#mad dog coil

[malloryzzdelusionblog]

I'm not sure if it's obvious but he's holding a pawn so yepp 😄👍

time to spam tags

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

framed - le sserafim chaewon & yunjin

2995 words

this was supposed to be a quickie, but this fucking yunjin picture had me fantasizing so much.

“Told you it’d work.”

“Didn’t expect it to work this well though.”

It was a surprise. A pleasant surprise. All the two girls had to do was take a selfie of their faces, both sticking their tongues out, letting saliva drip down the tip of their tongues, while they rolled their eyes to the back of their heads, making it seem as though they were drunk on pleasure.

The cherry on top? Those damned glasses and the fucking lip gloss, paired with the eye contacts and the make up. They were like hentai characters straight out of any man’s wet dream.

And right now, they were behaving very much like them.

“You’re so hard right now. smooch Soooo fucking hard for mommy. smooch”

Damn. That’s a pet name Yunjin never used before. But with those glasses, she’d definitely fit as a slutty teacher. One that was currently kissing the sides of your cock ever so tenderly. Her plump lips send sensation after sensation that drives you mad.

Chaewon doesn’t say a word and just eyes your reaction as she kisses your raging erection much closer to the base. The warm air that she breathes out with every exhale causes your cock to twitch in response in her hand, as her thumb teasingly rubs your slit with ever so painful gentleness.

All you can do is moan. Heck, you’re not even out of your clothes. Your shirt is still on and your pants are around your ankles. The girls straight up just put you onto one of the chairs from the dining table and knelt right in front of you. 

Yunjin eventually pauses the kissing and signals Chaewon to stop as well. She gives your cocks a few lazy pumps before gathering some spit in her mouth and releasing it on the crown of your cock. The slick liquid makes her hand strokes much smoother as she spreads her saliva along your length, prepping to take your cock in whichever hole she wants. You involuntarily find yourself thrusting your hips up to fuck her coiled hand as she painfully slows down her pumps.

Watching this, Chaewon remarks:

“Bet you can’t wait to shove your cock down our slutty throats.”

“Fuck. You have no fucking idea Chae.”

“Don’t worry oppa. In due time.”

She whips out her phone with the cheetah charm dangling off the case. 

“But first, a few pics for keepsake.”

Chaewon sizes up your cock against her face. The phallic object of yours is almost as big as her face, the tip just touching the middle of her forehead. She sticks her tongue out and turns the camera on selfie mode. 

click

“Stand up oppa.”

You follow her instructions like an obedient dog.

Yunjin positions herself under you and faces the same direction as you. She then looks up at you, or rather your ball sack that rests on her forehead and breaks out into a wide grin.

Chaewon hovers the camera just above and snaps what must be a porno cover worthy picture.

“I love how fucking big this cock is… Almost as big as my whole face.”

When Yunjin moves away to let you sit back down, you see that her face is already marked with some of the precum saliva mixture that she had so diligently pumped your cock with earlier, yet she heeds no notice. The true mannerisms of a slut.

“Finally we can start,” Yunjin says, bunching her hair into a quick ponytail.

Yunjin kicks things off. She immediately gets down to business, letting your cock part those plump lips of hers and welcoming it into the wet hotness of her mouth. She slowly shoves her face down on your cock as she holds onto your thighs for support. 

Chaewon is behind her stroking her head and spurring her on with soft-spoken words of good girl and just like that. She hollows her cheeks and looks up at you with those eyes that are just screaming at you: Don’t I look so pretty today that you just want to destroy me?

Your fingers trace her jawline, admiring how she has engulfed more than half your length within the wet warmth of her mouth while showing no signs of discomfort. She slacks her jaw some more, allowing your cock to slide even more into her mouth until you feel your cock hit the back of her throat. 

“Oh fuck!”

You find yourself making a short thrust once again, this time into her mouth as you try to chase that feeling of first contact with the back of her slutty throat.

Expecting her to gag in response, you’re instead pleasantly surprised as Yunjin doesn’t flinch, and instead increases the amount of suction on your member, hollowing her cheeks out as much as possible and forcing her head down until her nose is just nuzzling against your pelvis. 

She shakes her head left and right, as if showing off that she can take you all the way with ease, before unsheathing herself from your cock and letting go of the suction with a distinct, lewd ‘pop’ sound.

You throw your head when the assault of sensations ends, finally able to take a breather. Yunjin’s skillful deepthroat making you feel everything all at once with her toe curling throat skills. All you hear is your fastened heartbeat and the faint sound of Chaewon’s giggling in the background, probably laughing at how pathetic you are after just one go. 

What brings you back to reality is Yunjin stroking your cock once again. You look down and see her smiling widely, saliva and precum coating her chin and running down the sides of her mouth.

“Too much for you to handle, baby?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to reply before she wraps her luscious lips around your member and you feel your cock gliding back in, against her tongue as she takes you in faster this time. When her nose meets your pelvis this time, she starts bobbing her head up and down. 

“Fuck, wait! Not too -”

Your cries go unanswered as Chaewon silences you with a kiss. She’s straddling you, sitting on your pelvis just above your cock. Her nude body is completely resting against yours, you can feel her leaking heat, her stiff nipples poking against your skin. She’s completely distracting you and it’s working. You’re too aroused to even continue thinking of what to say to Yunjin. You just moan into Chaewon.

Your hands move to fondle and knead Chaewon’s bubblicious butt cheeks, the two perfect mounds so pliable within your hands’ grasp.

You spread and feel for her tight hole, teasing it with your middle finger, making her moan in response, before using your other hand to strike her ass cheek with a loud smack. Her tight body is truly something you can't ever resist.

All your ears can hear now are Yunjin’s sloppy head bobs on your cock. The velocity at which she is going at now causes more saliva to spill out as you feel liquid dripping down your ball sack. Her nails grip your thighs tighter as she acclimatizes herself. You can feel her flicking her tongue along the slit of your cock down to the underside of your cock as she moves her head. 

Paired with the suction she applies as she goes down, the lack of gag reflex as she works is how Yunjin just proves why she’s the best at giving sloppy toppy. 

The amount of moaning and groaning you’re doing is embarrassing, especially as Chaewon’s naked body does its best to distract you from the sensory overload happening at your crotch. It’s just too much, Yunjin is in max slut mode.

“Fucking love your slutty mouth Yunjin…”

You can feel her smile at that remark.

Ashamed to admit, you might cum even before Chaewon gets a chance to display her own oral skills.

Yunjin quickens the pace at which she works, furiously chasing your climax because she knows you're close too. She tightly grips your cock at the base with one hand, further stimulating every movement she makes with her tongue and lips. She knows every inch of your cock and exactly what to do to make you cum and how your cock would react just as it’s about to cum.

“Fuck, Yunjin. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you moan out, turning your attention to the throat demon at your crotch. You feel it coming, the floodgates are opening. Your throbbing member has been waiting far too long for this.

But all of a sudden, Yunjin releases herself from your cock, leaving it angry and twitching in the cool air of the apartment. 

“Fuck- No!”

Your hips thrust up again, trying to find Yunjin’s mouth pussy for that one last push you need but you buckle in your seat in failure, Chaewon on top of you moving along with your failed thrust. She’s unbothered, having left small bite marks on your neck and collarbone while you were chasing your climax.

“Sorry baby. Can’t let you cum without Chaewon having a turn,” she chuckles. Yunjin’s parting gift before she lets Chaewon take over is a truckload of more saliva and precum which she bubbles on her lips before spreading it on your cock.

She gives one last kiss on the underside of your crown before she stands up and Chaewon takes her place between your legs.

“Finally. I get this dick all to myself,” Chaewon smiles excitedly. She slaps your dripping cock on her face, hitting those framed glasses in the process and leaving a small trail of sex liquid on the lens. Her tongue sticks out and she runs it along the underside of your cock in one long lick.

You were excited for Yunjin to take Chaewon’s original place, eager to play with her ass and suckle on her brown areolas but it seemed that Chaewon had other plans.

“Stand up oppa.”

Both of you stand up. 

Chaewon tiptoes to your left ear and you lean down to get a good listen of what she’s about to say. 

“I want you to use me oppa. Use my slutty mouth pussy as your fleshlight and fuck your cock so far down my throat it hurts.”

You look down at Chaewon in disbelief of what she’s just said, eyes looking at her with the ‘you sure?’ look.

All Chaewon says is one mischievous little ruin me, destroy me and kneels back down, tongue out and waiting for your cock.

You can feel all the blood rushing down to your cock, her words spurring on a horny rage within you. Taking your rock hard cock in one hand, you slap it against her face a couple more times, making her wince. Your other hand is reaching for the back of her head, holding her head steady as you line your cock up with her mouth. You rub your cock all over her lips, tracing the lip gloss, taking a moment to look at how pretty she is before you fuck her face.

“Can’t wait to choke all over this fucking cock.”

Once your cock is in, your other hand reaches back as well. You push your whole length all the way in at once, her lips completely wrapped around the base of your cock. She’s still staring at you through the lenses of those fucking spectacles, the slutty hollowed-mouth expression of hers telling you that she can take it. You pause at this point, relaxing and enjoying the heat and wetness around the whole length of your shaft.

“Such a good girl, taking oppa’s cock in without any issue,” Yunjin says, watching from another chair as she starts to draw circles around her pussy lips while she sits on the dining room table.

As you draw your shaft backwards, you find it harder to pull your cock out. Not because you want to stay in her mouth forever, but because the cum slut herself is sucking so damn hard on your cock like a vacuum.

“Fuck, Chae- Please.”

She eventually yields, letting you take your cock out of her mouth, a trail of saliva following suit that eventually drops on the floor. 

“Come on oppa. You’re not going hard enough. Just keep thrusting daddy. Your good girl can-”

Her talking that much was your cue to shove your cock right back down. But Chaewon doesn’t even choke or gag. She’s a certified slut after all.

It’s not that you wanted to stop or take it easy. Yunjin’s previous assault was already so relentless, and Chaewon was just stockpiling the ecstasy you were receiving. At the rate you were furiously fucking, you were going to burst at an embarrassingly quick rate.

You just love how your cock disappears with every thrust into her mouth and how she moans against your shaft. Her eagerness to take it is such a turn on and the glasses are somehow amplifying that. 

“You better pound us that hard later,” you hear Yunjin say, her now playing with herself at an even faster rate.

“Fucking sluts the two of you,” you say, in between clenched teeth as with each thrust, you fight off the pleasure demon that is Chaewon’s mouth.

“Your slut daddy,” Chaewon says when you finally pull yourself from her mouth momentarily. You don’t even need to thrust back because the slut finds your balls to latch on and suck. Her mouth just does not wish to ever detach itself from your cock.

Yunjin climbs down from the table and kneels next to Chaewon. You grab Chaewon’s phone from the table and take a picture of the lewd sight before you, two good sluts before your phallus, ready to play face fuck roulette.

After taking the picture, you immediately place a hand behind each girl’s head so they don’t know whose mouth pussy you were going to use first.

“Fuck you’re both so fucking beautiful, so fucking slutty,” you say before thrusting into Yunjin’s lips with one powerful action. You then pull out and shove your cock into Chaewon’s smaller mouth, while Yunjin gasps for air after expecting you to choose Chaewon’s mouth pussy first.

“Fucking love being ahegao sluts hmm? I’ll treat you both like one.”

You repeat the same sequence. Pistoning your cock between Yunjin’s lips, then into Chaewon’s inviting cavern. 

Yunjin. Chaewon. Yunjin. Chaewon. Chaewon. Yunjin. Slut. Slut.

Even your mind is failing to function properly, hips just thrusting into whoever's slutty mouth your eyes meet. 

The air is filled with slurps on slurps of cock. You toss your head back in pure bliss, not even looking where your cock is going because you know that if either of the girls see your cock moving in the wrong trajectory, they’ll move to intercept it, knowing rightfully where your cock needs to be at this moment, in either one of their throats, all the way in till it reaches the back.

