeky smile elsewhere—he picked up the cards that caught his attention and handed useless ones to the other players. Players like Hyunjin, with his preference for frustrated betas with colored hair, or Felix, who had a thing for alpha literature students who wore thick-framed glasses and quoted Bukowski between one orgasm and another. Minho had been doing this with men and women for years, receiving his cards—their sweaty bodies writhing beneath him, their moans, their phone numbers saved as "NEVER answer"—and discarding those that never made sense with his game. Simple. Quick. Practical. Avoided hysterical screaming at three in the morning, endless crying, ex-lover sex fueled by regret, pathetic relapses fueled by cheap vodka.

But then, on some October night, with the smell of burnt caramel not so characteristic of an alpha and jazz playing softly, there was his jack, the highest card in the deck after the ace. The jack that passed from hand to hand each round like a curse, disrupting the flow of the game until the next round started and the card kept circulating, destroying strategies and ruining plays that seemed perfect on paper. Everyone had to deal with it eventually, but no one wanted to play that card.

That night, as you moved above him with the precision of a hunting feline—hips undulating like waves breaking on the beach, slender fingers tightening around his throat until he saw stars—you had become his jack. The card he held so tightly that the corners were starting to crease, even when he should have discarded it long ago.

Serious relationships and monogamy were never his style. How could he be? His mother taught him that lesson at 8 years old, after swallowing an entire box of Rivotril and writing an apology, not to him, but to her ex. He still remembered the sound her nails made scratching the wooden floor while she convulsed, glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling as he screamed for help. But for you? For you he had tried. Really tried.

"Stay," he whispered, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his fingers traced meaningless patterns on the condensation-slick window. His reflection looked pathetically hopeful. "Just... stay for breakfast this time." A pause. "I make decent scrambled eggs."

You shifted on the bed. "Define 'decent.'"

"Edible enough not to kill you," he replied with a laugh that sounded too raw, too honest. "Maybe even good enough to convince you to come back for seconds."

It turned into months of domestic bliss—or his twisted version of it. Months of biting back territorial growls whenever you walked in carrying traces of other wolves' scents. "Just work," you'd say with that infuriating half-smile, and he'd nod like the lovesick fool he'd become. He ignored Chan's concerned glances over soju shots, Changbin's muttered warnings about alpha-alpha relationships being psychological warfare. Tried playing the reformed playboy even when some omega calling herself @sexygirl22 slid into his DMs with explicit photos and "Remember last week's quickie in the club bathroom?" while you danced barefoot in his kitchen, humming "Somebody to Love" and making condensed milk pudding like some domestic deity.

"This pudding..." His finger traced the edge of the mold, stealing a taste of caramel. The gesture was so childlike, so unguarded, you had to suppress a fond smile. "Tastes exactly like my grandmother's."

"Your grandmother made pudding?" Like a flower in bloom, your legs opened naturally as you leaned over the counter. A few centimeters up, the hem of your shirt—it was actually his, stolen a week ago—rode up, exposing that constellation of freckles on your hip that he loved mapping with his tongue.

"Every Sunday after lunch," he answered, eyes fixed on the exposed bit of skin. "She used to say that sweets made with love tasted different."

It's that in the beginning it was simple: you rode him like you were born for it, scratching his chest and whispering obscenities in his ear that would make even a demon blush. It was about smoking a joint on the balcony at three in the morning, your skilled fingers rolling the joint while he kissed your thighs still trembling from orgasm, waiting for the knot to deflate. "I'm getting addicted," he would murmur against your skin, and you both knew he wasn't talking about the weed. It was about the sacred ritual of watching you dress in the morning: first the black lace panties, then the bra that made your breasts look like works of art, the thigh-high stockings he loved to remove with his teeth, the jeans that hugged your curves like a possessive lover. It was about how you never asked about the scars on his left wrist but kissed them with such reverence that sometimes he found himself crying after you left.

"Why do you do that?" he asked one night, voice thick, his fingers digging into the sheets.

"Do what?"

"Kiss me... like that. Like they're not scars. Like they're not..." he swallowed hard, "ugly."

"Because they're not just scars. They're part of you."

Until it became something different: he stopped you from running out after sex one Sunday morning, pulling you by the waist for another round in the jacuzzi. That's when he discovered you were a teacher at a school in the south zone and taught literature to rebellious teenagers, while he was heir to a chain of five-star hotels spread across Asia. That you loved Seoul with its violence and chaos, the underground bars and narrow streets full of people, while he longed for the peace of Jeju, with its deserted beaches and the smell of tangerines in the air. That you had three rescue cats—Sylvia, Virginia, and Edgar, all named after dead writers—who were your fur children and that, surprisingly, he developed a genuine affection for these creatures, even when Sylvia vomited hairballs on his shoes.

It happened when you stopped being a scheduled fuck and started pulling out, one by one, his fingers from the little bag he always kept next to his heart. You never even said anything, never stopped him from leaving and always left the door ajar, because you hated trapping people and making them feel obligated to stay.

"You can go, if you want," you would always say, wrapped in messy sheets. "You don't have to stay."

And maybe it was exactly that—that frightening freedom, that lack of demands—that made him want to stay. Until he didn't want to anymore.

That's why he bailed.

With your makeup all over the bathroom counter and your underwear discovered beneath the bed like evidence from a crime scene, he couldn't stand you taking up space like a terminal illness. Couldn't stand your caramel perfume and alpha pheromones impregnated in the pillows, your toothbrush next to his, you parading naked through the 300 m² penthouse as if you owned the place. Hated you burying your face in his neck when he woke up screaming at 3:47 in the morning.

"Shh, I'm here," you would murmur, running your fingers through his damp hair, your lips brushing his temple. "It was just a nightmare."

But the real nightmare was the dangerous glimmer of hope he began to see reflected in his own eyes every time he shaved while you played in the bathtub, humming "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles.

One day, his hand froze mid-stroke with the razor, watching your reflection dance in the fogged mirror as soap bubbles crowned your head. With the sun creeping through the window and painting your eyelashes gold, Minho's fingers twitched around the razor handle. His phone buzzed in the counter (probably that cute bellboy from the Peninsula Hotel confirming their afternoon rendezvous, or maybe the yoga instructor sending another photo of her impossibly flexible poses). He should check it. Should definitely not be watching you emerge from the water like some fucking deity, all glistening skin and grace.

His thumb hovered over the screen, already pulling up his contacts list. Delete them all. Ask you to be his. Only his. The thought made his stomach turn even as his pulse quickened and he gave up.

At the sound of his loafers, you lifted your head while he perched on the edge of the tub like some lovesick fool, watching droplets trace paths he'd memorized with his tongue.

"Keep staring like that and I might start charging admission," you drawled, reaching for the shampoo.

"You're going to make me deaf with that caterwauling, little alpha," he shot back. "And since when did you become such a Beatles fanatic? Thought you were more of a 'We Will Rock You' kind of bitch."

"First of all," you said, pointing the shampoo bottle at him like a weapon, "the Beatles are fucking transcendent, you philistine. Second," your lips curved into that infuriating smirk that made him want to bite them bloody, "you were the one moaning 'Yesterday' in your sleep last night. Right after you called me 'baby' and tried to spoon me."

"That's bullshit and you know it," he snarled, but his ears burned red at the tips. "I don't fucking cuddle."

"Oh really?" You stretched languorously, water sloshing against the tub sides. Wet toes brushed his thigh, leaving wet prints on his expensive slacks. "Because I distinctly remember you nuzzling my neck and whimpering when I tried to move away. Face it, Min," you purred, and the nickname sent a jolt straight to his groin, "you're going soft on me."

"Keep dreaming, sweetheart," he managed, even as his throat closed around the lie. "I just needed something warm to stick my knot in."

"Mhmm," you hummed, unconvinced. Your foot slid higher up his thigh. "That's why you sent flowers to my work last week? Because you needed somewhere to stick your knot?"

It was like watching an orange tree growing in the middle of his chest: first just a timid sprout, then branches spreading between his ribs, until the roots began to intertwine with his veins and arteries. And when the first white flowers bloomed, perfuming his entire circulatory system with possibilities, he knew he needed to cut it at the root before the fruits ripened and he found himself addicted to the bittersweet taste of your presence.

"Minho! What the actual fuck? It's four in the fucking morning, and you're here smelling like a distillery had an orgy with a perfume store."

