#* this love is glowing in the dark // desires. ♡
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tag drop ♡ will add more if i need to but this is what i got for now lmao
#* this night is sparkling --- don't you let it go // memes. ♡#* mosaic broken hearts // answered. ♡#* v. your string of lights is still bright to me // main. ♡#* this is my unfinished symphony // ooc. ♡#* v. time turns flames to embers // tvd. ♡#* long live all the magic we made // thoughts. ♡#* you traded your baseball cap for a crown // imagery. ♡#* like we're made of starlight // aes. ♡#* this love is glowing in the dark // desires. ♡#* you showed up just in time // promo. ♡#* step into the daylight & let it go // self promo. ♡
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every man gets his wish // simon riley
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ "i learned how to make love from the movies" ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
pairing simon x fem!reader
content pure unadulterated smut, maybe a daddy kink?
summary the one where ghost is obsessed w a camgirl
note based off my drabble, thank you for the love ♡ lmk if you want a part twooo
There’s a special place in hell for people like Simon Riley.
He could’ve gone to heaven - but he won’t.
Simon has vices. He has anger issues, and he doesn’t like to share. He doesn’t take precautions, he’s cocky with his wallet and he most certainly doesn’t take orders from anyone.
He’s impulsive, abrasive, and most importantly - Simon Riley only thinks with his dick.
You’re the opposite of him. Careful, gentle and patient, you come across as bubbly and approachable. The sparkle in your eyes just never seemed to die, and an innocent smile is always playing at your lips. You seem to embody everything that Simon could never be.
Not that he would know - you’re just an eager camgirl with a big audience.
Every night, Simon Riley comes crawling to you like a stray dog. It wasn’t meant to be this way, so vile and naughty and delicious. He swore it would only happen once, and yet here he is, pining after the taste of you. He always finds himself with his cock in his hands, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and filthy curses slipping past his lips.
You’ve already started - much to his disappointment.
He’s usually so punctual. Never wasting your time. Always appreciative of the way your eyes sparkle with adoration when he joins the stream. Today was no different - he was just a little too eager and spent the last hour jerking off to the thought of you.
And he’s gonna do it again
The room is cast in a soft glow, your legs tucked beneath you and the soft hum of music playing in the background. Your soft skin is covered in red lingerie, pillowy tits covered by the lace that he bought.
It’s a damn shame - the way Simon can’t be there to take it off himself.
In contrast to the natural shine you give off, Simon is drowned out by the dark moonlight. His body casually leans back against the headboard, eyes trained on the illuminated screen that separates you from him. While he is adorned in shadows, you shine with the soft glow of your exposed skin.
Your lips, pulled into a little pout. Your delicate fingers, dipping between your plush thighs. The ebbs and flow of your body, curves and blemishes that he’s memorized like he owns you.
It’s quite pathetic, really - how infatuated he’s become with a camgirl. But he can’t help himself. He’s got all your videos saved in a folder that he opens at every opportunity.
He’s cum to you more times than he can count, always groaning as the hot ropes of white liquid splatter against his skin. He’d tip you relentlessly, always accompanied by a foreboding message that sent chills along your spine.
Missed you, princess. What a good girl. Finished so soon? What a beautiful little slut.
Your hands are wrapped around a little pink toy that you push between your thighs. It hums against your skin, causing Simon to angrily palm himself through his pants. The sickeningly sweet sound of your gasp has him reeling, cock already beginning to twitch and drip with precum.
His hand continues to palm at it, ignoring the little stain that starts to form on his pants as you continue to stimulate yourself. You gently part your thighs, hair framing your face as you give him - yes, him - a little preview of his deepest desires.
You’re already wet, and he curses himself for being late today. Simon is memorizing the little bow on your panties, the way you push the vibrator against the soft fabric and let your little plump lips part for a moan.
He’s got a toothy grin, rubbing at the tip of his cock and imagining that it’s your delicate hands struggling to wrap around him.
You’d blink up at him with full and eager eyes, lip pulled between your teeth. You’d gently unzip his pants, fingernails dragging against his skin and causing his dick to perk up. He’d rub the pad of his thumb against your cheek, a nasty smirk plastered across his face.
Simon imagines that your tongue would give gentle licks against his irritated tip, that you’d hollow out your cheeks and suck him off until his cum is coating your throat. He would continue to lazily fuck your mouth, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you hummed against his cock.
The sound of your little gasps pulls him from the daydream, eyes sharply trained on the screen as you pull your panties to the side and rub the vibrator against your clit. Your chest is pressed outwards, nipples hard against the red lace that separates him from you.
Before he can stop himself, with his cock twitching underneath his touch and thumb rubbing softly over his tip, he absently clicks on the keyboard. It’s a good thing he’s got his card number memorized.
$250 from Ghost_Stalker
-smile pretty for me, princess.
You pause your movement, vibrator stuck between your folds as you writhe and twitch against it. You squint your eyes, rolling over the message once. Twice. Three times before a smile is tugging at your lips. A hand comes up to squeeze your tit, fingernails dragging against the lace as you lean into the camera and smile sweetly.
“hi ghost - i missed you.”
His belt hits the floor before you finish your sentence.
Your voice is thick like honey, laced with desire that Simon is convinced was meant just for him. The vibrator begins to move again, pressing into your wet core with a little squelch as you mewl out in pleasure.
He follows your pace, eyes fixated on the pink toy that dips in and out of your little pussy. It stretches you, pushing against your folds and humming against you.
Simon is messily jerking himself off as you roll your hips against the vibrator, letting soft pleas fall from your lips. He spits on the tip of his cock, palm rubbing it against his shaft as he grunts happily. The slick and lazy strokes mirror the way you rub the vibrator greedily against your clit, thighs parting like the gates of heaven.
He wants in.
When you pull the toy away from you, the sound of your dripping cunt follows along with it. You wiggle closer to the camera, eyes blown out with pleasure as you press the pink toy into your mouth and lick. Tongue sloppy, eyes rolling in ecstasy and hips bucking against the pillow underneath you.
$300 from Ghost_Stalker
-i missed you more princess. missed your pretty little pussy.
“prove it,” you challenge.
His head slams against the back of the chair, cock covered in his spit as the sounds of your soft laughter that plays from his screen. He bucks his hips up with his movements, imagining that your body is curled around him and bouncing on his lap.
Your nails would drag against his skin, leaving harsh red lines in their wake as he’d let his hand fly to your ass with a sickening smack.
You’d jump, grinding your mound into him with desperation as your perky tits rub against his chest. Simon imagines himself nipping, licking and biting at them, his dick throbbing at the way you’d drool out his name.
In his dreams, you’re an obedient little slut. Ever a tease, you’d bounce on his dick one minute and beg for a kiss the next. He’d wrap his hand around your throat, choking you until you’re seeing stars and begging him for more.
You’re chatting away with sleazy men who can’t afford you, and it makes Simon enraged. It’s him who matters. It’s him who should have your attention. It’s him who you should open your legs for. His stroking gets aggressive, jaw set and hardened as you blow kisses and make false promises. Simon is rubbing himself raw, his free hand going to cup his balls and gently squeeze.
And then someone asks you where you got your cute little outfit. And like the vixen you are, you smile sweetly into the camera and push your tits together.
“Oh? these? they were a gift from someone special.”
And it’s true. He’s your favorite. He’s the one who you’re dreaming of - and it’s embarrassing to pine after a man you’ve never met. But it’s washed away by the burning desire to please him. Only him.
He’s trying so hard to hang on. To regain some sense of normalcy as his dick continues to twitch and warmth spreads throughout his body like an inferno. His eyes are trained on your curves, the way you’ve got a smile lighting your face up as your hips grind into the soft pillow below you. He’s slapping the tip of his dick against his abdomen, letting the beads of precum splat against his skin and forever stain him a sinner.
Here he goes again, thinking with his dick.
$500 from Ghost_Stalker
-put on a good show for daddy.
And you do. The red lace has been slipped off of you, tossed to the side as you reach over and off the screen to grab something. A perfect angle of your tits in full view. Simon follows every movement. He licks his lips in anticipation, stomach heavy with desire.
You sheepishly pull the dildo out, smacking it against your outstretched tongue and dipping a hand between your legs. Dripping, wet beyond comprehension and Simon is lucky enough to watch as you curl your fingers inside your pussy and mewl.
His hips are rutting up, hand fisting his cock in desperation as you suck on the dildo while fingerfucking yourself. His chest is tight, sweat glistening against his skin while he watches intensely. So fucking wet.
You hope he’s watching. You’re praying that he’s jerking off to the sight of you. That you’re both staring up at the ceiling, eyes searching for the constellations that brought you together when the stars aligned.
Is it wrong? To want something that you’ve never known?
Simon can tell you’re becoming undone. You always get riled up with his words, eyes full of excitement as he showers you with attention every stream. In his fantasy, Simon thinks you wished that your delicate fingers were his. That you wanted him to slowly rub at your bud of nerves and press his fingers into your cunt. And then he’d have you sit on his cock and make him watch as he licked his fingers clean.
He can’t help himself when you’re like this, messy and needy on screen with your wet pussy smearing against the pillow that he wishes was his face. You’re whining and panting, fingers dipping in and out of your core as Simon picks up the pace and lets the heat travel up his skin and light him ablaze. Your voice is music to his ears.
“i’m so close- fuck. please, i- gonna cum.”
When you climax, your chest is heaving and a layer of sweat has covered your soft skin. Your hands are dancing across your soft tits, twisting at your hardened nipples that all but scream bite me. He’s smearing more spit all over himself, breath coming out in short pants and eyes dark and heavy.
The dildo rests against your folds, almost as if it’s taunting him. And so what if he blows all him money in one night? It’s going to a good cause - at least, that’s what he’s convinced himself.
$2500 from Ghost_Stalker
-again.
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the message, ignoring the chat as it blows up at the extra show. You’re already eager, smacking the tip of the dildo against your folds and rolling your hips upwards.
“a little desperate tonight? i don’t mind - anything for daddy”
It takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. Simon feels like he’s died and been reborn. Like a siren has sung him to a peaceful sleep. Like the explanations for his bank statements are worth it. And when you press the tip of the toy into your dripping wet hole, it feels like Simon can practically smell your sickeningly sweet pussy.
He thinks it smells like candy.
You wince at every inch of silicone that slides into you. Your thighs are trembling, an arm propping yourself up as you whine and mewl like his favorite little kitten. The camera is shaking from your movements, head hung back in ecstasy as you bottom out the dildo and sigh happily.
Such a dirty slut, Simon muses. So nasty. At this point, his strokes are quick and methodical. Tugging at his tip that’s still producing precum, almost as if it’s desperate for release. His balls ache, his eyebrows are knitted in concentration and his abs are tight with anticipation.
“m’ so wet,” you gasp, the sounds of your pussy flitting against the dildo playing on repeat in Simon’s mind. Your thighs are spread fully, and your pillowy tits are jiggling with the movement of you fucking yourself. “are you watching?”
There’s a frenzy in the chat, a hundred eager men thinking that your words are meant for them. You raise yourself to your knees, angling to toy to press against your folds as you bite your lip. “i bet you are. guess what?” You breathe, eyes twinkling with mischief. “i wish you were here.”
Oh, how wrong they were.
He's close. The edge that he’s built is about to fall beneath him, collapse into a million pieces while you get drunk off the way the dildo slips in and out of you. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your chest is heaving, lungs struggling to take in air as you climb that high once more.
You whine and beg to yourself. Simon curses and lets his hips snap up against his stroking. His cock is unbearably hard, skin tingling with the sensation of pure lust that consumes him. You bounce and grind on the dildo with need, hair falling back against your bare shoulders as Simon drinks in every ounce of you.
Legs shaking, tits bouncing and hands coming up to play with your nipples, you look like a goddess. He’s never been so entranced, so enthralled and so obsessed. The way your nails dig into your skin, squeals of pleasure ripping through your stomach as you cum around the toy. You roll your hips greedily, savoring the orgasm and rubbing quick circles against your clit.
It’s all that it takes to have him squeezing the tip of his cock and shooting hot cum all over his stomach. It’s shameful, pathetic and downright heavenly. He promises that he’ll never cum to anyone but you.
The overstimulation has you reeling, chest heaving and eyes watering in excitement as a wave of pure bliss is crashing against you. The chat is singing praises to you, falling on deaf ears as you lazily still your hips and lean forward - dildo still firmly shoved in your pussy.
“are you satisfied?” You ask innocently. No, never. You don’t say his screen name, but it doesn’t matter, he knows it’s him you’re talking to. He knows by the way you slide off the toy, hair sticking to your skin as you slip on the red lace as a sign that the shows coming to an end. He knows by the way you dip your fingers between your wet folds, gathering the sticky cum around your digits - before you lick it off them like such a good girl.
He has to have you.
$5000 from Ghost_Stalker
-i’ll double it if you do it again
#simon ghost riley#cod fanfic#simon riley#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon riley fanfic#simon riley imagine#simon riley x you#cod fic#cod mw22#cod x reader#cod imagine#cod mwii#cod mw3#cod modern warfare#ghost cod#cod mw2
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Can you write were the reader and Kenan are engaged and she forget to put on the ring and they get into argument about it because she said it just a ring and Kenan doesn’t think so
WARNING!! SMUT!!
MORE THAN A RING- KENAN YILDIZ
Kenan struggles to stay calm when a groomsman flirts with you, especially since you forgot your engagement ring
Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿
The wedding venue was beautifully decorated, with fairy lights casting a magical glow over the garden. We arrived late, having rushed through traffic and barely made it in time for the ceremony.
Kenan and I quickly found our seats among friends, smiling apologetically for our tardiness.
As the vows were exchanged, I couldn’t help but glance at Kenan, his hand warm in mine. He gave me a reassuring squeeze, his eyes filled with love. The ceremony was beautiful, and I felt a surge of happiness for our friends.
After the ceremony, we mingled with the other guests. The reception was in full swing, laughter and music filling the air. Kenan was pulled aside by an old friend, leaving me to chat with some of the other guests.
A tall, charming groomsman approached me, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey there, beautiful. Are you here alone?"
I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "No, I’m here with my fiancé."
His eyes flicked to my hand, a frown appearing. "Really? I don’t see a ring."
My heart skipped a beat as I glanced down, realizing with a jolt that I had forgotten to put on my engagement ring.
I felt a flush of embarrassment. "Oh, I must have left it at home. But I assure you, I’m very much engaged."
Before the groomsman could respond, Kenan appeared at my side, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, slipping an arm around my waist possessively.
The groomsman held up his hands in mock surrender. "No problem at all. Just having a chat."
Kenan’s grip tightened slightly, and the groomsman quickly excused himself. Once he was out of earshot, Kenan turned to me, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. "Where's your ring?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with frustration.
I bit my lip, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I must have forgotten to put it on. We were in such a rush."
Kenan's jaw clenched as he took my hand and led me away from the crowd, towards a secluded hallway.
He pushed open a door to an empty room and guided me inside, closing the door behind us with a soft click. His eyes were blazing with intensity as he turned to face me.
"You forgot it, didn't you? And do you know what happens when you forget your ring? Other men think you're available. They think they can make their moves on you, touch what's mine."
His voice shook with barely restrained fury, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I had seen this side of Kenan before, but never so intensely.
Part of me wanted to run, to escape the fiery passion that burned within him, but another part of me was intrigued, excited by the raw possession he exuded.
Kenan took a step closer, invading my personal space, his breath hot on my neck. "Do you want that? Do you want them touching you, kissing you, taking what's mine?" Each word was laced with anger and possession, and I found myself unable to speak, my breath catching in my throat.
I could feel the heat radiating from his body, sense the tension coiled tightly within him.
Without waiting for an answer, Kenan crushed his lips against mine, kissing me with a desperate hunger. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss, demanding a response from me.
I felt myself melting into him, my body softening against his hard frame. I kissed him back, matching his intensity, my hands clutching at his suit jacket.
The anger and jealousy that fueled his desire only seemed to heighten my own need, igniting a fire within me that I couldn't control.
Our kisses became more frantic, lips bruising, tongues tangling. Kenan's hands roamed lower, gripping my hips and pulling me tightly against him so I could feel the hardness of his arousal.
A moan escaped my throat, and I arched into him, wanting more. Kenan broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and down my neck. "You're mine," he growled, biting gently at the sensitive skin below my ear, marking me as his own.
I whimpered, my head falling back to give him better access. "Y-yes, Kenan... I'm yours..." I panted, my body throbbing with need.
His hands slid up my thighs, under my dress, caressing the soft skin there. "Tell me how much you want me," he murmured, his lips brushing against my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. "Tell me how wet your pussy is for me."
