#his roots are dark but they grow out blond
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somnas-writes · 1 year ago
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Wanna write a PJO-TKC-MCGA protagonist cross over fic
Except I do What Ever I Want
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amarithecat · 2 years ago
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twilighttowntormentnexus · 1 month ago
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sxajne throughout his life, and how his hair changes
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toxicrevolver · 1 year ago
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Halloween tag game! Thanks for the tag!!! @serendipminie
Do this quiz find out what horror movie stereotype you are
And make this picrew/dolldivine to design your look
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I’m also somehow a tragic hero. Idk. Maybe it’s bcs I’m always trying to fight. In all actuality I’d probably be one of the first people to die in a horror movie bcs I can’t keep my mouth shut (which is filed under reasons I’d do terrible in prison). This was super fun tho. I love doing pic crew things (even tho I hate my face).
And as per usual I’m not tagging anyone bcs I am lazy (and socially awkward) plus I have the big sad. But if anyone wants to participate they can blame me as the reason.
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purposefully-lost · 2 years ago
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"Creepy Chris prescott" but it's the greasiest, most awkward boy you've ever seen in your life with a secondhand dslr camera and a lot of unchecked anger just bubbling under the surface
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riddlers-left-buttcheek · 1 month ago
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i love how they're gossiping while totally ignoring the Arkham staff person right there in front of them
A staff be like: "ma'am? sir? your- your medication? helloo? you know i can hear you, i'm literally right here. ... please just take the pills."
Also, I bet Harley did Jonathan's nails. Under strict supervision, naturally. You can't trust Crane with any substance whatsoever, this man will find a way to make fear toxin out of nail polish.
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Harley and Jonathan gossiping about the Arkham staff for @orcapologist
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unknownmads · 5 months ago
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thinking about dilf kiri😋😋
dilf kiri who’s officially hit his fourties face scruffy, body squishy, full of scars and stretch marks from years of being japan’s shield, and dark roots grown out from growing tired of redying it.
dilf kiri who hasn’t dated since his ex wife, divorcing because being a hero took too much time. Whose two girls adore him but their distance growing as they too age.
dilf kiri who is clearly too old for you but can’t help your attraction to him. having just started working at the cafe/ restaurant your friend owned near the red riots’s agency and lucky you did. you immediately recognized the big man, even with his hair grown out black overtaking his old red, face and arms littered with scars, bulkier with his age, out of his hero suit in something seemingly more comfortable, but same bright smile, red eyes, and same warms aura surrounding him.
dilf kiri who comes in with some of his buddies preaching about how much he loves this place. saying no other cafe compares with the atmosphere, drink, and treats. his friends making comments saying no wonder he’s gotten bulkier if he’s going here so often. you didn’t know he goes here often otherwise you would’ve started here MUCH sooner.
dilf kiri who comes up to order asking for a simple latte and croissant breakfast sandwich, your eyes taking in as much of him as you can before it’s his friends turns to order. one blonde with a black streak ordering a small box of treats and tea. The other blonde ordering a latte as well asking for extra expresso and a breakfast sandwich of his own. before heading back to his table takes a long gaze at you before smiling his signature smile “hey your new here aren’t you? i don’t think i’ve seen you working before!” you almost collapse from excitement from his very simple comment.
“Yea i just started today! hopefully you’ll be seeing more of me here!” you try to reply matching his cheer you see his smile grow a tad more if that’s even possible.
“yea i hope so!” he replies warmly before turning tail catching up with his friends at their table. Getting started on their drinks you drink in his body as he’s walk back to their table.
dilf kiri who blushes a little when his friends tell him how the cashier was checking him out, and most definitely flirting with him. of course he’s denying such a think with a “she was just being friendly and doing her job it wasn’t that.” swatting away his friends words with a grin but almost letting his mind wander.
dilf kiri who looks back over the counter checking you out with his friends thoughts in his head. you weren’t really checking him out right?? you wouldn’t flirt with him he’s probably close to double your age. right? who blushes even more so when you turn around locking eyes you smiling at him brightly from across the cafe.
dilf kiri who tried to compose himself when he sees you come over with their food and drinks, warning them while eyeing him personally to be careful of the hot drinks.
“so will that be all for you guys?” you try to gaze around the table but your eyes almost like magnets go back to the large man in front of you.
“yea that’ll be all thank you sweetheart” he replies for the table seeing his friends almost shoving him to take the shot with their eyes.
“alright i’ll be right back with your check will you pay all together?” cheeks clearly growing red form the nickname he threw in. this time trying to ensuring you look at all three men before the two blondes stare knives at their darker haired friend.
“nah i uh i got it covered, we’ll only be needing one check.” he checks with his friends before replying to you eyes locking with yours once more.
not breaking the eye contact “alright then i’ll be right back with your check” you smile brightly again keeping his gaze for as long as possible before breaking it when you walk too far to maintain it longer.
dilf kiri who’s cheeks redden when denki talks not so quietly about how he should ask out the server. trying to shush the friends as he continues about how she’s “Totally into you and you gotta take the shot!” you stifle your laughter when overhearing the conversation.
Dilf kiri who couldn’t bring himself to ask out you when you bring over the check but is left shocked and blushing when he opens it seeing you gave him a slight discount. he chuckles at the small gesture signing the check and writing something else before hurriedly scribbling it out then, handing the check back with his card inside. your face almost bright red feeling almost too forward with your gesture.
Dilf kiri who’s equally a mess hoping his gesture wasn’t too much or taking your signs wrong. Seeing that he hadn’t taken them wrong at all when he received his receipt seeing your number scribbled on it with your name under the digits. you quickly try to push out a “let me know if you boys need anything else!” before practically running back behind the counter.
dilf kiri who tells his friends to go ahead of him when they finish up their drinks and treats. telling them he’ll catch up in a minute as he heads to the counter.
“y/n.” your head spins around hearing your names seeing the tall man waiting at the counter for you.
“yes kirishima!” you quickly respond spinning around quickly to lock eyes with his almost spilling your drink in the process. his big hands reaching out to your arm to help balance you. blush growing in your face from his touch and realizing you outed that you knew him. “i’m so sor-“ you were cut off by his speaking before you could finish
“no it’s okay sweetheart, you okay?” he says referring to the almost spill which you quickly respond yes before he continues “well i’m glad you know my name, i actually just when i came to tell you. i’ll be sure to text you k?” soaring off his new found confidence given so graciously by you just from your reactions. you nod excitedly a soft smile on your lips confirming you heard him. He’s smiling brightly and heading out the door with a quick “see you soon!” but not before staring you down taking you in one last time before heading to catch up with his friends.
Dilf kiri who shoots you a text as soon as he leaves your cafe *hey it’s kirishima, when are you off so i can take you out?* you giggle like a school girl borderline like a maniac when reading the text practically feeling like you could fly.
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lmk what yall think i need lots of feedback so i know how to improve and better!!! HOPE YOU GUSY ENJOY!! IM GONNA DO MORE PRISON TOJI NEXT :3
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perlelune · 1 year ago
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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.
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Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.
Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.
At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.
You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.
You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.
You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.
The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.
Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.
Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.
Or until the door knocks in that case. 
The sound startles you. 
You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets. 
The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.
“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.
The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still. 
A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.
Her gentle lilt flutters above you.
“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”
You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.
Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.
Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.
You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket. 
“Tigris,” you mumble. 
Her thin blonde brows are pinched. 
“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”
Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips. 
“Sorry.”
Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm. 
“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”
You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”
The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.
“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.
From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin. 
She leans over you, her tone pleading.
“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”
Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”
She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.
“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”
You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.
You give an honest reply.
“I…can’t remember.”
Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.
Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.
You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.
Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder. 
You know you shouldn’t feel this way.
It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are. 
You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.
But you can’t. 
Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.
It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.
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The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect. 
It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.
You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve. 
…If there’ll even still be a wedding. 
As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace. 
You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.
“Does your grandmother do this every morning?” 
Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.
“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”
Your brows furrow.
The glory days...
Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.
Exactly like now.
You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.
But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.
Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.
While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.
“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”
Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.
“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”
Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”
You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”
You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.
“Is something the matter?”
Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.
You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.
“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.
Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”
A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”
She shakes her head.
“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”
You wince. “I very much doubt that.”
Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.
“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.
“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.
“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”
Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.
She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”
Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.
Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it. 
It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.
After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself. 
All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot. 
Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face. 
He starts making his way towards you. 
A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.
“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction. 
“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.
You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest. 
You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can. 
You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster. 
You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.
“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.
Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.
“My fiancé,” you reply.
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“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.
Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.
His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”
You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.
“I’m a coward,” you say.
His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.
Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.
“I am,” you affirm.
Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”
His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs. 
Your eyes go wide.
“What’s that?”
The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.
His lips stretch in a tense smile.
“I'll go check. Stay here.”
“I’ll come.”
You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.
“Princess, I don’t think-”
You glower at him. You can’t run forever.
“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”
Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”
Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.
Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.
Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.
“William, you can’t be here.”
“I love you. Of course I should be here.” 
Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.
“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”
“I just need a little time...alone.”
“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”
The desperation thickens in his voice.
“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”
“I…”
Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby. 
“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.
“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”
Tears well up in your eyes. 
“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”
Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.
“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.
Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.
Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.
You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it. 
“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”
Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact. 
You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.
He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.
Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”
All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.
You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right. 
“Do you trust me?” 
You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.
He smiles at your response.
“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”
Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.
“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”
You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.
“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.
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beansprean · 9 months ago
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AND THAT'S A WRAP ON WWDITS FILMING...[wails loudly]
I hope these actors know how much they have done for me, specifically. And how many times I have drawn their dumb faces dkjfhk.
Please consider donating to Medical Aid for Palestine! It's what Kayvan would want. :) 🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1. Waist up of Guillermo and Harvey Guillén on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Harvey!' Harvey's skin is slightly tanner than Guillermo's, his hair is sun-bleached and curling freely over his forehead, and he is wearing a blue knit crop top and denim overalls. He is hugging Guillermo from behind with his chin on his shoulder, grinning up at the viewer. Guillermo, wearing a white shirt and brown patterned cardigan, is cupping Harvey's hands with his own over his chest and looking at him with a fond smile, cheeks pressed together.
2. Waist up of Nandor and Kayvan Novak on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Kayvan!' Kayvan's skin is a rich brown against Nandor's vampire pallor and his half-up hair and slightly longer beard are graying; he is wearing a dangly gold earring in his left ear and is wearing a lime green button up tee with a red watermelon pattern. He has picked Nandor up in a hug with his arms wrapped around his waist. Nandor, wearing a long brown kaftan under a orange diamond-patterned coat with short furred sleeves, has his right hand braced on Kayvan's shoulder and the other wrapped around his back. They are both grinning widely and looking at the viewer.
3. Waist up of Nadja, Nadja doll, and Natasia Demetriou on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Natasia!' Natasia is lightly tanned and has chest wavy length hair with bangs, dark brown at the roots with honey brown and blonde highlights throughout. She is wearing a periwinkle skirt and bandeau top with an outer layer of translucent chiffon in the same color, along with poofy off-shoulder chiffon sleeves, several rings, and a thin chain necklace with her name on it. Nadja and Dolly are matching in dark blue v neck gowns with a gold pattern and front buttons, their hair half up in twin horns. Nadja is grinning at the viewer, fangs out, and leaning heavily into Natasia's side, pressing their shoulders together. Dolly sits on their shared shoulder space, perched directly between their heads with her arms around them, smiling up at the viewer. Nadja's right arm is up under Dolly to support her legs. Natasia's right arm is bent upward like one might do to support a perching bird and her left is palming Dolly's knees to keep her in place. She is smiling over at the Nadjas, half bent over from their weight leaning on her.