"Still looking like a snack, my little alpha. Even with all these..." His hand made a vague gesture at your new appearance, "changes."

You watched as he staggered slightly, his bloodshot eyes trying to focus on a fixed point. Fragmented memories of a yellow taxi and questionable decisions in dark alleys flashed through his mind like a silent film. That you were different—unrecognizable, maybe—was the only thing that was certain. Your hair, now long and sprinkled with platinum highlights, framed your face in a profane halo. The thorny tattoo serpentined down your neck, disappearing beneath the loose collar. Beneath the typical caramel, you had a masculine, woodsy scent that made him sick to his stomach.

"You know what's funnier? I always knew you would do this. Always knew you'd leave me and then show up at my door wanting to stick your knot in some hole. It was just a matter of time, wasn't it, Lee Minho?"

Sylvia, that four-legged traitor who had always preferred him to you, was now rubbing against his ankles while trying to reach her favorite human. You pushed her away with your foot.

"Let's... let's talk properly, love. Smoke a joint, whatever. Like the old days, remember?" His hands were shaking so badly he had to shove them in his jeans pockets. "We always solved everything after..." A laugh escaped his lips. "Fuck, why is it so hard to talk about feelings without being high? Must be... dunno, must be the age, right?" The taste of blood in his mouth intensified. This time, he had bitten his tongue.

You let out a scoff—a sound that seemed to have been torn from the depths of your throat with a rusty hook. "Age?" Your head tilted to the side, and for a moment, Minho saw his mother in that same movement—moments before she swallowed the pills. "You were twenty-fucking-seven when you stood in the middle of Changbin's birthday party, so wasted you couldn't even spell your own name, and announced to everyone that I was, what was it again? Oh right! 'just another desperate hole begging for your premium alpha cock.' All because I had the audacity to ask if we could try being exclusive. Remember that night, Minho? Or did you drink that memory away too?"

As you eventually allowed Sylvia to come closer, he saw the cat rubbing her muzzle against your ankles as though she was aware of the precise location of the pain.

Love should heal, shouldn't it? Should stitch together the parts that were never united, fill the voids that echoed inside the chest like empty rooms from childhood. Minho knew this better than anyone—he had been sexualized his whole life, used and discarded like a broken toy.

"You don't have that right," you continued. "You don't have the right to show up here reeking of whiskey and..." Your hands gestured in the air, searching for words. "And talk about 'old times.'"

Minho swallowed hard, watching how your fingers now trembled against the doorframe—not from nervousness, but from contained rage that made your knuckles turn white.

Until his lungs pleaded for air, he had tried everything to fill the void you left: cigarettes. Strange bodies in his bed that never reached the right places, hands that tried to stitch him back together but always using the wrong thread. Like thieves in the dark, all stealing pieces from each other, but never finding what they were really looking for.

"Just let me in, yeah?"

A sob escaped his throat before he could contain it, words tangling in his mouth. Sylvia was now sitting between the two of you, her tail moving in a hypnotic rhythm.

You had been the only one to see through the cracks, the only one who didn't try to fix him like he was a puzzle to be solved. The only one who understood that sometimes a cat's rough tongue on the heels could mean more than a thousand empty words of comfort.

But he wouldn't, couldn't show you how much he loved you. Sex and dirty words were safer territory, familiar ground where he could pretend this was just another meaningless encounter.

"Do you still have that purple vibrator?" The words slurred out as his alcohol-heavy tongue caught on his canines. "You could use it on me today, yeah? Make me beg like I used to?"

Like a desperate merchant hawking counterfeit goods in some back alley, it was pitiful how he still attempted to use sex as currency. As if his body, marked with the fingerprints and teeth marks of countless strangers, was the only thing of value he had left to barter with. As if you still wanted that particular damaged merchandise. You had long since learned that his empty promises and fleeting affections were not worth the price.

"I guess old habits die hard, huh? Still the same horny kitten as always, Minho-yah."

At the sound of that old endearment, Minho's narrow hips jerked forward involuntarily, his lean body betraying him like a puppet with tangled strings. A bead of sweat traced the sharp line of his jaw as the lavender scent of his arousal began to saturate the air, mixing with the sour notes of whiskey and desperation.

"Just... just one more time," he begged. "I promise I'll disappear after. I swear on my mother's grave..." A sob ripped from his throat, more wolf than man. "I just need to feel you one more time. Need to remember what it felt like when someone actually gave a fuck about me."

It was almost poetic, you thought. The way Lee Minho could transform desire into pathology, how his lust manifested in muscle spasms and empty promises whispered through teeth that probably cost more than your yearly salary. His eyes, usually a warm chocolate brown, had taken on a reddish tinge that reminded you of blood diluted in water.

"Get out of here, Minho." You clutched Sylvia closer, her warm body and steady purring acting as a shield against the tsunami of alpha pheromones he was trying to drown you in. Her claws pricked your skin through your thin shirt. "Before I call the police."

"You'd never. You care too much; that's always been your problem."

"Try me." Your fingers found your phone in your pocket. "The last bus passes in ten minutes. But I think you'd prefer if I called your private driver. What was his name again? The one who always brought you aspirin and clean clothes after your... episodes?"

Minho's hand flew to the collar of his leather jacket, adjusting it with trembling fingers. "I don't need your fucking pity."

"I know you don't, Minho." You sighed, watching his shoulders hunch forward like a wounded animal. "But I also know you probably left another black credit card in the lost and found of whatever overpriced bar you were drowning in tonight. I bet you left without any cash. Again. Just like that time at The Rose, when you tried to pay for your cab with your Rolex."

"How the fuck..."

"Love, everything okay?" A sleepy voice emerged from the shadows of the apartment, warm and rough like honey mixed with gravel. The powerful scent of freshly ground cinnamon and handcrafted coffee filled your apartment and permeated the door, causing Minho's nostrils to uncontrollably twitch.

"Fucking hell," Minho muttered under his breath, watching as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Dyed an impossible shade of midnight blue that seemed to swallow what little light remained in the hallway, the man's hair stuck up in wild tufts, as if he'd been wrestling with insomnia rather than sleeping. A thin, silvery scar bisected his right eyebrow. Despite his cherubic cheeks and full lips, there was something lethal in the way he held himself, the casual violence of a loaded gun left on safety.

"Who the actual fuck are you supposed to be?" Minho's words slurred together.

The stranger's bare feet made no sound as he crossed the distance between them. Silver rings caught the fluorescent light as his hand found your waist, fingers splaying possessively across your hip.

"Han Jisung," the man's voice was deceptively soft. His tongue flicked out to play with the silver ring in his lower lip, a gesture that drew Minho's attention despite himself. "And you must be the infamous Lee Minho. The one who thinks it's acceptable to harass people at four in the morning because his wolf is feeling lonely."

The air grew thick with competing pheromones, your caramel sweetness, Minho's lavender, and Han's cinnamon colliding and transforming into something acrid and metallic, like blood left to oxidize. Minho's temple throbbed visibly, and he chewed the inside of his cheek until copper flooded his mouth.

"Christ, is this what you're into now?" Minho's eyes raked over Han's form--the scattered tattoos visible beneath his thin tank top, the messy blue hair, the multiple piercings. "Trading in a pure-bred for some street mutt with a DIY paint job?"

Han's scent soured, turning sharp enough to make your eyes water. "Babe," he addressed you without taking his eyes off Minho. "Should I call the cops, or would you like to watch me teach this trust fund pup some manners? Because I'm really curious if he's as tough when he's not marinading in scotch."

"Oh, sweetheart," Minho purred, stepping close enough that his breath ghosted over Han's face. His fingers played with the collar of Han's shirt, twisting the fabric like he was testing its breaking point. "You've got quite the mouth on you. Makes me wonder what other tricks you know." His gaze flicked to you over Han's shoulder, lips curling into something cruel. "Always did have a weakness for strays with attitude problems, didn't you, love? Tell me, does this one beg as prettily as I used to?"

Han didn't back down, but you saw how his fingers contorted—not into fists, but like claws ready to tear apart.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off." Gripping Minho's wrist, Jisung twisted it until he heard the gratifying sound of tendons being stretched to their breaking point.

What happened next made your breath catch in your throat. Minho—proud, arrogant, never-submissive Minho, who once told an alpha CEO to go fuck himself with a golden spoon—let out a sound that was pure, instinctual submission. His head tilted, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat where fading hickeys told stories of nights you didn't want to imagine. 