Heat flushed my cheeks as a wave of desire pulsed between my legs. "I want you so much, Kenan," I whispered hoarsely. "My pussy is aching for you... Please, touch me..." Without another word, Kenan slid his hand further up my thigh, his fingers finding the moist heat of my core.
A gasp escaped my lips as he gently rubbed my clit, circling it slowly, teasingly. "You're so wet," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "So fucking ready for me."
My breath quickened as pleasure washed over me. "Please, Kenan... I need you inside me..." I begged, my hips bucking slightly against his hand. With a low, satisfied chuckle, Kenan slid a finger inside me, then another, stretching and filling me.
I moaned softly, my eyes fluttering closed as he began to thrust his fingers in and out, stroking my G-spot with each deliberate movement. "That's it, baby... cum for me," he urged, his thumb finding my swollen clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles.
The combination of his skilled fingers and the intense build-up of the evening sent me over the edge. "Oh god, Kenan... I'm cumming!" I cried out, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.
Kenan continued to work his magic, prolonging my orgasm, until I slumped against him, breathless and sated. "That's my girl," he murmured proudly, kissing me tenderly on the forehead.
But he wasn't done with me yet. With a devilish glint in his eye, Kenan spun me around so that I was facing the wall. He pushed me gently forward, bending me over, and admired the enticing sight of my breasts pressed against the wall.
"You look so fucking sexy like this, all spread out and waiting for me," he commented, his voice thick with desire. I felt a surge of lust hearing his words, a warmth spreading between my legs once more.
Kenan wasted no time in positioning himself behind me, his hard length pressing against my entrance. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled me completely, making me moan out loud. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grabbing my hips and setting a relentless pace.
I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, my breasts swaying with the force of our lovemaking.
The sound of our flesh slapping together echoed off the walls, mixing with our grunts and moans of pleasure. Kenan reached around, cupping my swollen breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot that had me crying out in delight. "Cum with me, baby," he panted, his own orgasm building. "Let go for me again."
And as if on cue, I felt the coiling tension deep within my core once more. "Kenan, oh god... I can't hold back..."
His thrusts became more urgent as he felt me tighten around him, and with a roar of satisfaction, he spilled himself inside me, his hot cum mixing with my juices. I cried out as the force of his release sent me over the edge once more, my walls clenching rhythmically around him as I rode out my intense orgasm.
We stayed coupled together for several moments, catching our breath, before Kenan gently withdrew, stroking my sweaty hair away from my face with a tender smile.
As we straightened our clothes and composed ourselves, I turned to Kenan, and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot against my lips.
"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his voice husky.
I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. "I know, and I’m sorry for forgetting the ring. But Kenan, you don’t need a ring to show that I’m yours."
His eyes softened as he looked into mine. "I just don’t want to lose you."
"You won’t," I whispered, kissing him gently. "I’m yours, Kenan. Always."
He kissed me again, softer this time, his hands caressing my face. "I love you," he murmured against my lips.
"I love you too," I replied, feeling the warmth of his love wash over me.
We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. Eventually, we made our way back to the reception, hand in hand.
#football imagine#football x reader#turkiye#kenan yildiz x reader#kenan yildiz#smut#kenan yildiz smut#football smut
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Could we have a part 2 of friend Luke teasing us?? help im so addicted rereading that so many timesssss
(smut or more flirting? your choice love—)
ITS JUST SO GOOD
SORRY FOR THE WAIT, this request was asked more than once so here it is. Also, I´m so glad you liked the previous part so much you re-read it <3 🥺, tysm
previous part (if u want)
MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader
warnings: luke´s a fucking tease, again, pet names, semi-public s3x, alcohol mention, kissing, biting, sucking, unprotected p in v (don´t), dom!luke, rough s3x.
reminder: english´s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes
₊˚⊹♡
"I'm going for a walk. Care to join me?" you asked, swaying on your feet. Your voice wobbled slightly, but it held.
Luke's amusement was evident in the quirk of his eyebrow. "A walk, huh?" he drawled, his gaze lingering on the way your lips, still tingling from the fiery drink, were slightly parted. "Too drunk already?” he teases.
You roll your eyes with a groan from your throat. “Are you coming or not?” you cross your arms over your chest, the movement slightly comical given your unsteady stance, but your breasts crushed so deliciously when you did so, tightening the fabric of your t-shirt, that Luke couldn´t help but dart his eyes down there for a second.
A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that sent a delicious yet cold shiver down your spine. "Alright" he sighed, rising smoothly to his feet, even when his system was filled with the strongest drink he found himself drinking on a few minutes ago. “Lead the way then, princess”
You set off through the trees, the path illuminated only by the sliver of moon peeking through the tree cups and the distant glow of the bonfire, less and less intense the further you hid in the shadows. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sounded amplified in the quiet night. You could practically feel the weight of Luke's gaze on your back. His eyes roamed down your body from behing, eyes falling to the way your hips swayed so effortlessly as you walked, that fucking jean skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. You weren't sure if you were leading him, or if he was leading you, both of you drawn by a force far stronger than reason.
After what felt like an dense and heavy eternity, you reached a clearing bathed in moonlight. A large oak tree stood in the center, its branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. You stopped, a nervous flutter in your stomach.
"Nice spot" Luke said, his voice a husky murmur behind you.
You turned to face him, his dark form silhouetted against the moonlit clearing. "It is, right?" you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.
As if on cue, the music from the bonfire faded completely, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The world seemed to shrink until all that existed was the space between you and Luke.
He took a slow and confident step towards you when your eyes kept looking at him, and you met him halfway, the space between you shrinking with each step. The playful teasing from earlier was gone, replaced by a simmering intensity in his dark eyes. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek. You closed your eyes at the feeling of his warm touch, cold sweat forming on your palms. This wasn't how you'd imagined spending your night, but suddenly, it felt like the most perfect moment you could have ever wished for.
"Gods" you breathed, the sound barely audible, "you're killing me, Luke." Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into you, and felt his smile too.
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through your body. "Maybe that's the point, doll." His voice was husky, laced with something that sent a jolt of desire sizzling through your veins.
You opened your eyes, meeting his stare. His cheeks were flushed a faint red, a testament to the potent drink he'd consumed, but his eyes held a fierce intensity that excited you, even though you´ve seen it before, just not this close. His hair was windblown and messy, perfectly accompaying his handsome features.
"That was quite a show back there" he rumbled, his voice low and warm inside your ears, as he placed behind your ear a stray of loose hair. You could smell the faint scent of the strange red drink on him, mingled with something else - a familiar, comforting scent that you associated with him.
"You dared me" you defended yourself, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.
He chuckled again. "Don't worry, ´m not judging. I'm just impressed."
His thumb brushed over your lips, sending a spark of desire shooting inside your tummy. "You shouldn't have done that just to prove a point, though." There was a playful glint in his eyes, but also a hint of something more, something serious simmering beneath the surface.
The words were a warning, but they held an undercurrent of something else entirely. The way he was looking at you now, with a fire burning in his eyes that mirrored your own, made your knees weak. You knew he wanted to kiss you, but he wanted to make you wait; by brushing your lips with his thumb, your jawline, your cheekbones. His touch, so light, left a trail of thin fire where he touched, a blush in your face, a hot feeling against his fingers.
"Who said I was trying to prove a point?" you ask, your voice as weak as your knees felt.
He met your gaze then, his dark eyes searching yours after he drifted them away from your plump lips. "What was it about then?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in a mocking tone.
You swallowed, the sudden honesty both exhilarating and terrifying. "You" you blurted out, word dripping heavy from your lips.
A smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips.
"Me?" he echoed, his voice husky. "What about me?"
You weren't sure if you could take back the words you were about to say, but the look in his eyes, the way his hand tightened on your cheek, urged you forward. In a sudden, bold move, you brushed your hands against his forearms, gripping them. Then, with a surge of newfound courage fueled by the moonlight and the strange drink, you reached out and guided his free hand to your waist, slipping it dangerously beneath the edge of your shirt. Your touch sent a visible tremor through him.
"I´m not dumb, Luke.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly, but still flashing a smirk at him. "The way you like to tease me," you continued, your cheeks burning even hotter. "The way you look at me-,"
Before you could finish your sentence, the space between your lips vanished. With a grip on the base of your neck, he slammed his cold lips against yours. His kiss was sudden, fierce, and intoxicating. It tasted of the strange red mix he'd been drinking, but it was also the taste of desire, of unspoken feelings finally finding their release. It was a kiss fueled by the electricity that had been crackling between you all night, by the way his eyes roamed down your body, by the way you instantly feel your arousal stain your panties as soon as he called you ´Good girl´, a desperate exploration that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning. His hand found its way to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, the heat of his body searing through your thin shirt. You moaned into his kiss, a sound that was both surprised and utterly satisfied.
The kiss was messy, fueled by the heat of the moment and the alcohol coursing through your veins. You stumbled backwards, his hand following the curve of your back and the top of your ass until you found yourselves pressed against the rough bark of the oak tree.
His touch ignited a fire within you, a desperate need for more. You stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips more, which were impossibly perfect in the moonlight. Your height difference, usually a minor annoyance, felt electric now. You felt small and protected in his arms, yet the need to be closer burned bright.
A strangled moan escaped his own lips as his tongue danced against yours, exploring every corner with a possessive urgency. The quiet of the night was only broken by the ragged sound of your breaths and the frantic thump of your hearts, the smack of your lips. The kiss intensified more, a battle for dominance that you were both surprisingly eager to lose.
He was gripping into everything he could, he semed to know you so well; he grabbed your waist, gently let his finger fall from your shoulder blades to your lower back, brush your inner thighs with his fingers and just when you parted your lips to sigh in satisfaction, he would fly his hand to your throat again, squeezing slightly; he still gave you reasons to look for breath.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, the dark strands surprisingly soft against your fingertips, and pulled slightly.
"Whoa there, princess" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and heavy. He pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, but not enough to sever the connection entirely. His eyes, dark and gleaming with desire, twinkled with a hint of his usual teasing glint. "Slow down. We've got all night, or at least until someone notices we´re gone."
Even in your flustered state, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The sound was breathless and shaky, but it broke the tension that had been building between you. “Everyone knows we´re gone. Besides, you started it” you mumbled.
"Maybe I did" he admitted, his eyes gleaming with a devilish delight. "But you have to admit, doll, you didn´t stop me."
He leaned down again, but this time, the kiss was different. It was slower, more deliberate, his tongue exploring yours with a languid sensuality that sent a whole new different warmth in your body, more intimate, more private.
"Maybe you should show me exactly what you meant by 'not dumb'" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His words were a challenge as his kisses started to trail down the side of your neck.
You bit your lip, torn between playful defiance and a desperate need to feel his lips lower. "You know what I meant, Luke” you breathed out.
“Can you read me that well?” he let out a breathed laugh out, his hot breath making the skin of youe neck grow goosebumps.
"Maybe better than you think" you whisper. Your lodged your head back, the back of your skull hit the rough oak tree, but Luke´s lips trailed such delicious and desperate bruises down your neck that you didn´t seem to care.
The conversation was quickly replaced by the filfthiest sounds; his teeth sucking on your skin, the wet pop of it whenever he would pull at your skin to start another purple spot on your skin, your whimpers as he did so.
His hips pressed against yours, squeezing his hardened cock against your pelvis to relieve the painful and heavy tension inside his jeans. One of his hands brushed up one of your thighs, grabbing it from the back of your knee to raise it towards his hip. Then it widened, fingers open as much as possible and squeezing the flesh as he went higher, your skin getting hotter and more tender as he trailed up, finally brushing his fingers over your panties.
You gasped when he applied the tiniest pressure, breath shaking as he held tighter onto your body. Your had your hips rolling against his hand unconsiously, letting little whimpers fall off your lips as Luke grinned at the feeling of his fingertips getting slightly wet.
He pulled them aside slightly, your arousal coating his fingers as you let out a strangled moan from the back of your throat. Luke pulls back slightly, his face in front of yours. He admired your face, twisted in pleassure as he dipped one finger in, slowly. "You´re all wet for me" he whispers, eyes darting from yours, to your lips.
A small pout crossed your features as you nodded. Luke felt like dying. The alcohol had his head spinning slightly, eyes blurry as he tried to focus on your face again, the little pout in your lips, your pink cheeks, the so innocent look made his cock ache more inside his jeans. You were too much for him, you always were his weakness, but tonight every emotion he ever felt for you was multiplied a hundred times more.
He would lie to himself if he said he didn´t dream about having you before, about holding you tight against him, about feeling how warm you would be. He spent endless nights jerking himself off at the simple thought of you, his mind racing with all the memories he held deep back into his head. He loved it when you wore skirts like now, so small yet so elegant in your legs, how you managed to make everything pretty on you even if we were talking about the sweaty and old camp shirt. He loved the exposed skin of your legs and arms, your cleveage, your neck. he fantasized about them every time he could, biting on his bottom lip and holding back moans as his hips twitched when his seed would stick in between his fingers.
But now he didn´t have to worry about being quiet, or about how long he would have to keep his secret to himself, because he had you right there, with two fingers deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out at a fast pace that only made the squelching sound louder and wetter by the second.
He took your bottom lip in between his teeth, stealing a painful cry from you. Your brows were frowned in the deepest pleasure when you started to mumble senseless things in Luke´s ear, something about going faster, or harder. Truth was, Luke wasn´t entirely listening either, too focused on how much he could use you by following all the thoughts that ever crossed around his dirty mind.
He felt like staining his pants any second when your hand squeezed in between your bodies and grabbed onto his cock over the fabric of his jeans, your hand guiding your fingers up and down as you tried your best to satsify him too. A low groan erupted from him, darting your hand away and pinning it against the tree behind you.
"Stay still" he said in between tight teeth, his nose bumping against your as he used his free hand to get rid of his belt. Your heart pounded at a franatic rythym, almost ripping out of your chest. You decided to keep quiet, pressing your lips together as you patiently waited. "I know you´d blow me if I asked you to" he suddenly blurted out, "but as much as I like your pretty mouth, I don´t wanna cum in it yet" he declared with a single raise of his eyebrows.
Your cheeks got squeezed together when he grabbed them with a single hand, kissing you deeply again. He had pulled his jeans down to the ground, and as much as you wanted him to manhadle you, to tell you what to do, to play with you more, you couldn´t wait much longer. Your free hand went down slowly as your lips moved against each other. Luke hissed when your cold hand grabbed the base of his cock, heavy and hot in between your fingers. You pumped him a few times before leading it to your entrance.
And you both lost it.
You tried to be as quiet as you could, Luke slapping his hand across your lips as you pulled into his hair to make him groan instead of moaning, but it was a task as hard a letting your mouths do the sound they pleased. You squeezed your eyes shut at how tight the knot in your belly was turning, your cunt squeezing Luke´s cock so much it started to hurt.
Because Luke was not gentle, or slow. He was behaving like an animal, fucking you like one, with his deep groans and the bites along your neck and shoulders. He held you up as your legs were wrapped around his waist, back painfuly pressing against the rough tree behind you. He shook you as if you were lightweighed, hands gripping to your ass with his hips slamming against yours over and over again.
The heel of your feet pushed his lower back, forcing him to go deeper. He was being louder than you, moaning into your ear with his mouth hanging open and his brows frowned, his words dripping down your body, melting your brain.
"You feel so good, baby" he panted. "So tight. Can’t believe I had to wait this long to fuck this pussy"
And you couldn´t help but reply to his words, parting your lips and letting out the most pornographic whimper you could release when your ass kept bumping and bumping against the oak. The material was hurting your skin, but you didn´t seem to care. All you asked was for more, and more, and more, and Luke was determinated to give you what you wanted.
"You´ve always been my favorite, Luke" you whispered into his ear, one of your hands holding the back of his neck. Your words came out so easily, it didn´t seem as if he was fucking you so violently that it had your back hurting and your eyes rolling at the back of your skull. "I-," you cut yourself off, biting your lips to get out a single cry. The tip of his cock was brushing your spongiest spot. "I always knew you´d fuck me right"
You smiled when a subtle whimper of vulnerabilty slipped past his lips. "Yeah?" was all he asked.
"Yes" you pleaded. "I know you´re always playing, but, you can have me when you want"
He was fucking you dumb against a tree, and you were rotting his brain with your words. You could sense the effect it had on him; how he gripped you tighter, painting bruises into your skin. How he rested his forehead on the crook of your neck and his breath smashed into your skin.
"I´ve always wanted you, yn"
There was a glenching sound echoing through the clearing, the sound of where you two connected the most, but it got lower and lower as Luke´s frenetic movements started to slow down its pace.