4. Waist up of Laszlo and Matt Berry on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Matt!' Matt is pale (but clearly more alive than Laszlo), with wavy shoulder length hair streaked with gray and a graying beard that has been allowed to grow a bit further past his chin. He is wearing a plain white tee shirt, denim jacket, and silver chain necklace. Laszlo is wearing a red button up dashingly open at the collar under a dark blue waistcoat and lighter blue jacket with a darker damask pattern. They are standing mirrored, back-to-back with their arms crossed and shoulders pressed together, looking back over their shoulders at each other. Matt smiles at his character lazily while Laszlo offers him a mildly salacious smirk.
5. Waist up of Colin Robinson and Mark Proksch on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Mark!' Mark is standing facing the viewer with squared shoulders, wearing a blue and white plaid shirt with a chest pocket, only the top button undone. Were it not for the color and a slight shape change to his glasses, you wouldn't be able to tell him from his character. Colin is standing directly behind and to the right of him, wearing a brown v neck sweater over a beige collar and dull red tie. His head is tipped back and his mouth is open in a wide grin, eyes glowing bright blue behind his glasses. Mark glances at him from the corner of his eye with a slightly amused smirk.
6. Waist up of the Guide and Kristen Schaal on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Kristen!' Kristen is pale in a human way with chin length curly brown hair and is wearing a loose empire waist black tank top under a translucent yellow chiffon top with a frilled neckline and elbow length balloon sleeves. The Guide is smiling open-mouthed at Kristen and wearing her usual black square cap, jacket, skirt, and gloves. They are back to back, elbows linked together to keep each other close, with Kristen leaning backward into the Guide so she stoops forward slightly. Kristen's far hand flashes a peace sign as she grins over at the Guide, tongue between her teeth. /end ID
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sylusjinwoon · 8 months ago
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{ 019 }
- musings for yandere! sung jinwoo -
disclaimers: dark content; manipulative behavior; mentions of m*rder; i do not condone such behaviors in real life, but this is a work of pure fiction, so anything goes.
DEFINITELY the type to fall hard at first sight for his darling. you can be a hunter, healer, or a mere civilian- it truly doesn't matter to him. for if you are unlucky enough to catch his attention, you will be subjected to his obsession and love- you will not escape from his love unscathed.
the day had been so utterly ordinary for sung jinwoo when he accompanied cha hae-in on what he assumed was her poor attempt at asking him out on a date.
he notices the way she smiles at him, appearing very much like a bright sunflower who's smile can match that of the sun's.
jinwoo was very much aware of her awkward kindness and beauty, yet what he felt for her was nothing more than a mere fondness. if such fondness were to ever grow into love, then he felt certain that such feelings would amount to nothing more than a familial type of love.
and despite how he knew hae-in was considered to be the perfect woman by many-
jinwoo's heart simply didn't burn for her.
after making some small talk, jinwoo waits patiently by hae-in's side for the light to flash, indicating that it was safe to walk across the street. he truly was not expecting for his life to change at all-
and oh, how wrong he was!
for once the light changed and he walked across the street with hae-in in tow-
that was the moment he saw someone that took his very breath away.
that was the moment he saw you.
as jinwoo appeared rooted on the spot, you remained blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil you had caused within the shadow monarch's heart. never once did he blink when you walk past him, eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your hair and the way your eyes shone with amusement at your phone's screen.
even when you reached the opposite end of the street, jinwoo just couldn't bring himself to look away from you, doing all that he could to burn your image into his memory when he was suddenly pulled away from you and into the sidewalk once more.
the distance between you and him had gotten much farther, and jinwoo could feel his fists clenching in response. feeing annoyed and upset, his eyes began to flash purple in response, glaring down at the blond hunter who's eyes suddenly became wide with fear.
"i-i'm sorry, but i didn't wish for you to get run over." hae-in meekly gestures to the sight of incoming traffic, making him calm down almost immediately while unclenching his fists.
he supposes he should spare cha hae-in after all, since if he had been harmed or run over by a vehicle, then he would further delay his inevitable meeting with you.
looking away from her, he mutters a half-hearted 'thank you,' before shoving his hands within the pockets of his coat, counting down the minutes until he could end this outing with hae-in and bask in his thoughts of you.
no longer will gravity be the one keeping him grounded to the earth, but rather, YOU. it is your mere existence that will serve as jinwoo's purpose in life. YOU will be what keeps him grounded. as if you were a beacon of light that shone a path within his dark and cold world, he would become obsessed with you almost immediately, meticulously planning the day where you would be his while stalking your every movement.
the day he had ran into you, his shoulders harshly bumping into yours as he sent a plethora of his soldiers rushing into your shadow wasn't enough.
it was never enough.
when he purposely collided with you, he had watched you through glowing, purple eyes as you remained slumped against the sidewalk for several seconds from the impact. your eyes had watered a bit as unshed tears were seen glimmering within your gaze in pain-
the sight of it all nearly made him come to you and apologize while comforting you-
but jinwoo held back those urges, watching with pride when you slowly stood back up on your feet. you dusted off any stray dirt that remained on your outfit before walking forward with your head held high, going on with your day as if nothing had happened,
he deeply admires your strength, feeling his heart melt at the sight of you as his world was now bathed in a rose-colored hue.
even knowing that he could simply watch you from a distance, using the soldiers he had placed close to you as his eyes-
jinwoo still wanted more.
even when he spent hours upon hours looking through the eyes of his soldiers to keep track of you-
it wasn't enough.
instead, he uses his loyal soldiers to memorize your schedule, down to the very last second as he wrote down every single activity that you did.
[ weekdays ]
0800: my lover wakes up and gets ready for the day, sometimes making breakfast; sometimes skipping altogether.
NOTE TO SELF: cook for her a balanced and delicious breakfast every single day. it's what she deserves.
0915: darling leaves the apartment and heads to the station for work.
NOTE TO SELF: obtain a copy of her key soon.
1000 - 2100: darling works hard at her job before going home at 2130.
NOTE TO SELF: spoil her well with lavish gifts that she will love.
2225: arrives home to make a late dinner.
NOTE TO SELF: cook all her meals.
[ weekends ]
my darling has a very spontaneous schedule. sometimes she sleeps in; other times she wakes up early to explore the city. i am always trailing behind her, never too far, but never too close, either.
if she buys a ticket to a movie, i'll buy a ticket and sit behind her.
if she enters a restaurant and enjoys her lunch or dinner by herself, i'll pay for her bill with no questions asked.
I NEED HER.
I LOVE HER.
I AM OBSESSED WITH HER.
at the end of each page, he would continuously write your name over and over again, eyes going hazy the more he continued to write your name endlessly before it became nothing but scribbles against his page that looked oddly like a heart.
only when he was certain he knew every aspect of your life did he finally make his appearance, allowing himself to be placed directly before you as he began the process of making you belong to him and him alone.
jinwoo had waited tirelessly for this exact moment.
he spent at least 8 months getting to know each and every minuscule detail about you, forming himself into your ideal man.
when your nose bumped into his hard chest as you 'accidentally' ran into him, jinwoo swore that he could feel his heart racing in response. his arms nearly came around you, trapping you in his tight embrace-
but he had to fight back such powerful urges.
instead, he allows your hands to rest against his chest, pushing yourself slightly away from him. it takes jinwoo a herculean effort to not crush your frame to his chest, hiding his desires with an easy smile when he sweetly asks,
"are you okay?"
jinwoo swore that he could feel his heart soar with happiness at noticing the shift in your expression, turning more shy and embarrassed as you attempted to move away from him.
naturally, jinwoo stops you from going too far, resting the palm of his hand against your back while maintaining the unassuming smile on his face.
jinwoo basks in your voice as you murmured saccharine sweet apologies to him, managing to elicit a delightful chuckle from him as he leads you away from the street.
"if you're truly sorry and wish to make it up to me, then i suppose you can do so by joining me for dinner, right?"
jinwoo finds your stuttering voice and flustered expression to be extremely cute when you manage to give him a nod at his proposal.
now that he's had you where he wants you (hooklineandsinker), jinwoo places a possessive arm around your shoulder,
ready to wrap his tendrils of darkness around your heart-
ready to completely OWN YOU.
the days spent courting you while remaining by your side was such a blessing to jinwoo. never once did he get tired of your mannerisms and quirks, basking in them while spoiling you with his pure love and affections. when he had been with you for close to a year now, THAT was when he slowly allowed his true personality to show, preventing anyone from contacting you to ridding you of the males that dared to look your way...
jinwoo couldn't have been happier with his first relationship-
for it was simply so utterly perfect for him!
with you being so innocent (so trustworthy) of him and his undying love and devotion to you, it had left you blinded to the numerous red flags that surrounded his actions-
which was exactly where he needed you to be.
while you remain asleep in his arms, you were still aware of many things-
like how your cellphone had a strange, blue light hidden within the depths of your camera...
or the sudden disappearance of the male coworker you were assigned to do a project with...
and how the shadows seemed to grow deeper and stronger as what seemed like hundreds of eyes were watching your every move.
jinwoo lets out a low chuckle while whispering longingly to you, "i did it all for love."
as he presses a kiss against your temple, the powerful hunter leans back to reveal something shiny hidden within the palm of his hand. taking a hold of your left hand, he finds your ring finger before sliding the gorgeously crafted ring against it.
jinwoo takes a moment to admire the ring on your finger, in complete awe of it as it remained the sole proof that you now belonged to him.
happy with his surprise for you, he places your left hand back on the bed, falling back into bed with his arms wrapped possessively around you. letting out one last yawn, jinwoo allows himself to slumber as he waits for you to awaken...
once the morning came and you noticed the glittering ring settled against your finger, your heart became filled with love for him, making you awaken your lover with a series of kisses against his perfectly sculpted lips.
sung jinwoo ends up smiling against your kiss, being filled with joy as you remained completely and blissfully unaware of how the ring was simply a thinly veiled chain in disguise, forever tying you to him for all eternity...
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a.n. - i have a little bit of a writer's block, but had some brainrots pertaining to yandere!jinwoo... this man is too beautiful to ignore, and i lowkey find myself not minding this darker version of jinwoo... 😭
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
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peggyao3 · 12 days ago
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PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!Reader x Benny Cross
SUMMARY: Benny comes home after a week on the road and has things to make up for, to his brother Feyd-Rautha and their sweetheart.
TAGS: AFAB she/her reader, no use of y/n, third person POV, threesome - F/M/M, explicit sexual content, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, anal fingering/sex (f receiving), double creampie, overstimulation, spit kink, slight degradation kink, touch of breeding kink, dirty talk, pet names, manhandling, filthy & messy, twincest/selfcest, brotherly rivalry, dirty stray puppy benny, domestic cat feyd, porn with minimal plot
WORD COUNT: 4k
A/N: Frothing at the mouth, barking at the moon, moaning like a slut, I've been wanting to write this for ages and here it isss 🥹❤️ (after blueballing @sebastianswallows with it for like four months asdfg)
Ao3 | Masterlist 🖤
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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"Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't my lost brother who has come home to have his laundry done."