The gesture was so fundamentally wrong, so against everything you knew about him, that for a moment you thought the expensive whisky had finally corroded something essential inside him. But then his eyes found yours across the space between you—wide, confused, and terrified—and you saw it: his alpha, for only the second time since you'd known him, recognising another as superior. It had been with you the first time. Normally curled in that angry smirk, his lips quivered.

"What the actual fuck..." With surprise, Jisung's eyes grew wide, and the scar through his eyebrow stretched taut. His grip loosened fractionally, more from shock than mercy. "Did you just..."

"Ah," Minho's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through as he fought to regain control. As he attempted to balance himself against the wall, his hands trembled. "So the puppy has fangs after all. Want to show me how to use them properly, Han Jisung-ssi?"

It played out like a slow-motion car crash, stunning in its destruction. Jisung slammed Minho against the wall with enough force to make the cheap prints rattle in their frames. Something dark and broken slipped out of Minho's lips as his forearm pressed against his throat.

"So fucking predictable," Minho rasped around the pressure on his windpipe, his pupils blown so wide the brown was almost swallowed by black. "All you baby alphas..." His fingers found Jisung's bicep, nails, leaving crescent moons in the flesh. "So easy to provoke. So desperate to prove yourselves. Tell me, blueberry, how many others have you pinned like this?"

"I said," Han snarled, pressing harder until Minho's breath came in wheezing gasps, "shut that pretty mouth before I shut it for you. You reek of spoiled lavender and mommy issues, street pup. Did she not hug you enough? Is that why you're here, trying to ruin what isn't yours anymore?"

Following that, there was too much movement to follow—a haze of tattoos and high-end clothing. Suddenly Minho had reversed their positions, pinning Jisung against the wall. Han grunted in surprise at the impact, his teeth clicking together so forcefully that you winced with pity. 

In an attempt to humiliate the wolf who had dared to assert its superiority, Minho's thigh pushed upward between Han's legs and degraded him. Trembling but determined, his fingers tangled themselves into Han's blue strands.

"Who's the street pup now?" Minho tilted his head, letting his lips brush the shell of Jisung's ear. "So docile suddenly. Where's all that protective alpha posturing? Or does it only work when you're trying to impress my leftovers?"

What tore from Jisung's throat wasn't anything you'd heard before—not in your years of teaching children, not in nature documentaries about wolves, not even in your darkest nightmares. Kind of sound that made your bone marrow freeze and your hindbrain scream danger. At a frequency that made your teeth hurt, the cheap metal numbers on your door vibrated. A picture frame crashed to the floor.

Your own alpha stirred beneath your skin like a serpent uncoiling, recognising the precipice of violence you were all balanced on. 

Sylvia pressed herself against your arms. Her tail lashed the air like a whip, pupils blown so wide the green was just a thin ring. You knew, with the bone-deep certainty of prey watching predators circle, that this wouldn't end with just bruised egos and wounded pride. The territory—you, this hallway, perhaps even this entire narrative—had already been marked with invisible blood.

"That's enough! Both of you, stop this-"

But the words died in your throat as Jisung moved. One moment he was pinned against the wall; the next he was pure kinetic energy unleashed. His body curved like a question mark before springing forward, teeth finding the vulnerable juncture where Minho's neck met.

The sound that followed would haunt your dreams for months: wet, obscene, like overripe fruit being crushed under combat boots. Blood, startlingly bright against Minho's shirt, bloomed like a macabre watercolor.

—-----------

As soon as Minho stepped out of the rehabilitation center, his fingers began the routine dance of coffee, lighter, and cigarette. His eyes, still heavy from group therapy, focused on the cracks in the concrete while he tried to juggle the cheap coffee cup and red Marlboro. A curse that reverberated throughout the alley was evoked by the hot liquid that trickled down his hand.

"Fuck's sake, I can't even do this right," he muttered, licking the coffee that dripped between his fingers.

It was a total and utter catastrophe for him. First, Seungmin had shown up at his apartment at 6 AM with some green tea mixed with ginger and honey that looked more like rat poison. "For detoxing," he'd said, pushing the steaming cup into his hands. Then, Bang Chan practically broke down his door, dragging him out of bed while yelling something about "corporate responsibility" and how the shareholders were concerned about his erratic behavior. As if he didn't know the hotel franchise was crumbling under his fingers since you left him.

To top it all off? Jisung was the embodiment of his headache. An irritatingly attractive alpha who had the gift of making his blood boil—and not necessarily in a good way.

Since the incident that led them to the police station (and subsequently to the emergency room, where Minho needed five stitches in his neck and had to pray the bite hadn't been right on his scent gland, linking Jisung to him in a way that gave him chills just thinking about it), the judge had sentenced them to five months of group therapy. Two hours per week sitting in a circle with other "violence-prone individuals," as Dr. Park—a beta who always smelled like old socks—liked to call them.

And now, to make matters worse, whenever he had the chance, Jisung liked to rub his scent gland against yours right in the middle of the room, masking your natural scent. It was as if he wanted Minho to witness firsthand how you had moved on—the way he adjusted his motorcycle helmet every night after the session, his fingers lingering on your nape; how he whispered stupid jokes in your ear that made you laugh in that way that used to be reserved just for Minho; how he made sure to leave visible marks on your neck, transforming everything that once screamed "Minho" into cinnamon and a blue-haired alpha.

"Hey, princess, still haven't learned how to drink coffee without making a mess? Or do you need me to teach you how adults do it?"

Eyelids fluttering, Minho closed his eyes. After four months in this therapeutic hell, his fingers, now bitten down to raw flesh, involuntarily contracted, imprinting his palms with tiny crescents.

"Jisung, I thought we'd agreed to keep our distance outside of sessions. Or is your memory as short as your self-control?"

"Yeah, but then I saw you here alone," Jisung approached. The smell of cinnamon and coffee invaded Minho's personal space like an unwanted heat wave. "And I thought: 'What a waste.' All this drama, all this tension... for what?"

Carelessly, Minho propped one foot on a crushed trash can and leaned against the filthy alley wall. The cigarette hung loose between his chapped lips, smoke dancing in lazy spirals around his face.

"Go fuck yourself, Han."

"Your ex 'little alpha' is doing that quite well," Jisung responded, running his tongue over the piercing in his lower lip provocatively. "Thanks for asking."

Minho clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The taste of cheap coffee still burned his tongue when he raised his eyes to face Jisung. There was something there, hidden in the shadows of those puppy eyes, that almost made Minho choke on the smoke—something hungry, dangerous, electric. Jisung seemed to be planning something behind those long eyelashes, and Minho recognized the familiar crossroads: run or face it.

He should run, of course. Especially after Han had made his alpha behave like a submissive puppy with a simple touch to the wrist. But Minho never had a sense of self-preservation, and if he was going to die today—if Jisung decided to finish what he started that night, now that you weren't here to stop him—well, maybe it would be an appropriate end to all this mess.

"What do you want?"

Old combat boots scuffing the concrete, Han stepped forward. Gently, he reached for the cigarette trapped between Minho's lips. The touch was brief, but it sent electric shocks down his spine, as if someone had connected his nerves to a car battery. Han's eyes, dark as spilled coffee, never left Minho's as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers before crushing it under his sole.

"Sleep with us," Han said simply. "One night."

Time seemed to freeze. Minho felt his toes curl inside his shoes, as if searching for something to grip onto. Like a bird in a cage, his heart pounded against his ribs, and his tongue felt too heavy for his mouth.

"What the fuck?" The laugh that escaped his throat sounded hysterical even to his own ears. "After all that shit at the police station? After the stitches?" Unconsciously, his fingers brushed the scar on his neck.

Han shrugged. "You think I don't notice?" He moved closer. "How your eyes follow her during sessions? And how you stare at me when you think I'm not paying attention? How your pheromones change when I'm around?"

Minho knew your story with Jisung—it was impossible not to know. In the corridors of the rehabilitation center, the whispers reverberated like poisonous snakes. How you, the beloved suburban teacher, had started frequenting Han's studio to cover old scars. How the tattoo sessions turned into confessions, then into coffees shared in paper cups, then into stolen kisses against walls covered in faded flash tattoos. How Han had restored each broken piece of you—not with empty words or grandiose promises, but with small gestures: americanos left in paper cups with your name always intentionally misspelled, colorful post-its hidden with silly cat drawings, nights spent simply holding you while the world collapsed around you. How he spoke of you with a kind of reverent love that made Minho want to vomit—because he only knew how to express affection through bruises and cutting words.