He grilled his teeth when his cum filled you up, white and hot. He squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling, it was too good. You squeezed him on porpuse when his cock twitched inside you, his hands almost failing at the task of holding you to him.
He stopped feeling his heartbeat inside his ears, but his mouth hung open against your chest, kissing your sternum tenderly as he slowly made you stand on his feet again.
You placed your hands over his shoulders, hugging him into your embrace as his lips grazed over yours again. He brushed them against yours before pressing softly, the taste of the alcohol forgotten, but the warmth of his smooth flesh transfered to your mouth.
But when he tried to pull away to kneel down and look at the mess he had made; his cum dripping down your legs, your panties so messy you weren´t sure if you could wear them ever again, you stopped him.
"I haven´t cummed yet. This isn´t over, big boy"
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan smut#pjo series#pjo#pjo smut#luke castellan x you#luke x reader#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#pjo x you#luke castellan x female reader#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan imagines#pjo x reader#luke castellan one shots#pjo luke#percy jackon and the olympians
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from the same authors of "do you think zayne cum is cold?" we also have: do you think xavier cum shine in the dark, or that he shines when he comes (like that blonde female character from the boys, that i forgot the name)?
I know you are only message fics for now and i dont know if something like this would fit that format, but if you can i would love to read anything about this ♡
I’m gonna be honest with you nonnie, I’m VERY out of touch with modern media (I’ve watched like. 4 series in my entire life and a total of like 20 movies all in all) so I have no idea what you’ve just referenced, BUTTTT I do believe I have an answer to your question!! Of course this is all based off my silly headcanons, so take my opinion with a grain of salt🙏🏽 Of course, this is pretty NSFW, and the reader is gender-neutral as always!
To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just my ramblings, or old requests I had🫶🏽
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Metaphorically speaking, Xavier’s cum is pretty much lighter fluid
In the sense that this man’s diet is absolutely disastrous… can a person even live on an almost-purely-carnivorous diet???
Naturally that makes his cum a lot more bitter than it normally would be, so unless his lover wants to choke on battery acid every time they swallow his cum, they ought to sit down with him and have a few serious conversations regarding sex vs food
Either he pulls out of their mouth before he cums when they’re sucking him off, or he gets a little more greens in him in order to improve his own taste… fair enough, I would think!
Xavier doesn’t really mind; after all, he’s still eating lots of red meat, he just now balances that out with more fruits and veggies… and he still gets the overwhelming pleasure of watching his partner swallow his release with a much more pleased hum than they ever did, their thumb reaching out to catch any drops that spill out of the corner of their mouth
It drives him half mad, but he guesses that’s a small price to pay
Now that we’ve got the metaphorical part out of the way, let’s get to this interesting point: does he, or does he not glow when he climaxes?
I wouldn’t say that his cum glows, because if it did, I think his other bodily fluids would too
From a fictional anatomical standpoint, I highly doubt that his lover wouldn’t notice if his saliva had a bit of a glow (something they’d surely notice while making out or having a hearty meal, for example)
So I do believe his cum is as normal as normal could be for a man like him
I do believe, though, since he’s not 100% human (or, at the very least, not from Earth) that doesn’t mean he’s fully normal
I think that he would have abnormally thick cum, and I would assume that that has to do with his biological make-up
Given how people from Philos lead extremely long lives (given Xavier’s age, I’d give them a lifespan of 500+), and given how literally none of the characters from Philos have any siblings, I think it would be safe to assume that their seed isn’t very potent to start with
So if a person will live half a millennium and be able to have just 1 kid their entire life, I do believe that their cum would be stickier and thicker in order to have a higher chance of “taking” by not spilling out immediately
So I honestly think that Xavier’s cum is genetically modified for breeding purposes
And regardless of whether or not his significant other has the ability to become pregnant and/or even wants it at all, his brain has him wired to have a bit of a breeding kink that he can’t even help
But of course, he’ll always listen to and respect his partner’s wishes!
One thing I’ve noticed about Xavier, however, is that his eyes tend to lose their shine when he’s being forward and open about his sexual desires
He’s putty in his lover’s hands, yes, but once he takes control? Those angel eyes have a very intentional purpose, and he’s making that message come across loud and clear
Like a turbulent ocean, deep and all-consuming, his gaze leaves no doubts about what he wants
Now, here’s my headcanon: I like to think that when he’s close, his eyes get their shine back; so much so that they would be mistaken for tears
Maybe it’s the emotional attachment to the person he’s yearned for all these years, maybe it’s because of his own EVOL making its appearance
But for some reason, as he begins to lose control, his eyes do shine quite a bit, almost like freshly-cut sparkling sapphires
It’s quite dazzling and a bit surprising to witness for the first time, since Xavier doesn’t usually exhibit non-human behavior
But it makes that seraphic face seem all the more otherworldly; the contrast between how beautiful he is and how downright filthy his actions can be when he’s buried to the hilt inside them makes their head spin
After he’s spilled inside them amidst soft sighs and sweet moans, his eyes do go back to normal after a few seconds of closing them in bliss, so they might miss it if they’re not paying close attention
Kind of hard to look away though, when your lover looks like that
Taglist: @verynormalsstuff @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @reika-desu @tikitsune @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth @lovra974 @straykidz143 @reishuus @xinnn6 @vyntagei @bakahimesama (more in replies!)
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#imagine#headcanons#hcs#hc#headcanon#smut#xavier#xavier smut#xavier x reader#xavier love and deepspace#xavier lnds#xavier lads#xavier l&ds#xavier shen#shen xinghui#shen xinghui x reader#shen xinghui smut#otome games#love and deepspace#lnds#lads#l&ds#lnds xavier#xavier shen x reader#xavier shen smut#xavier x mc#xavier x you#xavier love and deepspace x reader#spicy
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Ashes of Desire
CW: emotional manipulation, violence, danger, angst...
Summary: On a humid New Orleans night, you’re drawn to the dangerously magnetic Remy LeBeau, despite every warning. His red eyes and easy charm pull you into a whirlwind of stolen kisses and whispered secrets. Word Count: 1548
AN: Last post for the night y'all and I swear I'll leave your timelines alone😂❤️ I feel like I've been writing a lot of angst? But I honestly love it LOL---I hope you enjoy and as always comments/feedback are appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:・゚✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
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The humid New Orleans night clung to you like a second skin, the air heavy with the scent of rain and the whispers of secrets lurking in every shadowed corner. Bourbon Street was alive, pulsing with the vibrant energy of the city—jazz music spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses, the occasional shout cutting through the noise. But none of it reached your ears. Your focus was singular, unwavering, fixed on the figure leaning casually against the brick wall just beyond the reach of the neon lights.
Remy LeBeau.
He was every bit the enigma you’d always known him to be—cool, composed, with an air of danger that clung to him like the night itself. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a predatory gleam that set your nerves on edge and made your pulse quicken. You knew better. You knew the stories, the warnings whispered by those who had crossed paths with the infamous Gambit and lived to tell the tale. He was a thief, a rogue, a man with more blood on his hands than you cared to think about. But there was something about him, something dark and magnetic that drew you in like a moth to a flame, even when you knew you were going to get burned.
He pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, his smirk deepening as he sauntered toward you, each step deliberate, measured. The slick cobblestones beneath his boots barely made a sound. The narrow alleyway you had cornered him in felt suddenly too small, too intimate, the walls pressing in on you as the space between you dwindled.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he drawled, his voice thick with that unmistakable Cajun accent that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze flickered over you, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. His eyes were unreadable, a storm behind a veil of indifference, and yet, you couldn’t look away.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the alleyway, crowding out everything else. You had come here tonight with a purpose, but now that you were face-to-face with him, you weren’t sure what that purpose was anymore.
He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that curled around your insides like smoke. “Always de stubborn one, ain’t ya, chère?” he said, closing the distance between you in two strides. He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the contact sent a shock through your system. Your skin tingled where he touched you, a stark contrast to the cold fear creeping up your spine.
“Chère, you keep playin’ dis game, but you don’t even know the rules,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words a warning and a promise all at once.
Your breath hitched as his hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his skin making you acutely aware of just how close he was. You wanted to pull away, to put some distance between you, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch instead, craving the warmth and the danger that came with it.
“I know enough,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow, even to your own ears. What were you doing? What did you hope to achieve? This man was danger personified, a storm wrapped in charm and lies, and yet, here you were, drawn to him like an addict to their poison.
His eyes darkened, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place passing through them—something that made your chest tighten painfully. “Maybe,” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But sometimes, knowin’ ain’t enough to save you.”
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and ominous, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, a vulnerability so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of nonchalance that he wore like armor.
“You think I’m gonna save you, chère?” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “’Cause I ain’t no hero. Never been, never will be.”
“I don’t need saving,” you snapped, finding your voice again, even as your heart hammered in your chest. “Especially not from you.”
The smirk that curled his lips was sharp, dangerous, and it made something inside you twist painfully. “Dat’s where you’re wrong, ma belle. I’m the one you should be runnin’ from.”
But you couldn’t run. Not now. Not after you’d come this far, not after everything that had led you to this moment. And that’s how you found yourself tangled up in his arms, lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperation than passion, a collision of need and fear and something else you couldn’t name. It was a mistake. You knew that. But in that moment, with the world spinning around you and the taste of him on your tongue, it was the only thing that felt real.
He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the last breath of air he’d ever have, and you let him. You let him because for once, you wanted to be the one who made him feel something, anything. Even if it was just for a moment.
But it wasn’t just a moment.
It was a series of stolen kisses, whispered words in the dark, and nights spent in each other’s arms, pretending that this—whatever it was—could be something more. You told yourself it was just a fling, just a game, but deep down, you knew it was a lie.
You were falling for him. And it was going to destroy you.
Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who could be saved. He was a storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were caught in the eye of it, helpless to do anything but watch as everything you knew was torn apart.
He warned you. He told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You thought you could handle it, handle him, but now you were drowning in the mess you’d made, and there was no one to pull you out.
And Remy? He was still there, still holding you close, but you could see the cracks in his façade, the way he looked at you like he was waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t going to save you. He was going to drag you down with him, and there was nothing either of you could do to stop it.
“Remy,” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain pattering against the window. The city outside was alive, but in that quiet room, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. “What are we doing?”
He didn’t answer right away, just held you tighter, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, as if he could memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. “Survivin’, chère,” he said finally, his voice rough and tired. “We’re just survivin’.”
But you both knew it was more than that. You weren’t surviving—you were burning. And sooner or later, there would be nothing left but ashes.
But even as that truth hung heavy between you, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t walk away. Because as much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart, you needed him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
So you stayed. You stayed even though you knew it was killing you, even though you knew that every kiss, every touch, was another step closer to the edge.
The nights grew longer, the days more unbearable as the weight of your choices pressed down on you. Remy was a constant presence, always there in the shadows of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to escape and everything you couldn’t bear to lose. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt the edges of your sanity fray, the more you felt yourself slipping further into the abyss.
You began to notice the small things, the things that only someone who was hopelessly entangled would see—the way his laughter never quite reached his eyes, the way his hands would tremble just slightly when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he would watch you when he thought you were asleep, his expression soft and almost…broken.
But those moments of vulnerability were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared, replaced by the mask you had come to know so well. He was still Remy LeBeau, the charming, dangerous thief who could steal your breath with a smile and break your heart with a whisper. He was still the storm you had foolishly decided to weather, even as it tore your world apart.
And when the end came—because it would come, you knew that now—it would be on his terms, not yours.
Because Remy LeBeau was a thief, and he had stolen more than just your heart.
He had stolen your soul.
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Taglist: @venssu
#gambit#remy lebeau#xmen fanfiction#xmen fandom#remy lebeau x reader#gambit x reader#gender neutral reader#angst#x men 97
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꒰♡꒱─ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓
TW: afab anatomy, dub con, dark themes, ftm reader, v!sex, sub!reader, stepson x stepfather, dilf!wesker, praise, smut.
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who always takes care of you, always sending you large amounts of money, regardless of what you ask for, he will give you his black card so you can spend it on whatever you want, he will just want his favorite stepson to a little kiss and spend some time with him... especially because you both know that he only married your mother to be close to you.
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who manipulates you to keep you away from your friends, he just wants you for himself! You're his sweet boy, so don't be surprised to see Wesker using his money and powers to keep you trapped at home, keeping you like a cute, cuddly doll that he can control and twirl around his fingers, like a beautiful marionette.
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who considers you his only weakness. Wesker would destroy the world for you, he would destroy everything he built throughout his life just to have the guarantee that you would stay by his side forever, regardless of the price it would cost - and when he completes, all his plans, you will live forever next to him, beautiful and molded perfectly by his hands, his pretty boy.
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who takes you to the most chic and private dinners, with businessmen from the 'umbrella corporation', introducing you as their precious stepson. He will pamper you with expensive suits that adorn your ass for him, getting possessive if any guy tries to flirt with you - he would probably pull you into some room or take you out of the building, throwing you on the expensive leather seat of his BMW, towering over you as he took his hard, throbbing cock out of his pants, while you could see his red iris glow behind the dark lenses of his glasses. "-Are you going to act like a brat and let others take what's mine? Are you really going to do that boy?" Wesker would growl angrily, as he ripped the fabric of your pants, exposing your pussy to him. "-Daddy will teach you a lesson... after all, bad boys don't get rewards."
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you with all your desires and dark fantasies, he loves to fuck you in the most expensive hotels and the best panoramic views of the city, making you doggy style and pounding your cunt from behind, while pulling the rope of a collar of diamonds you wore around your neck - obviously given by him "-I could fuck you like this all day..." Wesker grunts in response to your sweet moans, slapping your ass. His thrusts become stronger, bringing you closer to the edge of release. And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "-Not yet, my dear," he whispers in her ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "-You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission, you can do this, right? Like the good boy you are to your daddy hm?" He begins to move, establishing a rhythm that exposes you to the fullness and power of his thrusts, filling you completely. "-Such a good boy, accepting me so well, squeeze those thighs and stick out that fucking ass more! Yes baby boy, exactly like that..."
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you all over the house, while praising you for handling his dick so well in your little cunt. "-Such a beautiful and cute pussy, just for daddy's cock isn't it?", "-atta boy, do you feel that, angel? it's all for you... take my cock like a good boy.", "- Fuck-! I love hearing you beg for more... I'm going to make you cum so hard, baby boy...", "-You better get used to this my little boy... Because from now on on. Your life will revolve around me... And I will always make sure you are satisfied, whatever the cost..." Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as pleasure washed over you. You could feel the tension in your body growing, your pussy clenching around his dick as you neared the edge of orgasm.
─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who would lock you up in one of his mansions, in a beautiful golden cage, he would cut your ties with your mom... friends and even normal civilization, nothing exists beyond him now, you are just his, he will leave you just there , for him and for him. "-You will always be my doll boy... won't you?" Wesker would smile darkly, as he handed you the clothes he wanted you to wear. "-You'll never get rid of me... I'm your daddy forever... right my prince?"
𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 ©𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 2023. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.
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fun subliminals to try when you're bored ★
do i make you nervous, corky ★?!% - NINI !! ❦
people are nervous around you, people fall in love with you on first sight, people fall in love once they look into your eyes, always look hot without trying etcc
🍓 ⌗ ᝰ STR4WBERRY L1PS !! . . ᖗ - meenkica♡
strawberry red tinted lips, plump and heart shaped lips, super duper plump and red lips!!
highteen ⨾ 2000s romcom preppy character aesthetic 🛍 - baejin cafe
be the embodiment of high-teen style, your life is like a teen late 1990s to 2000s light romcom movie, preppy style: style & vibe. that is like the embodiment of late 1990s to 2000s movies cool kid
J'AD0RE D1OR! 👙🎀🛍🌀 - SERENA777
this subliminal will give you a glow up, attract attention, manifestly y2k clothes and your ideal wardrobe, and SOO much more.
out of this world - i6frog
feline eyes, long dark eyelashes, desired eyebrows, high model cheekbones that perfectly suit your face, pretty N cute nose , pretty clear skin, pump lips tined in ur desired color and more!
she looks just like a dream. 🗝 ₊˚.° - MAETOPIA☆
have the most beautiful sculpted face in the entire universe, have your exact desired beauty, be the exact definition of a perfectionist of beauty, always be the hottest person in the room, have the most perfect bare face, and more!