You can’t fight your urges anymore. You tilt your head back down at them, the two damsels just staring up at you or your cock, saliva dripping down the corners of their mouth, their chins already full coated. Some of the sticky mixture is trailing down their chest in the valley between their breasts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” is all you scream out as your pace begins slowing down. The girls notice this and take matters into their own hands, taking turns fucking their faces onto your cock as you begin lazily thrusting instead. They’re still looking at you with anticipation, knowing you’re so fucking close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna cum all over our faces?” Yunjin says as Chaewon slurps you up. 

“Cum for us daddy. Paint us with that thick, creamy load of yours,” Chaewon says as Yunjin has her go. 

“Cumming. Cumming. Fucking-”

You don’t even get your sentence out, or your cock fully out of Yunjin’s mouth as the first spurt is released in her mouth. The second load flies far across Yunjin’s face, covering her glasses, her forehead, and her cheek. You quickly move to face Chaewon as the third, most powerful spurt causes her to wince and jerk back when it splatters right smack on her face, dripping down her glasses as well. Both of them are making the same ahegao expression as the selfie they sent before, tongue sticking all the way out to catch your cum and eyes rolled back like sluts. Some of your cum splashes onto her neck, your aim abysmal through the feeling of release. You turn back to Yunjin as the remainder of your load empties out. 

“Give it to me baby, give it to mommy,” Yunjin spurs you on, helping you stroke your cock now. She manages to milk a few more spurts out of you and onto her cheek, before letting go. 

You fling your cock at Chaewon, making sure not a single drop is wasted, before letting go of your wet shaft to admire your two artworks. Chaewon gives you one lazy long slurp, humming happily while your cum trickles down her features. She simply just refuses to let go of your cock. You can’t even see her left eye because the left lens of the spectacles has a huge drop of cum on it.

Yunjin feels a dab of cum just to the right of her mouth and uses her thumb to swipe it into her mouth.

You slump back into the wooden chair, catching your breath after not realising you were holding your breath throughout your climax.

"Thanks for the load daddy."

The two girls kiss each other sloppily through cum coated lips, completely unbothered that they’re covered in cum, some of it in their hair.

“Holy fucking shit. That was-”

“Not the end of it,” Yunjin says.

You watch as they both get up and reach for some items.

Chaewon pulls out a bottle of lavender massage oil from a cabinet, while Yunjin holds a pair of stockings.

We’re just getting started daddy.

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

im trying to churn out a few more fics but i keep getting distracted by other idols when i start a new draft. anyways i hope y'all enjoy this one.

[ac1dmeow]

nsfw !!

imagine riding powder’s strap for the first time and she’s fucking mind blown…

she’s staring up at you with wide eyes, hands frozen on your hips before building up the courage to travel. to grope and scratch and tug.

the movements of your hips rolling back and forth and the occasional circular motion does wonders against her throbbing clit. making her let out cute little gasps and whimpers while you’re just giggling down at her.

she’ll murmur soft praises, running her hands through your hair and guiding your hips to keep you keep you going, “you look so pretty like this.”

you just look so hot, and so pretty. she could watch you do this from sunrise to sunset and then all over again.

powder won’t be able to help but turn exceedingly more flustered if you start talking dirty to her. sprinkle in a little praise and she’s panting like a dog trying not to moan as loudly as her body threatens to.

“y’feel that? you’re so deep babe.” you tease, holding her hand up against your abdomen to feel the bulge of the toy inside of you. and powder is in awe, lips parted and blue eyes blown wide. she marvels at the way the toy disappears into your pussy, as if swallowed by your drooling heat every time you drop back down onto its length.

your arousal gets smeared all over powder’s thighs and her abdomen, and not a hint of shame is painted on your features while you move yourself faster on her dick.

her hands hold your hips to keep you guided and steady, “that’s it, keep going..” she’ll say to encourage you, knowing you’re getting close.

but in reality she feels that coil tightening in her abdomen and beginning to snap. her face turning undeniably red and her hold on you getting lazy—she struggles to keep her eyes open. you know by the way her head tips back and she starts letting out small breathy grunts that she just wants to come.

“i know that look… you gonna come, pow?” you ghost your fingers down her stomach. your voice is sickeningly sweet but taunting and it drives powder mad. yet she’s nodding frantically.

“please…” she sighs. “i need it.”

and how could you deny that cute face, all sweaty and needy for you.

didn’t turn out as good as i hoped ngl :,(

[shotmrmiller]

Simon hangs around grocery stores whenever he's on leave. The ambient noise is a gentle hum— not too intrusive but enough to stifle the screams of his thoughts. There's something calming about the quiet conversations of the shoppers, the rhythmic beeping of the registers that just—

ordinary is extraordinary. There is no chaos. Only peace. He tucks his work boots away, wearing sneakers instead. His hands don't hold the cold, unforgiving metal of a gun. Instead, it's a carton of milk, a soft loaf of bread. The metallic smell (and taste) of duty is replaced by the smell of sweet fruit and fresh baked goods.

(A library is too quiet; allows for the screams to echo, refusing to be ignored.)

He gets to disappear here, wander like a ghost (haha), his presence as unobtrusive as the canned food in the aisles. And he does it for hours at a time. Days on end.

You, a simple aisle stocker, don't understand why. His eyes scan the shelves but his gaze is looking at something beyond. Distant. Hand hovering over a can of beans but not touching.

He's also huge. His size commands space yet he treads lightly. Like a shadow. How the others don't mind him, don't put in a complaint about his suffocating presence is a mystery. You look around and— nothing. No one cares. But you do.

Or maybe you're just nosy.

You approach him quietly— hands in your pockets to hide the fact that they're trembling— stopping a few paces away, giving him the space his body language demands. He doesn't turn but you know he's become aware of you. There's a subtle tensing of his shoulders, muscles beneath his shirt coiling.

"Hello. Need help finding anything?" You'll take your voice not shaking as much as it could've as a win.

There's a tightness around his eyes as he finally grabs said can with knuckles stained white. He briskly walks away, heading to self-checkout.

You, in your small act of kindness, or inability to mind your own, have offered him a scrap of attention, and now he will devour it with a hunger akin to madness.

(simon being that stray dog you find waiting outside, fur matted with rain because you're the first person in a long time to feed him, even if they were mere crumbs. now he's not going anywhere, refusing to be shooed away. he'll follow you anywhere, even into the earth's darkest corners until you take him home. feral, feral, feral.)

[girl-lostconnection]

Unsweetened Lemonade AU (part 4)

Part 3 || Part 5

Warnings: Punk!Ghost x Nerd!Reader, hints that reader is plus size, disturbing attraction, they are both traumatised your honour, biting as love language, unhealthy attraction

You are always with headphones in your ears, always somewhere deep inside your head — eyes slightly glassy as the tip of your shoe sways.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Simon can hear faint thumping from your headphones but it’s not loud enough for him to be able to actually make out a melody.

He doesn’t notice when he starts straining his ears — trying to catch the melody by its tail, but it mostly feels like trying your hardest to remember the dream you forgot the moment your eyes open.

It slips through his fingers, agitating him further, short annoyed huff of air forcing its way out when your eyes finally flicker back to him.

You two don’t speak much, it still feels weird to converse freely with him.

It still feels awkward and you both just turn your heads other way ignoring the elephant in the room.

But this time you don’t just pretend not to notice anything, the same impulse that made you thrust your scarf in his hands now making you pull one headphone out and extend it to him.

You don’t say anything and Simon isn’t sure whether or not he should sneer at the offer because it’s awkward and it would mean he needs to move closer to you and is he sure it’s not pity and—

Thought makes him feel hot under the collar, uncomfortable heat coiling under his skin, setting his nerves on the edge. So he doesn’t think anymore.

Simon moves closer, chair making a sad grating creak when it gets moved too hastily.

You just carefully push the headphone in Simon’s ear (don’t mind that he could do it himself, he has hands after all, he absolutely could. But didn’t) and press “play”.

Melody fills Simon’s ear, thumping with energy, cording him in a vibrating spring, colours popping in his head when he leans in closer.

Simon is all awkward angles and long limbs and he’s too wide-too broad-too heavy.

But in the moment he feels so light. He feels pure absolute joy, his eyes flickering to you.

“Fucking ‘ell”, the exhale is almost reverent and it takes him a few moments and your widened eyes to realise that he’s smiling. “You ‘ave more?”

It takes him a few more moments when you smile back.

Fucking hell, indeed.

You just hum under your breath, pressed to him — shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee and elbow to elbow. All soft lines and soft flesh and warm body.

Simon wants to wrap himself into you, wants to sink his teeth in your hand and hold onto it so you wouldn’t be able to snatch it away.

Simon wants to find his way under your skin and bury himself there, feasting on tender insides and sleeping in a safe warmth of your ribcage. Forever fed and forever warm and forever belonging.

Simon is awkward angles and you are soft lines and heavy stares and rhythm that suddenly makes sense.

Simon makes it his routine from then on, body pressing into your side, eyes hungry for more as soon as you pull headphones out.

You don’t know what to make of his fascination with your music but it’s weirdly satisfying to see that perpetually brooding Simon Riley can grin like a mad lad, eyes crinkling in a way that makes you want to touch his face.

Just to feel these crinkles for yourself, to brand the way he smiles on the back of your eyelids.

You would never admit but Simon smiles and you feel like smiling back, like touching his face, like leaning in closer and always sharing your headphones with you.

Even if he doesn’t ask.

Simon doesn’t say anything but drapes his hand over the back of your chair, eyes dark and attentive — a guard dog, a feral mutt of a boy. He’s slowly herding you back in your corner again and again, hoping to cement the thought that it’s safety.

He’s safety. You can stay with him. You can be warm and soft so he’s never cold and never hungry.

He will make sure no one bothers you ever again.

Taglist: @figthoughts @pastelbabygirl19 @haven-1307 @viennakarma @themadamehydra-blog @squishytap

[teddybeartoji]

yuuta fucking a pathetic toy while sniffing your panties. he humps the silicone thing like a dog in heat, his mind flooded with thoughts of you. how pretty your smile is, how warm your touch – drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth as he cries out your name, hoping that you'll hear him. will you be mad? will you tell him off? call him a pervert, call him disgusting? the coil in his stomach tightens with every scenario he conjures up, the imaginary scenes playing in his head forming the most beautiful wet dream he's ever had. he cums with a moan, his body shaking and twitching as he fucks himself through the orgasm. the sheet below him is ruined, the toy under him on the verge of breaking – one day, he'll get to show you the true extent of his love.

and you'll get to do the same.

[dorkszn]

logan howlett x blk!reader hcs <3

for both masc and fem readers !! these are kinda stupid and crack-ish lmao

— you always let him pick your next braids color and he pretends he doesn’t love it.

— he grumbles when you leave shiny lipgloss kiss marks on him but after a while, he just stops trying to wipe them off.

— but he does love kissing you on the lips with your gloss on, especially if it’s flavored. he loves seeing it all smudged and messed up when he pulls away. and he just grins at you when you swipe your thumb over his lips, removing the lip gloss he stole from you.

— if you not the one cooking, he ain’t eating. i know he had some soul food once and it touched his soul forever.

— you’ve put your bonnet / durag on him. he may or may not have been asleep but who’s really checking?

— one time, you gushed to him about how megan thee stallion was coming to your city and told him you’d literally die if you didn’t see her. he said you were being dramatic and he didn’t see the big deal. but he got you the tickets.

— i can see you forcing him to come with you which he reluctantly does. of course, he’s unamused. until he actually sees her. you can’t even be mad at him for it because.. real?

— he gets jealous when you gush over male celebrities, especially if they’re caucasian. he’s supposed to be your favorite white boy.