The embers of a late summer day still cling to Benny's hair and jacket as he glowers at the scene before him — His twin brother sprawled out on the king-sized bed, big enough to fit three people, legs propped up and spread apart so that the first thing that Benny was forced to see when he walked in was Feyd-Rautha's cock filling out their sweetheart's pussy from root to tip.
She's on his chest, her legs raised and held apart by veined, pale hands, tits bouncing with each obscene upwards thrust, lungs fighting for enough air to formulate a greeting as Feyd carves her insides out. The creaking of the slatted frame is unhealthy sounding, dark wood slamming against the tapestry, the ever same spots crumbling under the force of the bed posts. The cotton sheets are rumpled under their bodies.
"And you've grown into a fully domesticated house cat?" Benny grits his teeth and throws his gloves on the chair, annoyed to find both armrests occupied by Feyd's shit. Who wears a fucking dressing gown at home anyway.
"One of us has to stay home to take care of our poor darling. We don't want her to feel neglected and leave us, do we, brother?"
Benny clenches his jaws and glares. He does not want that.
"I wasn't gone that long." The blonde man squares his shoulders, cheek and forehead still streaked with residue exhaust gases and dirt from the road.
"It's been over a week," Feyd coos promptly, his voice like rattling chains, being calmly dragged across jagged stone. "And you didn't come across a single payphone during your adventures."
Coming home is never not an aching duality. Guilt burns in his guts, a bitter taste at the back of his throat. He always waits for their darling to raise her voice and kick him back out on the street, but she never does. Benny's chest grows lighter, young heart pitter-pattering against his ribs. 
Coming home is also like getting candy at a carnival. It never stops being exciting when he wraps his hand around a bag of treats, and he will always moan when the cotton candy melts on his tongue.
"D-Don't provoke him," their darling finally gasps, trying to heave herself into a sitting position on Feyd's abdomen. She might as well have tried to sit still on a Bucking Bronco. The jerky undulations of his pelvis thrust her right backwards, spine colliding with the hard velvet planes of his chest again. Unyielding hands spread her knees that bit further back, tugging her to the sweet edge of discomfort.
"I should have known you would side with him, sweetling," Feyd purrs and Benny catches a glimpse of his brother's ink black canines and incisors that give him the guise of a hissing serpent. "I've been playing far too nice with you lately."
"I'm not siding with anyone, I'm just - ahhh - glad he isn't dead. G-God, Feyd, can you slow down?" Her head lolls sideways, nose and lips sliding against the cords of his neck as her chin settles in the hollow above his clavicle.
"Contrary to other people in this room, I take pleasuring you very seriously, so be a good darling now, yes?" Feyd is by no means done with this demonstration that has Benny’s aching hard-on pressing against his battered jeans. He's a fucking idiot for for being away from home and missing out on this — and leaving her in the care of his psychotic brother for so long.
"I'm sorry," the blonde man grits out, blue puppy eyes framed by long lashes. He's so ridiculously pretty, Feyd has always hated him for that.
"Make yourself useful, brother. You have something to make up for."
Benny doesn't even slip his boots or jacket off before climbing onto the bed like a dog whistled to heel. Leather creaks and the sharp smell of gasoline and cigarettes melts into the heady bouquet of sex, sweat and perfume. The mattress dips under the added weight and soot-stained hands glide over their sweetheart's jiggling ass, pinning her down against Feyd's hard abdomen and hip bones. Calloused thumbs tug her labia apart and his entire torso is forced to move along with his brother's unrelenting lesson to make him jealous.
"There you go," Feyd coos when their darling moans out, pussy clenching like a vise around his pale, milky shaft as soon as Benny's plush lips wrap around her swollen, little nub.
That's what makes it so great to share her, they all get something out of it.
Benny grunts his wordless apology, hot breath puffing out of his nostrils while his tongue gets to work, feasting on the sweet juice of homecoming. Benny is always so eager when he has his face stuffed between her legs, blue eyes begging for forgiveness as if he thinks he hardly deserves to be here in the first place. She can never stay mad at him for long even though she's sworn she will, god knows how many times.
The aching pressure of Feyd's thick cock sinks into her navel and her channel grows tight, every nerve end prickling overwhelmingly, lit by a match that only burns when both of them have their cocks and mouths on or in her.
The strength of two men holds down her squirming thighs and she can only throw her head from left to right, tear on Benny's curls or scratch Feyd-Rautha's hard flank bloody, but nothing can stop the white-hot orgasm from careening up to her.
The truth is, she can't climax so easily when she's worried and worry eats at her most of the time when Benny is away. She feels sorry for making Feyd work so hard for it when he's on his own, sorry to be cumming so fast now when Benny has only had his lips on her for a minute.
Moan after moan bubbles from her throat like beads off a snapped string and her convulsing body bears down on the man below her, hips bucking against the face of the man above her. Feyd-Rautha chuckles, calls her a filthy toy and the crude words prolong her climax for painful seconds. She feels wetness against her cheek and has to claw her way back out of the quivering daze to realize it's neither sweat nor tears, it's Feyd's tongue licking a stripe from her cheek to her temple.
Benny feels the pulsing of her cunt under his tongue, the contractions of her muscles radiating all the way to her swollen clit, and that's all he gets for now. Jealously, he peeks down at his brother's balls and cock, sheathed and snuggled and milked by their darling's squishy cunt. Or — about to be milked. His twin brother has an obscene amount of stamina when he wants to, probably because pain gets him going and nothing hurts like being edged.
Benny's jeans strangle him while he helplessly ruts against the sheets, like a mutt in heat that they had scraped off the road. He has far less self-restraint. His leather suffocates him and perspiration glues his shirt to his back, but he wouldn't take his lips off their darling's perfect little cunt even if a gun was held to his head.
The thick base of Feyd's cock slides repeatedly against Benny's chin. Spit drips out of the biker's pink mouth and down the coarse beard stubble which leaves Feyd's pale shaft with a prickling rash from the bristly friction. The fair-skinned brother hisses, muscles tensing in his glutes as he slams upwards.
Benny has something to make for to both of them.
One calloused palm remains on her thigh, the other slides to his brother's, hard fingertips kneading into white, smooth flesh. Feyd snarls, thrusts growing short and pointed, punching breathless yelps out of their toy's throat. Benny's hand then trails to Feyd-Rautha's smooth, hairless sac that bounces with each upwards slam. He flattens his palm against it and squeezes hard until Feyd hisses a curse in their mother tongue.
One never knows with Feyd-Rautha's fickle moods and Benny doesn't want to risk a blade against his neck. That's their darling's thing, not his. In truth, he only wants his brother to cum faster, so he can finally have his turn.
"Benny," Feyd-Rautha growls in warning and the blonde man removes his fingers, finding a more interesting target between the slick mess of slapping flesh.
"Benny!" Their darling yelps, feet kicking adorably in empty air.
"What's he doing, sweetling?"
"He's—"
"Playing with your cute little ass, isn't he? Well I can't stop him."
The biker's finger slides in deep and she's painfully aware, yet awfully indifferent, that he didn't wash his hands. His long, thick middle finger sinks down to the last knuckle and the cool metal of his ring bumps into her puckered muscles over and over. His pink mouth suckles messily on her clit, Feyd's cock pounds the air out of her lungs and her center twists itself so tight that the pleasure of it cramps up her entire lower half.
She climaxes once more with a wailed, inhuman sound, thrashing her head from left to right. This time, Benny can feel the contractions of her hole around his finger. He smirks stupidly against her pulsing clit as juice from her cunt drips over his dirty hand, giving him the means to wiggle a second, thick finger inside that cute little hole.
Her sweetly pain-stricken tone is what finally makes Feyd-Rautha cave into the milking contractions of her cunt that pull him in as if to secure his seed inside her womb. And who is he to deny her. While Benny is the dirty street dog in the relationship, Feyd regards himself as a sophisticated animal, relinquishing every drop of himself only with utmost control.
He holds himself firm against her cervix and the shivers of his peak roll down his pale, twitching muscles. Their sweetheart whines quietly against his throat with spit-wet lips, hands folded limply over her stuffed belly. Feyd's cock gives one last greedy twitch when Benny's tongue slides hotly over his balls, lapping at this leaking seed.
"Filthy dog, that's not for you," Feyd rasps but doesn't command his feral twin away.
Impatiently, one tan, broad hand sprawls across their darling's ass cheek and shoves. Her pliant body scoots up Feyd-Rautha's abdomen until his cock slips out, together with a filthy squelch and a rivulet of frothing cum. Two fingers are still working her tight little channel open, easier than ever with so much gushing lube.
"She's gonna need a third one for your cock," Feyd coos, a drowsy lilt to his severe tone, though his hands still keep her legs bent backwards and her cunt and ass on display like a homecoming buffet for his brother.
"You think so?" Benny's blue eyes twinkle trustfully in the lamplight. Without the crude soundscape of Feyd's hips shattering the slatted frame, the disheveled pair finally notice the needy rhythm of Benny's pelvis, grinding against the sheets as he waits his turn, a dog held back only by the collar and leash of guilt strangling his neck.
"On second thought, she doesn't. Get up here."
Get your part of the sweet fucking cherry pie.
Benny bounces upright like a whipcord and strips out of jacket and shirt. Sweat glistens on tan pectorals and a few beads have gotten caught in the sparse, blonde hair sprinkled across his chest and the trail down his taut abdomen. Her eyes follow the frantic movement of bruised fingers, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down just enough to free his flushed cock, jutting out from blonde, messy curls. It bobs obscenely and smacks on her abdomen as he crawls over her, already wrapping a fist around himself to angle the blunt tip to her slick, puckered hole.
"Y'smell like a rat died n'your armpits," she tries to joke, though her tongue feels like a sluggish thing, stuffed and forgotten in her mouth. Reaching up, she curls her palm gently around Benny's hard bicep and her hand shakes ridiculously. The boy smiles stupidly at the comment, proud of himself. Feyd snorts and takes pity on his twin. If he had a tail it would be wagging.
"You can have her cunt too, brother. I warmed her up for you. I know you like it warm and messy."
Even when they were kids, Benny was always the one who loved playing in the dirt. Wetting his cock with his brother's cum only makes him harder. It's just the rotten cream on top of his slice of sweet cherry pie.
"But I— Aahhh!" Her cute complaints are forced back into her lungs as the air is battered out of them. Her cunt is stretched well enough from Feyd's cock to take Benny's to the hilt in one smooth glide. He had probably expected more resistance and found none. The blunt, thick tip of him slams into her cervix, full force.
She hisses through her teeth, staked on the thick, hot lance of his cock. Without delay, he snaps into action, pulling back only to slam back in even quicker. He fucks like he rides — fast and with little care for damage, for the thrill and for the joy of it.
Benny eclipses the lamplight, caging her between his brother and himself. One palm braces himself against the mattress, the other slides softly over her cheek, neck and bouncing chest, happy to find her nipples standing pert against his calloused palm. His fingertips are so gentle, but his pace is not. Her cunt aches, yet pleasure blooms through the blunt, burning pain of being stretched out and used.
"Please, m'so sore." She would have almost preferred to be fucked in the other hole instead.