#subliminals#law of assumption#neville goddard#loassumption#manifestation#manifesting#loa#the law of assumption#manifest#spiritual#spirituality#shiftblr#reality shift#things to manifest#shifters#shifting realities#reality shifting#imagination creates reality#void success story#void state success story#void state#i am state#loa tumblr#loablr#loa blog#manifest your life#master manifestor#manifest your dreams#manifest it#loa affirmations
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˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the third night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
"i gave myself to satan, i should be a wrinkly old witch by now. my hair a tangle of venomous serpents, my skin green like a toad, black flames coursing through my veins." - belladonna of sadness.
cw: +18 so. blowjob (main event). long ass aftercare. hm. pet names. i suck at adding the tags. anyway. themes of misogyny and parental abuse. catholic guilt (expected). i always end up becoming desensitized from reading and checking it so many times, so it’s probably much filthier to the common of mortals than to me. and what else. no i think that's it. a/n: i am so sorry for shamelessly lying to you, i'm never promising a fixed update time every again. i can't help it, i do be a perfectionist. anyway. this part is long as fuck, sorry about that too. hope u like it. hehe. kisses. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here
desire is sin, and sin is death. that was the grim truth that had sunk into your mind. a persistent, gnawing thought ever since beomgyu closed the door behind him. it was your only rule, how could you had forgotten? how could you have been so stupid?
shame and mud had taken root in your body, their claws perforating their way through your soul and clutching every rosy thought, choking them all into submission. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.
you were haunted by the memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the whisper of his words in your ear and the pain of knowing it was all wrong, sinful and forbidden. it was a sweet torture, a reminder of what you had lost and what you could never have again. not if you wanted this shame to go away.
if he had stayed, perhaps his warmth could have filled the void within you, congesting your body with butterflies and hydrangea blooms before the self-condemnation had a chance to seep in, oozing out your mouth, your ears, your cunt like a gooey toxin.
but he left, and you were alone. in that icy isolation, you came to realise that you would always be alone. letting him in had been as mindless as it had been short-lived.
he was your foolish indulgence, a desire fragile like a stained glass window that your daddy would shatter the moment he found out. just like he had with soobin.
so the morning after, you woke with tear-streaked cheeks, the dried remnants of your sorrow clinging to your skin.
your eyes opened faintly and with trouble with the first sun ray. they were swollen, your vision blurry from the hours of crying. your body ached from the tension, muscles stiff and sore from the night spent curled up in a pathetic ball.
you sighed deeply, the exhale carrying with it a fraction of your guilt and mortification, but not nearly enough to ease the tightness in your chest. you were physically clean, but you felt stained to your core.
like lady macbeth, desperate to wash the non-existent blood from her hands, you felt that anyone could detect the evidences of your crime. your missing rosary beads, the slightly reddened neck, the scent of him on you. if daddy barely even looked you in the eye, you were certain he would know.
the scant sleep you managed to get was haunted by nightmares—daddy's cheshire grin glowing phosphorescent in the darkness, while you cried out in beastly moans against beomgyu's neck.
it felt like an omen, a premonition that if this continued, you would inevitably be discovered. desire is sin, and sin is death.
the sensation of your bare cunt against the sheets did nothing to alleviate the flesh-eating sadism of your shame. you lay there, feeling exposed and vulnerable, the absence of your underwear only amplifying your discomfort.
a chill ran through you, mingling with the dampness that clung to your groin. the moisture on your body had felt nurturing the night before, a sign that your were alive, that you had the capability to love. but now it felt foreign and intrusive.
you reached down to touch your cunt, feeling the sticky residue from the previous night. disgust gnawed at you.
you had cried yourself to sleep without cleaning yourself up and now your soggy, sickening cum clung to you like a noxious reminder of your sin. like you were rotten inside, leaking with venom. you buried your face in the pillow and cried again, your sobs muffled.
without his voice, that sticky liquid was just snot; without him there, the memory of his touch disfigured into that of a nameless hand of the devil fucking into you, and yourself feasting on it like a wild beast.
you rushed to the bathroom, driven by urgency. you felt like you were going to throw up, but you only gagged, your stomach empty. "it's all in your head," your body seemed to say. "we're fine, you're fine." but you couldn't comprehend the language. for all your life, you had only ever listened to your mind.
your reflection distorted in the mirror, a stranger in your own eyes. you were always poised, you were always composed. but the blood injected in your eyes, strained from the crying made you look like a madwoman. breath came in gasps as you stared at yourself, eyes wide with desperation.
your hands trembled as you turned on the faucet, the cold metal biting into your skin. water rushed out violently, crashing over you. each drop felt sharp, like tiny knives against your flesh.
with a desperate breathing, heavy like the room was devoid of oxygen, you attacked your skin, nails digging deep as you scrubbed. the water turned red. desire is sin, and sin is death. desire is sin, and sin is death.
desire is sin and sin is death, but like baptism washed away the original sin, water could purify you again, sterilise your body. clean his being off of you. with each scrub, you fought to erase his touch, leaving raw skin in your wake.
when you were done washing up, you hid it all the best way you knew; under layers of clothes, thick and opaque, not a visible centimetre of skin outside your face.
you walked through your house, eyes glued to the floor, as if you had stumbled into a cathedral bare naked. the saints and apostles on their holy cards stared down at you, their gazes heavy with sorrow. they had watched you grow up from a good little girl into a tainted whore.
even saint sebastian, the christian apollo, offered no mercy. the blood-stained arrows pierced his flesh, and his blood-thirsty eyes pierced you whole. a faint smell of incense lingered in the air, the ghostly reminder of daddy's morning prayers.
but there was one last saint to face, the most hurting martyr of them all. as you reached the bottom of the staircase, soobin stood in the hall, leaning against the front door.
he wore that same charcoal grey sweater he always wore to college, forever unchanged, like a character from an animated sitcom. and, as always, he was there waiting to drive you to school. but that morning, you wondered if he could smell your fear.
“you slept in?” soobin asked, his tone flat.
“y-yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “but i can skip breakfast. let’s just go.”
“you should eat something,” he insisted with a slight shrug. “you must be tired.”
your breath hitched, and a cold sweat formed at the back of your neck. “why do you say that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“you never sleep in. you must’ve had a tough night,” he observed, his eyes searching yours for a moment before looking away.
“kind of, yeah.” you moved towards the kitchen, your steps hesitant. "i had nightmares. all night long."
he walked after you into the kitchen, silent and stealthy like a shadow. you grabbed a plain bagel from the counter, spreading a thin layer of cream cheese on it. your hands shook slightly, the knife slipping once, smearing the cream cheese unevenly.
he leaned against the opposite counter, watching you as you faced away from him, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. there was an unsettling calm about him, a relaxed stillness that would have been reassuring if it were anyone else, but not soobin. "beomgyu has trouble sleeping too," he said, his voice almost too soft, too casual.
you chewed your lip before turning to face him, trying to maintain a facade of calm. "and you do too. must be this house," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.
you took a swift turn and walked out of the kitchen, your head held high. but your heart pounded against your chest like a drum. he knows. he knows. he knows. or maybe he doesn’t.
desire is sin, and sin is death. and now you had to wait, trapped in the uncertainty of not knowing whether your brother, cain, would betray you and get you killed.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
there was always a puddle of muddy dirt at the entrance of the school. even if it didn't rain, the ground was perpetually wet. a slick, treacherous mess that swallowed feet and soiled shoes.
you couldn't trust that ground. you couldn't trust the school. a slip-up and the back of your neck would lie cracked and open on the soil, thick blood mingling with dirt.
you stepped carefully, feeling the mud clinging to your soles. that was the revolting start to each day.
there was a sign on the entrance gate, rusty and weathered, that looked like it could give you tetanus just by looking at it. it had always made your skin crawl.
the words "sacred heart catholic university" were printed in bold letters and they seemed to be smirking. they knew they were lying. there was nothing sacred about that school, not one thing.
if you looked into the eyes of almost any professor, you would see something rotten staring back at you. it was not as wicked as it was pathetic. not grand enough for a flaming crown of hell, but rather petty and small like a worm or bloodsucking lice.
you walked through them every day; rheumy gazes and moist smirks. old men leering at bodies they couldn't touch. or they could. they had. no one was stopping them, anyway. not the dean, not the bishop, not god.
every morning began with a mandatory service, the only time when the girls' and boys' sections were allowed to gather together. you arrived in mass to the chapel, and once inside, the path divided: the male wing at the right hand of the father, the female wing to the less prestigious left. you and soobin always separated there, each heading to your respective sides.
but morning services had one small perk: mandatory as they were, there was no attendance list.
so when soobin disappeared from view, you'd slip out of the chapel. alone, you might have not dared, but you had partner in mischief, a friend. the person who had walked you hand in hand through an uncanny semblance of girlhood. yeh shuhua.
shuhua wasn’t exactly an intellectual, but she had a sharp street-smart intelligence. a keen sense of the world. she had thought a backup plan for getting caught skipping church.
"here's what we'll do," she'd say, dropping to her knees, hands clasped in prayer. "oh, dear professor," she mimicked in a whiny tone. "how can a shy girl like me pray with so many people around? my thoughts are only for god, and i must speak to him privately for comfort." she cried out, then flashed a bright grin. "the nuttier we sound, the more likely they'll believe it. remember when that girl said she could talk to the virgin mary and they brought in a vatican official to check? we just have to play innocent..."
like a faint summer breeze, shuhua was fresh and witty, and she never let that dammned school, nor its metaphysical threats, nor all the ordained priests walking around earth to turn her cold.
she was pretty, too, a boy-candy type of beauty. with long black hair tinged with red highlights, cherry gloss-coated lips and porcelain-white skin. not a trace of catholicism tainting her youthful features.
shuhua made the world feel a little bit bigger. she always had news about celebrities you didn't know, their affairs and gossip, the pomp and glamour god rejected.
it was fun talking to her. she wasn't a remarkable friend, or what they call a soulmate. but she was there.
until she met a boy.
lee heeseung, from the male section. only one year older than shuhua and you, but with the distorted notion of being older than the world itself and knowing more than anyone.
it started with a few stolen glances during chapel services, innocent and demure, and escalated to shuhua going down on him in the non-functioning professor bathrooms during the easter vigil mass.
all proud and excited, shuhua had recounted every detail to you like she had just blowed jesus himself.
“you feel like choking… more so if he likes it rough. and they all do.” she said. you had never seen her act that sheepish, but there was a slutty glint of enjoyment in her eye that made it feel less out of character. “he pushed down on my head a lot, so i kept gagging,” she said. “it’s not like i loved it, but he liked it so much, my darling boy.”
you remained quiet, like you often did. it wasn’t the violence of the act what disturbed you, but the devotion in her eyes as she recounted her pain. maybe boys really were dangerous after all, slithery and deceiving.
they could get you to enjoy pleasing them even if it hurt in the flesh. they were gods, demanding piety, and fathers, exacting control.
heeseung and shuhua started using their time skipping service to be together. it wasn´t shuhua and you anymore. it was heeseung and shuhua, and the malleable puppet of your physical body.
they had asked you to stay with them as a sort of chaperone to mitigate the risk of getting caught. but at some point, heeseung began to pity you—or perhaps he found it too awkward to grope shuhua with you just standing there. so, he started bringing a friend to keep you entertained. you would have preferred he hadn’t.
choi yeonjun had beautiful flowy hair, and a charming smile, and he lived in a big vast playground he owned, called the world. his confidence bordered on tyranny, and that made him untouchable.
a disgustingly rich boy he was; the kind of rich that gets you into heaven. his father was a man who owned lands and homes, therefore owning other men. another dictator, just another man playing god.
"he's into you, you know?" shuhua's voice rang out as you both strolled through the tall grass toward your usual meeting spot. "you should cut the prude act and give him a chance." she said.
the blades brushed against your ankles, tickling your skin as they swayed gently in the breeze. the further away from school, the freer. even the landscape knew that.
"he's not worth a chance," you replied, stone-cold.
shuhua shot you a disapproving look and said, "you're beyond help, honestly." pausing to apply a fresh layer of gloss to her lips, the shimmer catching the light. "it's choi yeonjun. they don't make 'em better than that."
"he's cruel. and he acts like god’s favourite," you retorted, your voice definitive. "i don't like that."
the grass crunched underfoot, the rhythm of your steps a steady thrum against the silence. ahead, two human shapes, tall and slender took form—the two boys, blurred smudges sharpening into clarity as you drew closer.
the moment shuhua’s eyes landed on heeseung, she couldn't contain herself and broke into a sprint, her skirt flying up recklessly as her legs blurred in a skipping motion towards her darling boy. her arms clutched at his neck, desperate and clinging, while heeseung’s bold hand slipped beneath the fabric of her skirt to grasp flesh, squishing her ass like an anxiety toy.
even before dating heeseung, shuhua had always favored a smuttiness to her clothes. however, the style had transformed into a sort of charicature of a schoolgirl since they started seeing each other. there was some freudian notion to the flimsy short skirts paired with the nunnish argyle cardigans that drove heeseung insane.
the black cotton of your tapered slacks felt suddenly itchy against your legs. hot, suffocating.
"ice princess," yeonjun's voice broke through your thoughts, sharp, clear, uninvited. he stood slightly apart from the others, his eyes fixed on you with the usual blend of mocking and blatantly checking you out. "let me carry your bag."
"it's not heavy," you answered curtly. heeseung and shuhua remained oblivious to the exchange, lost in their own world where the lines between love and possession blurred.
“oh, come on,” yeonjun's grin widened with a mischievous glint like sunlight flickering across the shards of broken glass, alluring yet sharp enough to cut. "let me take care of my pretty girl."
“i’m not your girl.” you clutched the strap of your bag tighter to your side. "and we’re not in high-school. i can carry my own stuff." you said before continuing to walk.
he snorted out a laugh, then followed after.
the usual hangout spot was just a collection of rocks aligned almost like a table, their jagged edges softened by the creeping moss that clung to them like a blanket. the air was cleaner there, untainted by the scent of trampled grass and stale corridors.
shuhua perched on those stony pews, her legs folding beneath her with ease. in her lap, heeseung found a cradle for his head, his hair spilling over her thighs like dark silk being tenderly spun by her fingertips.
you sat nearby, your knees drawn up tight to your chest, arms wrapped around them as if they could shield you from the cursed memory of the night you had spent with beomgyu from slipping out of you.
yeonjun hovered close, too close, as he usually did, his body heat radiating onto your skin in waves. at times, he'd lean back, propping himself on an arm just inches from you, his weight shifting the balance of your shared rock.
his hand would reach —a bird of prey circling before the dive—to toy with a lock of your hair. you felt the sweep of his fingertips, not quite touching the scalp, a ghostly sensation that prickled your neck.
and most times, you just let him do it. it was a twisted ritual of near-touches, the most explicit thing you would ever allow him to do to you.
sometimes he would lean into your ear and whisper “you're a cockteasing slut, you know?”, with words meant to burn. they tingled in your ears down to your pussy. then came in a nervous gaze you tried to hide, the redenning cheeks, and yeonjun’s stupid smirk when he noticed it all.
the attention you got from yeonjun was addictive and tingly like crystal meth. his warmth was a tepid thing, a sun struggling through winter clouds. it wasn't real, it wasn't love. barely even affection. just an obsession-driven lust. but it was enough for you not to die of hypothermia, frozen by your own frigidity.
or at least it had been enough, before beomgyu.
there was no room for yeonjun in yourself, not anymore. he didn't feel warm. he didn't feel like anything. not when every cell in your body thrummed with the echo of beomgyu's name.
that day, you kept batting yeonjun’s hand away from your hair, denying the only bit of you that had belonged to him. but he always reached out again, insistent, stubborn as weeds in cracked pavement.
"stop it," you told him under your breath, the whisper harsh against the backdrop of wet kissing sounds from the happy couple.
"what?" he asked with a shrug and a cocky pout. his feigned innocence was as thin as paper. "you have open ends…" he trailed off, fingers splitting an open-ended hair into two.
"i like them like that," you snapped, the words sharp. "just get away."
"playing hard to get?" he prodded, his grin all teeth and no humor.
"playing 'leave me alone,'" you shot back, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself.
a laugh bubbled up from shuhua's throat, rich and unbothered. she lounged like a cat in sunlight, her eyes half-lidded. "woah, feeling extra-prudish today, no?"
heeseung's gaze flickered with something akin to mischief. "she's probably scared because of the kim minjeong thing," he smirked.
"the kim minjeong thing?" you echoed. "what happened?"
heeseung stirred like a cat on shuhua’s lap with a shit-eating grin.