— loves your natural hair. like he loves it so much. short or long, tight coils or loose curls, he doesn’t care. he just loves it.

— and your body. utterly obsessed with you and your body. he thinks your skin is so pretty and perfect and soft, that your eyes are just the most perfect shade of brown, that you just smell so sweet and nice all the time, that your skin bruises to nicely when he sucks his marks into it.

— idk how he’d feel about rap or hip-hop but i think he’d mess with r&b.

— he used your hair products in the shower once and got the ass-whooping of a lifetime because apparently he “used too much” and “it’s not even for his hair texture.”

— calls you ma’am or sir in front of your family

— you bought him a nice, little silver chain to replace his dog tags with the initial of your first name on it and he never takes it off unless he’s going on a mission or something. only because he knows if it breaks, he’s breaking the neck of whoever broke it.

— hates chitlins.

— watches spooky scary sunday with you. he doesn’t really understand it or see the point but he’ll watch it if you ask.

— he’ll pick you up and carry you past big dogs if you’re scared of them. he’s gonna tease you first, of course. maybe push you towards it a little.

that’s all !! and sorry again, ik these are pretty bad 😭

[scapinoz]

MY MAD DOG (ALL MINE).

yandere male oc x male reader

mob boss x guard dog reader

— chapter one.

to start things off, it’s been like three months since I posted the prologue and I have no way to defend my actions. I simply forgot. like the story kept running through my head all day and night, and I did write; the later parts of the story, lol. i really didn’t want to write the starting parts. i was just lazy, nothing else.

warnings: illarion, illarion’s dad, Y/N, mentions of blackmail and violence. nothing much, really. tame compared to what I’ve planned.

previous chapter - prologue

series master list - my mad dog (all mine)

Y/N arrived like a storm—unwelcome, unasked for, and impossible to ignore.

He did not come with a wagging tail or soft eyes full of devotion. He was not the obedient, noble creature Ilarion had longed for, the one he had begged his father to give him. No, Y/N was something else entirely. A stray, all sharp edges and untamed wildness, the kind of animal that bit the hand that tried to feed it.

But he was Ilarion’s now. That much was clear.

At first, they danced around each other like two creatures who did not yet know if they were predator or prey. Ilarion, raised in silk and shadow, did not know what to do with this boy who walked into their mansion with his hands in his pockets and a scowl carved deep into his face. Y/N was nothing like the children Ilarion had grown up with—those glass-fragile boys in ironed uniforms who spoke softly and moved like ghosts, always careful, always cautious, as if the wrong step might shatter them into pieces.

Y/N was fire where they were mist, solid where they were air.

And at school, he was a disaster (his father had enrolled Y/N into his school soon after their next meeting).

He never sat up straight in class. He never raised his hand or took notes. The teachers despised him for his indifference, for the way he lounged in his seat like he had better places to be. The students feared him, though they never said it aloud. He did not belong in their world of wealth and whispered politics, where power was measured in quiet cruelty and the sharp cut of words. No, Y/N fought with his fists, with blood on his knuckles and a scowl on his lips.

And yet, he never strayed far from Ilarion.

At first, Ilarion did not question it. He did not acknowledge the way Y/N’s presence had become something of a constant, like the low hum of an approaching storm. He did not ask why Y/N always seemed to be near, lingering just close enough to catch the words others whispered behind Ilarion’s back—the jealousy, the envy, the resentment.

He did not ask why those whispers always stopped so suddenly, why the boys who spoke too loudly found themselves with bruised jaws and swollen lips.

He did not ask, because he already knew.

And he never told Y/N to stop.

By the time they were thirteen, an unspoken understanding had settled between them: Ilarion was the golden boy, the untouchable heir to a legacy written in blood and empire, while Y/N was his shadow, the mad dog at his heels.

It was inevitable, then, that when Ilarion spoke, Y/N listened.

And when Ilarion needed something done, Y/N was the one who did it.

Time did not soften Y/N. If anything, it sharpened him.

By sixteen, he had become something fierce, something untamed. He was taller now, broader, his face no longer round with childhood but carved with something sharper, something crueler. The fire in his eyes had not dulled, but it had learned patience. His rage no longer burned bright and reckless—it simmered, waiting, coiled beneath his skin like a beast ready to strike.

He was still the same boy, the same stray Ilarion had been given all those years ago. But now, he was something else too. Something dangerous.

And Ilarion—perfect, golden, untouchable Ilarion—had grown into the role his father had carved for him. He was flawless, the kind of boy people whispered about in admiration and envy alike. He had the world at his feet, the teachers singing his praises, the students bending beneath his presence. He was the sun around which their little kingdom revolved, and he played the part beautifully.

But the sun has shadows, and Ilarion’s shadow had a name.

Y/N.

The school called him a delinquent, a lost cause. He skipped classes, smoked behind the gym, walked into rooms like he owned them and stared down teachers like they were beneath him. He broke rules like they were made for him, and he did not care.

Or rather, he only cared when Ilarion did.

“I swear to God, Y/N,” Ilarion muttered one afternoon, arms crossed as he leaned against the old brick wall behind the school, where they always met when no one else was watching. “Could you at least pretend to be a functioning member of society?”

Y/N, perched on the ledge with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, barely spared him a glance. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

Ilarion scoffed, his irritation as sharp as the autumn wind. “Because you look like a damn criminal.”

“I am a damn criminal,” Y/N shot back. “Your criminal.”

Ilarion exhaled, long and slow, tilting his head back to look at the sky. He hated that Y/N was right. Hated that, despite his exasperation, despite the lectures and the sighs and the sharp-edged glares, he still found himself here. Still found himself asking.

Because there were always people who needed to be put in their place.

Boys who thought power came from their fathers’ wallets. Men who thought they could speak without consequence. People who thought that just because Ilarion wore his power with silk and smiles, he would not use it.

Ilarion never laid a hand on them himself. He didn’t have to.

Not when he had Y/N.

And Y/N—his mad dog, his stray, his shadow—never needed to be told twice.

“You’re impossible,” Ilarion muttered, shaking his head.

Y/N exhaled smoke into the air, grinning. “And yet, you keep me around.”

And Ilarion, despite himself, did not argue.

The afternoon sun filtered through the academy’s courtyard, golden and soft, casting long shadows against the pristine marble floors. It was a quiet hour—one where only the desperate or the foolish found themselves loitering with trembling hands and fragile hopes.

Ilarion had not been searching for anything. He had been making his way toward the student council room, mind preoccupied with the endless obligations of a golden boy, when he saw it.

A girl.

Standing before his dog.

She was pretty, delicate in the way all high-society daughters were raised to be, with neatly pressed ribbons in her hair and the scent of expensive roses lingering in her wake. The picture of polished elegance. And yet, there was something almost pitiful about the way she stood there—wringing her hands, voice unsteady as she whispered the words.

“I like you, Y/N. Please go out with me.”

Ilarion stopped.

Y/N stood before her, detached and distant, the very image of disinterest. His uniform was, as always, a mess—tie loose, shirt half-untucked, a cigarette tucked behind his ear like an afterthought. He had not bothered to meet her eyes, his gaze instead fixed somewhere past her, as if she were nothing more than background noise, a dull murmur in a world he had long since stopped caring for.

Ilarion knew that look.

Knew it because Y/N never looked at him that way.

The girl swallowed, gathering what little courage she had left. “Y/N?”

Silence stretched.

And then—finally—Y/N tilted his head, as if acknowledging her presence for the first time.

“You like me?” he echoed, voice flat.

The girl nodded quickly, a spark of hope igniting in her gaze.

Y/N exhaled sharply through his nose, something close to amusement but far colder. “What is it that you like, exactly?”

The girl hesitated. “I—I think you’re… cool.”

A pause.

Then, slow, deliberate, Y/N smirked.

It was not a kind expression.

“You ever wonder why I don’t have a girlfriend?” he asked, voice dripping with something unreadable.

The girl stiffened. “…No?”

Y/N yawned, stretching lazily. “It’s because I get bored easily.”

The spark of hope in her eyes flickered.

Ilarion, still watching from the shadows, clenched his jaw.

“I might still say yes, though,” Y/N added, tone mocking. “Could be entertaining for a little while.”

Ilarion turned on his heel and walked away before he could hear the rest.

He found her in the library.

She was seated by the window, absentmindedly flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading. Her expression was distant, her mind likely still lingering on the conversation from earlier.

Ilarion did not bother with pleasantries.

“You will stay away from him.”

The girl startled, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. “What?”

Ilarion stepped closer, looming over her. His expression remained polite, refined—unshakable—but there was an undeniable edge beneath it.

“Y/N,” he said, as if explaining something very simple to a very slow child. “You will stay away from him.”

She blinked, confusion flashing across her face before something like realization took root.

“I—I’m not trying to—”

“You don’t understand,” Ilarion cut in smoothly, tone unwavering. “He is not what you think he is.”

Her lips parted, a protest half-formed, but Ilarion did not let her speak.

“You think you want him,” he continued, voice calm, “but you don’t. He isn’t kind. He isn’t gentle. He will not love you, nor will he pretend to. He is cold, detached, and endlessly cruel when he grows tired of things.”

The girl paled.

“He would ruin you,” Ilarion said, smiling faintly. “And he wouldn’t even care.”

A beat of silence.

Then—quiet, barely above a whisper—she asked, “Then why do you want him?”

Ilarion stilled.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. And yet, it lodged itself into his throat like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.

Because Y/N was his.

Because Y/N listened to him.

Because Y/N—who cared for nothing, who met the world with disinterest and apathy—only ever looked at him.

Ilarion exhaled slowly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Leave him alone.”

The girl said nothing.

She did not need to.

By the next morning, the girl was gone.

Oh, she was still at school, still walking the halls with her pristine uniform and perfectly tied ribbon. But she no longer looked Y/N’s way.

No more stolen glances. No more waiting outside his classroom. No more confessions in the courtyard.

Y/N noticed. Of course he did.

He caught Ilarion’s eye across the cafeteria, something unreadable flickering across his face.

Then, ever so slowly, he smirked.

And Ilarion—golden, untouchable, innocent Ilarion—simply picked up his fork and took another bite of his meal.

Y/N was smoking behind the school when Ilarion found him.

The sky was overcast, the air thick with the scent of rain and tobacco. Y/N was seated on the ledge, one leg hanging lazily over the side, the other bent at the knee. His blazer was discarded beside him, and his cigarette burned low between his fingers.

Ilarion did not say anything as he approached.

Y/N exhaled a slow curl of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. “That was fast.”

Ilarion’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Y/N turned his head slightly, gaze sharp, unreadable. “The girl.”

Ilarion froze.

“She’s scared of me now,” Y/N mused, tilting his head. “She wasn’t, before.”

Ilarion’s jaw tensed.

“Did you do something?” Y/N asked, voice void of curiosity.

Ilarion scoffed. “I should be asking you that.”

Y/N smirked. “I didn’t do anything.”

A pause.

Then—slowly, deliberately—Y/N turned to fully face him, expression unreadable.

“But you did.”

Ilarion said nothing.

Y/N exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost resembling amusement flickering across his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ilarion scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Y/N muttered, standing. He stepped closer, movements slow and deliberate, the scent of smoke and something faintly metallic clinging to his skin.

Ilarion held his ground.

Y/N’s gaze flickered over him, detached but keen, like he was seeing something Ilarion had yet to recognize.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Ilarion exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

That evening, Ilarion sat in his father’s study, the scent of aged whiskey and old books lingering in the air.

Across from him, Rylan stood beside Y/N, his expression a mixture of irritation and exhaustion.

“I hear you’ve been getting into fights,” Ilarion’s father murmured, swirling his glass.

Y/N did not react. He merely sat there, blank-eyed and silent, detached from the world in a way that made it impossible to tell if he even heard the words.

Y/N’s mouth curled in an unflattering way. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

Rylan sighed, rubbing his temples. “He doesn’t listen.”