Feyd's hand curls around her neck, pressing her down against his shoulder. A gentle reminder that any escape attempt will be in vain and also punished.
"Did you hear that, our darling is sore," he purrs in gentle mockery.
"Yeah, I heard that," Benny grunts, blue eyes slipping over her pathetically disheveled face. "Is it too bad, babycakes? I can stop." He slows down, and the slower pace almost aches worse, reminding her every nerve of just how sore they are. It would take him great effort to stop, but it'd be a punishment he deserves.
"She can take it," Feyd purrs, fingers of the remaining hand tightening their grip on the back of her knee, holding her quivering thigh bent and open. "Don't disappoint my brother, sweetness, we've fucked you much worse."
"N-N-Now you're siding with him?"
"Of course, he's my brother. He's been saving up his cum all week. Didn't you, Benny?"
"I didn't cheat if that's what you're asking—hmmph!" 
Feyd's hand has abandoned their darling's thigh and curled around his brother's hip, gripping him by the ass cheek just above the haphazardly shoved down jeans, encouraging him to go faster, harder. 
"Oh, no, you wouldn't. I'd kill you if you did." Everyone in this room knows Feyd means it.
Encouraged, Benny ruts into their sweetheart's slick, squishy pussy, hard and hurried, taking advantage of the privilege as long as he has it, scared that his baby might kick him off any second. And she could, now that her legs are finally free from Feyd-Rautha's grasp.
But what she does is sling her shaky legs around his hips, heels scraping against the back pockets of his jeans, because she never wants him to leave again.
Feyd holds her steady by the neck, a nice little fuck toy for his brother. Their darling's calf lies over his hand on Benny's ass and his thumb strokes over her pulse. He'll know when it really gets too much for her. She just likes to complain, but at the end of the day, her squishy cunt can't stop weeping for their cocks and her little mouth can't stop drooling for them when they manhandle her and toss her around like a cute, little doll.
Her lungs quiver around the smell of sweat, cigarettes and testosterone, the perfect fucking scent to get high on and chuck the remainder of her brain into the trash. There's nothing to worry about when she's squished between two hard, virile bodies, caged by clenching biceps and twitching abdominal muscles, both of these bodies powered by the strength of their thick thighs and hard shoulders.
The only downside is that she can't catch a break with two of the same kind in her life, but the good thing is that she don't need to worry bout nothing when they're both in her bed, fucking her brain into gummy soup.
"Open, sweetness." Benny's thumb presses against her bottom lip and wriggles into her drooling mouth, tasting of cigarettes and tanginess. Her jaw falls down obediently and Benny grins before spitting on her pink tongue. "Now kiss my brother."
Feyd-Rautha chuckles. "How thoughtful of you."
His pillow-shaped lips descend on her open mouth, her sweaty neck still gently strangled by his palm. Black teeth sink into her upper lip before his mouth slants against hers diagonally, rolling his tongue against the sluggish thing in her mouth with gratuitous saliva. Moans and pitiful whimpers are swallowed by Feyd-Rautha's mouth while Benny's cock pistons into her with hard, slapping rhythm, jolting her body back and forth in the clamp of sweaty muscles.
Sticky flesh rehardens, pokes and twitches against the cleft of her ass. The plump head is nuzzled against Benny's ball sack. Feyd relishes her thunderous heartbeat under his palm, her pupils blown comically wide with fucked-out arousal and fear. She knew this was coming.
"He's already prepared you for me," Feyd coos, pressing wet teeth against the corner of her mouth. "Don't want his efforts to be in vain."
The two men shuffle for a moment and gruff hands pull on her flesh, tugging her in place just how they need her until Feyd finds the right angle to line himself up, evoking snarls and sharp nails in Benny's clenching back when the blunt head of his cock forces her slicked-up ring of muscles to spread open.
"Now, now, don't pretend this is too much. We all know there's enough room for both of us."
"It's alright, babycakes." Benny holds still, letting her pussy flutter meekly around the girth of him. His calloused hand captures her chin, thumb rubbing over the drool-glossy corner of her mouth. He looks so beautiful on top of her, blonde hair frazzled into a shattered lamplight halo.
She pouts at him, grunting when Feyd's cock sinks deeper inside with surprisingly slow, little thrusts. And then, when Benny starts moving again, her holes are stuffed so good, she might just implode around them and never have a single thought in her blanked-out little brain again.
"Ahhh, God, that's so—aaahh~"
"That's it, doll, that's how we like our sweet little thing," Feyd snarls, hand on her neck, arm slung around the small of Benny's twitching back. Benny grins, white teeth among blonde stubble, as if he hasn't been happier in his entire life.
And maybe he hasn't. In his untamable heart, living from sunset to sunset, every day is another adventure as prickling and brand new as the last.
The two of them find a filthy rhythm, viciously in sync like only twin brothers could be.
They are sunshine gold above, chalk white hills and midnight teeth below and yet they are each other's complimentary mirror image, engaged in a brotherly staring and fucking contest and their sweet slice of pie is stuck on the front line between them, moaning and crying their names so good that both of them could go insane and lose their minds in her cute, filthy holes.
"Oh, god... oh, fuck, oh, g-god! B-Benny, ah, Feyyyd—"
"Yes, baby, comeoncomeon!" Benny grunts out, brows scrunching up in despair. His balls ache from a week's worth of cum and desire knots at the pit of stomach, pleasure pulling outwards in a way that he can hardly contain with sheer power of will. He needs his baby to milk the seed out of his cock like she wants to fill herself up with his whelps.
The bed creaks, Benny's sweaty curls grind tirelessly against her swollen clit and Feyd's fingers tighten around her windpipe. Climax wipes out her seeing and hearing for a solid thirty seconds. Both holes clench pathetically around their cocks, drool slips from the corner of her mouth and gathers in the hollow between Feyd's clavicles.
Benny's mouth pops open, string of curses falling out as he lets himself get dragged in by his sweet darling sugar pie's pussy, milking him for all he has, milking him until it hurts and he wants to bury his face in her shoulder.
Feyd watches his brother come apart, gawks at him with parted lips and wickedly twitching smile. Dark eyes gleam and he waits only for one thing, for Benny to look him in the eyes, and when he does, Feyd-Rautha too drains himself into the sweet release of painful pleasure, pumping their sweetheart's ass full of filthy seed.
Three bodies come to rest and time and air stand still. Evening light seeps through the dirty window pane. Dogs bark outside and the stench of sex and sweat is nearly suffocating in the heat. Benny's weight bears down on the both of them as he nuzzles her neck and then his brother's.
"Benny," she sighs, mussing up his greasy strands with gentle fingers.
Pretty, sleepy puppy.
But a heavy one too. Feyd's breath below her is strained and quiet, but he holds out patiently.
Ten minutes. Then, Benny eases off them, cock slipping out of her sore sheathe. Proudly, he gawks down at himself, finding his shaft covered in slick and a lewd combination of cum from root to slit. Feyd-Rautha lifts her gently off his cock and thick dollops escape her clenching hole.
"I'll clean that up for you." Benny darts for the filthy treat between her thighs.
"NOOO, enough!" The sole of her foot splats against his bristly cheek and shoves him off with so much force that he's sent toppling off the bed, landing moaning and groaning on the creaking hardwood floor.
"Kush!" She then smacks at Feyd's bald head and the feline man all but leaps off the bed, knowing that the only thing to save him from a beating — or being sprayed down with a water bottle — is bringing enough distance between him and his sweetling. That and bringing her a warm, damp cloth.
Their baby's sulking with them now, so they better take care of her good.
"Get up, idiot." Feyd-Rautha kicks his brother in the ribs who is still shuffling around on the ground, stuffing his sweaty dick back into his jeans.
"Huh?"
"You know what to do!" Feyd yanks his twin up by the armpits and shoves him towards the hallway door to fetch their darling a nice, big glass of water, like always.
"Sorry, baby~" Benny catches himself against the door frame, looking back to her with big blue eyes that could melt rocks.
"It's fine," she smiles, smirks even, and Feyd tsssks through painted teeth, pale toes tapping on the floorboards.
"Always so lenient with him."
"Can't help it," she giggles. "Look at him."
"Yeah, I know."
"What's that supposed to mean," grumbles a blushing, pouting Benny before stomping out on the hallway as Feyd cracks the bathroom door open, pale, lithe limbs slipping out of view.
Finally alone — at least for a minute — their darling slumps against the damp pillows and lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Finally, things are as they should be again.Tonight, she will sleep sandwiched between the two warmest, nicest pillows in the world, embraced by two pairs of arms and legs and two heartbeats thudding peacefully against hers.
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A/N: I want to be their brainless piece of cherry pie so bad 😩💦🥵 I don't rule out writing more random smutty scenarios with them, if inspiration strikes, hehe.
FEYD TAG LIST
@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria
@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen
@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747
@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl
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t1oui · 1 month ago
Text
talking about mixed canon (show & book) percy bc i've only talked about mixed canon annabeth before
natural blond hair that he starts dyeing black after sea of monsters
when he's on quests his hair starts to grow out a bit
after hera takes his memories & during most of heroes of olympus he's unable to dye his hair so it starts growing out
annabeth gets jumpscared when she sees him in new rome bc she hasn't seen him w blond hair since they were 13 lol
he starts dyeing his hair black in the first place bc he feels the need to distance himself from how he looked when he first found out he was a demigod :(
sally is the only one who knows this until heroes of olympus when he tells annabeth
he also likes having his hair dark like tyson's :)
after his hair grows out and is nearly totally blond at the end of HoO, percy has a minor breakdown about it and after that dyes his hair nearly every weekend
nobody at ahs knows he's a natural blond bc YOU DO NOT SEE HIS ROOTS
he starts letting his hair grow out a bit when he gets to college and when he posts a pic of him with blond roots his ahs friends are shook
they're like girl wdym you've been blond this WHOLE FUCKING TIME
and percy's just the disaster girl meme (he's having way too much fun with this)
he probably doesn't keep his hair blond for long bc atp he prefers black but at least he's a lil more comfortable with his natural hair than he was post-HoO
ok that's all for now bye bye
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trashogram · 11 months ago
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He Chose You (P. 4)
Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E
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
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You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.
It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist. 
Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk. 
“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.
You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you. 
You don’t have to look, but you do. 
There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.
She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin. 
“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister. 
She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise. 
It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.
You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.
“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”
You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”  
The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.
You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough. 
Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly. 
The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”
She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back. 
“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.” 
Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem. 
“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly. 
The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt. 
Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted. 
The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go. 
“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.” 
Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you. 
She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.” 
Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”
———
A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings. 
A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.
Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.
With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.
‘Wait.’
You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol. 
Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you. 
Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking. 
It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that. 
Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:
A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.
You blinked rapidly.
There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:
Lucifer Morningstar
Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind. 
The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void. 
No thoughts. 
———
The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again. 
Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card. 
Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor. 
———
Lucifer Morningstar 
It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well. 
As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:
Proof you weren’t dreaming. 
Please Call Me
1-666-666-6669
Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function. 
You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time. 
How much time had passed? 
                                      Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil. 
            And the Devil had paid you a visit. 
———
The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there. 
Contemplating, processing, fearing. 
Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die. 
How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?
Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?
God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said? 
Why did bad things happen to good people? 
Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?
———
You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone. 
You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat. 
“Hello?” You rasped.