"her daddy found out she had a boyfriend. got real mad." he explained. "the man dragged her to the dean's office gripped by her hair. she kept ugly crying, it was freaky." his eyes didn't waver; they held the morbid fascination of one watching a car crash. "the dad kept going on and on about the school not being able to keep girls in line, shouting like a madman. they ran a virginity test on her to settle it.”
a gasp caught in your throat, strangled, "w-what's a virginity test?"
heeseung's grin sliced through, cruel and sharp as a kitchen knife. "they stick cloth up your pussy, and if it comes out with blood, you're safe. if not, well, the executioner will choose the punishment, i guess.”
you felt your face flush, heat creeping into your cheeks. this type of intrusion, a cruel infringement disguised as safeguarding, was the kind of love that fathers, kings, and gods like to exert.
"it's a twisted thing," came in shuhua, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a delicate flick of her wrist. "don't you get even more puritanical because of it, sweetie. it has no scientific avail. if we were underage or something like that… that would be one thing, but– i don’t know. it's just barbaric..."
heeseung replied in a mock stern tone, making the lazy impression of a war general, "age doesn't change anything.” he said. “no sex before marriage."
your hands were sweating against the fabric of your pants as you stammered out, "c-couldn't they tell if you...like, touch yourself?"
yeonjun's predatory smirk widened as he leaned in closer. his response was a simple question; "why, babygirl, would that worry you?" he kept his eyes locked on yours, waiting for your armour to break.
"of course not," you muttered, forcing out the lie through your dry throat. "just curious." you continued, trying to sound nonchalant, "i mean, it could get someone in trouble for virtually nothing."
"virtually indeed.” heeseung snorted with a laugh. he picked at the grass beneath him. “it all depends on how you define virginity," he said with a casual shrug. "for the salivating creeps who take those tests seriously, fucking only means sticking something inside of something else. so i guess that if you've only fucked yourself by… you know…” he made a crude gesture with a shit-eating grin. “then you’re still pure as virgin mary.”
“that doesn’t feel pure, either.” you said. you thought back to the previous night when beomgyu's fingers had teased your clit, and you couldn't help but feel a familiar twitch. you pushed the memory out of your mind, shaking your head as if trying to scare away a pesky bug.
“non-penetration sex is not pure, but it’s not patriarchal, either. so it doesn’t count.” shuhua said.
yeonjun’s next comment different in political aspiration. he leaned into your ear, "don't you ever go needy like that, baby" he said, his eyes fixed on you with a confidence you wished you could scrape off with your fingernails. “if it aches down there i can kiss it better.” he said. heeseung chuckled complicitly with a hollowed laugh.
"zip it, the both of you." shuhua's voice sliced through their banter, sharp and clear. such fierceness for a girl drowning in a pastel pink sweater. "honey, that test is total bullshit. it just checks if your hymen is torn or not. it’s this little membrane up your pussy which men have historically used to shame girls. it can tear riding a bike or with a tampon or whatever. it's stupid."
you nodded, but you weren’t convinced. you didn't think daddy would believe it. if they ran that test on you and you didn't bleed, what would you tell him? that you rode a bike too hard? he would never buy that.
heeseung snorted out a grating laugh. "she says it’s stupid now, but i survived the first month we were together off of blowjobs. she was scared stiff of anything going up there because of that damn test."
shuhua leaned in close, hed breath a warm whisper against heeseung’s ear, "like you can complain, you love it when i go down on you." her hand trailed along the sharp line of his jaw, fingertips barely grazing his skin before coming to rest at the dip of his throat.
heeseung's cocky smirk grew wider as he leaned back on his hands, the rocky ground beneath him serving as his makeshift throne. "you know," he drawled out, "there's something so fucking heavenly about having a girl on her knees for you. i dunno... you feel like a king."
a flicker of your lip gave away your true thoughts, an unintentional twitch. heeseung's language was coarse, but there was an odd poetry in the way he spoke this time.
you thought of beomgyu. beomgyu your king, beomgyu the only one you would ever want to crown like that. your lips around his dick, his low voice praising you. calling you his baby, his little angel.
slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore. said shame.
a flush of heat crept up your cheeks, betraying the sudden surge of nerves that coursed through your body. "i...should get going," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "service will be over soon," you added quickly, hoping to cut off any potential objections and make your escape before things became too awkward.
grabbing your bag, you hurried away from the group, taking quick and hurried steps. but it wasn't long before yeonjun caught up with you.
"wait!" his voice shattered the tense silence, causing you to stop mid-stride and turn to face him.
"what do you want?" you asked, tone curt.
"what do i have to do for you to stop giving me the cold shoulder?" he asked, his grin widening as he continued to close the distance between you.
your voice sliced through his hopes with practiced precision, a sharp edge honed by too many similar conversations. "nothing, really," you replied firmly. "but what you can do is stop deluding yourself into thinking that anything will ever happen between us.”
yeonjun's grin didn't falter, but something flickered in his gaze—a brief shadow of disappointment he quickly masked. he trailed behind you like a persistent breeze, impossible to shake off.
"don’t you think you overdid it today? the whole nun act?” he asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly. there was always malice behind his playfulness. "you can’t fool me, you know? girls who act all cold like you are always the filthiest.”
your muscles tensed. “is calling me a slut the best you've got?”
“come on, i know you're needy," yeonjun said confidently, taking a step closer to you. he reached for your hand, but you flinched it away before he could touch you. "you have to be… pretty girl like you, restraining yourself... i could make you feel so good. put that mouth of yours to good use.”
"seriously, will you ever cut it?" you spat out. "i don't want you. i don't care about you. just forget about me."
you saw his lips press, his nostrils flare. sick of him, you turned to walk away, but his voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.
"is there someone else?" he suddenly asked, and you could hear the hint of desperation in his voice.
you froze in your place. "w-what?"
"you always get all flushed and bothered when i say nasty shit to you." he said. "but you keep acting up today, like you don't need me anymore. are you seeing someone?"
"leave me alone, i never needed you." you said, shoving him hard in the chest. he stumbled back, surprise flickering in his eyes before it hardened into something darker.
"touchy, aren't we?" he regained his balance, his grin resembling shards of broken glass. "i liked you with the good little girl image, but it gets me so fucking hard when you say no to me like this, too."
you hissed, taking a step back. all you wanted was space, air, anything to cleanse yourself from the filth of his words. you turned around and left with quick, heavy steps.
yeonjun watched you go, satisfaction gleaming in his predatory gaze. "even if you don't tell me, i’ll find out!" he called after you, his voice carrying on the breeze, "and you're smart enough to know that secrets are only safe if everyone keeps their mouths shut."
you didn't look back.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
helios ploughed the sky with his chariot and night fell everywhere in the house of god except in your room.
it was a deliberate postponement the night-time. a way of protecting the sanctity of your holy prison cell. your safe, warm, constraining prison cell.
you had stood under the shower for a second time that day before climbing into bed, letting the scalding water clatter softly against your face for what felt like hours. you lingered there, breathing in the steam, until your were sure you had washed away any residual trace of lust
you dried your hair with rough, almost angry strokes until it was dehydrated and feathery, and brushed it until the strands, dampened into thick locks, turned soft enough that you wouldn't dare allow anyone to tangle it again.
anyone. the devil. him.
the nightdress you had worn the night before, the one he had touched, lay discarded on the floor. a fleeting thought of burning it crossed your mind. maybe you would do it the next day. integral purification. eradicate the slightest trace of him.
you changed into a cotton short set, one childish enough to be laughable. cute little lilies over a pinkish backcloth. and to further on that naive illusion of shelter, you wrapped yourself into a black hoodie that had once belonged to soobin, its oversized warmth swallowing you whole as you sought to disappear within it.
the scent of almond soap and sanctifying shampoo lingered in the air as you sat on the bed with the lights still on. daddy went to sleep, soobin inserted himself inside his bed for yet another night of staring at the ceiling. the house of god fell silent.
you hugged your legs, repeating to yourself that desire is sin, and sin is death as a nightly prayer. but when you finally turned off the light, the darkness only amplified the pounding of your heart. he would come. and you would have to ignore him.
maybe he had forgotten, even. maybe he had gotten bored of the toy and would just stand you up. that's what yeonjun would do if you ever gave him a chance. if the thread of unfulfilled yearning didn't tie him to you. or maybe it was that beomgyu hadn't really tried out the toy yet. barely even unwrapped it.
no. you had the gut-wrenching feeling that, for some god-awful reason, beomgyu cared about you. he had said he did, treated you like he did. if only he were more like yeonjun—more of a jerk, less needful and unhappy—maybe he would spare you the pain of sending him away. you weren't even sure you could.
in a desperate attempt to assert control over yourself, you had wedged a chair under the doorknob—a feeble barricade to separate you from your sin.
your door didn't lock from the inside, only from the outside. daddy had designed it that way, like a guardroom only he held the key to. the birdcage. the cushiony, secured birdcage you never should have corrupted.
that's how beomgyu had entered the previous night. the door had been open, a poetic invitation from fate. tonight, however, you closed it sealed and tight—poetically, physically, painfully.
but then he arrived. and he owned the magical key that was himself.
the first knock was faint as if the door could hurt. you remained still, every muscle tensed. a second knock followed, carrying a little more intent, a little more anxiety. panic coursed through your frozen veins. you wanted to hide in soobin's hoodie like a scared tortoise and never come out.
you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that if you pressed your eyelids hard enough, you wouldn't want beomgyu so desperately. a hopeless wish to never had felt how your lips blazed against his, to erase him from your life entirely.
the doorknob rattled, the bolt clanking with an excruciating metallic sound and the safeguarding chair being the only thing keeping the door shut.
"please, leave," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. and maybe he heard. maybe a divine intervention carried your plea. he stopped.
silence stretched for agonizing minutes. your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out all other sounds. done. it wasn't that difficult. five minutes of agonising anxiety in exchange for a life of virtue. or so you thought.
you didn't even have time to cry his absence when his voice, haunting and mournful, pierced the quiet.
"remember, most gracious virgin mary," he began. he was praying. "that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided."
you perched on the bed's edge, hypnotized. he was asking for asylum in your prison cell. for you to let him lock himself with you in your birdcage. like the previous night, and for all nights to come.
he went on. "inspired by this confidence, i fly unto you, virgin of virgins, my mother. to you do i come, before you i stand, sinful and sorrowful." he said.
with each word, you took a frightful step toward the door. he was loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear him. but what was the harm, right? just the prodigal son praying to the virgin.
"mother of the word incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me." he said. "amen."
your body trembled. every fiber of your being wanted to resist, but you had to let him in; you were to be full of grace—the mother of mothers, praying for the sinners at the hour of death. your hand moved to the chair, quietly setting it aside. you opened the door, opened the gates of the promised land.
beomgyu sunk there, small, slumped against the door. he startled by its sudden opening. his eyes, rich brown like fertile earth, looked up at you—pleading and desperate. his youthful cheeks, soft like a girl's, and his blessed lips had shown you more love in one night than anyone ever had. you never saw the trident, the wicked grin, the feathered black wings of satan.
he turned and knelt, clumsily, like a mistreated convict begging for food, clutching the rosary beads you had given him in one shivering hand. "i thought—" he stammered out. "i thought you didn't want me anymore."
with a pained expression etched on your face, you motioned for him to be silent. beomgyu could see the lamentable dye that stained your features, but he couldn't decipher if you were inviting him in or pushing him away. a part of him didn't want to find out.
when he began to crawl towards you, you recoiled as if he was a disease. and that's how he felt at his core –like a pest that you couldn't get rid of. your heart ached at the thought. just last night, he held you close and whispered honey into your ears. but now you blamed him for your own sins and treated him like the devil.
you extended your hand and helped him up. in a subtle motion you closed the door behind him, trying not to make any noise. relief flooded his features as he leaned closer to your ear. "do you want me to leave?"
you kissed his cheek softly, like only you knew how, the touch of a feather. he shivered. "stay," you breathed against his skin.
you had fallen again. he had prayed himself into heaven.
the first step he took inside was bashful, but you should have guessed from the red-hot gleam in his pupils that a hurricane-stricken soul kiss was coming. no build-up, no easing you into it. just crimson cannibalism.
he took two heavy breaths. one. i missed her. two. i want her. and the third one he took against your skin after lunging at your mouth, breathing in the soaps and the shampoos and all your foolish efforts to plasticize yourself against him.
he pushed you against the wall with a force that made a loud thud, but he didn't care about the noise. he needed to close every gap, to melt your body into his. "i missed you so much," he gasped between kisses, his voice laced with desperation. "i've been thinking about you all day, about what i wanted to do to you... i couldn't take it anymore."
he devoured your lips, his hands roaming over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. "you're so good for me," he murmured against your skin, his words muffled by the heat of his breath. "so fucking good around me."
beomgyu's hands were like molten lava, burning trails on your skin as he pulled you closer, and you wanted nothing more than to let him do. to have him burn you down to cinders, to give your neck to him as an offering and let him blood-suck you dry.
but you remembered. desire is sin, and sin is death. it echoed annoyingly this time. like a nagging school teacher, an irksome jiminy cricket that spoke in your own voice.
you tried to push him away, gasping for air like a diver drowning under the weight of the ocean. "wait," you panted desperately, trying to catch your breath. "beomgyu, please– wait." you said. you poured a bucket of iced water over the volcano.
the lava solidified under the ice. "why? what is it?" his eyes grew wide, concerned.
"i don't want to feel like a whore again." your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. "like i'm– cattle.”
lava rock turned pathetically mushy. "did i... make you feel that way?"
you shook your head quickly, feeling guilty for even thinking it. "no, no. you were so good to me." you reassured, hands gripping onto his shirt. "but we– we barely know each other. why would you want me other than..."
"just for sex?” he finished your sentence with a battered expression. “is that what you think?”
"what else, then?"
"no." he shook his head anxiously. "no, no. absolutely not. you're... you're like me. you understand. you get it. you feel good– in my soul. this is corny, i'm not good at– i... i just... this is the only way i know how to show it."
cute. you gently ran your fingers through his dark, tousled hair. he was fawn like everything nurturing, he was hazel all over. lush like freshly brewed coffee, mellow like a shot of baleys.
you let your hand trace from his hair to his chin, holding him closer. your noses met first, plumy. then the lips, just barely. they made a slight, dainty wet sound when they parted. "all the decisions i keep making because of you are so stupid. it’s embarrassing." you said. "i'm never like this."
"i'm..." the lava rock was now cotton, it was watercolour, it was baby powder. "sorry."
"where did you learn that prayer?" you asked, playing with his hair. he held you by your arms, trying his best to pretend that your lips didn't exist.
"i've been hanging around church," he confessed in a raspy whisper. "i never go inside, thoug. that would feel intrusive, i guess. i just hang around and listen to the services from the outside. i try to memorise the useful prayers," he said, "only that one stuck."
you raised an eyebrow, "the useful ones?"
"the ones that will get me what i want. isn’t that how praying works? and besides," he said with a sugary grin, holding the rosary beads up. he was sweet, so endearingly earnest. "you gave me this. i thought i should learn how to pray it properly."
"you weren't saying it correctly, though." you corrected him gently. "the first bead is supposed to be 'our father,' you were saying a memorare."
"who cares?" he shrugged, a teasing glint shining through. "it worked for me. it got me in here."
with a trembling hand, you reached out and grabbed the rosary hanging around his neck. your fingers closed around the cold metal, pulling it towards you. "take it off."
he clutched it tighter, his hand over yours, as if afraid to let go of it. "why?"
"i don't like you with it," you said. "i like you out of god. you're the only thing i have that's not corrupted by it."
"but i'm trying to be a little better for you. purer, or whatever the hell you call it. so that you'll feel less guilty when we're together." he said. then his brows furrowed with ache. "you regret me, don't you? that's why you weren't letting me in."
"it really hurt when you left," you admitted quietly. "all night long, i felt filthy and repulsive. like some..." you hesitated, embarrassed at your own words. "some wild animal in heat. but it goes away when you're here. it... it’s still there. but i forget about it. just a little."
a defiant look crossed his face. "then i'll never leave again."
"but you have to," you countered, letting go of his arms and turning way from him to walk toward the window. "or daddy will find out."
you heard beomgyu's footsteps approaching after you slowly, and you knew he was standing behind you now.
in haze and silk his hand found yours, which had been limp at your side. "but you like being close to me," he said softly, his arm wrapping around your waist, pressing your body against his. "and i like being close to you," he added, his nose tracing patterns along your neck. "you're warm."
"aren't you concerned at all? how can you not care about anything else?" you asked.
"because i'm crazy about you, you're my angel." he muttered as if it was obvious, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke. he buried his face deeper into your neck, breathing in your scent. "you smell so good."