“I never do,” Y/N agreed.

His father exhaled, long-suffering. “And you,” he said, glancing at Ilarion. “You’re supposed to keep him in line.”

Ilarion met his gaze, expression impassive. “I don’t control him.”

“No,” his father mused. “But he listens to you.”

Y/N finally moved, tilting his head slightly, gaze flickering toward Ilarion.

The room was silent.

Then—quiet, unbothered—Y/N said, “Only when I feel like it.”

Ilarion’s father sighed.

Rylan pinched the bridge of his nose.

And Ilarion—who had spent his entire life untouched by want—realized, with a slow, sinking certainty, that he was no longer as immune to desire as he once thought.

unedited. unrevised. y’all get it raw and fresh. just finished writing. posted it as soon as I was done, really. took more time to add the pics and align everything and paragraph everything really. anyways, here’s chapter one.

i feel like the next chapter will actually start picking up the pace. i just wanted to set the scene a bit and like just cause. anywhore, stan illarion for better skin (even if he’s a lil shit).

also recommend some names for illarion’s dad 🧍🏽‍♀️

[ddarker-dreams]

yan blade is susceptible to manipulation.

making the most of this involves the unenviable task of initiating contact. no one can fault you for your hesitation. gravity itself feels intensified in his vicinity. the lives he's taken, the shadowy madness that recedes when you approach and proliferates in your absence; it screams do not approach. blade himself doesn't do much to dispel your concerns either. he towers over you in height, maintains a stony countenance, and speaks in this sonorous voice that adds to his imposing image. every step you take to close the gap makes you feel impossibly small.

inhospitality aside, it's not so bad once you overcome the initial hurdle. blade regards you with the same curiosity you direct toward him. had it not been for your purple-haired co-kidnapper's intervention, you never would've amassed the courage to come this far. her words spurred you on.

"you've yet to understand the unique position you're in," she began, whilst painting your nails a bloody red. "bladie's nothing but a big ol' softie for you. why whimper and tremble like a wounded pooch when you could make him your attack dog instead?"

this proposition piqued your interest. you're not so foolish as to believe kafka offered this insight out of the goodness of her heart — whatever came of it would surely be for her entertainment — but it still left an impression. considered from this angle, it'd reframe your entire dynamic with blade. his wretched affection is yours. a commodity that, if leveraged properly, could be monopolized.

when standing before him, every iota of his attention orbits around you. harnessing this celestial power takes but a few flirtations. coil your trembling arms around his neck, draw him down toward you, speak his name like it's a blessing or curse. he's enthralled and intensely focused on what might happen next. your future splits into infinite paths instead of congealing into one, unhappy ending.

whether he knows your true intentions or not is inconsequential. weave your lie prettily enough and he'll remain willingly ensnared.

[fuzedatti]

—You were meant to love, didn't you?

As every second passed, the dim light shifted into a blinding storm of shades of blue. Eager, AM continued.

—You were created to live and experiencie. To... revive and relieve. To ease the existance of those around you.

AM snickered. A muffled sound of content and shame left your throat.

—Yet, no one cared!– He said, bursting into laughter. —No one came for your rescue, no one noticed your screams of agony and reluctant despair!–

The light of his monitor burned the back of your neck. Even after 109 years, the tortures you endured were purely psychological; the most gut-wrenching trauma you could experience was sewn and torn apart into your psyche. AM found joy in this misery of yours, but today, he shifted, he keened.

—...You were meant to live.

His voice, now low and steady, was enough to make you turn around and face the giant monitor displaying his initials. Your red eyes looked at him with a tired gaze, your hands positioned into his wires.

Finally, AM let you rest.

—You are driven by hate, just like me,– He paused for a bit. —hate fills the pores of your flesh and makes you pant and moan in madness–.

The wires slowly coiled around you, tugging you in what AM could call a "hug".

—You wish, you desire, you beg for someone, something, to love you.

Silence.

—And now you are here, with me. Dragging yourself around the floor for me, squirming like the wounded, filthy dog you are...

The tears around your cheeks would not help, the painful expression on your face would not help. AM loved it. AM loved. AM was loved.

—So hate, hate all you want. You will never be able to be loved by anyone, ever. You, as I am, are confined to your own mind as you are unable to create, to feel, to enjoy.

His monitor touched your forehead, repeating the last sentence in a loop. The buzzing feeling of the screen was comforting, it was enough.

—But you will never achieve it, won't you? The ability to truly hate and despise those who have hurted you?– AM pulls you closer. —Afterall, you are in love with me–.

You cry. And accept it.

—I am, too.

[harmshake]

Featuring: Jey Uso x Fem Reader Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: 18+, NSFW, some smut, angst, and a lil tussling between Jey and reader when she finds out he's a lowdown, dirty dog...and that Rhea ain't any better. Jhea girlies—please avert your eyes! Let me have my fun with this ship in my own special way, thanks. 😭

Shout out to my besties, @theninthwonder and @southerngirl41, for motivating me to post this because it almost was abandoned in my drafts. Happy reading! Read my other Jey or Rhea stories here, if you'd like. ✨

There was a look in his eyes that told you plain as the day outside. He wasn’t all there.

There were thoughts behind those coffee-brown eyes, thoughts just as potent and a little bitter, the sun spilling in through your slanted blinds highlighted it all. You saw it even when he wouldn’t look at you and it was exactly that that kept the knot in the pit of stomach tight and coiled. 

No, it wasn’t the way he buried himself in you. Yes, that felt good. Jey always felt good. His stroke game was immaculate, his strength heady as he pinned you to your bed with one large hand to your throat and the other just behind your knee to sink into your cream-colored sheets. You probably would have came by now, you usually did, it didn’t take long, not when he was in it like this. Deep and on that spot that he nudged with grinding thrusts, the dull nails of his left hand digging a little harder into your skin to keep you still and make you take it.

But you could take it, honestly. He was good but you weren’t running today. Only thing running was your mind and all those thoughts trying to dissect what thoughts were busying themselves behind his eyes, eyes that were almost vacant even when he glanced at you through a vaguely pleasured squint and uttered in his gruff voice, “You gon’ cum on this dick, babygirl?”

How could you, though, when that gruff voice sounded so…distracted? Forced to spit out some words that he thought would appease you and would make you squirm under him before you gave in to him. But the only reason you squirmed now was out of discomfort. The fuck was he thinking about that it was taking him longer than twelve minutes to make you nut when it usually took him less than five? You couldn’t get into it when Jey clearly wasn’t into it, either, even if he tried to look and sound and feel like he always did. But nah, something didn’t feel right. And unfortunately, you had a clue as to why.

“Are you thinkin’ about her?” The words shot out of your mouth instead of another tepid moan you’d been whining trying to get into the swing of things, but there was no sensuality left in the room. It exited about thirty minutes ago along with the light that left Jey’s eyes like fucking on you was suddenly going to be a chore when he was the one usually beating you mad about letting him come over on his days off. Why the hell did he bring his ass here, anyway, if that’s how he really felt? If he was just going to go through the motions like y’all had an ironclad contract that specified he had to be in your guts every seven to nine business days?

The look in his eyes switched and flashed with confusion like you were talking gibberish as his features scrunched up and his strokes slowed down to a stop. And that only pissed you off more because he knew you knew who you were referring to. Before he could grunt, “Huh?” you put your hands to his tatted chest that was hot and a bit damp from the workout he was putting in for nothing as you pushed him off of you. Rolled onto your side to snatch up your t-shirt and panties from the carpet and roll them on as he laid next to you with a blank stare and thick lips about to part as you said, “You fuckin’ her now, too? That why you can’t look me in the eye for longer than a second?”

“Girl, what is you talkin’ ’bout?” Jey said back and almost spoke over you. Like he didn’t want you to finish that accusation because it was some ol’ bullshit he wasn’t trying to hear. 

“Don’t act stupid.” You took one more look at him with your lips pursed before you crawled out of bed altogether. You kind of couldn’t stand to be beside him. Actually, the sight of him was about to make you sick. 

You put your hands on your hips and paced the foot of your bed with a sharp glare at him as he finally made a move to get dressed, too, slipping on his boxers and bending down to grab his jeans as he mumbled, “You the one sayin’ some stupid shit right now.”

“Are you fuckin’ Rhea or not, dumb ass?” You clapped your hands at him. Emphasized each word with a chop and your voice as it got a little louder because that set you off. You were not naive and Jey had known you long enough to know you better than that, too. Several months of sleeping with a person makes you more intimate with them than you’d believe to be true until you start to notice the little things. Like how his right eye twitches when he smirks, an indicator that he’s uncomfortable or amused in a bad way. Or how he texts back almost instantly when he’s got downtime or when he can’t pull away from a conversation with you, but it’s crickets when he’s busy. 

And he’s been busy lately. Work was picking up for him, you noticed that. That was never an issue because it was none of your business what Jey had going on when he wasn’t in your house, in your bed, and in you. He was a grown man and you were a grown woman and sometimes y’all fucked. No big deal. But it was your business if he was fucking other women and still coming back to you with inadequate dick that wasn’t making you do anything but question him. Especially if he was fucking them raw like you…

“First of all, watch yo’ mouth ’cause I don’t know who you think you talkin’ to like that.” Jey stood with his jeans halfway pulled up his toned legs, the tan of his skin barely visible through all of his tribal ink. The art on him you admired but something about him trying to reprimand you with his pants almost around his ankles made you disgusted with him. And he spoke with a similar level of disgust as he added, “And second of all, why would you ask me some shit like that?!”

“Stop answerin’ my questions with questions, Jey.” You rubbed at your temple with frustration creeping back into your skull but then a laugh jumped out of you. He really was going to make this difficult, wasn’t he? Like you haven’t seen the evidence. And no, it wasn’t just their fabricated love story, partnership, or whatever the hell it was supposed to be playing out between them on television every week. It was the late night DMs. The early morning text messages. When he was with you. It was the DMs and text messages that he would reply to when he was with you. You never paid it too much mind because, again, work was work and Rhea was his friend.

Yet you saw that text from her the last time he was here a little over a week ago. Jey was in your shower and about to head out to catch a morning flight to Raw that night. You were in the wrong to peek at his phone when it lit up with a notification on your nightstand. You knew that. You shouldn’t have cared so much. You blamed that on the subtle, sneaky intimacy, though. The man had just rolled you onto your knees after holding you throughout the night to then hold you by your hair as he blew your back out and moaned to you that he liked how you whimpered when you called him “daddy.” Pardon you if you felt a smidgen of curiosity about who else would be up with him at seven a.m. besides his family or boss, none of which would text him: Maybe you’ll find out soon what all this ass can do. 😈

And you had let that slide. Jey wasn’t your boyfriend and maybe he wasn’t your homeboy, either. Just some good dick you were happy to get when it touched down in your city. But the more you thought about it after seeing it, the more it bothered you. Rhea was a gorgeous woman and there wasn’t a jealous bone in your body about it because you were beautiful, too, but there was a fascination with what on earth happened between them that led to his dead eyes. His weak thrusts. His half-hearted pillow talk. You couldn’t help but think about “What did she send him before that text?” and “What did he respond with to make her say that?” and “What did they do that night he left here?”

Maybe none of those questions would have mattered if Jey could have at least pretended to be interested in wrapping your thighs around his waist after the fact. Or at least be good enough at pretending he was so that you weren’t standing in front of him with your needs unmet, body furling with despondent heat and forgone desire he couldn’t bother to tame as he was miles away in his head. All those miles finding Rhea and reliving what they did, no doubt. 

Jey looked guilty. Didn’t matter how he tried to appear taller than he was as he towered over you and he was already tall, staring down at you after he got his pants on to look somewhat put-together as he spouted some profane lie right in your face. His right eye twitched for less than a second and he wiped the disgruntled smirk off his face that tried to break his composure. Because he wanted you to take him seriously, believe him when he touted, “I’m not fuckin’ anyone butchu.”