“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”
———
It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open. 
A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled. 
“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!” 
The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.
“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth. 
You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”
Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”
‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.
“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —” 
“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.” 
You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket. 
“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically. 
It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably. 
“Oh.” 
———
Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence. 
However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”
Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands. 
Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.  
The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel. 
You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber. 
The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain. 
He was so… white.
His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam. 
Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”
‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted. 
And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen. 
“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence. 
The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan. 
“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”
“I just got fired.” You blurted out. 
The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”
“Because of you.” 
“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a  voice raised some octaves. “What —”
You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”
“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!” 
“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!” 
You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage. 
Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you. 
Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being. 
“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”
He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner. 
The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.
The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief. 
Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”
“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”
“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.” 
Your stern frown implored him to continue.
Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”
The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it. 
“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.
“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”
“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”
Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head. 
His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan: 
“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”
Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.” 
He mimed being zapped in the head.
“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”
Lucifer sighed deeply. 
“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…” 
“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly. 
You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy. 
Sympathy for the Devil. 
‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’
“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago. 
Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.
“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!” 
Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”
He cleared his throat at your blank expression. 
“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”
The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid. 
A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line. 
You couldn’t stop yourself. 
You snorted. 
Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on. 
“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”
 Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms. 
“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?” 
Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him. 
“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.” 
*
Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision
I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.
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ps-cactus · 2 months ago
Text
ROOTED – Sebastian Sallow & GN!Reader & Ominis Gaunt oneshot – 1864 words
tags and warnings: no smut, no obvious romance, however - established relationship, unreliable narrator, haunting atmosphere, mystery, dark magic, death and resurrection, identity loss and confusion, obsession, (a bit of) predatory instincts, survival instincts, blood, symbolism. Also posted on AO3
A/N: characters here are in their early twenties, not long since graduation. established relationship - you've been living with sebastian and ominis after graduation - you can see this as friendship (might be challenging, but you still can) or anything else; here it can be whatever you want.
Inspired by several songs: In the woods somewhere, Like real people do - Hozier / Rebirth - Poets of the Fall / Funeral of Hearts - HIM <- that's where the 'moonlight' and 'firelight' come from, and i liked how they worked together for these characters
Summary: You died. Here is what happens after a short while.
ROOTED
As you open your eyes, you’re struck by the absence of any memory that might explain your presence here, on the icy ground surrounded by trees.
The cold greets you first. It presses against your skin—a new sensation, a pleasant one. The last thing your body recalls is the suffocating heat of a fever, endless and draining. You don’t know how long it lasted or why it broke, you’re only glad it did.
You push yourself upright, steadying yourself on a large stone nearby. Intricate carvings cover its surface. Runes, whispers something deep within your clouded mind. Important, yes, but too complex for your dulled thoughts to hold onto now.
Your legs barely obey you, but you walk. Distance and time lose their meaning. You just know you must keep moving, must find… something. You don’t know what you seek, only that something is missing.
Had your mind been clearer, you might have noticed him sooner. A man—taller than you, but his frame feels neither threatening nor overly strong. The forest around you is pitch black, the thick canopy blotting out even the cloud-covered sky. And yet, you see him as though the darkness does not exist.
“Sebastian?” he asks. You find the sound of his voice comforting, and you take a step closer.
Perhaps he’s the one you’ve been searching for?
His blonde hair, light-coloured eyes, and pale skin evoke something ethereal. If nature had human embodiments, he would surely be the moonlight—the light you suddenly crave to bask in. Drawn by that resemblance, you step even closer.
He’s been facing you for some time now. He doesn’t approach, doesn’t move—he simply waits. When you stop before him, the forest’s silence envelopes you, undisturbed by your laboured steps anymore. Slowly, your weakened mind starts picking up more. It’s still hard to grasp and analyse the details, but you guess the man has been crying recently.
He points something at you—a wand. The word surfaces in your mind just like “runes” did—it’s important. Meaningful. Dangerous. The faint red glow at the wand’s tip pulses slowly, and you don’t like it pulsing in your direction.
“Hello?” Puffs of mist from his breath linger briefly before vanishing. Though you’re only steps away, he peers around as if still unsure of your presence.
“Hello?” you echo quietly and no mist follows your words. Your voice trembles, both hesitant and hoarse. He feels like the moonlight you crave, and you’re desperate for him to speak again.
“Is it... truly you?”
You stay silent, not because you’re incapable of answering, but because the question itself eludes you. Your thoughts are growing sharper and clearer, but you find no answer within you. Only the softly rustling trees seem to know what “you” means, and you haven’t been able to listen closely enough to grasp it yet.
“Hey?” His tone grows louder and firmer, and he takes a cautious step toward you.
“Hey,” you reply instantly. Your voice is louder this time but remains frail and faint.
The man approaches with deliberate slowness. The instincts generations your ancestors honed over centuries lie dormant within you, leaving only the faintest trace of awareness in the background of your mind. You don’t move as his hesitant fingers find your hand, trail to your shoulder, and then settle on your cheek.
“Hey,” you say once more.
His hand retreats sharply. Flecks of earth cling to his pale fingers, melting into mud speckled with fragments of old leaves. He doesn’t meet your stare, though you keep looking into his eyes. You can’t be sure about anything now, yet his eyes shine with something different—in a way that draws you in.
“But how?” He glances around again, his wand finally lowering from its aim at you. “He didn’t… no…”
He pulls you by the hand, as you walk slow enough to match your stumbling feet. He guides you to a house tucked amid scattered trees. Some of the tension in your chest eases as you realise—you’re not being taken away from the woods.
With each step further from the denser trees, something deep inside stirs sharply. You’re too new to this—to your new instincts—to decipher their meaning. This is, after all, your first day with them. You only know you long to return. The forest clings to you, and every step too far away would tear at you like a root ripped from frostbound earth.
Light and warmth fill the house. The shift in temperature makes you tremble. You want to leave, unable to fathom why the Moonlight man would bring you to such an awful place.
“When did you return?” he asks, releasing your hand. His words aren’t directed at you, but you enjoy hearing his voice all the same. “I’ve been searching for you, but...”
The fire near the wall, encased in stone, is the most dreadful thing in the room. Slightly less so is the other figure—a man standing before the flames. When he turns, the firelight catches his messy brown locks, making you think of smouldering wood.
The Firelight man moves swiftly, closing the distance until he’s right before you. His hands clasp your shoulders tightly, his eyes scanning your face frantically. Freckles scatter across his face, and as he stands away from the dreadful fire, you can’t help but wonder—would this freckled skin feel cool beneath your touch or hot like embers?
“I’d stopped believing it was possible...” he mutters, his wide eyes finally locking with yours and freezing there.
He wraps his arms around you, pressing you against him. His clothes are damp and chilled, with only a few spots where the fire’s heat has left a trace of warmth. He talks a lot, but none of it makes sense to you. He keeps asking some questions you could never answer. His clothes’ scent—of moisture and woods—fills your lungs, soothing in its familiarity. The urge to retreat back into the forest grips you once more.
“Maybe I… can get the bath ready for you,” he says, resigned to your silence, pulling a twig and a few leaves from your hair. “Or let’s just—”
The Firelight man immerses your hands in a water basin and carefully cleans them. The dirt gives way to fine scars—patterns carved into your skin, trailing from your wrists up into your sleeves. These scars, fresh and tender, awaken an inexplicable attachment in you, and for the first time in this new, raw existence, you feel joy.
The Firelight man’s hands are wrapped in bandages, and where they meet the water, faint dark spots seep through. He dips a towel into the basin and carefully wipes your face. You don’t object. You don’t know what else to do, so you simply stand there, feeling the cold water against your skin. The Moonlight man slips something over your shoulders from behind. The softness is nice, but the warmth is less so. You barely notice it’s a wool blanket before he steps away.
You crave moonlight—if not his presence, then the faintest touch of its radiance from the sky. You glance toward the window, but it reveals only shadowy blackness. A hand wrapped in frayed bandages carefully shifts your face back.
The water loosens one of the wrappings on his hand, exposing already familiar patterns carved into his skin, echoing your own scars.
The icy touch of the water on your face stirs a longing to return to the forest, to its pure and unyielding cold. But you still don’t know what you’re searching for or what truly matters, so you simply remain where you are. The Firelight man’s tousled hair glints in the firelight, its colour like deep mahogany, and you can’t tear your eyes away.
“You can hear me, right?” he asks, and your gaze shifts back to his eyes—brown flecked with green, like fallen leaves scattered on the woodland ground. “Want some water?”
Your eyes settle on the glass in his hand, but you feel nothing for the water within—no more than for the moisture still clinging to your skin.
“Or the tea, you must be so cold.”
“Sebastian, stop—just shut up for a moment,” says the Moonlight man, massaging his temples as he paces the room. “What is going on? Please, what have you done?”
“The thing you’ve desired above all else yourself,” the Firelight man retorts, the glass hitting the table with a resounding thud as he turns away.
“Tell me you didn’t go through with that ritual. It’s forbidden; they warned us—explicitly.”
“I never promised you anything regarding this, Ominis.”
“Do you even understand what you’re talking about?”
They keep arguing, their voices climbing in volume and speed. They’re unbearably loud, and it feels so wrong here. You look out the window, drawn closer to it—to the serenity of the night. Beyond the glass lies peace itself—the dense weave of branches, the cushion of moss on the ground and trunks, the gnarled roots snaking through the forest floor. You can see it all so clearly and it mesmerises you.
The clamour behind you doesn’t stop; it feels wrong and chaotic, but truly—means nothing. Their voices fade into the background as you stare at your hands again, now spotless except for the delicate beautiful patterns carved into your skin.
The narrow crescent moon emerges from behind the weighty clouds, and your gaze is drawn upward immediately. For the first time, you can inhale fully, as though the moonlight’s pale, ghostly light exists purely to let you breathe.
The scents around you grow vivid. Wooden floorboards, some damp and others dry and warm. Pungent and earthy, herbs waft from a table nearby, mixed with the burlap’s rough aroma. A dusty sofa carries the weight of years, while the blanket on your shoulders smells of wool and spices... and then you smell blood.
You tear your gaze from the crescent moon, drawn to find the scent's origin. The frayed bandage on the Firelight man’s hand is seeping with warm blood. You’ve never seen fresh blood spilling from human skin before in your life, but instantly, it’s all you desire to see. This is what you were meant to find. Your hands ache to reach out and feel it.
You swallow at the idea of tasting it with your lips.
Without even looking, you sense the moonlight’s gentle touch where it slips past the clouds to grace your skin. It soothes and strengthens you. But it could do so much more outside, beyond these walls. The forest waits for you, as much as you long for it—along with the presence that you know now lingers deep in the darkness.
Your growing instincts warn you that arriving alone would not be accepted. You don’t rush. You stand still, inhaling deeply. The scent of blood dominates the house now—it’s all you can perceive.
The dispute continues in the voices lower but still tense. The Moonlight man’s cheek glimmers faintly with the tear. The Firelight man lifts his eyes to you, his words ceasing, plunging the room into silence.
Everything finally makes sense—you’ll be genuinely embraced there tonight if you don’t return alone. They must come with you.
And you will stop at nothing to ensure it.
99 notes · View notes
b1xi · 2 months ago
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───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!