But if Han loves you so much, why is he here offering you up like a piece of meat?

"You're sick."

Han tilted his head. "Maybe. But so are you. And her..." He paused, letting the word hang in the air like smoke. "She wants us. Both of us."

"Spare me this bullshit," Minho spat the words. "You talk like she's your property. Like you can just throw me into your bed like a new toy and expect me to..."

"Don't be naive," Jisung interrupted, taking another step forward. Tattooed fingers found Minho's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "She has more free will than both of us combined. And knows exactly what she wants." His thumb traced Minho's lower lip, collecting a drop of blood where he had bitten too hard before bringing the same finger to his mouth. Minho almost moaned at the sight. "Just like I know exactly what you need. What all three of us need."

"You don't know shit about what I need."

"No?" Han teased, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Then why are you trembling?" His fingers moved up to Minho's nape, playing with the short strands there. "Why is your heart beating so fast I can feel it from here?"

"Tell me then," Minho challenged. "What does someone as fucked up as you think I need?"

"Mutual destruction," Jisung murmured against his ear. The cold piercing made Minho's earlobe twitch. "The kind that burns everything to the ground and rebuilds something better from the ashes. The kind that only three equally broken people can create."

A sound escaped Minho's throat. His hands found Jisung's chest. He didn't know if he wanted to push or pull, if he wanted to punch that irritating smile or taste it.

"You're poison," Minho whispered, his nails digging into Jisung's chest through the thin shirt. "The kind that kills slowly."

"And you," Han smiled against his skin, "are too thirsty to care about the antidote."

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

Your diaphragm fluttered like a moth stuck to your ribs as you let out a deep breath. Main focus? Not choking on the saliva accumulated behind the gag.

There you were, tied and exposed like an avant-garde artwork on Minho's carpet. With the city lights watching your debauchery like voyeuristic stars, the floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of Seoul's horizon.

A muscle in your left thigh spasmodically contracted, making the rope sink deeper into your flesh. It was a map of knots—legs folded and bound in a way that made you think of the origami cranes Minho used to fold when he was nervous. The hemp rope bit at two precise points: just above the ankles, where the bone slightly protruded, and at the top of the thighs, where the flesh was softest.

The metal spreader bar kept your legs open. Your pussy was exposed to the cold air of the penthouse and to the hungry gazes of both men.

From this height, you could almost convince yourself that the entire city was watching. Your wrists were bound with soft leather cuffs (Minho's contribution, always valuing luxury when it came to his house and sex toys), connected to the bar in a way that made your shoulders project backward, presenting your chest.

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

It all started on one of those nights when the air conditioning failed intermittently, making an irritating noise that competed with the sounds of the city outside. A casual observation escaped your lips while you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling, alcohol uninhibiting your tongue and bringing up memories of Minho in therapy sessions—the way he would shrink in his chair, fingers drumming nervously against his knee, eyes jumping between you and Jisung like an anxious pendulum.

That specific night, you were sprawled on the Italian leather couch that Jisung so hated ("Who the hell spends so much money on furniture that sticks to your skin in summer?"), one leg hanging off the edge while the other rested on the back of the couch. The ice in your whiskey glass had long since melted, diluting the amber liquid into something more palatable.

Sitting on the Persian rug, Jisung's restless fingers were causing the strategically placed tears in his black jeans to further fray. The smell of caramel and cinnamon mixed with the residual aroma of cigarettes he had smoked earlier on the balcony.

"Jesus," you murmured, running your tongue over your dry lips. "Do you remember how he trembled? Standing there against the wall, with your hands on his neck..." Your voice failed for a moment. "Like a damn kitten lost in the rain. God, in all these years, I never saw Minho crawl back to anyone like that. Not once. I always... always gave him space to run when he needed it." A bitter laugh escaped your throat. "Never thought that after a whole year he'd still believe the door would be open, you know? That he'd still find..." You gestured vaguely with your free hand, searching for the right words. "...warm milk waiting."

Jisung tilted his head to the side, and he had that glint behind his eyes—that same look you saw when he was about to do a particularly painful tattoo on someone. "A kitten? What an... interesting choice of words, love."

You propped yourself up on your elbows so quickly that your head spun, alcohol and adrenaline making your heart stumble. Every vertebra in your spine screamed in unison as warning signals crackled through it. Shit. Shit. Shit."Ji, fuck, that's not what I—"

"Is that what you used to call him?" He interrupted while crawling towards you like a predator. "When he was between those thighs of yours?"

When Jisung's fingers found your ankle, your throat became parched. Just enough to remind you that he could, but not enough to cause pain, his thumb pressed the pulse point there.

"I bet it was." His other hand slid up to grab your knee, spreading your legs, "I bet you whispered 'kitten' when he had his tongue buried in that pussy of yours. That you told him what a good boy he was while he tasted you like you were the last drop of water in hell."

Since then, after each group therapy session, Jisung would extract your confessions like venom from a wound. Methodically deconstructed your sanity while fucking you against any available surface—the bathroom wall, the car's backseat, the kitchen table where you were supposedly meant to dine like normal people. He fed that part of you that you tried to keep locked away, the bitter and vindictive part that yearned to see Minho undone by both your hands. The words poured from your mouth unfiltered—how Minho's arrogant alpha became docile under your touch, the way his spine arched when you squeezed his throat ("Harder, please, harder"), how he begged for more when you fucked him with that ridiculously large purple dildo hidden in the second drawer of the dresser. How he moaned your name when you forced him to cum for the third time in a row, his muscular thighs trembling.

"Tell me more. How did he sound? How did he squirm? I want every dirty detail."

You swallowed hard. "He... he trembled. His whole body shook when he was too close. And he bit his lips until they bled, trying to hold back his moans. Sometimes... he cried."

"And when you tied him up?" Jisung played with the elastic of your panties, making small circles that made you squirm. "Did he fight against the ropes?"

"No," you answered, your voice breaking into a moan when he suddenly sank two fingers inside you. His thumb found your clit, making your thighs shake involuntarily. "He... God, Ji... he stayed completely still." Your nails dug into the leather couch when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Fascinating," Jisung laughed, the low sound reverberating against your skin while he felt you getting even wetter around his fingers. "The great alpha Minho, reduced to a submissive and desperate kitten. I can almost see him now, tied up and begging." His fingers sped up their rhythm, making you arch your back. "Do you think he'd do the same for me?"

"Ji..." You arched against him, your fingers burying in his dark hair, pulling slightly. "Please!"

His smile was pure sin against your skin. "Please what, love? Use your words."

Out of your mouth came the thoughts in a torrent of desperation. "Can we... Can we fuck him? It's just sex! One night!" Your voice trembled, betraying the desperation you tried to hide under a facade of casualness. "Just... just once. Please! I need to feel him again. I need to see you destroying him too."

"Shh..." His fingers continued their merciless assault inside you while his other hand rose to squeeze your neck lightly. "It's okay, baby. I thought you'd never ask. We'll make our kitten meow so pretty for us."

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

Minho didn't bother with his belt, fingers trembling slightly as he unzipped his trousers. He reached in, fabric rustling against skin as he freed himself from the confines of his designer boxers.

"You remember how she's good with her mouth, right?" Jisung's voice was honey-thick with anticipation as he sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, one hand absently tracing patterns on the armrest.

"God, yes." Minho's throat bobbed as he swallowed, kneeling beside your head. His fingertips ghosted over your temple, barely touching. "She doesn't just do it—she worships. Makes you feel like you're her whole fucking world." The muscles in his thighs twitched as he shifted closer. "You have no idea how I missed seeing such a pretty alpha like this."

"Show him then, darling.” Jisung commanded. "Show him what that mouth can do."

Minho's hand trembled slightly as he reached for the gag. The buckle clinked softly as he worked it loose, his breath catching when your lips parted automatically.

Honestly, Minho wasn't in the right headspace to think. After a terrible day at the hotels, he was thinking about how he would cherish every moment of this one night ever since he got home and was counting down the minutes until you and Jisung arrived. This last relapse. This final chance to have the duke in his hands before handing him over to Jisung definitively.