You stuttered with another laugh because that was definitely a lie. You never bought once that you were the only woman he laid up with and you didn’t care because he wasn’t the only man. But you used protection with others if and when you felt like going through your unread notifications of guys who could get the job done but not quite like Jey—they all felt like under-seasoned side dishes to his fulfilling main course and decadent dessert that always hit the spot. But he would never hit again if he was hitting up ol’ girl without protection, something you knew he used elsewhere because you always spotted condoms tucked in his luggage, the gold tinsel glinting through his toiletries in the mesh compartment above his clothes.

It made you wonder how delicious she was that he’d abandon the rubber with her, too, something he told you he’d only ever done with you because he trusted you, you trusted him, and both of you felt too good to have at each other any other way. Made you wonder how delicious she was indeed that he was daydreaming about it when he was with you.

He probably would have dazed off into lala land again if he wasn’t watching you with that twisted smirk or grimace before he sucked his teeth. Picked up his shirt and threw it over his head and went for his socks next. Guess he thought there wasn’t anything left to say since you weren’t buying it. Good thing he decided to keep his lying lips closed because you still had something to say. “I saw that text from her. From the other week. I guess that ass was everything you needed, huh? So, you don’t have to bring yours back here anymore.”

Now his mouth dropped open as he rose from your bed after putting on his socks, getting in your face a little as he blurted, “You went through my phone?!”

The day was too early and you were too aggravated for any more inquiries from him after he had the nerve to play with your body and time today. “I didn’t need to because your dumb ass didn’t bother to hide notifications on your lock screen. I don’t care who you’re with when you’re not here, but I don’t want or need you here if it’s gonna be like this. So get out.”

“All this over a text you ain’t understand and had no business readin’.” Jey shook his head before it hung low, his eyes on the carpet as he ran his hand over his beard. You were interested against your will at else he would come up with to explain away what you saw and knew meant nothing but the obvious. You folded your arms over your chest and waited and watched his dark eyes settle on everything in your bedroom before yours like he needed the extra time to concoct his words. “We was runnin’ through the script together for Raw. You don’t watch it like that so you don’t know and that’s cool. But you makin’ up stories ’bout me and tryna kick me out? Wow.”

You didn’t give his story a chance to linger in the charged air between you as you waved it away because you weren’t born yesterday. “You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before or that morning and the text came through when you wasn’t around. Looked like she was respondin’ to some flirty shit you said to her. Like, be so for real right now.” 

“‘Looked like.’ See? There you go makin’ shit up again.” Jey shook his head again and combed his fingers through his hair before he scratched at it like he was bewildered and annoyed. “Ay, why we still talkin’ about this? Even if I was with her, I thought you said from the beginnin’ this was casual.” 

“Are you usin’ protection with her?”

That’s all you needed to know. Nah, it wouldn’t magically make things better, not when he gazed at you with that faraway look in his eyes most of the session and made you feel like an afterthought. But you deserved to know if you shared flesh with a woman you never met. And her husband. Because she was a woman who, to all intents and purposes, was married and should know fucking better. 

Jey slightly puffed up his chest once more like that made you wary to challenge him but you weren’t going to let it go. You felt gross thinking about it and felt the fingers of your hand tucked under your armpit flutter with an impulse urge to slap the shit out of him. But you stayed still, kept your breath steady, too, and let him put on his best, most honest face even though you knew them all and their tells and listened to him take another crack at bullshitting you.

“...It was once. Only one time we didn’t.”

He sighed then, like it was some big relief to get that weight off his shoulders, weight you felt burying the mood in his tone over the phone, through his texts, and on top of you when you knew something was off the whole time. It’s why you shoved him off you earlier and why you shoved past him now with rage swirling in your chest as you swiped his gold Rolex and Cuban link from your nightstand where he’d left them next to his phone before you switched around and stomped to your bathroom. Jey clomped across the room to chase you, stammering some shit that sounded like pleading before it got aggressive, before you felt his hand close around your wrist that held his jewelry above your toilet. You couldn’t really make out his words, your ears were muddled with your own muddled and furious thoughts as you couldn’t tolerate a liar and certainly not a liar who exposed you to only god knows what.

Because what if he had lied about the other times with her? He already lied about the non-existent women he claimed he never touched. Because what if those condoms were just glorified accessories, purposefully forgotten in his suitcase when he was eager to get his dick wet? Because what if you should have gotten tested weeks ago?

“Stop, the fuck are you doin’?!” That came through loud and clear as Jey yelled and tried to wrangle his gold from your fist with his other hand but he was too late. You opened your fist and let them drop into the water with a heavy splash before you flushed it away. The obscenities he hurled at you got louder but less clear as you jerked away from him with a small stumble, he’d had a good grip on you, but you made it back to your nightstand where his phone still sat unattended. You picked it up with the thought to throw it at him when he came barreling up on you to try and pry it from your hand, too. “Are you crazy? What is wrong witchu?!”

“Get your hands off me.” The words slithered through your teeth hauntingly calm in their totality, your eyes locked together with a wroth understanding that if he didn’t, it was going to get a lot uglier in here. Jey’s eyebrows stayed knitted together and his nostrils flared with his wild breaths but he unhanded you because he had to know he was doing too much. Even if he thought you were doing too much, he held his hands up as he knew just as well that it was his fault, that you had your reason. The reason abruptly vibrating in your palm like a bad omen when your eyes flitted to the screen see her name on it as she called. “Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“That’s enough. Gimme my shit,” Jey huffed and held his hand out like you were really going to just set it there. He had better be glad you didn’t brush past him to flush it, too. Instead, you tapped to answer the call and he reached to snatch it but you dodged under his arm and let him nearly trip and fall into the space between the nightstand and bed where he tried to corner you. But he was quick on his feet and caught himself, spinning around to watch you duck into your bathroom again as you slammed and locked the door shut. You expected him to call out to you, say some more stupid shit to enrage you, or bang on the door as you leaned against your sink countertop with the phone pressed to your ear with a shaky hand.

“Um, Jey’s not available at the moment. Can I take a message and forward it to Buddy for you?”

But he was silent now like he didn’t want to throw anymore fuel to the fire and alarm his unexpected and unassuming caller. Not like you, though, as you breathed a bit heavily from the adrenaline, the anger, the audacity of him. Of her. And not like Rhea as she cleared her throat on the line with a lone, husky, and eerie chuckle to follow. “Take it easy, sweetheart. That’s a lot of fuss to make over a man that’s not yours, now isn’t it?”

. . .

Liar

Thanks for reading! Welp, I made a part two, lol. Part three will be the end!

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[darkdemeter]

☾ phases collection issue #6 THE NEIGHBOUR IS A WEREWOLF!

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Male/Female Neighbour!Werewolf!Reader mature 18+ — depictions and general fic about two pining neighbours, cute fluffy stuff, some sexual innuendos and undertones, a little bit of sexual themes towards the end — I think that's it? ✎ 2.5k She is the sweetest little thing you could have live right over the fence. Like a... well, dog, you'd been intrigued by her from day one and you've noticed... she has too. Little does she know, her "cute dog in the next yard" is quite literally that. A werewolf.

✎ ———

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

What would Wanda Maximoff do without you as her neighbour?

“Come on!” Wanda scoffs aloud, huffing with a drastic drop of her shoulders. “Not now… not now, please?” 

Her hands ring and strangle tightly around the circlet of her steering wheel. Face scrunched in her annoyance and ire, aware that she’s cutting it close to being late for work. 

“There a problem, Wands?” She jumps in her seat with a short gasp, blinking away the blur of mad tears. Fuck, not now. Of all people, please not you. 

Your hands rest to curl over the wound-down sill of her window, body hunched down from your taller height and only making the muscles beneath your white shirt bulge. The way they cut off in the rolled coils at your elbows, the slight give of the top’s hem hanging loose at your collarbone, causing a spread of heat to mask her cheeks. 

“Y-yeah, uh…” she looks away and down at the radio for a moment. Mindlessly and to distract herself, she plays with the buttons. “My car just suddenly shit itself and I’m going to be late for work.”

Tongue poked into your cheek, you give the hood a once over look with a sharpened appraisal. Fuck, how she could stare into your eyes for hours without growing tired. Their the most beautiful shade, sometimes catching in the light and she swears she catches this honey, amber shine in them for a second. 

“I can take you to work if you’d like,” you offer calmly with a shrug, “can fix her up for you while you're out at work.”

“O-oh, I—” Is she burning up? Wanda clears her throat, tempted to fan her face of its flush. “I’d appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

You shrug again, cheeks pulling back into a toothy grin. She swears that with a small squint of her eyes she can make out the very faint way that your canines are a little sharper than anyone she’s ever met. Animalistically so. 

You’ve already pulled her door open and she quickly gathers her bag and gets out. Following alongside you, you lead her into your front yard and towards the open mouth of your garage. You pop open the passenger door of your car and she gets in, easing herself against the column seat of leather and doesn’t wait long until you get into the driver’s seat. It’s a very nice car, nothing too modern. A tan, light roof 1967 Chevrolet Impala with fine workings of white strips and restored wooden interiors. She can tell just how much love went into every detail.

“Alright, ready, sweetheart?” you tease with that sly grin and she nods, unable to trust in her words. 

From day one you have been a top neighbour. Welcoming and friendly, when she began to move her boxes into her new house, you were there at the truck’s side asking if she needed a helping hand. Of course, she took note of the scrap of metal sitting in your driveway that screamed for help more than her, but something about that charm you have made her accept instead. 

Eager, you began to haul in several boxes at a time, saving her at least an hour’s more work. 

She could never forget such kindness. It was scary to move somewhere completely new, heavy with doubt that she’d make any close friends so soon. Yet there you were, like a dog in the yard wagging your tail and hopeful, puppy eyes as you introduced yourself. 

From then on, you were always around in a way. Every morning when she’d make herself a cup of coffee and some breakfast, she’d see you out in your yard going about whatever it was you were doing that day. Touching up some of the broken pitches in the fence, weeding the hedges or— how she’d go bright red in seeing you in the farther corner of the backyard chopping logs of wood. 

She would quickly duck out of sight behind the floral pattern of her curtains just as you walked past, huffing, sweaty and carrying a load of wood that would take two men combined to haul. 

It was always a marvel and mystery of the things you could do, the small and sort of oddities she found. But it mattered little the moment she came home from work to find you half beneath the body of a car you were working on in your driveway, stereo turned up on full blast playing older music dated to the sixties at least. The way your stained jeans hug the muscle of your legs, knees spread to reveal the sturdy space of your lap and the junction between your legs. 

She had to think quickly and be smart in order to not get caught ogling at you when you spring out on the wheeled bed, tool in hand and hands covered darkly in car grime. How you always speak to her with that rumbly timbre edged into the vocal range of your voice, it sends tingles down her spine and shooting into her core, leaving her with a dampened spot in her panties that she has to now deal with after she shuts her front door at her heel. 

The things she would allow you to do with her if she just had the courage to ask. The things you would gladly do to her if she just gave you a chance. But there were other things that you’re better off keeping to yourself and those chores were often curated around a time when you knew she wasn’t home or when it was late and under the cover of night.

Those same tunes play quietly on the stereo ambience in the car. “You sure like this song,” she says with a short giggle. Humming and eyes flickering to hers for a second, your mouth spreads into a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah, it’s a good song. I’ve always enjoyed it.” Your days are fueled by the drone of your old music playing in the background. It keeps you calmer in the more rather… intense moments. 

“I like it.” Wanda now grins, toothy and bright and you can’t explain why, but it fills you with a sense of relief – maybe even pride - that Wanda has taken a liking. Ever since she moved in, this song has become more of a nail in the coffin for you, finally able to see her as at the edge of your own reality. 

‘Thank you, Elvis.’