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Haikyuu(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader
Word count: 5860
𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
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With your recent addition to Karasuno's volleyball team, you had been trying to catch up on the sport’s basics. You’d watched a few games on TV, but it was hard to stay awake until the end; genuine interest in volleyball still hadn’t really taken root for you.
Most of your time in the gym consisted of supporting Hinata, shielding him from Kageyama’s frustrated outbursts whenever he made a mistake. Usually, you’d spend those hours sitting on the floor, reviewing sheet music or doodling in your notebook. On rare occasions, Hinata would insist on teaching you the basics of serving and receiving, which always ended in laughter and failed attempts to learn.
"So, what exactly do you do in the club?" asked Nayuta, plopping down beside you. Both of you watched Hinata and Kageyama train on the outdoor court under the shade of a large tree. Comfortable in your company, your friend pulled out a couple of candies from her bag, offering one to you without waiting for a reply.
"For now, absolutely nothing," you admitted with a sigh that clearly showed your growing boredom. The past few days had felt like an endless loop of watching the two rookies practice over and over to prepare for Saturday's match against Daichi.
"Is there at least anyone handsome enough to make spending your afternoons there worthwhile?" Nayuta joked, casting a critical look at the scene before biting into a piece of chocolate and offering you another. "Because if that’s the case, maybe I should join too," she added with a wink.
"Is there really any appeal in watching sweaty teenagers run after a ball?" you replied, letting yourself be drawn into the humor of the conversation while savoring the chocolate.
"Try to think of them like puppies," she suggested, straightening up to adjust her jacket. Her laughter grew louder as she watched Hinata doing everything he could to retrieve the ball, which had gotten stuck in one of the tree branches. Both of you burst into laughter when, after much effort, the boy finally managed to get it down, only for Kageyama to throw the ball at him as he turned around, accidentally hitting him in the face.
"See?" Nayuta remarked, stifling her laughter. "Just like clumsy puppies.”
You both spent a while lost in your own little bubble, chatting about boys, sharing gossip, and trading funny stories from your former schools. When the alarm on Nayuta's watch went off, you both snapped back to reality. "Wow, I have to get back home," Nayuta sighed as she stood up, brushing dirt off her skirt and tucking a few dark strands of hair behind her ear before picking up her bag.
"Alright, I’m off. Are you staying a bit longer, or do you want me to walk you out?" she offered with a smile. You thanked her but shook your head; Hinata had asked you to wait for him that day so you could walk home together.
You said goodbye to Nayuta, and once she left, you walked over to where Hinata and Kageyama were still practicing with boundless energy. "Hinata, it’s getting dark. Don’t you think it’s time to go?" you commented, using your fingers to tidy up a bit of your messy hair and adjusting the Pochacco hair clip you wore.
"Just one more time!" Hinata replied, his focus entirely on the ball Kageyama had just tossed to him. Just as the redhead was about to receive it, a hand extended over his head and caught the ball in mid-air.
Both of them turned around, surprised, to see two students who looked like they were first or second years. One of them was impressively tall, even taller than Kageyama.
"So here you were, training outside... you must be the first-years who caused trouble on the first day," the blonde boy commented confidently as he held the ball.
"Give it back!" demanded Hinata, stretching to reach it, but the blonde easily raised his arm, making it nearly impossible for the short redhead to get to it.
"Little kids should go home," the blonde said with a mocking smile, as if the three of them were little more than a joke. Visibly angered, Hinata clenched his fists and raised his voice.
"And who do you think you are?" Hinata retorted, annoyed by the newcomers' attitude.
"They’re the other first-years who joined the team," Kageyama commented, not hiding his irritation as he stared at them.
"First-years?" you couldn't help but exclaim, observing in astonishment the height of both boys. Your gaze lingered on the blonde, who was especially tall. "But... they’re so tall…" you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else.
Kageyama, challenging the two newcomers with his gaze, asked directly, "How tall are you?"
"Tsukki is 1.88 meters," the freckled boy accompanying the blonde chimed in, speaking with evident enthusiasm. "And soon, he'll be 1.90 meters."
"Tsukki?" You wondered if that was a nickname since the blonde didn’t seem like someone with such a sweet-sounding name.
"Why are you bragging, Yamaguchi?" grumbled the blonde boy—apparently Tsukki—with a tone that revealed a mix of annoyance and resignation, as if this situation repeated itself often.
"Sorry, Tsukki," murmured the freckled boy, lowering his gaze. There was something endearing about his attitude that made you smile; he seemed genuinely friendly.
"You're Kageyama from Kitagawa Daiichi, right?" continued the blonde boy, momentarily ignoring his friend. "What’s someone like you doing at Karasuno?" His tone had a hint of mockery, but it also made it clear that Kageyama was known. You wondered how famous or talented he must be for everyone to know his name.
Hinata, unable to stand being ignored, raised his voice again, interrupting the conversation. "Hey, we’re not going to lose on Saturday! Got that?" His determination was admirable, though it seemed the blonde didn’t share his enthusiasm.
Tsukki, as his friend called him, cast a scrutinizing glance at Hinata before speaking, his tone filled with indifference. "I see. Maybe it’s important to you guys, but I couldn’t care less. Winning or losing doesn’t matter to me, so if you need it, I could… hold back," he commented nonchalantly, spinning the ball in his hands.
Hold back? Who did this guy think he was? You were surprised by his attitude, and apparently, you weren’t the only one.
"Whether you hold back or not, I’ll beat you anyway," replied Kageyama, looking at him with a coldness that conveyed his challenge.
"Say it in plural!" corrected Hinata, furious at the way Kageyama took all the responsibility solely for himself. Hinata’s response provoked a slight, sardonic laugh from Tsukki.
"Such confidence… no wonder they call you the King," the blonde scoffed, his words laced with an evident venom that didn’t go unnoticed.
The mention of the nickname made Kageyama’s expression harden. "Don’t call me that," he muttered, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and contained shame.
You were briefly distracted from the confrontation when you felt a gaze fixed on you. Turning, you noticed it was Yamaguchi, who was watching his friend and then you, as if evaluating the situation. Realizing you’d noticed him, he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to Tsukki and Kageyama.
The tension reached a critical point when Kageyama, with a scowl, grabbed Tsukki by the collar of his shirt, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. Watching the scene, you felt it was time to step in before things got out of hand.
"Alright, that’s enough," you interrupted firmly, approaching Kageyama. You looked at him seriously, and your eyes met his, which slowly softened before he looked away from Tsukki. Finally, he let go and stepped back, still clearly upset.
“Let’s go,” said Kageyama, addressing you and Hinata, who nodded without saying a word. As you gathered your things and turned to leave, you looked back at Tsukki one last time. He was taller than you had initially noticed, and you had to look up to meet his eyes. You gave him a disapproving look before following your teammates.
“Are you going to run away? Seems like the King isn’t so important after all,” Tsukki commented provocatively, showing no limits to his boldness. His comment drew a threatening look from both you and Hinata, but he simply ignored the reaction. “Maybe I’ll beat you this Saturday,” he added casually, tossing the ball into the air once more. It was the chance Hinata had been waiting for; he sprang forward and caught the ball mid-air.
“Enough with the ‘King’ thing,” Hinata replied in an unusually serious tone. “I’m here too, and on Saturday, I’m going to spike right over you,” he promised, Defending Kageyama for the first time. It seemed the redhead was determined to face him, though a bit of nervousness made him step back slightly under the blonde’s challenging gaze. “W-what, you want to fight?”
Tsukki let out a snort, this time with a more neutral than sarcastic tone. “It’s not that serious,” he replied. “It’s just a club. Let’s have some fun.”
"It's not just a club!" Hinata replied.
“It is what it is,” the blonde said, shrugging and starting to walk away with his friend. However, he stopped when Hinata asked their names.
“Kei Tsukishima, class 1-4,” he finally responded.
“And I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi,” added his companion, introducing himself with a shy smile and a kind voice.
Tsukishima looked at Kageyama and then at Hinata. “From today, we’re teammates, but until Saturday… we’re rivals. I’m looking forward to seeing those famous ‘King’ sets.” With that, he turned around and started walking away, while Yamaguchi kindly said goodbye with a “See you.”
Before Hinata could respond, you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him in the opposite direction. “Enough, it’s time to go,” you insisted, tired of the confrontation and anticipating the scolding you might get if you were late. Ignoring Hinata’s complaints, you started walking at a brisk pace, noticing that Kageyama was silently following you as well.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and, in a firm tone, told him, “And you… I want you to crush them on Saturday.” The intensity of your words seemed to surprise him; his gaze met yours, and after a moment of reflection, he nodded with renewed determination. Without another word, he looked ahead, a new spark in his eyes, ready to face the challenge.
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“Ahhh,” you yawned as you snuggled deeper into the softness of your sheets. You sank into the comfort of your bed, enjoying the luxury of sleeping in. But suddenly, something clicked in your mind. Wait a minute… it’s Saturday! The match!
You jumped up, tossing the sheets aside, and rushed to get dressed. You picked out a pink athletic outfit, the one your mom had bought you when you told her you’d joined the volleyball club.
You raced down the stairs, ready to dash out the door toward the school. However, just as you were crossing the doorway, you felt a tug on your bag that made you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you saw your dad, who was looking at you with a mischievous smile while he let go of your bag and ruffled your hair affectionately.
“And where do you think you’re going so early on a Saturday?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face.
“Dad, I have practice,” you lied, since you barely even touched the ball when you were at the gym. You glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye, feeling the time slip away.
“Since when are you interested in sports?” he asked, watching you curiously. “You never play with me.”
“Because you don’t play either,” you replied impatiently, still keeping an eye on the clock. “Can I go now? I’m going to be late!”
He nodded with a resigned smile and, with a finger on your chest, added in a protective tone, “Be careful. And don’t let those kids bother you. If anyone crosses the line, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
“Yes, yes, bye!” you shouted, running down the street to get to school as quickly as possible.
When you reached the doors of the gym, you paused for a moment to catch your breath. You had run almost the entire way, and the wind had left your hair a mess. After quickly fixing it, you walked into the gym and noticed the game had already started. You went over to Sugawara, who greeted you with a warm smile. You looked at the scoreboard: Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s team was leading by 16 points over Hinata and Kageyama’s team. It made you frown a little, though you were glad you’d made it in time for the first set.
“Y/N! Hi, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Sugawara greeted you enthusiastically when he noticed you’d arrived. He looked at your athletic outfit and smiled, “Nice outfit.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, and you were sure you’d turned as red as a tomato. “T-Thanks,” you stammered, trying to calm yourself. It’s just a compliment, you reminded yourself. People give compliments all the time.
You both turned your attention back to the game as the whistle sounded for the next serve. It was Daichi’s turn, and he made a flawless serve. Kageyama prepared to set the ball perfectly to Hinata, and the redhead, with determination, hit the ball hard, managing to dodge Tsukishima’s block.
“Well done!” you shouted excitedly, unable to contain yourself. Hinata’s eyes lit up when he saw you, and for a brief moment, you noticed something different in Kageyama’s usually cold expression. Happiness? Satisfaction? You weren’t sure, but it seemed like he was sharing the same excitement.
“Y/N!” Hinata exclaimed, raising his hand proudly. “It touched my hand! I can’t believe it!” He stared at his hand in amazement, as if the contact with the ball had been something almost miraculous. Then, he motioned for you to take a closer look at his hand.