"i just showered," you whispered, feeling yourself shivering under his touch. "it’s all i’ve done today, try to wash up."
"see?" he purred against your neck, with an amused smile that bordered on wicked. "you're a clean little angel. you have nothing to be ashamed of." he held you tight, arms forming a velvety belt around your waist. "i'm gonna be good for you tonight, take things slow. does that sound good?"
your nodded slightly, turning around to give him a soft kiss. though eager, there was uneasiness in your gaze, a loving intensity so hopeless it hurt.
he could take the hurt away, he was convinced. leave only the longing, the summery warmth and the tingling of the flesh. cupping your face with both hands he took your soft kiss and inflamed it into a fleshy bite, a mouthful of you. mine, mine, mine.
the room sweltered, wrapping you in a cloying embrace that thickened with the friction of the lips. with a deft movement he pulled away for a fleeting second, shrugging off his overshirt, the fabric fluttering to the ground like a lifeless body.
he saw your eyes widen, your muscles tense. the breath catching in your chest at the lost promise to take things slow. he lifted his palms like having been caught in the middle of a crime. "it’s– it’s hot in here," he murmured, trying to hush you. "just that."
you nodded. "yeah, yeah." you breathed out. stupid, wimpy, childish, prude, you thought to yourself. "i…" you started to unzip the hoodie, stripping away from your protective armor. "i probably don't look as good as yesterday," you said. "i'm sorry."
beomgyu exhaled a breathy chuckle, a laden smile tinged with affection. "what are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head. "i look fucking gross in soobin’s old, borrowed clothes. these fit me like an elephant's skin, and you – you're… shit, you're so pretty – and you still apologize?"
he grasped your hand, tugged you towards him. he cherished and adored, and coated with his kisses and artisan lips the face of his angel. his little good girl who would sigh hummingbird whimpers against his lips as a warming, wordless praise.
he liked how you explored on him, too. how you seemed to prefer his upper lip and worked on it daintily, how you would pout when he pulled away, something he did just to indulge himself in the pleasure of staring at your lips get swollen and intumesced. how your eyes saddened, too, puppy-round and disquieted, silently asking if you had done something wrong.
gentle lips turned voracious, he couldn't help it. you were so tasty, so foamed textured, a favourite food.
letting his arm cradle you under your ass, he picked you up, weightless plush bear, your legs falling at both sides of his torso. you escaped a half-chuckled hum against his lips, a teenaged sound of cheeriness.
securely held like that, he walked you to the bed, where he let you fall softly, himself dropping after you. the weight of his body pressed you down against the plush duvet, but the suffocation felt good, the drowning in his oaky scent with no escape.
he focused on the fragility of your neck, silken, lovely swan’s arch. he pressed his unworthy mouth against it, nibbled at it, let his teeth sink in the skin, pushing the feeble line of pain and pleasure.
you shifted, rolling over together in a smooth, almost effortless motion. now, your were resting against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. you could hear his heartbeat, steady and deep.
he watched you hovering above him. your hair fell around your face, a dark frame for your flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. fucking beautiful. he lifted his head slightly and gave your a quick, animalistic kiss, almost like a snake bite.
his teeth caught your lower lip, holding it for a heartbeat longer, before letting it slip free. your back spasmed, punctuated by an acute shiver.
you let out a low, throaty whimper that resonated against his mouth. your lips pressed back against his with increased urgency, your fingers digging into his hair as you deepened the kiss.
"needy baby," he murmured softly, his voice a husky breath against your lips. "you still want me to take things slow?"
your hips began to move on their own, rubbing against him, driven by an instinctive rhythm. his nails bit into the tender flesh of your thighs as though trying to rip off the peel of a tangerine, to skin you out and envelop you himself instead.
but you both moved together, and his shirt lifted slightly, revealing a dark bruise on his stomach. at first, it was just a shadow, barely noticeable in the dim light. but as your movements shifted and the fabric of his shirt rose higher, the bruise came into full view.
your breath caught in your throat—a deep, ugly purplish hue marring his skin. the color at the center of the bruise was nearly black, a grisly shade that made the surrounding skin look almost rotten. the edges of the bruise were tinged with a sickly yellow-green, the mark of an injury struggling to heal.
"beomgyu..." you paused, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bruise, feeling the heat radiating from the inflamed skin. it was tender to the touch, and you could almost feel the pain he must have endured when he received it. "how did this happen?" you whispered, your voice a mix of worry and disbelief.
his eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. he seemed reluctant to answer, but the concern in your gaze softened his resolve.
"it’s nothing," he murmured, trying to dismiss it, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.
"nothing?" you echoed, your fingers still gently exploring the bruise. he winced at the touch. "your dad hurt you before you came here, didn't he? that's why you left home."
his hands moved to cover yours, stopping your gentle probing. "it’s just... it’s not as bad as it looks."
"does it still hurt?" you asked, searching for his eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding your gaze.
"no," he said through gritted teeth. "stop looking at it." he pulled down his shirt to cover the bruise with a violent tug.
you tilted your head, scrutinizing his lie and his sudden flare of irritability. it was uncharacteristic, a side of him you had heard of but never had seen yourself.
slowly, you reached out and pressed your fingers against the fabric of his shirt, right over the hidden bruise. your touch went from gentle to stinging as you pushed down, observing his reaction.
he bit his lip, a futile attempt to conceal his pain with a stubbornness bordering on childlike. when it really began to hurt him he finally winced, a sharp breath escaping him. "well, of course it fucking hurts if you press it," he snapped.
"sorry," you whispered softly.
you stayed in silence for a few seconds. you didn't know what to do, what to say, how to tell him that he shouldn't be embarrassed that his father was a sadistic brute. so in a movement as smooth as melting butter, you eased yourself onto his lap, your limbs wrapping around him with the languid grace of entwining vines.
you said nothing at first, just peppered his face with kisses, each one a delicate brush of your lips, grazing the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, and that upper lip you adored so much.
"what was that for?" he asked, still trying to perform crankiness with a tiny pout, but with a flustered red coloring his cheeks.
he yielded, his hands finding a natural place on your hips. with a tender smile, you murmured, “you've been going on and on about taking care of me, but look at you. you need care, too.”
“no, i don’t,” he retorted, his tone edging on petulant. “i can handle myself and take care of you while at it.”
“sure,” you reassured him with a soft giggle, your breath warm against his lips. “but let me take care of you for once.”
the kiss you gave him was a smiled out version of the wettened bites he liked to take out of your lips. a somehow tender ferocity, adoring. a violent hunger, soft like rose petals.
he liked lingering touches, gentle and exploratory. those that made him quivery and trembling. the kind that traced but not prodded, only brushed. and so you gave him that.
he liked wet kisses, deep and honeyed. kisses that felt like sinking your teeth into a ripe peach and letting its amber juice drip down your chin. and so you gave him that.
"i... still remember how good you made me feel yesterday." you whispered against his lips. he watched you in silence, pupils dilating at how bashful you were, how much adoration your eyes carried for his foul self. "i really tried to, but i couldn't stop thinking about it all day. about... you. i... i wouldn’t even know how to–" you stopped, words piling up in your throat. "how to give back."
your voice washed over him like holy water. a shiver run through him, the stirring whip of a stingray, from the nape of his neck down to his hardening dick. his eyes lit up with something animalistic, dark, even. there was a subtle change in the tilt of his head, an eager forward lean.
his hands were two starved beasts, roaming freely and gripping your body. you guided his touch, enjoying the tension changes in his muscles when he grasped the parts he liked best.
his fingers tightened firmly on your thigh, a strong ache of lust pulsing through his veiny forearms. he hesitated, eager for permission before moving his hands up to your ass. when you allowed it with a mild nod, his grip clenched tightly like iron.
he let his hands trail up, crawling under the shorts, beneath the underwear. the skin was tender, sweet marshmallow flesh. he kissed you violently, just for the sake of groaning into your mouth, to tell you how bad he liked you without the need for words.
pulling you closer, he grabbed firmly, causing your straddling legs to spread wider against him. then you felt it. him growing harder against you, his bulge pressing insistently between your legs, "b-beomgyu you're,"
"of course i am," he growled through gritted teeth, "shit– how could i not be?" his greedy lips traveled down from your neck, your throat, tour clavicles, leaving a trail of spit on your skin, icy against the air.
"you were like this yesterday, too." you pressed your fingers against his tense jawline, feeling the strain in his muscles. “let me help you out, please, teach me how."
he hesitated. his baby princess was too pure to stain herself with his dirty self. he was just a ravenous dog, hungry, flushed and beastly turned on, but you were his little dove, his angel, you–
you took your shy hand down to his crotch.
you did so while looking him in the eye, firm but awfully nervous. trembling, experimental. you brushed against the throbbing bulge with your palm.
he drew his head back. holy mary mother of god, pray for us sinners. chewed on his lip. now and at the hour of our death. he was all in.
he put his hand over yours with the intention of teaching you, like you had asked for, but you stopped him. with a timid voice and a slight stutter, you requested, "m-mouth."
a hitched breath. then a heavy one. "you shouldn’t," he whispered huskily, “with those pretty angel lips…”
you stirred on his lap, making him shudder with the slight brush of your covered pussy against his desperately hard self. "i have this friend from school," you began. "he’s not all that poetic, but today he said something… " you said, voice whispery. "said that having a girl on her knees for him made him feel like a king. i want to make you feel like that, too.”
beomgyu's silence was charged, his gazy stormy. the heavenly image flashed before his eyes. his baby angel down on her knees for him. the blushing tint on her sinless cheeks. virginal hibiscus lips wrapped around his cock. all sweet, all fucking gorgeous.
he then said, "open your mouth for me,”
you did as he commanded. you parted your lips for a shy communion, reception of the body of christ. your tongue rested plump and glistening on your lower lip. pretty, pretty, pretty.
with one hand he held your chin. the other one he raised with his index and middle fingers extended, thumb holding the ring and little fingers down. he slid them inside your mouth, their sinewy length slipping past your lips, taste of salt, skin and wine.
he grunted when your plump lips closed around his fingers. gulped down his libido, his adam’s apple prominently bobbing up and down. soon enough —he told himself— be gentle.
guiding your head with a steady rhythm, he began to move his fingers in and out, the wetness of your tongue sloppy against them. "no teeth," he commanded.
he entered a third finger in, stuffing your cheeks. the thrust got more forceful, his hand reaching deeper. you began to salivate, making a mess on his wet skin, unable to swallow.
you gagged when he pushed against your throat. then looked up at him, a glint of fear in your eyes.
“that choking feeling. it's gonna be like that.” he said in a sweet tone. “you think you can take it?”
you nodded eagerly, your voice coming out muffled in a throaty moan against his hand. it was a new feeling, but so sinfully delicious. a deep hot sweetness that got you helplessly soaked with its glowing tingle.
"use your tongue," he growled, his voice thick. you obeyed, letting it swirl around his skin. “such a good girl.” he said. your body quivered all over.
when he finally withdrew his hand, a glistening saliva trail draped down, connecting his fingers to your tongue. lewdy spiderweb of silver. without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to each gleaming digit.
then, as light as a floating bubble, you slid off the bed and guided him to sit at the edge. but instead of sitting, he stood up, looming over you. he was so tall, and for the first time, his height didn't feel protective but imposing, towering over you like a temple.
you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, silently for a kiss. he granted it to you. he could have been a giant, a monster, beastly like a wild bear, and he still would have brushed your hair behind your ear with all the softness in the world and leaned down to kiss you.
kneeling before him made you feel small, exposed, shrinking under his devouring gaze. but there was something thrilling in being so vulnerable to him.
your hands were shaking as you reached for the waistband of his pants. a ritualistic undressing of him, an unveiling of sacred flesh that you were terrified to ruin by being clumsy and uncoordinated.
his hand wrapped around your wrist. "are you sure about this?" he asked for the last time with a tender stroke at your head.
"yes," you whispered back, your voice barely audible over the thunderous beating of your heart. there was a shyness that coiled tightly around your spine, eating you alive, but there was also eagerness—the want to make him feel good.
you pulled down his pants, the big bulge in his underwear imposing, daunting. you pressed your lips tentatively against the taut fabric, the only thing you were certain you would do well, a slight whisper of a kiss that left behind a cold, wet spots.
the dampness seeped through the cotton, a chaste baptism of his aching cock. "pretty," he murmured above you, hand tracing your cheek.
a little more bolstered by his praise, your hands reached out and hooked into the elastic band, pulling it down with reverence. his cock was thick and pulsing, begging for your touch. rosy, gold-dusted. you gulped. this was him, purely in the flesh.
you leaned in, trailing soft kisses along its length and leaving small burning marks on his skin. his hand gripped your hair tight as he groaned. "you're gonna feel so good, shit."
with a hesitant exhale, you parted your lips, allowing the tip of his cock to brush against them. he tasted of musk and urgency. you struggled, trying to fit him all the way into your mouth. he was so big, so overwhelming for virgin stupid you.
as soon as he felt your lips around him he winced and his hand gripped your hair, tugging sharply and sending a jolt of electric sensation down your spine. you felt a protectiveness in his touch, there was no force, only unreleased tension.
"you're so fucking beautiful like that,” beomgyu rasped, his voice thick. you leaked heplessly at his words. "be careful, alright, angel? stop whenever you need to." he said.
you pulled out for a second, just to answer to him. your lips closing at his tip, pouty. spit glistened all over his lenght like the glinting mix of melted ice and saliva on fruit flavored ice-cream. "don't hold back." you simply said.
beomgyu let out a grumbled groan as he watched take him in your mouth again, the plush walls of your cheeks hugging so beautifully around his cock.
slow and timid, you began the back and forth motion. the flow you managed was awkward at first, clumsy and arrhythmic. but with just a little silent steadying of his hand in your hair, you found the right pace.
“j-just like that, shit,” beomgyu groaned, his voice a low thrum that resonated through your ribcage.
the wetter you got, the more shame swirled like eddies in the depths. you knew she was waiting for you with her sinister glare, ready to and ambush and churn at your insides when beomgyu was gone.
but shame was titillating when your lower belly burned and your needy clit throbbed helplessly. shame leaked out in the form of arousal, pouring syroupy glitter.
whenever you dared look up at him, you'd see the godlike vision of a strained, sweating beomgyu. his head was drawn back in pleasure and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, escaping a profane mess of heavy breaths and lewd sounds.
his voice was so beautiful, too, you kept thinking. low and mellow, incese and wood. he sounded so good, with his raspy “ahs,” and roaring moans. you did everything in your power to keep him panting like that.
with every flick of your tongue and suckle of your lips, you could feel him twitch and tense. as you took him further into your mouth, his thick and veiny shaft hit the back of your throat.
a surprining rush of excitement surged through you when i you gagged, tightening your core. that lewd retched sound of the choking turned into a cried out moan of pleasure.
you salivated against his cock, the mixture of his salty precum, your spit, and the tears that came out of your eyes from the asphyxiation making a mess that kept dripping down your chin.
you took him deeper, revelling in your own gagged-out sputters. "y-you're taking me in so good," he praised between clenched teeth. “my baby, you sound so fucking perfect choking on me.”
but then you noticed. the way he remained still, fighting every instinct to move. the exaggerated tension in his body from doing so. he was holding back. lacerating self-control.
you pulled out, finding no resistence from him. he immediately leaned down, loving concern in his eyes, but his breathing still heavy and messy, and asked "are you alright?" he asked, gently gripping your jaw.
and though he was trying just so hard to focus on your well-being, he mouthed out a strained “shit, baby angel...” in pure awe upon seeing you all covered in the mouth-watering mixture of glinting fluids.
"b-beomgyu," you gulped, voice broken. "don´t hold back. i... like the choking."
he bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. "i don’t wanna hurt you," he said. a gentlemanly formality.