Due to the ball gag, your lips were red and swollen and glistening with saliva.

"There's that pretty little mouth," Minho breathed, tossing the gag aside. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, spreading the wetness there. "Fuck, I missed this view."

He still kept some photos of you on your knees in front of him, lips stretched around his cock. Most were carefully cropped, faceless and anonymous—they could be anyone's lips, anyone's throat. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the reality of you here, now, looking up at him with those eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of his. He slipped his thumb between your parted lips, a soft groan escaping when you immediately began to suck, your tongue swirling around the digit the way you knew drove him mad.

"Open that pretty little mouth for me," Minho purred.

Without thinking, you opened your mouth and offered a silent sacrifice. As Minho pulled his thumb away, the velvet-steel heat of his cock replaced the metallic tang of the freshly removed gag, leaving your taste buds free of its lingering effect. A single drop of precum pearled at the tip, and your tongue darted out to catch it, earning a sharp intake of breath from above.

Minho was longer than memory served, thick enough that your jaw already ached. The familiar weight of him filled your mouth inch by devastating inch, while his hand cradled your cheek with deceptive tenderness. Your eyes watered as he paused halfway, not from discomfort but from the overwhelming sensation of having him here again, real and solid and trembling ever so slightly.

A groan tore free from his throat as his head fell back.

"Fuck..."

Jisung laughed from where he sat, drinking his whiskey. "Yeah, well, wait until you feel her tight cunt again."

The crude words sent a bolt of electricity straight to your core, making you clench helplessly around nothing but want.

When Minho drew back, his cock dragged against your tongue in a slow withdrawal that had your toes curling against the carpet. He thrust forward with the same measure, but you could see the tension coiling in his thighs, the way his abdominal muscles jumped beneath smooth skin. His gaze raked down your body like physical touch, lingering on the slick folds. The sight alone made his cock twitch against your tongue.

He couldn't remember any of the times when he was the one who dominated—it was always you who reduced him to incoherent pleas against the silk sheets. It was always you who destroyed and rebuilt him as you wished, piece by piece, moan by moan, until nothing remained but a broken alpha begging for more. It was always you who made his wolf—the same one that growled at anyone who dared challenge him in the hotel corridors—wag its tail and lower its ears, submissive as a newborn pup. But now, with the ropes biting into your wrists and Jisung commanding your every breath, he couldn't deny that this was more exciting than any fantasy his feverish brain could have conjured during the long nights without you.

As his hips started to move more purposefully and each thrust struck deeper than the last, his fingers became more taut in your hair. The wet sounds of your throat working around him filled the room, punctuated by his increasingly ragged breathing. Your nose brushed against the dark trail of hair leading down from his navel with each forward motion, inhaling the musky scent of arousal and expensive cologne that was uniquely Minho.

"Look at how well she takes it," Jisung observed. The ice in his glass clinked as he took another sip. "Such a good little cocksucker. Always knew exactly how to make you fall apart, didn't she?"

Minho's response was lost in a choked moan as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside of his cock.

Words slipped out between clenched teeth as he cursed in Korean due to the slight constriction that caused him to hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, fuck, I can't—" His voice cracked as you swallowed deliberately around him again. "She's still so-nghh... So fucking good."

Just before heat filled your mouth, you felt him pulse against your tongue. With a broken sound that could have been your name, he came with fingers that squirmed in your hair, gripping you almost painfully. Oversensitive and quivering, you forced him through it, draining every last drop from his dick until he had to back off.

"Jesus Christ," he staggered back a little and panted. Between your lips and his softening cock, a thin strand of cum-infused saliva stretched before shattering. "I forgot how fucking good you are at that."

Jisung's low chuckle made Minho’s vertebrae tingle in anticipation. "Oh, we're just getting started, aren't we, kitten?" Approaching from behind Minho, his footsteps reverberated on the hardwood floor. "Now scoot."

Minho obliged with the grace of a chastised cat, crawling a few paces away on hands and knees, his designer slacks dragging slightly against the floor. Only then, through the post-orgasmic haze that clouded his vision like morning mist, did he notice Han had undressed. Perhaps he'd blacked out for a moment and lost track of time.

"You doing okay, baby?”

As Jisung pushed deeper than Minho had ventured, you nodded enthusiastically around his cock, your eyes watering. Hissing through gritted teeth, your throat tightened around him. Minho watched in awe as the music sent chills down his spine.

"Fuck yes, look at her take it." Jisung's voice was rough with pleasure as he gripped your hair tighter, the slight pain making your cunt clench. "Such a good little slut for us, aren't you?"

Minho couldn't tear his eyes away from where Jisung's cock disappeared between your swollen lips. A drop of your arousal slid down your inner thigh, and his own spent cock twitched with curiosity. Your hips moved restlessly, searching for friction that wasn't there, and the diamond plug caught the light.

Unable to resist any longer, Minho crawled between your spread legs. Your scent hit him like a physical force—familiar yet somehow more intoxicating than he remembered. His tongue darted out to catch that glistening drop of wetness, tracing it back to its source.

Both men shuddered at the moan you uttered around Jisung's dick. Jisung looked back over his shoulder, pupils blown wide with lust as he watched Minho worship your dripping cunt. That wasn't the damn plan, but you were making such beautiful sounds that it made him reconsider.

"Well, well," Jisung purred, rolling his hips forward until you gagged slightly. "Looks like someone's eager to taste what's mine." His free hand reached back to tangle in Minho's hair, forcing his face closer to your heat. "Go ahead then, kitten. Show me how badly you've missed this pussy."

Minho needed no further encouragement. His tongue delved deep, gathering your wetness like a man dying of thirst. Above him, Jisung's thrusts grew more erratic as your moans vibrated around his length.

"That's it," Jisung groaned, his grip tightening painfully in both your hair and Minho's. "Make her cum on your tongue while I fuck that pretty throat raw."

You clenched again as you gagged. The sight made both men groan in unison.

While two fingers twisted inside you, locating that secret place that caused lightning to dance behind your eyelids, his expert mouth plunged deeper. Legs shaking as they clamped around his head, your spine arched off the floor like a bow being drawn. The tendons in your neck strained against skin as you fought for breath around Jisung's length.

Minho's free hand traced idle patterns on your hip, thumb pressing into the hollow there as if to anchor you to earth. He remembered how you used to fight this—how your alpha pride would make you bite your lip bloody rather than surrender. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were lost in a haze of sensation, caught between Jisung stretching your throat and Minho's wicked tongue.

"I missed those little sounds you make," Minho whispered against your inner thigh while his fingers never stopped their relentless assault inside you. "Remember how you used to fight it? All that alpha pride... But look at you now, dripping all over my chin like the prettiest little slut."

Your only response was a desperate whimper around Jisung the vibrations making him curse and grip your hair tighter. Minho's palm spread across your lower belly, feeling the muscles there coiling tight as a spring. He could read the signs in your body like a familiar book - the flutter of your walls around his fingers, the way your toes curled against the carpet, the endless slick that coated his chin and neck.

It should be impossible, actually. You were an alpha, technically more prepared to lubricate less than omegas and less sensitive, but that was never an obstacle for Lee Minho. He had a talent and he was going to rub it in the blue one's face.

"There we go," he purred, voice rough with want as his fingers found that perfect rhythm. His tongue flicked rapidly against your clit. "Show Jisung what he's been missing. Show him how pretty you look when you fall apart for us. Bet he's never seen an alpha gush like this before."

Unstoppable and overwhelming, the pressure increased like a tsunami. As Minho's tongue pounded viciously against you and his fingers struck that spot with devastating accuracy, your thighs trembled uncontrollably. Above you, Jisung's grip tightened in your hair as he felt your throat contracting around him, your gag reflex working overtime.

"Holy shit," Jisung groaned, watching transfixed as Minho buried his face deeper between your thighs, his nose grinding against your button while his tongue worked magic. "Is she actually going to—?"

“Yeah. Just watch, blue.”

Your muffled scream cut him off as the dam finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the saliva on your chin as you came hard around Minho's fingers. He moaned against your pussy, the vibrations prolonging your pleasure as you gushed over his hand and face. You thrashing beneath him, totally undone and beautiful in your surrender, made his own cock harden once more. He didn't stop, though, working you through each aftershock until you were sobbing around Jisung's length, your whole body trembling.