You laughed, caught up in his enthusiasm, and nodded. “You’re doing it, Hinata! Keep it up.”
Soon, everyone in the gym realized something incredible: Hinata hadn’t actually seen the ball when he made that impressive spike; he had placed complete trust in Kageyama, who had set the ball with amazing precision, right into his hand. Though they tried to replicate that move several times, they couldn’t quite achieve the same perfection, leaving everyone wondering if it had been a coincidence or just a lucky strike. The score was now 15 to 22; they were still behind, but the team spirit remained high.
You approached Hinata, who was rubbing the side of his face after getting hit by the ball again. You laughed a little at his embarrassed expression, especially when Kiyoko came over to check if he was okay, making him noticeably nervous.
“What’s so funny?” protested Hinata, flustered with a blush on his cheeks. “That’s the second time it’s hit me in the face!” He turned to Kageyama, frowning. “Did you do it on purpose? We’re on the same team, you know!” But Kageyama just ignored him, returning to his position without a word.
The whistle blew again, and both teams readied themselves. Yamaguchi took his position to serve, and Tanaka received the ball smoothly, passing it quickly to Kageyama. With quick and calculated movements, Kageyama prepared to set it up for Hinata. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi anticipated the move and readied themselves to block, but Hinata, agile and strategic, moved to the open side of the court just before the ball reached him. Bam! Another clean, successful spike.
Now they were in the second set, and the score was tied. You glanced over at Tsukishima, who seemed to be losing patience with his opponents' performance. When he noticed your gaze, you lifted your chin proudly and gave him your best “how do you like that?” expression. Tsukishima merely rolled his eyes in response, while Yamaguchi, noticing the exchange, let out a quiet laugh.
“Well done!” you praised Kageyama and Hinata after they managed to pull off their impressive spike once again, which they were starting to master. Sugawara, Ennoshita, and Kinoshita exchanged smiles, clearly inspired by your enthusiasm and competitive spirit.
Sugawara ruffled your hair affectionately. “You’re quite competitive,” he commented with a kind smile.
The score had moved forward, now 21 for Kageyama’s team and 25 for Tsukishima’s. Both teams looked visibly exhausted.
You went over to Hinata and Kageyama, giving Hinata a friendly pat on the back. He smiled when he saw you. “Y/N, did you see that? I’m amazing!” he exclaimed, overflowing with energy, hands on his hips and chest puffed out proudly.
“You’re getting better,” you congratulated him, handing him a water bottle. Hinata accepted it happily and took a drink, satisfied. Then, you turned to Kageyama. “Kageyama, well done.”
The dark-haired boy looked slightly surprised by your compliment, his gaze drifting away for a moment, avoiding direct eye contact. His response came in an almost inaudible murmur. “Thanks.”
He turned his back to you and Hinata, seeming nervous—a subtle shift in his posture that didn’t escape your notice.
“What’s up with you, Kageyama? What’s wrong?” Hinata asked with a mischievous smile, noticing his sudden reaction. Hinata’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he observed his teammate’s reddening ears. “Did you get nervous? Aw, can’t handle a compliment from a girl?” he teased, throwing an arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful look.
“Shut up!” growled Kageyama, but his tone lacked its usual authority. He still wouldn’t turn around, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Suddenly, Hinata’s attention shifted to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were on their side of the court. With a quick gesture, he linked his arm with yours and pulled you toward them. “Kageyama, come on,” Hinata called, signaling for them to follow. “Tsukishima,” he continued determinedly, calling out to the tall, blond boy with glasses. He extended his hand toward him.
“What?” Tsukishima asked, looking at Hinata’s outstretched hand with evident confusion.
“We should shake hands before and after the match, even though we didn’t do it before,” Hinata explained, his tone a bit more serious but still carrying his characteristic positive energy. “Besides, we’re teammates now, even if I’m not too happy about it.”
Tsukishima didn’t seem too convinced by the idea. He stood rigid, his gaze drifting away, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion.
“Come on, didn’t you know?” Hinata insisted, glancing behind him at Daichi, who was talking with Sugawara and Tanaka. “They’ll kick you off if you don’t have team spirit,” he added, waving his hand in front of Tsukishima like it was the answer to all his problems.
Tsukishima didn’t make a single move. “The reason they were kicked out was because they disobeyed the captain,” he explained in an annoyed tone, his gaze fixed on the three of you. “You guys started arguing and pulled the vice principal’s toupee off.” He cast a judgmental look at the three of you, as if your behavior had been completely out of place—and it was.
“F-forget those details,” Hinata retorted, biting his lip to keep calm while trying to maintain his composure. “Just shake my hand!” This was his final attempt before lunging at Tsukishima, though it was clear it wouldn’t be that easy.
Hinata tried to grab the blond’s hand, but Tsukishima, quicker and more agile, kept dodging from side to side to avoid the contact. The scene turned into a comedic spectacle, with Hinata chasing Tsukishima around while you and Kageyama watched without much interest.
“Y/N, help me!” Hinata shouted, visibly frustrated at not being able to accomplish his goal.
“Tsk, no way,” you replied, crossing your arms with an amused smile. You couldn’t help but enjoy the absurdity of the situation. Kageyama, for his part, simply observed the ridiculous spectacle without moving.
Finally, Hinata achieved the impossible: he managed to shake Tsukishima’s hand. The victory was fleeting, however, as Tsukishima looked at him with an expression of pure disgust, as if he’d just touched something completely unhygienic.
“Are you okay, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, a mix of concern and horror on his face as he observed his friend’s reaction. Tsukishima didn’t reply, but his expression said it all, showing a blend of disdain and revulsion from having touched Hinata’s hand.
“Tsukishima!” Daichi’s firm voice interrupted the scene. The captain approached to speak privately with the blond, and you decided to take a few steps back, giving them space.
Meanwhile, Hinata and Kageyama pulled out a couple of crumpled papers from their pockets. “Captain!” Hinata exclaimed, holding both forms out to Daichi, who examined them closely. A slight jolt of panic hit you—was there something you were supposed to submit as well? You didn’t remember turning in anything like that.
“Shimizu!” Daichi called to the team manager, holding the forms in his hand. “The stuff arrived, right?” he asked, and Kiyoko nodded with a small smile.
“What stuff?” Hinata asked, visibly intrigued. Kiyoko approached, carrying a large box, which she carefully placed on the ground and opened. Inside, perfectly folded and ready to wear, were the Karasuno volleyball team jackets. Hinata let out a gasp of amazement and picked up a jacket, looking at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“They should fit well,” Kiyoko commented as the new team members looked at their jackets with admiration. “But let me know if you need any adjustments,” she added before picking up the box and stepping away.
Tanaka, Sugawara, and you looked at the four new members in awe. “Oh, it looks great on you,” Sugawara complimented Hinata as he donned the jacket and showed it off proudly, as if wearing it was an honor in itself.
Daichi took a step forward, his voice filled with emotion. “From now on, we’re the Karasuno volleyball team,” he announced, his words brimming with pride. Then, with a quick countdown, all the team members shouted in unison, “Welcome!”
“Thank you!” the new members replied.
Hinata and Kageyama returned to the court, as energetic as ever. It seemed impossible that those two would ever tire. You looked around and noticed everyone was deep in conversation, forming lively little groups. You sighed and, feeling a small pang of loneliness, sat in a corner not too far from the others and turned on your PSP, seeking distraction.
It didn’t take long before a shadow fell over you, interrupting your game. You frowned, thinking it was Hinata again. “Now what…?” you muttered, looking up in mild annoyance, ready to face the redhead’s hyperactivity. But instead of Hinata, you found yourself looking at the imposing figure of Tsukishima, who eyed you with his typical critical expression and those honey-colored eyes that seemed to scrutinize every detail.
“Do you need something?” you asked, surprised by his presence but keeping your composure.
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, maintaining that air of superiority as he rested his hands on his hips. “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to soften his tone.
You blinked, slightly taken aback. Right, you hadn’t had the chance to formally introduce yourself. “I’m the assistant coach,” you answered with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual.
“We don’t have a coach,” Tsukishima replied, raising an eyebrow again and leaning down a bit to get a better look at you. “Do you even know how to play, or are you just here to babysit the carrot-top?”
You scowled, resisting the urge to let his tone get to you. “Of course, I know how to play, b-but I’m not very good,” you admitted, standing your ground. “And, by the way, don’t call Hinata that.”
Tsukishima barely smirked, a sarcastic smile reflecting his usual provocative attitude. “Then prove it,” he challenged suddenly, not breaking eye contact.
“Prove what?” You looked at him, puzzled.
“That you know how to play,” he replied, crossing his arms with a defiant air. “Unless you want to take back your claim.”
The challenge in his eyes was evident, and you had no intention of backing down. You felt Yamaguchi watching with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, probably hoping the situation wouldn't escalate. Still, you didn't retreat. "Alright," you said with determination, "if that's what it takes to convince you."
Tsukishima stepped back a couple of paces, his lips curving into a nearly satisfied smile. Yamaguchi, who was still close by, gave you a friendlier smile and offered some encouraging words. "You don't have to do it. Tsukki sometimes just enjoys teasing," he said apologetically, trying to soften the challenge his friend had issued.
With a slight smile, you nodded to Yamaguchi before walking to the center of the court and picking up one of the balls lying on the ground. "It's fine," you replied, feeling a mix of nerves and determination as you prepared yourself.
"Make a serve. I'll receive it," called Tsukishima from a safe distance, his voice tinged with a mocking tone. "If you can, of course," he added, with a challenging smile.
You took a deep breath, trying not to let the pressure get to you. Come on, Y/N, you can do this, you reminded yourself. After all, Hinata had taught you some basic moves, and you'd practiced enough to trust in a solid serve.
You weighed the ball in your hands, tossing it into the air a few times as you gathered momentum. With a sigh, you went for a low serve, focusing on directing the ball with strength and precision towards Tsukishima. But just as the ball sailed across the court, the gym door burst open, drawing everyone's attention, including Tsukishima’s.
The impact was inevitable: the ball hit Tsukishima square in the face, who, surprised and with no time to react, fell to the ground from the force of the hit. A dull sound echoed in the gym, followed by a collective gasp of surprise.
"Tsukki!" exclaimed Yamaguchi, visibly worried, running over to his friend to make sure he was okay.
“Oh no…” you whispered, bringing your hands to your mouth as you took in the scene. "Shit!" you added, unable to hold back your reaction.
"Are you... are you alright?" You quickly approached Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, your voice rushed and filled with concern as you looked at the reddish mark on his cheek where the ball had hit. Tsukishima scowled, rubbing the side of his face, which still seemed sore from the blow. You tried not to laugh, although the scene was somewhat amusing in retrospect.
Noticing his glasses lying nearby, you hurried to pick them up. "Here you go," you murmured, quickly wiping the lenses with the edge of your sweatshirt. Then you knelt beside him and gently placed them back on the bridge of his nose. However, the glasses weren’t quite aligned, slipping slightly and giving him an unexpectedly adorable look.
"Sorry... really. I didn't mean to, you know..." you murmured, trying to sound sincere. Still, you couldn’t deny that a small part of you found some satisfaction in the incident, though, of course, you weren’t about to admit it aloud.