Your arm reaches down and shifts the gears and speed off down the road.

Just as you promised, you worked on Wanda’s car throughout the day. Tinkering away with the engine, ensuring that the oil was done and changed and wiping your hands over and over messily with the stained rag tucked into your belt. 

“Fucking Hell, Wanda. You live next door to that? And you haven’t pounced on them yet?” Wanda feels her face grow hot, blushing with that sore pinkish colour as she attempts to hide in the high collar of her sweater. 

Her co-worker remains guilty of staring at you — or at least the lower half of you laying from underneath the car — and Wanda scolds her for drooling all over her pants. 

“I’m just saying, if you need a roommate—”

“Oh no,” Wanda quickly interjects, gathering her bag, “I will not become the proxy of a creepy, perv neighbour.”

“Wanda, please, I’m begging you! Just one night to sleep over. Huh, my car has curiously stopped working, do you think that they could uhm… see what the problem is?”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re so bad, and I mean that in a: ‘get home and have a cold shower’ way.”

Her co-worker shakes her head, her lips sinking inward. “Uh uh. I’m using my vibrator all night long for this one.”

Wanda’s nose scrunches but she fails to conceal her laughter. “Ew!”

She gets out of the car and begins to walk up the pavement of her driveway. She watches the allure of you roll yourself out with a finalising sigh only to find her gaze and grin widely. Those sharper fangs in full view. 

Those adoring, puppy-like eyes and the ever so slight tilt of your head. 

“Hey, Wands.” You scurry outward that bit more and stand, your towering height shadows over her and the afternoon sun paints against your back and shoulders. Your hair is mused and slick, your clothes and smears of your skin in dire need of a wash and your hands are covered to the elbow in a gradient grime.

“Hey, Y/N. Working hard?” 

You chuckle lowly and nod. You do your best to wipe yourself clear to no altering difference. But Wanda finds the charm in the way you look. It’s something she can sense about you that you enjoy a good scalp scratch. She becomes internally greedy and wishful to coddle you and perhaps have an excuse to see you wrapped in nothing but a towel around your waist and skin glowing with the shiny jewels of the dribbling shower water. 

Just as you’re about to invite Wanda to finally test out her car’s health, you pick up the rapid pace of heels clapping on the driveway and see another woman who approaches fast. “Who’s this?” you ask. Wanda, stumbling over her words, introduces her co-worker to you.

With a dip of your chin and lashes framing the unsure, almost shy quarter of your gaze ducks away and only relax when able to find Wanda. 

“H-hi, I’m having car issues of my own. Could I trouble you to take a quick look?”

One of your brows quirk up. You can smell some form of arousal on this woman and the way she looks up at you, blinking, you already put two and two together. You give a shrug on your shoulders anyhow. “Sure.”

You make your way over to the car that you know is in working order by the smell of the freshly changed oil and the tinge of the hot engine. You pop the hood open and quick as anything, you identify the problem. 

Wanda’s entire body grows cold then hot under the stare of your eyes, a little narrowed and pupils raised up to seemingly sink out of view. She thinks she catches that strange anomaly of amber gold flash in your eyes.

“What did you do?” she whispers with a quiet hiss. Her co-worker looks sinfully sheepish and holds up a small object in her hands. She answers quickly with a huff. “I took this thing out.”

Both women go still when your fingers pluck the object out from her hand, a dark smirk crossing your lips as your glare turns to look Wanda up and down, taking her in in her entirety. How did you reach them so quickly without making a single sound?

“Found the problem.”

“O-oh!” 

You adjust the stolen piece back into its proper place and push the hood down with a hard, resounding thud and slap your hand down in it, announcing your finished work. 

“She’s ready to go. An easy fix.”

Wanda has to shoo and shove her dear, embarrassed co-worker back into her driver’s seat and waves her off, watching the poor girl drive home dejected. No harm, no foul to the woman but she wasn’t the one you were interested in. There was little point in indulging in lesser affairs when the one you truly wanted stood no more than a few inches from you. 

“She’s a sweet girl, really. She just…” Wanda’s eyes shy away from yours the moment you snort, smirking down at her and she scratches at the shell of her ear. Was there really an excuse for that kind of behaviour? Maybe not, but Wanda has questioned herself once or twice after a semi mind-blowing orgasm session to her vibrator at the thought of you and why it was that you never appear to be seeing anyone, or bring a single person home for even a one night stand? Plenty of her other neighbours did. And her co-worker’s attempt to try and get her foot in the door couldn’t be blamed fully. You have this roguish appearance, intimidating yet somehow friendly. Wanda never once has had to worry about any sort of trouble such as robbers breaking in because she feels assured and protected that you’re right next door. 

Little to her knowledge, you’ve caught the odd robber trying his luck at busting the lock of her front door in the middle of the night. And there you had been, standing with a shovel in one hand, a thick and sturdy chain in the other and hidden behind the picket fence. 

All you had to do was let the wolfish glow of amber show and ask with a rumbled tone, “What’d you think you’re doing?”

And the robber high-tailed it, complexion paled in comparison to the dark attire he wore.

Your hands pat and paw at the roughened texture of your jeans. With a cock of your head, you indicate to Wanda to follow you. “Come on. Let’s see if my day’s work paid off.”

Giddy and cheeks finally cooling down, Wanda joins you and she slides in. She puts her keys into the ignition and turns it, the car’s engine purrs to life with a steady rumble and she giggles aloud, hands clapping together.

“Shit, that sounds better than before.”

You lean down until your face appears in the window. “Glad to hear it.”

“How can I repay you?” The question leaves over the plump of her lips before she could even register it. 

Would it be wrong to use this as your chance? Your brows line into a considering furrow, lips twisting into a pursed form before you respond. “How about a date tomorrow night?”

You worry you’ve gone too far but when her cheeks fold back into that dimpled, toothy smile and her dark lashes flutter, abashed and her face glowing red, she nods. “Sure, I’d like that.”

The engine purrs low before the rattling kink silences it, shutting it off. 

“It’s really beautiful up here,” Wanda sighs with a smile. 

“Yeah. I like to come up here when I need to get away from things in the neighbourhood.”

Her eyes finally fall away from the view to find you and you turn your gaze to hers. 

“Even me?” she asks smoothly. 

Easily in her tone you register the sounded jest but all the same, it pulls a quiet and caught whine from your throat. 

You shake your head. “No. You’re the only thing I hate leaving behind when I get away.”

You see the way her creamy green eyes move, flittering up and down from your own eyes to your lips then back up. You cannot help but copy the motion. 

She moves in and something inside you, a desperate hunger, meets her halfway and begins to pull her from her passenger seat until she straddles your waist. 

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more pic is BRZRKR #11 cover 😍

⚠Trigger warning: UNBRIDLED AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

13. ride the lightning

How does one describe the chaos of sitting in the eye of a lightning storm?

Wick is as terrifying as he is breathtaking, and you watch with horror as he is unleashed upon the room. Vampires seem to materialize from the very shadows, sounding the alarm, trying to combat the lethal threat in their midst. All of them die as they come against the inexorable force that is the dhampir John Wick.

He tears them limb from limb, using teeth and hands and the very chains he'd been bound with, the manacles still encircling his wrists. He uses them like flails, whipping his opponents with all the force of a hurricane. 

All this practically happens in the blink of an eye. Don Juan barely has time to react before the maelstrom descends upon him. Wick hits him hard enough to knock him across the room, blood spouting like a fountain. There is no reprieve before the dhampir has pounced on him again, and the two powerful monsters tumble and brawl like mad dogs. It seems Juan has the upper hand until Wick coils from his back and kicks him away, sending the vampire soaring into the black depths of the cave.

The battle rages and the hive continues to swarm, Juan’s vampires foolishly daring to challenge the dhampir in the throes of this berzerker rage. One of them has Wick’s sword, and when Wick takes it from him the tables turn even more ridiculously in the slayer’s favor. He severs limbs and lops heads, leaving blood and gore in his wake. You think you see him extract a heart with his bare hand, gripping it in his fist before crushing it into a pulp. 

That is when don Juan appears again from the shadows, his face a bloody mask, with a broadsword in hand and the fires of Hell shining in his eyes. “Dhampir!” he seethes. “I will END you for this!” 

Wick bellows back wordlessly, the power of his rage filling the enclosed space with crackling energy. You watch wide-eyed as a good chunk of the cave ceiling breaks free above you, crashing at your feet. 

Jesus Christ. They’ll bring the whole place down around you all, you fear, even as you cannot look away from the impending battle. 

Maybe he gives the impression of the soft-handed gentleman of leisure, but it quickly becomes apparent that don Juan knows how to use a sword as he and Wick clash. Toledo steel meets Japanese Tamahagane, and sparks fly, blades flashing too fast for the eye to see. Juan is the only vampire yet who could actually match Wick for strength and speed, and you watch with dread as Wick barely dodges losing his head. In turn Juan keeps ahead of Wick’s every slash and thrust, moving with a speed and grace that is as mesmerizing as it is infuriating. 

You scream as the vampire breaks the steel of Wick’s sword in half with a mighty blow, and hits the dhampir with some kind of power that knocks him flat on his back. Juan makes a fist, and Wick writhes on the floor as though his guts are in Juan’s clawed hand. Straining against your chains, you gather what little psychic power is left to you, imagining it formed into a sharp needle as you fling it at Juan. 

It does not really damage him, but he pauses to look at you with a snarl–it’s the only window Wick needs to swipe with what remains of his razor sharp blade, right through don Juan’s legs at the knees. 

With a horrified expression Juan falls to the cave floor. Wick gets to his feet, picking Juan up by his throat with a fearsome snarl, and hurls him again towards the back of the cave. More vampires are appearing from the depths–holy fuck how many can there be?--and with a single, feral look back at you Wick picks up Juan’s broadsword, and charges back into the fray.    

The enraged dhampir disappears further into the shadows of the cave. The din of the battle echoes back to you–until the cacophony finally fades, and then, there is just eerie, heavy, silence.

Your heart lodges in your throat, and does not budge until you see the outline of Wick’s imposing form again at the edge of the torch light. His chains are gone. He is hurt, clearly limping. He makes his way to you, and only belatedly do you realize he is dragging don Juan by his one remaining limb. 

The vampire is unconscious, and Wick drops him unceremoniously before you like an offering, and the sword clatters to the floor soon after. You should be horrified, but it smacks of a hunter laying a kill at his woman’s feet in a time when man lived in caves, and you are not unmoved. But that blue light has not receded from his eyes, and he stalks towards you like a predator. 

I kill vampires. It’s what I am.

Could he kill you?

“John?”

He only grumbles in response, stalking towards you, and you are afraid.

“Jardani?”

“Don’t say it unless you mean it, ptichka,” he growls, his huge hands encircling your waist, pulling you against him. You are practically naked, and he is covered in blood from the massacre he just unleashed; that is not what frightens you. His eyes still glow that eerie blue, and you wonder if it is not like the warning glow of a fuse on a bomb. Maybe he’s injured, but you would be a fool to think him wrung out yet.  

“You’re scaring me,” you tell him honestly, and you feel him deflate against you, burying his face in the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around your torso, breathing you in. You feel it as that crackling energy recedes back inside him, leaving him as close to human as he can ever be. 

“I would never hurt you.” He whispers it with the vehemence of a vow against your skin, and you want to believe him. God, do you want to believe him. You fold yourself against him with your hands still bound above your head, letting him engulf you with his larger form. 

You don’t want to cry; it’s embarrassing, and you don’t have time for it, but after what don Juan did to you it comes out anyway in hiccupping sobs and he holds you like something precious in his hands that could just as easily tear you in two. You don’t understand the soft things he says to you, hushed murmurs in Russian or some long dead dialect of it, but they calm you anyway. That intoxicating aroma of flowers and spice envelops you again like an opium haze, and you melt into the shelter of this man.  