"Such a good girl," Minho praised, his tongue darting out to catch another drop of your arousal from his bottom lip. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he swallowed, savoring your taste like a man starved. "Always so fucking perfect for us. Still tastes like honey and sin."

"You okay, baby?" Han's voice was velvet-soft as he ran a loving hand down the center of your chest, fingers trailing fire under your tied arms and over the plane of your stomach. "You never let me see you like this before."

"Never saw her absolutely drenched like this before, did you?" Minho wiped his chin with the back of his hand, though his face remained gloriously debauched. A drop of your arousal caught the light as it rolled down the column of his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. "Takes someone who knows exactly what buttons to push."

“Funny how you think you know her better after abandoning her for two fucking years, kitten."

Minho's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, catching the light like a cat's in the darkness.

"I may have left." A cruel smile played at the corners of his mouth. "But at least I knew how to make her fall apart properly when I was here. Every." His tongue clicked against his teeth. "Single." Another click. "Time." His head tilted to one side, challenging. "Can you say the same, blue boy?"

Han’s scent turned sharp enough to burn, filling the room like smoke. "Continue running your mouth like that," his fingers traced patterns on your hip, but his eyes were fixed on Minho's throat. "And I'll show you exactly how I can reduce your precious wolf to a whimpering mutt while I spank that pretty ass of yours until it matches your fucking pride."

Your throat burned deliciously as you swallowed, tasting the remnants of both men on your tongue. Both of them turned back to you as you shifted, the ropes biting into your wrists. "For fuck's sake," you managed to rasp. "Shut up, both of you. Less alpha posturing, more fucking. I didn't get on my knees and let you both use my throat just to watch you measure dicks like teenagers."

"Uhm... Sorry, baby." Jisung's chuckle reverberated through his chest. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, thumb pressing against your swollen bottom lip. "Since it's this dumb alpha's special day," he shot Minho a look that made the older alpha blush, "I'll let him decide if he wants his knot in your tight little ass or that pretty cunt. Okay?"

With eyes darting between your dripping core and the jeweled plug that winked teasingly between your cheeks, Minho's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"I want..." his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. "Both." His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to touch Jisung but not daring. "Please, I need both."

One sharp look from Jisung—just a slight narrowing—and a disapproving click of his tongue was all it took. It was like watching a proud statue fall apart—the change happened instantly. Minho's shoulders curved inward, the proud line of his spine melting into something more pliant. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Almost apparent, the aroma of cinnamon, lavender, and caramel wrapped itself around Minho like silk strands.

"Cunt," he finally whispered. "Please... I choose her pussy. Want to feel her squeeze around my knot like she used to."

A slow smile spread across Jisung's face. "Good kitten," he purred. His fingers tangled in Minho's dark hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. "Pussy it is. What do you say now?”

“T-Thank you.”

“There you go.”

Jisung's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked at the knots, each brush of his fingers against your sensitized skin making you shiver. With a whisper, the rope slipped away and gathered on the ground like discarded snake skin.

"Up you go, pretty thing," Jisung whispered as he assisted you in standing up, his palm extending over the small of your back.

Your legs trembled like a newborn fawn's, muscles still quivering from the aftershocks. The room swayed and tilted like a ship in a storm, reality blurring at the edges until Jisung's bruising grip on your hip became your only anchor to consciousness.

Leather greeted your heated skin with a shock of cold that drew a hiss from between your teeth. Jisung's knee pressed insistently between your thighs, spreading you wide enough that the muscles burned. Behind you, Minho's breath hitched in his throat—a sound caught between a whimper and a growl that made your inner walls clench with need. The jeweled plug shifted inside you as Jisung toyed with it.

"Such a greedy little thing," Jisung worked the plug in torturous circles. "Look at how she's clenching around it, Minho-yah. Both holes just begging to be stuffed full, aren't they?" The metal caught the dim light as he finally eased it free, your body fluttering helplessly around the sudden emptiness.

Cool liquid dripped between your cheeks in a meandering trail that made you arch and whine. Jisung's fingers followed, spreading it with the patience of a man who knew exactly how to drive you mad. His knuckles brushed against your entrance with each pass, a teasing promise that had your thighs trembling.

"Here." The single word carried enough command to make both you and Minho shiver.

You heard rather than saw Minho scramble to take the offered bottle, his desperate pants filling the room like a prayer.

"Such a good boy for me," Jisung praised, and you could feel the way Minho's entire being seemed to light up at the words, his scent sweetening with pleasure. "Now get that pretty cock ready. Our girl's been so patient, hasn't she? Look how she's dripping for us both."

With a roughness that sent thrills down your spine—because this was still Han Jisung, still your beautiful, commanding alpha—he manhandled you onto the couch. Your back hit his chest with enough force to drive the air from your lungs, his heartbeat a rapid drum against your shoulder blades. Slick and burning hot, he nudged at your entrance with an insistence that bordered on desperation.

"Gonna split you open so pretty," he growled against the shell of your ear, teeth catching the lobe hard enough to sting as he lined up. "Show our little kitty exactly how an alpha takes care of what's his."

A broken sound escaped your throat as he breached you, the stretch bordering on too much. Sweat gathered at your temples, rolling down to pool in the hollow of your throat where your pulse fluttered.

"Holy fuck," Minho whimpered, his fingers twitching against his thigh as he watched you take Jisung to the root.

As Jisung tipped the last of the whiskey to your lips, the amber liquid burned a trail down your throat, and the crystal tumbler clinked against your teeth. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" His hips rolled experimentally, the new angle making your vision blur at the edges. "But we're not done yet, are we, kitten? Show me just how badly you want to wreck her."

Minho's hands shook as they settled on your thighs, fingertips leaving crescent-shaped marks as he spread you impossibly wider. Already slippery and swollen from his previous attention, the head of his dick pressed against your folds, a string of precum binding him to your heated flesh.

"Please," your voice cracked around the word as your fingers dipped between your legs, spreading yourself. "Need you both. Need to be filled completely." You crooked your fingers, showing him exactly where you wanted him, clenching around nothing. "Show me you haven't forgotten how to make me scream, Min."

What was left of his control was destroyed by the use of his nickname.

As if he had run for miles, Minho's chest heaved as his breath came in tattered pants that muddled the air between you. In an attempt to resist the urge to simply pop a knot in midair, the muscles in his forearms tensed up.

"Such a needy little thing.”

Behind you, Jisung's hands slid up your ribcage, leaving trails of fire in their wake before cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked. "Stop teasing her. Unless you want me to take over completely and show you how it's done."

The threat in his voice made Minho's hips snap forward, the head of his cock finally breaching you. The stretch was exquisite—too much and not enough all at once, burning and perfect. Your walls fluttered around both men as they filled you completely, the dual sensation making your toes curl against the leather.

"Fuck," Minho choked out, his forehead dropping to rest against your sternum. "So tight. So perfect. Can feel you both. Can feel how well you take us."

Your fingers found their way into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you felt him tremble. The touch made him shudder violently, his hips stuttering forward another inch as a broken moan escaped his throat. "Move, kitty," you commanded softly, tugging at his hair just the way you remembered he liked.

Minho's eyes devoured every inch of you with an almost feverish intensity, pupils blown wide as his hips snapped forward with urgency.

"Please," he rasped, voice cracking like autumn leaves underfoot. "Need to—shit, need to mark you. Make you mine again." His canines lengthened visibly, pressing against his bottom lip until tiny droplets of blood welled up. His inner wolf screamed for possession as it thrashed against its chains—you ought to be writhing beneath him in his bedroom, your scent blending with the remnants that, two years later, still clung obstinately to his sheets, taking his knot until the memory of any other touch vanished.

"Such pretty begging," Jisung purred, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand snaked around to grip Minho's throat, thumb pressing just hard enough to make the older alpha's breath hitch. "But you forgot something important, didn't you?"

No kissing, no claiming.

The movement caught Minho's attention, drawing his gaze up to where Jisung watched them both with predatory focus. Something molten pooled in Minho's stomach as the younger alpha's lips twisted into that devastating half-smile.

Slowly, Jisung brought the crystal tumbler to his own lips, throat working as he swallowed. A single drop of amber liquid escaped, meandering down the sharp line of his jaw. Minho's tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips.

The realization hit him like lightning—Han Jisung, with his ocean-deep hair, lip piercing and cruel kindness, would slot perfectly into the empty spaces in his bedroom too.