Tsukishima snorted, crossing his arms and regaining his usual air of superiority. "You could start by improving your aim if you actually know how to play," he commented, his tone dry, though not without a hint of irony.
You tried to lighten the moment with a smile. "Well, at least it was a strong serve," you joked, though Tsukishima didn’t seem to find it funny; instead, he frowned, crossing his arms.
"It was a pathetic serve," he replied coldly, looking at you as if you were entirely responsible for the situation.
"Not my fault you couldn’t receive a beginner’s serve," you defended yourself firmly. "Why were you distracted?"
"And you were distracted too," Tsukishima retorted, his tone no less challenging.
"Guys, guys, come on, it was just an accident," Yamaguchi interjected with a nervous smile, trying to mediate in the argument.
Tsukishima, however, cut him off immediately. "Shut up, Yamaguchi."
"Hey, don’t tell him to shut up!" you protested, shooting Tsukishima a reproachful look. There was something in his arrogant attitude that pushed you to challenge him, and you weren’t about to let him belittle his own friend.
Before Tsukishima could respond, Tanaka called out to the three of you from the other side of the court. "Hey, you three, come here!" His voice had its usual energy, and when you turned, you realized that the rest of the team had already gathered around Takeda-sensei, who was waiting to give instructions.
"We’ll have a match after classes," Takeda-sensei explained calmly, waiting for everyone to pay attention. "It'll be after school, so there’s only one game. We'll rent a bus for transportation, so don’t be late. Understood?" The players nodded in unison, and the excitement among the new members was palpable.
After practice ended, you packed up your things and made sure to leave the gym in order along with the others. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked home leisurely, enjoying the cool evening air.
As you reached your front door, you began searching your pocket for the keys, when you heard a familiar voice.
"Hi!" It was Hinata, who was passing by quickly on his bike, greeting you with a big smile. "Bye!" he shouted as he disappeared down the street, his energy as contagious as ever. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head.
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“Where the hell is he!?” Nayuta growled, pacing back and forth in front of your desk in the classroom. You had never seen her this angry before, and her footsteps echoed with a frantic rhythm. The three of you were supposed to split the science project to make it easier: each person would do a part, and then you would all put it together at school. But now, the only part missing was Hinata’s, and the redhead still hadn’t shown up.
“I swear to God, if he doesn’t show up, I…” Nayuta left the threat unfinished, but her hands, clenched as if trying to crush something, made the message clear. The frustration on her face made you bite back a smile; it wasn’t wise to joke around in this moment.
“Come on, Yuyu, maybe he just didn’t have time to do it,” you tried to smooth things over, hoping to calm her down. However, Nayuta shot you a look as sharp as her feline eyes, clearly unconvinced.
“Don’t justify him, Y/N,” she snapped, pointing her finger accusingly at you before returning to check her phone for the fifth time. “This is exactly why we shouldn’t trust short people,” she sighed in exasperation, as if she had just uncovered the root of all the problems.
You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. Her logic was absurd, considering that Nayuta was the same height as Hinata. However, you decided to let the comment slide and shift tactics.
“What if we go look for him?” you suggested. “Maybe something came up, and he needs help.”
“Where do you think that restless butt is?” Nayuta asked, crossing her arms and looking at you skeptically.
“Well, maybe in the gym…” you started to say, but then remembered something. You had overheard some of the guys talking about using the club room to change and leave their things. “I think I know where they might be.”
You stood up and grabbed Nayuta’s hand, guiding her purposefully through the hallways. As you walked through the school, the familiarity of the surroundings made Nayuta relax her grip slightly, though she remained on edge.
Eventually, you spotted a small building with several rooms inside. “Are first-year students allowed to be here?” Nayuta asked, giving you a concerned look while holding your hand a bit tighter.
“I think so. Plus, we’re just going to talk to Hinata; it’ll only be a minute,” you reassured her with a smile. You started climbing the stairs to the second floor, and Nayuta followed closely behind.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Nayuta murmured, her eyes scanning the identical doors along the hallway.
Without hesitation, you knocked on the door and called softly, “Hinata? Are you in there?”
Immediately, there was a commotion behind the door, and above everything, you heard the voice of the redhead exclaiming, “Ah, it’s her!” His words were accompanied by the sounds of things falling and hurried footsteps. It seemed like he was clinging to the shelf, as if preparing for a battle. Tanaka, with disbelief in his tone, chimed in. “What’s wrong with you, man? It’s just Y/N.”
“It’s not Y/N… it’s Nayuta…” Hinata murmured, unaware that his words were heard on the other side.
Nayuta’s expression hardened, and before you could stop her, she called out firmly, “Come out already, Shoyo! We can hear you perfectly. Stop being a coward.” Her threatening tone hinted that her patience was quickly running out. She was on the verge of completely losing her cool when, instinctively, you covered her mouth with your hand, trying to keep the situation from escalating.
"Eh… what Nayuta meant," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension, "is that we just want to discuss the science project. It's nothing serious, I promise." You tried to sound as calm and friendly as possible, hoping that would help calm the redhead down.
On the other side of the door, you heard Hinata's desperate mumbling. “Kageyama, go out and tell them I’m not here!”
“Not a chance. If you want to dodge them, do it yourself,” came Kageyama’s reply, as he put on his sports jacket with a resigned expression.
After a few tense seconds of waiting, the door finally opened, and Hinata shot out like a bolt of lightning, one hand clutching his stomach and his face filled with panic. Before you could react, Nayuta tried to rush after him, clearly intent on making him pay for being late.
“Let me go so I can give him a lesson!” she growled, trying to free herself from your grip. You held her firmly around the waist, doing your best to contain her outburst.
“Come on, Yuyu,” you whispered in a conciliatory tone, though you struggled to hold back a laugh at her determination. “We’re friends; we have to get along... and love each other, right?” Even though you said it as calmly as you could, the strength Nayuta was putting up made it a challenge to keep her still.
“It’ll just be a little smack!” she insisted, her voice full of indignation. Nayuta’s dark hair swung, brushing against your face and partially blocking your vision. Amidst nervous laughter and struggling, you both turned around, and your eyes fell on the partially open door in front of you.
Then, both of you froze.
The sound of laughter and murmurs disappeared as you saw, to your surprise and horror, that the club room was occupied by several of the guys from the team… at various stages of changing clothes. Daichi, with his back to you, shirtless and looking incredulous, turned around upon seeing you. Tanaka, equally surprised, was in the middle of pulling up his pants, freezing when he noticed your presence.
Almost instinctively, you covered Nayuta’s eyes while quickly closing your own, taking a few awkward steps back. “Sorry!” you managed to exclaim, your voice breaking with nerves and embarrassment. Nayuta, still frozen in place, stopped resisting, and between murmurs and apologies, both of you stepped away from the door with your faces completely flushed.
As you backed away with hurried apologies, you heard the guys’ restrained laughter, along with a “Next time, knock!” said amid chuckles. Finally, you managed to exit the building, exchanging surprised and embarrassed glances that quickly turned into laughter.
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sillyandquiteawkward · 30 days ago
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Quite often I think about how the crew would have realistically looked after 5 months of being stranded. How each character would have altered their uniform for comfort or practicality, outgrown and uncombed hair, beards and stubble, Daisuke’s roots growing out, everyone looking overall sickly, things like that. You put a lot of thought into how you design the characters, so I was curious about what you thought
hmmmm thats fun! here are some notes i think id make on the crew and their deterioration. whether or not they are realistic...well i havent done any research, this is all vibes based.
curly: well hes been degloved so thats one thing to note. ive been tossing and turning what exactly happened to curly. ive been just kinda going along with the consensus of hes badly burnt and just being vague. but i wonder if the foam also came into play, especially with his amputations and such. its strong enough to seal off the vacuum of space so? i do think he has Some skin left on the left side of his torso from his coveralls, but still not in good shape. other notes i could make would be i do think his other eye has been removed due to damage/infection by anya. and i like to note that his more severe wounds are on his right side. i think curly bit his tongue off or partially off during the crash. hes also opioid dependent and when he gets shifted to the back up meds his body suffers seriously due to withdrawal and pain from existing and he can hardly keep food down, losing even more weight.
anya: i think anya has hair on the finer side, so itd be stringy as hell when greasy. i dont think shed keep up the charade of keeping up appearances at all after the crash, shes incredibly busy and stressed, her hair is unstyled, but hand combed to avoid tangles. however she already has dark eyes and dark circles so not much changes there for me, altho shes stopped wearing any makeup due to no access to her things. i think sometimes she takes her coverall top off to be in her sweater, and sometimes in the lounge, removes her sandals to be just in her socks. at night shes always fully clothed no matter how sweaty she gets. i think anyas appetite is all sorts of fucked, and shes prone to getting morning sickness, so i think shes had the most amount of weight loss (excluding curly). she just looks hollow and tired. i think her fingernails are Gone. chewed to the bed. and it stresses her out she doing something unsanitary but pica be pica-ing. she also chews and swallows the ends of her hair. no one comments on this development.
swansea: swanseas the only guy you can actually See get worse for wear after months and its always harrowing seeing his ruddy face and stained shirt. you can see how far off the deep end hes jumped. swansea strikes me as the guy who cant grow solid facial hair so any hairs on his face are gray/light and patchy. he always looks damp, hes sweating a lot, and later on hes covered in his own sweat, vomit, and mouthwash. i think daisuke tries to corral him and get his shirt clean when it gets bad, but its a toss up if hes in an agreeable enough mood to allow daisuke to help him, in which case hes chilling shirtless until daisuke comes running back with his now slightly clean, but wet shirt. i think hes the only person whos gained weight during the crash, altho that is in no way a good thing and is more of a tell tale sign hes killing himself from the mouthwash. i think he has sleep apnea and has a cpap, so without it, hes incredibly sleep deprived, but hes used to it from pony express sleep shifts.
daisuke: as hes the guy with the freshest id card photo, taken likely right before they left, you can see his roots already growing out. a lot of the blond has grown and been cut off, and a lot of whats left is faded due to time and hair washing. after the crash, he still brushes his hair with his hands and washes it the best he can with sink water occasionally, even cutting it. i think hes also got some stubble going, but shaves it when it starts bugging him with assistance from the others. but hes got a lot of energy, he spends a lot taking care of his appearance, and he looks the best out of everyone, especially at the start, and then later after sobering. i think daisuke, being in charge of the food, feels a bit of a burden for eating a lot and cuts back. he looses some weight, mostly in his muscle and some of his chubbiness, but retains a softness about him, especially with swansea telling him to properly eat his share of rations. he takes care of his clothes. if he feels sweaty, hell take his nice shirt off, and if thats too much still, hell take his pony express shirt off as well to make sure it doesnt get stinky (as fast).
jimmy: hes self centered i think hes been focusing on keeping up appearances and has managed to shave a few times. i think daisuke made a comment on how thick his beard was growing in like his id card and he stole a scalpel to spend the next chunk of time shaving (and bleeding). he has lots of gray hairs coming in lately, and hes let his hair grow out. hes went from lean to thin but looks about the same due to his already baggy clothing choices, and i think hes upset hes sweaty and stinky and that his hair is greasy and messy. his white undershirt looks like shit due to sweat and being white, so he doesnt take his coverall top off. in fact, i dont think hes ever disrobed since the crash, to keep up appearances that hes unshakable.
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