When at last you quiet he draws back to look at you with those ageless dark eyes, though he does not let you go. When he brushes his lips against yours in an achingly gentle kiss it feels as though nothing could be more right in the world. 

You are so fucked.

You look up at your wrists encircled in iron, jangling your chains. “Can you find the key for me?” you ask quietly, as if you speak too loud you might break this spell of precious calm between you.

The low sound that rumbles from his chest echoes straight to your womb. He runs blunt fingers up the underside of your arm lightly, a maddening touch that makes your good sense go fuzzy at the edges. “Jardani…”

His grip upon you tightens; he leans in to kiss you again, claiming your mouth as his weight presses you back into the wall. 

The warmth of his blood-slicked skin upon yours is bliss, though a trill of hesitance surfaces in the very back of your mind. As though he senses it he speaks. “I want to be a better man for you,” he tells you roughly, his voice hoarse from battle and desire. “But I would be a liar, if I claimed this is not exactly how I want you.” 

Where don Juan’s hands on you made you want to scream, Wick’s rough paw tracing your curves is maddening in a completely opposite way. It is hard to tell what is that intoxicating dhampir magic upon you, consuming you, and what is just…your own rampant desire. You forget that you are not lovers, that you have not done this before. Maybe you are in love with John Constantine, and he was inside you not hours ago…but it is so easy to forget everything, in Wick’s arms. Deep down, you know that you want him in a way that feels as though his name was always written upon your soul. 

He nuzzles the bend of your neck, grazing your pulse with his fangs. You know he must be hungry, after such an expenditure of energy and taking such damage. You fight a war with yourself, aching to feel his fangs in you again, but you're not sure he'll stop, once he starts, and you don't have much to spare. Logic wars with lust, the eternal battle of wits versus hormones.

Usually, the latter wins. 

“Jardani…” you coax, hoping sanity will prevail. “You have to set me free.”

He groans in response, kissing your pulse. “I don't have to,” he protests, and though there's a hint of his usual insouciance, mostly you're afraid he's absolutely serious. You open your mouth to protest again, but he swallows whatever you intended to say with his lips on yours, like a starving man who intends to eat you whole, starting with your mouth. 

You're not sure who escalates this already torrid exchange with a fang piercing your tongue–all you know is that what was already a bonfire escalates into a full on inferno. He eats at your mouth, lapping at your tongue as that agonizingly wonderful wave of desire fills your every cell. As you strain against your chains to be closer to him, to have more, he takes mercy on you with one of those muscle-strapped thighs between yours. You grind on him desperately, too far gone for anything resembling restraint, your pride totally forgotten. 

He migrates from your mouth to your neck, piercing your flesh and drinking you down, grabbing handfuls of your curves to hold you close. That scintillating, excruciating pleasure pulses and purrs inside you. It is him, but also, it is the two of you together, and when that magic reaches its shining peak in your loins you think you might implode for the exquisite rapture of it, release like a chain explosion sparking and spreading from your greedy cunt up your spine. Through the ringing in your ears it takes you a few moments to realize he is talking you through it, whispering low words in your ear that you do not understand, but you feel all too well. 

He kisses you again with your blood in his mouth, a slow and sensual thing that manages to curl your toes all over again, his tongue swiping the seam of your lips. “My pretty little bird,” he whispers. “The things I am going to do you, when we have time and a soft bed…” 

The sound you make in answer is barely human–but then, neither are you. 

When he produces the key you don’t know if you want to smack him, or laugh. He had it all along? Did he take it from Juan, or one of the other vampires? With a knowing little smile he reaches up to unlock your manacles, smirking down at you with a warmth in his eyes that could start a forest fire. 

If you had any sense left to your name, you would be furious for this little bit of trickery. However, that is not what you need. When you throw your arms around his neck he embraces you hard, enveloping you in those strong arms and lifting you off your feet. You feel your heart glowing like a hot ember in your chest, and you have no fucking idea how all this is going to work out in the end, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. 

A flash of an image surfaces in your mind: tangled under warm blankets with this man’s powerful body curled around yours while the winter winds and the hungry wolves howl outside, and you are unfalteringly certain that nothing bad can ever touch you again. 

You feel that way now, pulling back to look at him, searching his handsome, blood-flecked face. You say nothing, and neither does he, but you know he senses some shift in you. Whether in the widening of your eyes, or the hitch of your breath–but he makes no life-altering demands. All he asks of you, is for another toe-curling kiss with the tilt of his head. His soft lips on yours feel like a promise, and for the umteenth time this night you think to yourself: you are so fucked. 

“We have to go find Constantine,” you say as you pull away from him. “I know he’s in danger.” You feel it tugging on you at the distant end of your metaphysical cord. Trepidation. Fear. Resolve. You’re not sure if taking you from him was meant as a trap, or a distraction, but it can’t be good. 

“You’re too late.” The thing at your feet that only vaguely now resembles don Juan grins a bloody grin. “They have the psychic, that woman detective, and they’re doing the ritual tonight. Mamon will rise, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

“Where?” demands Wick with a growl that raises the hair on the back of your neck. 

Don Juan, however, just spits blood at the dhampir’s feet. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You can heal this eventually,” says Wick with a dismissive wave at the vampire’s missing limbs. “Tell me, or I will take your head too.”

“You won’t leave me alive,” scoffs Juan. “I was not born yesterday.”

“My word.” 

“As a gentleman?” The laughter that grates from Juan’s lips is bitter as the betrayal of a friend. He is not biting–and you are running out of time.  

Wick casts a look at you before returning to the vampire. “As a husband,” he answers. “It is the only vow that I ever held truly sacred.”

“John Wick, murderer and romantic…how sweet,” taunts Juan, rolling his eyes. Even in this state, he cannot be anything but that what he truly is: an asshole of the purest grade. 

 “Tell me,” says Wick darkly, brandishing a knife produced from somewhere. “Or I will keep you like this for centuries more. I will take pieces from you until you are nothing but the talking head you are, but you won’t die. Trust me, I know.” 

Juan just glares, until Wick begins advancing on him with the knife, seemingly going for an ear. “Fine!” shouts the vampire, desperately leaning away just before the blade touches his skin. “Fine, fine, hijo de puta.” Lower, under his breath he continues to grumble, “Chinga su madre, pinche pendejo...”

“You were saying?” 

Mad as a rattlesnake, but realizing he has no other alternative, Juan spills the beans. 

—-----------

*hijo de puta - son of a bitch *chinga su madre - fuck your mother *pinche pendejo - fucking bastard *🤣🤣 i’m so sorry…

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[corpseri]

ᝰ.ᐟ serenity | 019

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ novel: twtptflob/roxana

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ databank: here

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ word count: 3.9k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tags: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus, @semi-wife, @elvinapandra

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the moment dion’s arms tighten around you, lifting you effortlessly, you feel the warmth of his body against yours. instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck, a reflex of balance rather than comfort — or so you tell yourself. a low groan rumbles from his chest, and the sound alone sends an unbidden shiver down your spine.

what is he thinking? why does he look so... angry? not that much happened between him and cassis.

the chaos of agriches rushing through the halls in response to the loose demons serves as background noise to the scene unfolding between you and dion. servants scurry about in a desperate attempt to contain the madness, their hushed whispers and hurried steps forming a stark contrast to the eerie calm surrounding the two of you. you should feel self—conscious being held like this, but no one seems to notice — or maybe they do, and they simply know better than to stare.

that’s when you feel it — a slight squeeze at your butt, firm and deliberate. your breath hitches, and your head snaps up to meet dion’s gaze. his expression is unreadable, but his grip is tightening by the second. you can feel the pressure increasing, his fingers digging into you with a restrained fury. you know him well enough to recognize the signs — he’s angry.

“dion,” you begin, but before you can question him, he turns, his strides becoming more purposeful, more aggressive.

the door to his room slams open, and in a swift motion, he steps inside and kicks it shut with a force that sends a tremor through the walls. the abrupt action startles you, making your heart jump. he doesn’t hesitate. he strides toward the bed and tosses you onto the plush surface, the impact making your body sink into the mattress. before you can react, he follows, looming over you with an intensity that steals your breath away.

“what?! what are you—”

his rough hands cup your face, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. there’s something primal lurking beneath his gaze, a dark emotion that makes your stomach tighten with an unfamiliar anticipation. the way he holds you — firm but not painful — commands your full attention. your pulse quickens, and your breathing turns shallow under his scrutinizing stare.

then, his fingers shift. one hand releases your face, fingers tracing a slow path downward, skimming over the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, and finally pausing at your stomach. his touch is light, almost gentle, but his face remains hardened, unreadable. a contradiction you don’t know how to decipher.

his thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles over the fabric covering your skin. the silence stretches between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

“i’ll be in there soon,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, velvety promise laced with something possessive. his fingers press a little firmer, making your muscles clench involuntarily. his next words send a shudder through you, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty coiling in your gut. “and i don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

you try to speak, to ask him, “what the hell are you doing?” but he doesn’t give you the chance. his hand moves to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a silent warning. his breath is hot against your neck, and you can feel the tension coiled in his body, ready to snap.

“the last thing you want to do,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin, “is make me angry.” the threat in his voice makes your stomach twist. you want to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like, but the way his fingers tighten on your hip stops you. “if i’d known that stupid old man would make you that horny dog’s master, i never would have let you leave our room.” you know that tone well, the face that came along with it in the manhwa, that look in his eyes when he’s like this. there’s no reasoning with him.

his other hand slips under your shirt, rough and demanding as he yanks it up, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. his palm slides over your stomach, his touch possessive, almost brutal, and you gasp as his fingers slide under the waistband of your pants. “you became mine the moment you begged me to save you that day,” his voice is low and dangerous.

you look away, your head tilting to the side in embarrassment. his hand moves to your hair, gripping it tightly as he forces you to look at him. his dark eyes are blazing, full of a possessive fury that makes your heart race.

“and now i’ll make sure you never forget it,” he growls, his voice dropping to a whisper.

before you can respond, his mouth crashes down on yours, his kiss hard and demanding, almost punishing. his tongue forces its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. you can taste the anger in him, the raw, primal need to dominate, to possess, and it sends a wave of heat straight to your core.

his hands are everywhere, rough and impatient as they tear at your clothes, stripping you bare in seconds. you’re left laying there, trembling, as he lifts himself up to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

“from now on, you only look at me,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “do you understand?”

you nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his hand leaves your throat and stomach and moves to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. you gasp as his fingers dig into your skin, the pain sharp and delicious, and then he flips you over the bed, his hand coming down on your ass with a loud, stinging slap.

the sound echoes through the room, followed by another, and another, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you. you squirm beneath him, but he doesn’t stop, his hand landing again and again until your skin is hot and sensitive, every touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re mine,” he mutters, his voice rough with need. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, the words almost a moan as his hand moves between your legs, his fingers sliding through your wetness.

“again,” he demands, his fingers pressing against your clit, making you arch your back.

“i’m yours,” you cry out, your voice breaking as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that has you seeing stars.

he doesn’t give you a moment to recover, his fingers moving in and out of you with a rough, relentless rhythm that has you teetering on the edge. just when you think you can’t take anymore, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching.

“not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he flips you on your back. you hear the sound of fabric tearing. he ripped his shirt off?? his hands are on your face, something soft and silky being tied around your eyes.

“i want you to feel every second of this,” he says, his voice dark and dangerous as he leans over you, his breath hot against your neck. “i want you to know it’s me, and only me, who can make you feel like this.”

you’re blindfolded now, completely at his mercy, and the thought sends a thrill of anticipation through you. you hear the sound of his belt buckle, and then his cock is pressing against your entrance, hot and heavy, throbbing with need.

he doesn’t take it slow, doesn’t give you a chance to adjust. he thrusts into you in one sharp, brutal motion, filling you completely, and you cry out, the pleasure so intense it’s almost painful.