What the fuck? No, this shouldn't be happening! The metallic taste of blood invaded his mouth as he bit his lip hard enough to hurt, ignoring how your eyes opened to stare at him when you smelled it.

Fuck! He already has a jack in his hands; he doesn't need another one! The thought burned like acid in his throat. Minho needs to think about other omegas and whores—the girl from Midnight Club with purple hair and tongue piercings, the bartender from Red Light with tribal tattoos running down his tanned neck, the cat-eyed dancer from Velvet Underground. He needs to fuck women and men until the scent of cinnamon and caramel is replaced by sweat and cheap sex, until every memory of you is buried under a pile of nameless bodies, until he erases you from the system, erases Jisung and that damn smile.

He needed to fuck.

"Open that pretty mouth for me, kitten," Jisung commanded, pressing the cool rim of the glass to Minho's lips. His other hand remained firm around the older alpha's throat.

Whiskey flooded Minho's mouth, burning sweetly as it mixed with your lingering taste on his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of your walls clenching around him and Jisung's possessive grip on his throat. The familiar pressure began building at the base of his cock, his knot threatening to swell—breed mate claim mine mine mine.

"Eyes on me," Jisung growled, his fingers tightening until crimson starbursts exploded behind Minho's eyelids. "Show me what a good boy you can be. Match my rhythm—yeah, just like that." His thumb ghosted over Minho's bottom lip, collecting the bitter cocktail of whiskey and copper.

The muscles in Minho's throat worked convulsively beneath Jisung's grip, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against calloused fingers. Sweat-stained skin caused his shoulder blades to shift beneath his curved spine as he struggled to keep up with Jisung's vicious pace.

"I'm sorry, sorry, baby." Minho choked out, his rhythm growing erratic as his knot began to swell, balls hitting your rim with all his might. "Please, Alpha, I can't—need to—"

"Not yet." Jisung's voice was sin incarnate, dark honey and broken glass. His fingers found your clit, drawing tight circles that had your vision blurring at the edges. "Our girl cums first. Show her what those pretty fingers can do and then you are allowed."

When you felt the stretch of both cocks filling you completely, Jisung's teeth at your throat, and Minho's deft fingers joining Jisung's at your clit, the world shrank to pure sensation. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through your system. You could feel yourself clenching rhythmically around them both, drawing them deeper as your body demanded to be bred.

"Holy fuck," Minho choked out, his hips stuttering as your walls milked his cock. "Can't—alpha, please—"

Jisung's growl vibrated through your back, possessive and commanding. "Cum for us, kitten. Breed her nice and deep."

As Minho emptied himself inside of you with a broken cry, the command in Jisung's voice caused his entire body to tremble, his knot to fully swell. You could feel him pulsing, filling you alongside Jisung's still-hard length. Your oversensitive walls fluttered around them both, and the sensation was almost too much, almost painful.

"Such a good boy," Jisung praised, his voice rough as gravel as his hips snapped up harder. His fingers twisted in Minho's hair, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. "Look at how well you take my commands, how perfectly you fill our alpha."

Minho whimpered, high and desperate, as Jisung's teeth scraped over his scent gland. His hips jerked helplessly, locked inside you by his knot as aftershocks of pleasure wracked his frame.

"Please," you gasped, writhing between them as Jisung's pace grew brutal. "Too much! I can't! Stop!"

Jisung's laugh was dark honey against your skin. "Yes, you can. One more for us, pretty thing. Show our kitty how good we make you feel."

His fingers found your clit again while Minho latched onto your breast. The dual sensation of his tongue laving over your nipple and Jisung's cock dragging against your g-spot had you almost screaming.

Minho's teeth grazed your nipple as he moaned around the sensitive flesh, his own oversensitivity evident in the way his thighs trembled. You could feel his knot pulsing inside you with each thrust of Jisung's hips, stretching you impossibly wider.

"That's it," Jisung growled, his rhythm growing erratic as his own knot began to swell. "Take it all, every fucking drop."

As pleasure verged on pain, your second orgasm struck like lightning, causing tears to fall down your cheeks. Jisung followed with a snarl, his knot locking inside you alongside Minho's as he marked you from the inside out.

For a moment, Minho allowed himself to collapse against your chest, his forehead pressed against your sternum as his breath came in ragged gasps. The steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath his ear was a siren song, beckoning him towards dangerous waters where dreams of permanence lurked like sharks beneath still waters.

"Fuck," he whispered, the word barely audible as his fingers traced meaningless patterns across your ribs. His tongue darted out to taste the salt of your skin, cataloging the way Jisung's and his scent had mixed with your natural sweetness to create something entirely new.

Behind you, Jisung's fingers carded through Minho's sweat-dampened hair, the gentle touch at odds with the possessive grip he maintained on your hip. "Stay still for me, both of you," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. "Let me take care of you while we're tied."

Minho's eyelashes fluttered against your skin as he fought back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to memorize this moment—the weight of you both, the way Jisung's fingers felt against his scalp, the lingering taste of whiskey and blood on his tongue. Wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe, hidden away with all the other pieces of himself he couldn't bear to examine too closely.

But he couldn't. Wouldn't. The rules were clear—no staying, no claiming, no letting himself believe this could be anything more than what it was. Even as his body betrayed him, cock still pulsing inside you as his knot kept you locked together, his mind was already calculating the fastest way to get you out of his house. Already planning his escape.

"Your heart's racing," you observed softly, fingers trailing down his spine in a touch so gentle it made him want to scream. Or sob. Or both.

Minho said nothing, but his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise.

It was like a game of Kemps, Minho thought hazily, watching the way moonlight painted silver stripes across your skin through his half-closed Venetian blinds. Just like those drunken Sunday afternoons in Chan's apartment. But now he had two jacks in his hand. Two cards that could ruin everything he'd built, destroy the fortress around his heart.

He could already imagine it—lazy Sunday mornings with the scent of condensed milk pudding filling his apartment, the sweet aroma mingling with fresh coffee and Jisung's scent. Jisung's steady hands marking his skin with permanent promises in black ink while vinyl records crackled in the background. You in the bathtub singing "Here Comes The Sun" off-key, bubbles clinging to your shoulders while Jisung lounged behind you reading his worn copy of Murakami, occasionally glancing up from the pages to watch him shave. Movie nights with takeout containers scattered across his coffee table, your head in his lap and Jisung's fingers absently playing with both your hair. The three of you tangled together in his Egyptian cotton sheets, no need for rushed goodbyes or careful distance, just the steady rhythm of shared breaths and intertwined heartbeats.

The domesticity of these visions felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with each passing second. Like his mother's pearls scattered across the bathroom floor, like the bitter taste of failure that had lived on his tongue since that day. The thought terrified him more than any business deal or angry investor ever could.

"When will I see you again?"

For the first time, he was the one that asked this question. His fingers trembled as he considered keeping his jacks instead of discarding them, letting them destroy his perfect game.

After all, sometimes the best strategy was letting your walls crumble, brick by carefully constructed brick, until nothing remained but the raw, beating heart beneath.

Kemps!

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Charles and Erik are looking for a mutant named Y/N.

"Charles," Erik calls. "Did you find her?" Charles calls. "Yes," Erik calls back. Y/N turns around and notices that the two men are following her and starts to run faster. "Wait," Charles calls.

Y/N  runs around the corner and stands in front of a wall. Just before the two men arrive, she teleports behind them and watches them.

"How can she just disappear?" Erik asks. "What are her powers?" Erik asks. "I don't know," Charles says. "What? Shouldn't you know?" Erik asks.

"Who are you? And what do you want from me?" she asks. They both flinch and turn around. "My name is Charles Xavier, and this is Erik Lehnsherr. We could use someone with your skills," says Charles.

Your view

I look at the man for a few seconds. He looks kind of cute and hot. I feel somehow attracted to him, even though we don't know each other.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. Don't be afraid, we're just like you. I hear the voice in my head and look at the two of them in surprise. "I'm a telepath," says Charles.

We look at each other intensely. Maybe it's better to go with them than to be alone all the time.

"Okay, I'm in," I say without breaking eye contact. Hopefully I can spend more time with Charles then.   My thoughts go a little further.

Charles starts to smile and I look at him, slightly confused. Darling, I heard everything you were thinking.