"i know.” you smiled faintly. “but i like the pain, i promise."
eyes round and doe-like, lips soaked in delightful filth, swollen and gleaming. a wet dream of a girl, you were. sweet dainty angel who just kept saying gut-wrenchingly hot words.
he traced one finger along your jawline, just one, all feathery. "you have no idea how perfect you are." he whispered. but his caress turned a firm grip on your jaw. big strong hand, poking fingers. he said, "you want it rough? then i’m gonna fuck your cute little mouth raw.”
he tightened his hadn't around your hair in a way that immediately let you know he wasn't grabbing you for guidance, no massages, no caresses. he wasn't playing anymore.
the first thrust back in was paced, but painfully deep. you let out a delighted whine around him, having craved the sensation of being filled by him again. then he lived up to his promise.
he pumped his cock into your mouth, thrusts steady and violent. that you liked the pain he took it religiously, believed it in heart and soul. and you revelled on it. sacrificial angel, dirty slut with needs.
but it was all you wanted from him, really. to pound his love into you, ruthlessly. to wreck you with his own hands and pick up the pieces after, kissing the scars. to carve in your skin a yearning so big and monstrous it could only be spiritualised in pain, only could be satisfied in flesh and blood.
his grip in your hair tightened into a makeshift ponytail as he urged you deeper, pushing you to the brink of what you could withstand. your eyes were so glassy you almost couldn’t see, holy lack of air that got your cunt trembling with want.
a violent dance of pushing and pulling, giving and taking. with each thrust, you were the victim of his self-control slipping like sand through desperate fingers. his words became abstract, senseless, angel, and baby, and beautiful melted into one until all he could do was cry out.
never in a million years would you have been able to rationalise how you could've have gotten such harrowing pleasure, such a tear-jerking sense of utter love, from such a forceful act. but you felt it, everywhere in your body. in your whitening knuckles, in your sore scalp, in the ruthless thrusts that got you trembling, leaking, terminally ill in lust.
beomgyu got beautifully lightheaded. his every molecule trembled, his every nerve ending felt numb and petty compared the scorching beautiful fire there where your mouth brazed his cock, soon to explode.
"s-so fucking close." his body trembled with the strain, severing the bond of flesh and hunger. "h-hand– fuck, y-your hand." he struggled out.
he desperately fumbled for your hand, and when he found it, he guided it to the stem of his length, showing you how to stroke him, pushing him over his peak. you knew, you felt him tense up, get breathier, more desperate.
but he pulled out of your mouth. he grabbed onto your hair and pulled your head back roughly. neck strained, you let out a confused whimper. good little puppy.
that did it for him. he gave you one last awestruck look, and jerked himself off with your hand getting himself to cum all over your face with a shaky groan.
warm liquid dripped down from his still-throbbing cock, landing on your quivering lips and streaming down to your cheeks.
he urged you to keep stroking him through his most sensitive, his whole body twitching and contracting under your touch. "ah, f-fuck. keep going like that, just a little more," he said.
he pushed through, your hand only a tool confined between his own hand and his cock. you were barely a puppet here, the symbolic means of lewdness, a kink.
you got to watch him attentively. his gorgeous hair shaking with him, his teeth almost peeling the skin on his bottom lip, the strained muscles of his neck. lusty frown, wax light skin, pearly sweat. your beautiful boy.
the oversensitivity caused his body to helplessly quiver and spasm all over, increasingly until it became too much and he doubled, finally letting go, his body folding in two. he let himself fall to his knees.
his eyes were glassy and rimmed with redness, his breath gradually steadying. he looked at you and whispered "fuck, look at that...", his eyebrows furrowed, as he reached up to wipe some of the cum off your cheek with his thumb.
the world went silent. tinnitus in your ears. breathe in. breathe out. breath not. shame arrived and choked you.
your bottom lip quivered. a round tear formed at the corner of your eye. shame gnawed at you with her ghostly voice of ice. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.
beomgyu immediately helped you up, perching on the bed and sitting you on his lap. "what is it, baby?" he muttered against the shell of your ear, cradling you. "are you feeling guilty?" he asked.
your words tumbled out between sobs, raw and revealing. "it's the filthiest thing i've ever done." your gaze refused to meet his. "but i liked it so much, i'm so wet."
he reached out to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb. "it's okay, you were such a perfect fucking girl, my baby. you did nothing wrong." he reassured you in a soothing tone. "let's get you cleaned up, alright?"
you nodded softly. you still avoided his gaze, but your shame felt finite. he was there. you would be fine.
he got up to get dressed, but he quickly returned to your side, not wanting to leave you alone even for a second. so invested in the caretaker roll he was, he insisted on carrying you to the bathroom himself.
“what are you doing? i’m fine.” you chuckled softly when he tried to pick you up, wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes, feeling their warmth against your fingertips.
"i wanted to carry you," he replied with a pout.
he was determined, but you managed to convince him that it was better if you led the way. you were good at roaming around the house in the dark, a silent nightjar that could only get a semblance of freedom when everyone else was asleep.
and so you exited your room in hushed silence, tiptoeing through the gloom, beomgyu’s hand securely wrapped in yours.
the coming light from your bedroom door cast eerie elongated shadows on the walls of the corridor. hazy and enthralled as you were with one another, you had forgotten to close the door, only leaving it ajar. big mistake.
the bathroom was virginal with the scent of soap and piety—the place where absolution and sin mingled in the steam that rised from the heart of the house of god.
beomgyu's eyes narrowed at the sight of the framed stamp of a female saint, perched on the sink. with a creeped out grimace, he plucked it from its spot and flipped it over, as if silencing an unwanted voice. the house was full of hidden eyes and he couldn't stand the feeling of constant surveillance.
you both settled onto the narrow edge of the porcelain tub, the coolness of the ceramic sending shivers down your back when it touched the fevered bare flesh of the back of your thighs.
beomgyu fumbled for a towel, and with reverent hands, he turned on the faucet and laid it under the warm water flow until it soaked.
the water was a baptismal font, powerful enough to wash away almost any sin. but beomgyu wasn’t one to care about the religious symbolism. he just wanted to take care of you, gently wiping your face with each stroke, cleansing away the remnants of his cum.
"beomgyu," you whispered. the towel was warm against your face. it felt nice, hushed.
“yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely audible as he focused on his task.
"…was i any good?" you tentatively asked, nervously looking down at your fingers.
with a mellow smile, he leaned in to give you a soft kiss before answering, "my baby angel. you did so well… so, so well" he said. "i’m sorry if i was too rough."
you shook your head slightly, unable to hide the smile that formed on your lips at his concern. "it's okay," you told him, your mouth curving into a bashful v shape.
as he pressed the towel against your neck, it felt like a wrung-out sponge. a few droplets of water managed to make their way into your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. the dampness slowly crept through the fabric of your pajama shirt, the chilly embrace from a ghost hand.
"should we take this off?" he asked, not a trace of suggestion in his eyes, only care. “so you can wash well.” he added.
you hugged yourself self-consciously. "no... i-" you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. “no.”
his gaze melted into yours, as if trying to ease your discomfort. "you shouldn't be uncomfortable with me," he insisted. "every little thing you do is pretty to me. you know that, right?"
he gave you a kiss that was simple and easy. not the blooming, lush cascades of perfumed lust you were used to, but steady and reassuring like soft moss. a tender formality of intimacy. a kind kiss, a kiss to trust him.
you slowly released your arms from their protective embrace, letting them hang limply at your sides, surrendering control to him.
"stand up for me," he demanded. and as you obeyed, he crouched down, his knees meeting the cold, unforgiving tiles. he reached out with steady hands to support you. "let me see just how soaked you are."
a crimson blush spread across your cheeks. your fingers shyly reached out for the the elastic of your shorts, beomgyu’s hands intercepting them to gently pull down together.
your cotton shorts gone, all that was left to cover your pussy was an embarrassingly dampened pair of pinkish panties. the type that puritanical moms buy for their daughters at haberdashery stores - cheap, thin lace trimming the edges and a small embroidered rose at the center.
the fabric felt cold against your exposed skin as the air grazed the darkened wet stain. embarrassing.but beomgyu's breath nearly caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the dainty cloth, delicate like wax flower, all soaked for him.
"god, this is so fucking pretty," he breathed against your belly, his fingers trailing over the damp patch. he planted a soft kiss against your trembling sex, sending shivers down your spine. a twitchy chill ran through you.
he reached for the hem of it, eager to expose you further, but you stopped him. “not yet,” you breathed out. “please.”
his eyes widened like a puppy's and he looked up at you pleadingly. "to clean you up?" he asked.
but you shook your head. he stood up again, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you close. "i won't look," he promised. "won't see a thing. just like yesterday." he said.
“fine.” you said, giving in to his gentle touch.
he expertly slipped off your underwear with one hand, holding onto you with the other. you knew you were soaked, but hadn't become fully aware of how much until you were exposed to the cold and what had been warm arousal turned iced water.
you were nervous, but his hot breath and balmy kisses on your forehead eased some of your tension.
“now this,” he tugged at your pajama top, his fingers like curious spiders crawling over the soft fabric.
you flinched, jabbed his hand away. beomgyu's eyes showed worry and a hint of hurt from your lack of trust in him. still, he had a plan.
no words were exchanged; he guided you to step into the bathtub with him, closing any existing distance. firm yet gentle, he pressed you against the wall, the cool tiles imprinting their pattern on the naked skin of your ass.
as he twisted the handle, a sudden rush of water burst from the showerhead like a geyser. "we wash together, alright?"
the droplets rained down on you, pelting against your bodies. he threw his head back with a soft, painfully cute chuckle, watching the water fall like it was the first winter snow.
his drenched clothes clunged to his body, but he payed no mind. he kept smiling like a little kid, kissing you with satisfied nibbles and smooches, cheerful like you had never seen him.
but the fun ended quickly. a shadow crossed his expression, filling you with immediate concern. he drew in a deep, somber breath, fingers hesitating at the hem of his shirt. with a tug, he pulled it over his head, baring his skin before letting it fall. you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, suppressing a horrified gasp.
swollen bruises, bloated and purplish-black, oozed cruelty as they sprawled across his abdomen, his ribcage, his chest. once elegant and pretty collarbones hid marred under stains like dark, spreading ink blots.
his father had completely shattered him and then discarded his body like rancid fruit left to rot in the sun.
he pressed his lips together, avoiding your eyes. there was embarrassment all over his face, hidden under a bitter defiance. "don't look at me like that," he muttered.
"like what?" you asked, not sure how to respond.
"like you feel sorry for me," he said, clenching his teeth. "i'd rather you were just grossed out."
"i'm not pitying you, i..." your hand reached out, gently lifting his chin to meet your gaze. he resisted a bit, looking sullen. "this shouldn't have happened to you, this–" you began to say softly, brushing your fingertips over the bruised skin with a light touch. "you can't be ashamed of this. you have to be mad. outraged. you– promise me you won't go back to him."
"i've got nowhere else to go," he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible.
and you didn't know what to say, either. stay here was a stupid answer, unrealistic. you have me was even more stupid, as you didn't even have yourself. your existence together hanged on a fine thread. there was no better option, only prison cells and bloodthirsty gods.
"i–" you began to say, trying to arrange some, any, words in your head, but he stopped you.
"i don't want to think about it now, please," he said. "i'm happy when i'm with you because i forget about everything else. i like it that way."
he meant every word. he wasn't one to dwell on the future, he couldn't stand to throw away the counted minutes he had with you worrying. unlike soobin, he took pride in that.
he pressed a soothing kiss to your temple. "i'm going to clean you up now, okay?" he said softly. "and you'll go to bed feeling light and clean, no shame and burning in the flames of hell bullshit. you're gonna sleep so well and so peacefully without any of the wicked nonsense they've tried to brainwash you with."
a gentle smile from him, a thanking peck from you. the water cascaded on.
however, when beomgyu's hands reached for the top button of your pajama shirt, you couldn't help but flinch. a first fleeting thought told you it was uncalled for, but then it settled on you that letting him see your body was a stupidly obvious next step.
he had already shown you the body he was ashamed of, and now he was asking you to share in that vulnerability. "please," he said. "i showed you how shitty i look. i… really wanna see you.”
it was the desperation in his frown and the ominous presence of his bruises. with shaking hands, you undid the next button on your own.
the rest of the buttons you undid in gradual little steps, not daring to look him in the eye. he limited himself to watch with narrowed eyes and his heart in clenched in his fist.
the shirt fluttered opened, a central strip of your body in full view. collarbone, linea alba, belly button –all delicate and liturgical in the semi-darkness. but he didn't glance any lower. he promised he wouldn't.
he brought his hand to your waist, letting his thumb caress your ribcage. as he did, he drew the shirt away from your tit, displaying it for him. he shook his head, exhaled, "you're so fucking adorable."
with a delicate movement he gently flicked the other side of the shirt, your chest all to him. peaches and cream, lovely cottony candy. sweet, sweet, so sweet.
there was something so disarming about seeing you naked, too. a vulnerability in your eyes he couldn't resist.
your hands, trembling emissaries of modesty, moved instinctively to shield your breasts from his view. but beomgyu's touch halted their ascent; his fingers wrapped around your wrists, "don't hide from me," he whispered.
all he did next was to reverently lower himself and leave a kiss on the tender skin. the water was falling, and the effect he loved so much, that of his spit against your smooth waxen skin, was lost in the shower rain.
he left it there, diplomatically. he would come back tomorrow night. he would be back to touch you with all the calm of the universe, to experiment on your skin and discover the cause and effect of all the things he could dream of doing to you.
the next kiss returned to your lips. a voracious mouth-feeding on your flesh. sharp jaws strained and tensed for the pleasure of the plump hedonistic lips.
then came the washing, the cleansing, the radical eradication of your shame. he hugged your waist tight and loving, as if to save his own life, and took the almond soap without letting go of you for a moment.
it was the third time in that same day that the viscous liquid touched your skin. but this time it came from his hands, not yours. this time it was lukewarm, not icy and lonesome.
he scrubbed every corner of your body, and in every single place that was left cleansed he planted a chaste kiss. the rubbing of his hand against your groin might have been lascivious, it might have made angels and saints look away in shame and offense. but it felt not lewd, but kind. fatherly.
last came the rinsing of the soap, a removal of every last trace of foreign liquids –be it an industrial hygiene product, be it the worldly product of the body.– off came the guilt, too. the repentance and the shame, the homicidal shame.
under the water your soul was feathers, under the water the angel, the dove, the butterfly was light and untied.
once clean he hugged you in a towel like a baby, arms around your body, and caressed the damp hair that clung to your face. a light kiss on your hairline, a light kiss on your brow, a light kiss on your lashes.
"beomgyu," you talked under your breath, "i don't want you to leave."
a light kiss to your temple. “i really don’t wanna leave, either.” he said in helpless sincerity. then his eyes glinted playful. “but soobin misses me if i don't cuddle him to sleep. he’d get jealous." he smiled.
"he gets to sleep with you every night," you sulked in a pout that curled up at the corners of your mouth, "it’s not fair."
beomgyu chuckled against your skin, "i can wait for you to fall asleep, then i’ll go."
and the plan was perfect, and the world felt pink and glittery and like it existed for you and him and no one else. it wasn't your fault when you didn't notice. you were hazy fools in love, your minds too misty and cosy.
when he laid you on the bed in plumes and cottons and the sheets felt like clouds against your clean skin, neither him nor you noticed.
when you got in bed, him lying next to you and being physically unable to stop showering you with little kisses, neither him nor you noticed.
when he caressed your hair, your cheeks and the outline of your arm as he felt your breathing relax into deep sleep, your little heartbeat easing finally after a lifetime of guilt and agony, neither him nor you noticed.
not even when beomgyu reluctantly separated from you, planting one last kiss on your sleeping eyelids, "goodbye, my baby angel," and left the room without making a sound, not even then did he notice.
a fatal mistake.
not noticing that the door you had left ajar after leaving to the bathroom was wide open when you got back. that the overshirt beomgyu had tossed to the ground was nowhere to be seen. that someone else had been there.
a phosphorescent chesire grin. a stern boy in a charcoal gray sweater. or work of the holy spirit.
it was a faceless someone. but someone knew.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i took so long to update i am so sorry. ALSO. I INSERTED THE ETHEL CAIN LYRIC it fit so perfectly, i had to. there's a bts borrowed line, too. joon lyrical king. anyway. yeah.
#this was so fucking long omg#and there was no pussy action i am truly sorry#beomgyu#beomgyu angst#beomgyu fic#beomgyu hard thoughts#beomgyu smut#beomgyu x reader#txt hard thoughts#txt smut#txt x reader#beomgyu reader#txt reader
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♡ hamzah’s late night whisper ♡
words: 940
genre: very fluffy
summary: You and Hamzah have always felt comfortable around eachother so why is your heart beating so fast when he falls asleep next to you.
notes: much shorter than usual but oh how i love fluff
☆
The clock ticked past midnight, its rhythmic ticking the only sound accompanying the soft blue glow of your laptop screen. You sat side by side with Hamzah on your couch, the both of you leaning into the final stretch of an all-night editing session. The latest video, one that Hamzah was particularly excited about, required every bit of your attention, and the exhaustion in the room was obvious.
Hamzah, who was usually the epitome of energy and charisma, was now quiet, his eyes heavy with fatigue. His dark curls, usually styled just so for his videos, had fallen loosely over his forehead, giving him a softer, more relaxed appearance. As he leaned back against the couch, his eyes fluttered shut, and you couldn’t help but notice how peaceful he looked, his usual lively expression replaced by one of serene contentment.