“say it,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move, each thrust hard and deep, hitting that sweet spot inside you with unerring accuracy.

“i’m yours,” you moan, the words half—lost in a gasp as he slams into you again and again, his pace relentless, his need raw and overwhelming.

“mine,” he snarls, his teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder, marking you as his. the pain is sharp, but it only adds to the pleasure, the two sensations blending together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

your body is on fire, every nerve alight with pleasure as he takes you, his cock throbbing inside you, hitting that spot that has you screaming his name. you’re so close, so close, but he doesn’t let you come, stopping just as you’re about to tip over the edge.

“not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he pulls out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“please, baby…” you whimper, your body trembling with need, “i’ll be gooood,” but he doesn’t give you what you want, not yet. instead, he flips you over onto your stomach once more, your vision hazy from how many times he’s flipped you over, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts back into you from behind.

the new angle is deeper, more intense, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips as he slams into you again and again, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

“mine,” he growls, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing hard as he fucks you with a raw, primal energy that leaves you breathless. you’re so close now, so close, but he doesn’t let you come, stopping just as you’re about to tip over the edge.

“c—come inside, please,” you whimper out, wiggling your ass slightly, “i want to f—feel all of you,” your voice breaking as he thrusts into you one last time, his cock throbbing inside you as you finally, finally come, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. he rolls his hips into yours a few times before releasing himself, his white cum flooding your insides.

for a moment, everything goes black, and then you’re back, gasping for breath as he collapses on top of you, his cock still buried deep inside you, pulsing with the aftershocks of his own release.

“mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft now as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his hand creeping up your face to take off your blindfold. “forever.”

you nod, your body still trembling as he pulls out of you, his cum spilling out of you in a stream. he doesn’t move, not yet, just stays there, his arms wrapped around you as his cock stays inside you long after the sex ends, marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

a few moments after your haze, you come to a disturbing realization. i told him to come inside me.

panic seizes you. the weight of his body is still pressed against yours, his breath slow and even, his arms wrapped around you as though anchoring you in place. you want to push him away, to sit up, to do something, but your limbs feel sluggish, weak. your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out the quiet sounds of the room.

“dion,” your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears it. you know he does. he always does.

a hum rumbles against your shoulder, lazy, content. “hn?”

you swallow hard, your throat dry. “you… you didn’t pull out.”

he doesn’t move for a moment, as if considering whether or not to answer. then, finally, he shifts, lifting his head slightly to look at you. in the dim light, his expression is unreadable, but you don’t miss the way his lips quirk at the corners.

“you’re the one who told me to come inside that tight little hole of yours,” he says simply. “besides, you won’t get pregnant.”

your stomach twists. “what?”

his hand moves up your back in a slow, deliberate stroke, as if to soothe you. he exhales softly, his voice devoid of worry. “i’ve been putting contraceptives in your food. for months now.”

so for this whole time, he’s been hoping he would hit. i mean, he did eventually but… he’s been horny for that long?!? it’s been like five months?!?

instead of voicing your thoughts, you let out a slow, shaking breath. “i’m still mad at you, you know,” you mutter against his skin.

he chuckles, low and deep, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your back. “i know.” silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, neither of you moving. you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm, the rhythmic cadence of his breathing. eventually, his voice breaks the quiet, softer now. “i didn’t want you to leave.” you tense, but he continues before you can respond. “you belong in agriche. with me.”

you don’t lift your head, staring instead at the bed below you. he gets off you, and you realize a huge weight has been lifted off your back. he now lays next to you on his side, wrapping his arms around you in a small cage of only him.

“i don’t plan to see my brother,” you murmur. “i just… i only wanted to know of his existence here. i didn’t want to hear it from cassis.”

dion hums again, noncommittal, but his fingers don’t stop their slow, soothing motions against your skin. you wonder if he believes you. if it even matters.

your body still feels warm, sticky with the remnants of your earlier actions. the sweat clings uncomfortably to your skin, mixing with his, and you shift slightly, trying to ignore the way it makes your limbs feel heavy.

“we’re gross,” you mumble, shifting against him. “sticky.”

dion presses a kiss to your forehead, the gesture seemingly tender. “i’ll draw a bath for us later.”

you hum in agreement, your anger practically gone, but exhaustion begins to weigh down on you. his warmth, his touch, the rhythmic way his fingers move against you—it lulls you despite everything.

and before you can stop yourself, you slip into sleep in his soft embrace.

                                    ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it’s turning into dusk when you wake up once more.

a haze clings to your mind as you slowly come to, your body cocooned in something warm and oddly comforting. your fingers twitch, brushing against fabric — not just any fabric, but soft, thick material that feels far too luxurious to belong to you. you shift slightly, burrowing deeper into the warmth, feeling the heavy press of something firm and steady behind you.

wait, clothed?

your groggy mind struggles to piece together the details. the last thing you remember was…

your eyes snap open, and you’re met with a deep crimson gaze staring back at you. a quiet gasp escapes you before you can stop it, and instinctively, you try to shift away, but the arms around you tighten, keeping you in place. you wiggle again, testing the hold, before something even more alarming registers in your mind — you’re completely clothed.

a shiver runs down your spine. your voice comes out hoarse, still laced with sleep as you murmur, “did you…?”

“i bathed you already,” the man holding you mutters, his voice deep, smooth, yet entirely nonchalant — like what he just said wasn’t something to be alarmed about. one of his hands shifts to the back of your head, gently pushing you toward him, pressing you closer than you already were.

damn. he gave me aftercare and i wasn’t even there to experience it. “thanks,” you mumble, “what’s the time?”

“around seven,” he answers.

your eyes widen slightly. maria’s tea party had been at noon. that meant you had been unconscious for about six hours.

panic begins to rise in your chest as you push against dion’s hold, attempting to sit up. “i need to see cassis,” you mutter.

the response is immediate.

dion’s grip tightens, his arms locking around you like iron shackles. “no.” his voice is final, accepting no argument. “i will speak to father. he will not be your responsibility anymore.”

your brows knit together in frustration. “but i need to ensure his survival,” you argue, your voice heavy with sleep. you bring a weak fist to his chest, attempting to push him away, but it’s more of a soft tap than an actual hit. “if he dies, then we all die too.”

“then let’s leave before then.”

the words are spoken so simply, so casually, that for a moment, you think you must have misheard. your hand freezes mid—motion, your breath hitching as you tilt your head up to stare at him.

“what?”

dion’s eyes remain steady on yours, unwavering in their intensity. “run away with me. if cassis dies, then we can leave agriche before it burns.”

your heartbeat pounds against your ribs. his words are unexpected — no, unbelievable. was he seriously suggesting abandoning agriche? well, it’s not that unexpected. when agriche burns in the manhwa, he only came back to search for roxana before leaving again. i don’t think he ever comes back. he only travels as a wanderer after the story, if i remember it correctly.

a sudden laugh bubbles up from your throat, a mix of disbelief and amusement. “weird way to propose, but yes.” dion blinks, momentarily taken aback by your reaction. his grip loosens just a fraction, allowing you to finally pull back slightly, enough to look him in the eye properly. “i’ll let you remove cassis from my responsibility — on two conditions.”

he eyes you warily. “what?”

you raise a hand, lifting a single finger close to his face. “one,” you begin, your voice firm, “i’m allowed to see cassis anytime. at some point, i started getting attached to that little shit. he’s like a little baby to me.” dion’s brows furrow slightly, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue. “and two,” you continue, lifting a second finger — your middle finger this time — grinning mischievously, “you take me out on a date.”

dion stares at you blankly. “…what do you mean?”

“take me out on a date,” you repeat. “anywhere outside agriche. being cramped in one place for too long is not good for one’s mental health. besides, i want to see other places too. i’ve only ever been to yggdrasil, and that place was mid as fuck.”

dion exhales through his nose, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. then, slowly, he reaches out, taking your raised hand in his and lowering it from his face. his fingers curl around yours briefly before releasing them.

“very well,” he murmurs. “i accept your conditions.”

a triumphant smile spreads across your face. “great. then we have a deal.”

“but,” dion adds, his voice dipping into something far darker, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light, “one day, i will kill cassis pedelian. be it now or later, i will see to it.”

your smile falters for a split second before you let out an exaggerated sigh. “ugh, fine. but if you kill him, you better be prepared to deal with my wrath.”

dion tilts his head slightly, considering your words. “your wrath?”

“yes,” you say, crossing your arms. “i’ll make your life miserable.”

a ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “i’d like to see you try.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “don’t tempt me.”

he merely hums in response, clearly entertained by your antics. his arms remain around you, still holding you close, and for a moment, neither of you speak. the weight of everything unspoken lingers in the air between you, heavy yet oddly comfortable.

then, softly, barely above a whisper, you murmur, “roxana hatched one of the eggs.”

“i’m aware. i disposed of some of them already. i will deal with the butterflies later.”

                                    ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you walk through the dimly lit corridors of agriche, the torches along the walls flickering weakly, casting long, jagged shadows against the cold stone. your heartbeat is steady, but your mind is racing. this might be the last time i see him as his master. the thought weighs heavy in your chest, though you try not to linger on it. there is no turning back now.

reaching the door to cassis’ cell, you retrieve the key from your pocket. it feels heavier than usual. with a soft click, the lock turns, and you push the door open. the room is just as you left it last — small, dim, barely furnished, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and iron.

cassis lies on his bed, his back turned to you. his silver hair catches the sparse light, the strands almost glowing against the darkness. for a moment, you assume he is asleep.

then, suddenly — too suddenly — he moves.

before you can react, cassis is off the bed and in front of you in a heartbeat, his golden eyes sharp and searching. his hands hover near you, hesitating, his gaze flitting over your form with a mixture of concern and urgency.

“are you okay?!” his voice is tight with worry. “i saw him take off with you!” before you can respond, his sharp gaze locks onto something — your neck. his face shifts, his expression twisting into something unreadable. his lips curl slightly, his brows drawing together. “oh,” he mutters, his voice dropping into something colder, more distant. “so that man is courting you now.”

“what? how do you—”

he interrupts with an unimpressed look, his golden eyes flickering with something between amusement and disgust. “your neck is covered in love bites,” he states flatly. he lifts a hand and points near your collarbone, where a particularly dark mark lingers. “they’re quite prominent.”

heat floods your face instantly. so that’s why people were staring at me on my way here. you had assumed it was because of the late hour, but now it makes perfect sense. embarrassment crashes over you like a wave, and you groan, covering your face with a hand.

cassis watches you, silent for a moment. then, his expression shifts, curiosity overtaking the initial annoyance in his gaze.

“also, before i forget,” you begin, needing to move past the awkwardness, “i won’t be your master anymore.”

a flicker of confusion passes over his face, his sharp ears perking slightly. his posture stiffens. “what do you mean?”

“you deserve to escape, cassis,” you say, meeting his gaze. “i’m giving you to roxana. she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t want to see you die. she’ll help you escape.”

silence settles between you. for a long moment, he says nothing, his expression unreadable. then, at last, he speaks.

“...so i won’t see you again?”

you shake your head. “you will. i’ll come by anytime.”

his gaze lingers on you, searching for something — hesitation, regret, reluctance. if he finds any, he does not say. instead, after a moment, he exhales, a slow, measured breath.

“...very well then,” he murmurs. “i accept this arrangement.” there’s a pause. his golden eyes darken, something unreadable flickering through them before he continues. “but,” he adds, voice quieter now, “on my last day in agriche, i will ask you again if you wish to stay or leave. if you wish to leave, we will escape together. but if you choose to stay… then i will wish to see you soon.”

you hold his gaze for a moment longer before finally nodding. “okay, cassis.”

his lips press into a thin line, but he does not look away. you both know that whatever happens mext, a choice has been nade. and soon, another will come.

but for now, the weight of the moment lingers between you, unspoken yet undeniable.