"Shit," I suddenly say out loud and blush a little. Erik, who has been quiet the whole time, looks back and forth between us. "What have you been doing all this time?" asks Erik. "N-nothing," I say.

Erik looks at Charles, who just grins slightly and shrugs his shoulders. "Come on, let's go back. I'll introduce you to the others," says Charles and both men run ahead. I wait a moment, this could be interesting. Since I saw that the two of them are here in a car, I teleport myself into the car where they are both. "Okay, let's go," I say and they both turn around in shock. "So, you can teleport. That could be very useful," grins Charles. "Oh God," comes from Erik. "Would you wait with your perverted thoughts until I'm no longer near you?" says Erik.

A few days later

Charles and I have grown a little closer in the last few days. I'm looking for Charles when I meet Raven. "Hello, Raven," I smile. "Hey, Y/N. Are you looking for someone?" she asks. "Yes, have you seen Charles?" I ask and she grins a little. "What's going on between you two?" she asks. "Nothing, we're just friends," I say. "Hey, Y/N," Charles comes over to us. "Hey, Charles," I smile shyly. "I'm going to go to the others," Raven says goodbye. "Today we're going to train you to be able to teleport further away than just in the area," he explains. "I can't do that," I say. "Of course you can," Charles smiles and takes my hand in his. "I'm going to show you a place now and you're going to try to teleport there," he says and uses his powers. I see a beautiful beach and concentrate on it. The next moment I teleport us there, but instead of landing on the beach we land right in the ocean. "Shit," I say. "That was a good start," Charles says with a slight grin, and I sigh, take his hand and try to bring us back. Next thing we know we've landed in a stranger's garden and people are looking at us in shock. "I'm sorry," I say, and then we run away.

After running a few blocks, we stop, out of breath. Charles starts laughing, and after a few seconds I start laughing too. "Have you seen their faces?" I laugh. After we calm down, we look at each other. "You look beautiful," he smiles.

I blush a little, but have to smile. Charles puts his hand on my cheek and comes closer. "May I?" he whispers, and I nod. He presses his lips to mine. I don't know how, but my powers have activated and teleported us somewhere. But that didn't really bother us. After we break away from the kiss, Charles puts his forehead on mine. A clearing of the throat tears us out of our thoughts, and only now do we realize that we are back. "I hate to disturb you," grins Erik. "So, just friends," grins Raven, and I blush. "Okay, maybe more than just friends," I say and look at Charles, who smiles at me. "We should start training," Charles says to the group. "Why are you so wet anyway?" asks Alex, and only now do I notice my wet clothes. "I was supposed to try to teleport us to the beach, but instead we ended up in the ocean and then in strangers' gardens," I say, slightly embarrassed. "What? You ended up in strangers' gardens?" Sean laughs. "We should get changed," Charles says. Before anyone else says anything else, I take his hand and teleport us to his room. "Uh, I'm going to go get changed," I say, releasing my hand. Charles quickly grabs my arm. "Wait," he says, and I look at him questioningly. "Do you want to do something with me after training? Like just you and me," he asks, a little nervous. It's kind of cute that he seems so shy now. "Like a date?" I ask, smiling, and Charles nods in response.

“Yes, of course, Charles,” I smile and hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to go change. See you at training," I smile and teleport myself to my room.

Charles stares at the spot where you were for a moment and smiles before going to take a shower and getting ready for training. The whole time, he can't think of anything else but you and your date.

[stubz]

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" whispered the Beerix.

"Your communicator doesn't have service on Earth and my phone is dead. I need to charge it somewhere and this is the closest place that won't ID us." the human looked through the window into the crowded pub searching for an outlet.

"Just...hood up, hat pulled down, and stay close to me." she whispered as they reached the front of line.

"How do you know they won't ID us-?"

"Two people? Alright, come on in!" smiles the doorman.

The human and beerix walk in and are hit with body heat, loud music, dozens of loud voices, and a wave of bodies.

"Told you, now come on, there's an outlet over there."

Pushing and shoving their way through the crow the duo makes it to the back of the pub where a table and some stools are. Quickly the human takes out a charger and plugs in her phone.

"Great, now we just need to wait."

"For how long?"

"At least 10 minutes so we'll make it to the nearest base."

"I hate it here. It's loud and...smelly." wrinkles the beerix's snout.

"I know...here I'll buy you something to eat. Want a drink too?"

"...fine. Just be quick."

"Alright, remember, hoo-"

"Hood up, hat pulled down, yeah yeah I know Kim, you only told me a hundred times tonight."

"...sorry, I'll get you that food and drink!"

He watched as his friend disappeared into the crowd and huddled into chair. Every couple of seconds he checked the phone hoping that'd it'd miraculously be fully charged so they could go.

"Come to Earth they said, it'll be fun they said...why couldn't we just have stayed on the ship and go to the new year's party like usual?"

"Excuse me mate? Can we sit here?" he whipped his head up to see three humans standing before him.

"Uh..."

"It's just that there's no where ta sit and it looks like it's just you and friend so could we?"

"...sure." he forced out knowing it'd draw more attention to say no and that more people would just ask this very same question later.

"Thanks mate! I'm Arty, this is Celia, and this is Sean. What's your name?"

"...Quip."

"I love that name! And your hat! It's so gorgeous, where'd you buy it?"

"Oh my god Celia look at his eyes! They're shiny like...like flashlights."

"Don't mind them, they're a bit drunk right now." Laughed Arty.

"No worries..."

"Real nice hat though, never seen a design like before."

"Thanks...it's foreign."

"From where???" lean in the two Irish.

"Knock it off you two or I'll knock some sense into you."

"I...it's from..."

"Sweden! Hi nice to meet you, I'm Kim. Got you fries and a Guinness." she slides over to her friend.

"Oh lovely choice! They got great Guinness here!"

"I know, got one for myself."

The three Irish began to talk amongst themselves while Quip grabbed the attention of his friend and crewmate.

"We gotta go, now." he hissed.

"We can't until finishing our food and drinks, leaving without doing so would raise suspicion." she whispers back smiling at the three other humans.

"Two of them are drunk and the sober one wouldn't care."

"Maybe or maybe he would since as the only sober one he's on high alert right now. Besides I only have 8%. We need to wait now drink your Guinness and eat your fries."

"...you didn't even get one of those tiny drinks I like."

"Those are shots and this will last longer and tastes better."

"Better..."

[Four Guinness later]

"HE WAS A SKATER BOY SHE SAID SEE YOU LATER BOY, HE WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER!

SHE HAD A PRETTY FACE BUT HER HEAD WAS UP IN SPACE, SHE NEEDED TO COME BACK TO EAARRTH!!" screamed Quip, Celia and Sean, the three drunkenly dancing and singing to the song playing in the pub. Somehow Quip's hat ended up on Celia along with his hood on Sean, his pointed ears, snout and grey skin out for everyone to see.

"I can't believe how good your friend's cosplay is."

"I know...he loves Dragon Ball." smiles Kim thankful that Celia thought Quip said he was Beerus instead of Beerix.

"Yeah killer Beerus cosplay, too bad he couldn't get purple paint though."

"MATE HOW DO YOU NOT KNUR DIS ONE?!"

"I KNOW IT NOW!"

"OI SHUDDUP IT'S THE BESHT PART!"

"CAUSE I'M JUST A TEENAGE DIRTBAG BABY! YEAH I'M JUST A TEENAGE DIRTBAG BABY! LISTEN TO IRON MAIDEN BABY!!"

Kim laughed as she watched her friend continue to poorly sing to the songs her and most of everyone else here grew up with.

"Quip! Quip! it's time to go!"

"Don't wanna! It's fun here!"

"Quip, Kal and Glip are probably worried about you! My phone is charged up, let's go!"

"Nooo!"

"Aw listen, listen to your friend mate, gotta get home to your family..."

"Yeah, don't wanna worry 'em. My girlfriend would call tha police if I didn't check in with her..."

After some more coaxing from Sean and Celia, Quip finally gave in and followed Kim out of the pub.

A phone call and bus ride later the two were soon reunited with the rest of their crew and soon went back to their ship.

Tomorrow Quip will be banned from drinking for 3 months by his partners and the Captain as he was trending on social media due to Celia and Sean posting the selfies and videos they took with him...which he drunkenly agreed to while his hat and hood were down.

For the rest of the month #IrishBeerus was a popular post.