“You good?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the calm that had settled over the room.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, a lazy smile on his lips before his head lolled to the side and settled on the couch cushion, as he slipped into sleep. You watched him for a moment, your heart warmed with adoration that you had carefully kept hidden for so long.
Returning to your work, you tried to focus, but your gaze kept drifting back to Hamzah. His face was relaxed, his breathing steady, and his long lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. He looked so peaceful, so different from the animated, energetic persona he showed the world. Here, in the quiet of your living room, he was just Hamzah, your friend, your boss, and the person you had silently fallen for.
Unable to resist, you reached out, your hand hovering hesitantly above his head. When he didn’t stir, you gently let your fingers slip into his hair, brushing through the soft curls. The sensation was soothing, and you found yourself smiling, enjoying this rare moment of closeness.
Just as you were starting to relax, Hamzah murmured your name, his voice barely audible. Your heart was racing, and you froze, wondering if he was awake. But when he didn’t move, you realized he was still asleep. Then, in a soft, pleading voice, he whispered, “Please.”
The word was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made your chest ache. Slowly, you resumed stroking his hair, your fingers moving gently through the dark curls. You could feel the tension leave his body as he sighed softly, shifting closer to you. To your surprise, he nuzzled his head into your lap, his breath warm against your thigh.
You sat there, your heart racing, torn between the overwhelming desire to hold him closer and the fear of what this moment might mean. But as you watched him sleep, his face so peaceful, you felt your own tension slip away. There was something incredibly intimate about the way he trusted you in this moment.
Minutes passed in a blur, you continued to play with his hair until you felt your own eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. With one last glance at Hamzah, you let your eyes close, and sleep took you too.
The sound of your alarm jolted you awake. For a moment, you were disoriented, your mind sluggish as you tried to piece together where you were. Then, the events of the previous night rushed back to you, and you looked down at your lap. Hamzah was no longer there. Instead, he was sitting up, stretching his arms above his head with a groggy yawn.
“Morning,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, as he rubbed his eyes. “We really knocked out, huh?”
“Yeah,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “It was a long night.”
Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, the same hair you’d been stroking just hours before, and you couldn’t help but notice how endearingly messy it looked. “Thanks for sticking it out with me man. I know I can be a bit of a perfectionist.”
You waved off his comment, trying to focus on anything other than the memory of him lying in your lap, his whispered “please” still echoing in your mind. “It’s no big deal, really.”
He stood up, gathering his things with a casual ease that made you wonder if he remembered anything from last night. As he prepared to leave, you felt a wave of disappointment, a small part of you hoping for some acknowledgment of the moment you had shared.
Just as Hamzah reached the door, he paused and turned back to you. There was a softness in his eyes that made your heart swell, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a warm hug. You stiffened in surprise, but quickly melted into his embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your senses.
“I liked last night,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.
Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled back slightly to look at him, searching his face for any hint of what he meant. His eyes were warm, a gentle smile facing you.
Before you could find the words to respond, he let go, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary. “See you later?” he asked, his tone light and playful, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.
“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little shaky. “See you later.”
As the door closed behind him, you stood there, your mind racing with possibilities. Did he remember anything?
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Siren ; Lee Anton
Pairings: Obsessive!Anton x Femme Fatale!Reader
Genre: Angst
Description: at seonghwa academy, you reign like a queen—flawless, untouchable, and cold as ice. your beauty is your weapon, used to control and manipulate those who fall under your spell. but when you catch the eye of anton, a brooding athlete with a quiet intensity, you meet your match. beneath his silence lies a dark obsession, a twisted desire that mirrors your own. as you engage in a dangerous dance of power and control, the line between.
Warnings: manipulation, obsessive behaviour, anton is low-key unhinged, death
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
in the heart of seoul, hidden away from the prying eyes of the common folk, lay seonghwa academy—a sanctuary for the elite. the school was a sprawling estate, its towering gates adorned with intricate gold designs, a symbol of the wealth and privilege that lay within. beyond the gates, the grounds stretched out in a lavish display of manicured gardens, where ancient cherry blossom trees stood sentinel, their delicate pink petals drifting like snowflakes in the gentle breeze.
the main building of the academy was a marvel of architecture, a blend of traditional korean aesthetics and modern grandeur. its walls were of pristine white stone, polished to a shine, with high windows that allowed sunlight to pour in, casting long, golden rays across the polished marble floors.
inside, the halls were wide and lined with portraits of illustrious alumni, men and women who had gone on to shape the world, all of them linked by the common thread of privilege and power. the ceiling soared above, adorned with chandeliers that glittered like a constellation of stars, their crystal drops refracting light into a thousand tiny rainbows that danced across the room.
it was within these halls that you held court, like a queen surveying her kingdom. your presence was a force unto itself, commanding attention without a word, demanding devotion without a single gesture. you moved through the school like a wisp of smoke, impossible to grasp but impossible to ignore. wherever you went, a hush fell over those around you, as if the mere sight of you demanded reverence.
you were beautiful, but not in the way most people imagined when they thought of beauty. it wasn’t just your face, though that was a masterpiece in itself—high cheekbones, a delicate nose, lips that curled into a perfect bow. your skin was like porcelain, flawless and smooth, with a soft, ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from within, your hair, a cascade of black silk, framed a face so perfect it seemed almost unreal, like something crafted by the hands of a deity in a moment of unparalleled inspiration. your eyes, dark and mysterious, held a depth that could drown anyone who dared look too long into them, a dangerous promise hidden behind a veil of innocence.
but it was more than just your physical appearance. your beauty was a weapon, and you wielded it with precision. you were calculating, always two steps ahead, your mind a cold, sharp instrument honed to perfection. everything you did was for your own gain, every smile, every glance, every word spoken was a move in the intricate game you played. you took pleasure in your power, in the way others bent to your will without even realizing they were doing so.
and then there was your voice, soft and low, like velvet brushing against bare skin. when you spoke, people listened. they hung onto your every word, eager to please, desperate to be noticed by you.
boys fell over themselves trying to catch your attention, offering gifts, writing love letters, all in the vain hope that you might spare them a glance. you accepted their offerings with a smile that never reached your eyes, always taking, never giving. you played them like instruments, each one serving a purpose, whether it was to boost your social standing, to gain favors, or simply to amuse yourself. all blinded by the allure of being noticed by someone as unattainable as you were.
girls envied and admired you in equal measure, some even attempting to emulate your style, though none could quite capture the effortless elegance that came so naturally to you. they didn’t realize that what they saw was a facade, a carefully constructed image designed to elicit the desired response from those around you. you knew exactly how to dress, how to speak, how to act to keep them all under your thumb, to keep them guessing, to keep them wanting more.
among the crowd of admirers, anton was different.
anton was handsome, that much was undeniable. he had a certain ruggedness to him, a sharpness to his features that contrasted with the softness of yours. his hair, dark and thick, often fell across his forehead in a tousled mess that only seemed to enhance his brooding appeal. his eyes, a piercing shade of blue, stood out against his tanned skin, giving him an intensity that could be felt even from a distance. he was tall and lean, his athletic build a testament to the hours he spent training on the field, every muscle in his body honed to perfection.
but where you were a beacon of light, drawing everyone towards you, anton was a shadow, always lurking at the edges, observing from afar. he was quiet, almost painfully so, his presence more of a whisper than a shout. while others jostled for your attention, anton remained on the periphery, content—or so it seemed—to watch you from a distance. his eyes followed you wherever you went, though he rarely spoke more than a few words to anyone.
his silence made him a mystery, one that no one seemed able to solve. he was a puzzle, each piece carefully guarded, revealing nothing of the whole. few knew anything about him beyond the superficial; he was good at sports, he was handsome, and he kept to himself. only a handful of people could claim to be his friends, and even they struggled to understand the depths of his thoughts.
where others saw an angel, he saw something more—a force of nature, a tempest that he wanted to be caught in, even if it meant his own destruction. his heart beat faster when you were near, the blood in his veins turning to fire as your scent—jasmine and something darker, something that whispered of forbidden things—wafted through the air.
his shyness was a curse in your presence. while others boldly approached you, offering gifts and compliments, anton remained in the background, his love for you a silent, burning thing that threatened to consume him. he longed to speak to you, to make you see him, truly see him, but the fear of rejection, of shattering the perfect image he had of her in his mind, kept him silent.
but you noticed him, of course. how could you not? unlike the others who fell over themselves to win your favor, anton presented a challenge. he was a puzzle you wanted to solve, not out of any genuine interest, but because you hated the idea that someone in your domain could remain untouched by your influence. there was something in the way he looked at you—intense, almost possessive—that sparked a flicker of interest, but more than that, it was the challenge that intrigued you. here was someone who didn’t play by your rules, and that was unacceptable.
one crisp autumn afternoon, as the sun bathed the campus in a warm, golden light, you were making your way across the courtyard. the air was filled with the soft rustle of leaves as they fell from the trees, carpeting the ground in shades of red and gold. your footsteps were almost silent against the cobblestones, the sound barely audible over the murmurs of students passing by.
ahead, you noticed anton standing with a small group of his friends. they were near the edge of the courtyard, leaning casually against the stone balustrade that overlooked the garden below. though his friends were engaged in light conversation, anton seemed distant, his gaze unfocused as if lost in thought. it wasn’t until you were closer that his eyes snapped to you, a flash of something dark and unreadable crossing his features.
“here she comes,” one of anton’s friends, a tall boy with an easy smile, murmured under his breath, though not quietly enough to escape your notice. “the ice queen herself.”
“more like a goddess,” another boy replied, his tone tinged with admiration. “she doesn’t even have to try, does she? it’s like she was born to make us all look bad.”
there was a low chuckle from the group, but anton remained silent, his eyes still fixed on you. you allowed a small, knowing smile to curve your lips, a smile that only deepened the allure you held over them. you knew the effect you had, and you reveled in it. but this smile wasn’t just for them—it was a calculated move, a test to see how anton would react.
as you walked past, you let your gaze flicker towards anton for just a moment, long enough to meet his eyes and see the way they darkened, the intensity of his stare like a physical touch. it was a brief exchange, but it was enough to tell you what you needed to know. he wasn’t immune to you. far from it. he was just better at hiding it.
“careful, anton,” one of his friends teased, noticing the exchange. “she’s not the kind of girl you want to mess with.”
anton finally tore his gaze away from you, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as he replied, his voice low and measured, “i’m not messing with her.”
his friend raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “so what’s the plan, then? you just going to keep watching her from afar? because if you ask me, she’s out of everyone’s league here. untouchable.”
anton didn’t respond immediately, his eyes flickering back to where you had just disappeared around the corner. when he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet that his friends had to lean in to catch the words.
“some things are worth waiting for,” he said, his tone laced with a quiet conviction that sent a ripple of unease through the group.
“yeah, well, just be careful you don’t get burned,” the tall boy replied, though there was no real concern in his voice, only the easy camaraderie of someone who didn’t quite understand the depths of his friend’s obsession.
anton offered no reply, his thoughts already drifting back to you. his friends resumed their conversation, but he remained silent, his mind occupied with the image of your smile, the way it had seemed to linger on your lips just a moment too long, as if it had been meant for him alone.
later that afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the school grounds, you found yourself in the library. it was a vast room, lined with shelves that reached up to the ceiling, filled with books that spanned every subject imaginable. the scent of aged paper hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of polished wood and the crispness of the autumn air that drifted in through the open windows.
you chose this place deliberately—your sanctuary, your throne room, where you could reign undisturbed. the library was usually deserted at this hour, a perfect place to think, to plot your next move. you moved gracefully through the aisles, your fingers trailing lightly over the spines of the books as you walked, until you reached your usual spot, a secluded table tucked away in a corner, hidden from view but with a clear line of sight to the entrance.
you settled into your seat, your back straight, your posture impeccable, as you opened a book—a volume on ancient strategies of war, a fitting choice given the games you played with those around you. but as you began to read, your thoughts kept drifting back to anton, to the way he had looked at you in the courtyard. there was something about him that you couldn’t quite place, something that made him stand out from the others. he was different, and that intrigued you.
you heard the door to the library creak open, the sound barely perceptible, but you were attuned to the slightest disturbance in your surroundings. you didn’t look up, though you knew who it was even before you heard the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching. you continued reading, allowing him to come to you, your expression calm and unreadable.
“strange seeing you here twice in one day,” anton’s voice broke the silence, soft yet edged with something dark, something that hinted at the depths beneath his calm exterior.
you slowly raised your eyes from the book, fixing him with a cool, appraising gaze. “is it?”
he stood at the edge of your table, his posture relaxed but his eyes focused, as if he were trying to decipher the meaning behind your calm demeanor. he didn’t sit down, didn’t make any move to bridge the gap between you, and you respected that. it showed that he wasn’t like the others who would have rushed to fill the silence, eager to be close to you, to bask in your presence.
“you usually avoid places like this,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur, as though the library’s quiet demanded a softer tone.
you tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “and yet, here you are.”
anton didn’t respond immediately. his eyes flickered to the book in your hands, his expression thoughtful. “war strategies?” he observed, raising an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “fitting.”
“for what?” you asked, your voice smooth, almost teasing, though there was a hint of steel beneath your words.
“for someone like you,” he replied, his tone flat, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking. “someone who always seems to be a step ahead.”
you allowed a soft laugh to escape your lips, though it was devoid of any real warmth. “i find it useful to stay informed,” you said, closing the book with a decisive snap. “knowledge is power, after all.”
anton’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “and you enjoy having power, don’t you?”
you met his gaze, unflinching, your expression unreadable. “wouldn’t you?”
he didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes was enough. he understood, perhaps more than anyone else. in that moment, you saw a reflection of yourself in him—a hunger, a need to control, to dominate. it was rare to find someone who could match you in this way, and it made you wonder just how far you could push him before he would break.
“why are you here, anton?” you asked, your tone light but with an underlying sharpness. “surely you didn’t come all this way just to exchange pleasantries?”
anton took a step closer, leaning slightly over the table, his eyes locked onto yours. “i came to see you.”
“did you?” you replied, feigning surprise, though you were anything but. “and what is it that you want from me?”
he took another step closer, his gaze intense, as if he were trying to penetrate your carefully constructed facade. “you already know the answer to that.”
you leaned back in your chair, creating more distance between you, as if to remind him who was in control. “perhaps,” you said slowly, your voice laced with an almost cruel amusement. “but i want to hear you say it.”
anton’s jaw tightened, the only outward sign of his frustration. he wasn’t used to being played with, and it was clear that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the power dynamic between you. but he held his ground, refusing to be the first to break.
“i want to understand you,” he said finally, the words heavy with meaning.
you raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued now. “understand me?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “how quaint. and why would you want that?”
his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to see through your facade, to find the real person beneath the mask. “because you’re different from the others,” he said, his voice firm. “you don’t care about the things they care about. you’re not like them.”
you felt a flicker of satisfaction at his words, though you kept your expression neutral. “you think you’re different too, don’t you?” you asked, your voice soft, almost a whisper. “that’s why you’re drawn to me. you see something of yourself in me.”
anton didn’t deny it. instead, he straightened, putting more distance between you. “maybe,” he admitted, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice, as if he didn’t want to admit just how much you fascinated him.
you leaned forward, your eyes glinting with something dark, something that spoke of the game you were playing. “but here’s the thing, anton,” you said, your voice low and almost seductive. “just because we’re alike doesn’t mean we’re on the same side.”
anton’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. “are you trying to warn me?”
you smiled then, a smile that held no warmth, no kindness. “no,” you said simply. “i’m just letting you know that you should be careful. you might think you understand me, but you don’t. and trying to get close to me, trying to figure me out, might not end the way you hope.”
there was a moment of silence, the tension between you so thick it was almost suffocating. anton’s expression remained unreadable, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind, could almost hear the thoughts racing through his head as he tried to decide his next move.
finally, he nodded, as if coming to some kind of internal decision. “i’ll take my chances,” he said, his voice calm, but with a resolve that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.
you studied him for a long moment, weighing his words, considering your next move. and then, you smiled again, this time a real smile, one that hinted at something more, something dangerous. “good,” you said softly, leaning back in your chair. “i was hoping you would say that.”
anton didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. he wasn’t afraid of you, and that made him even more interesting. this was going to be fun.
without another word, you stood up, the movement smooth and controlled. you gathered your things, the book you hadn’t read and the bag you carried with you everywhere. you leaned slightly over the table, bringing your face closer to his, your lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile.
"good luck, anton," you whispered, your voice low and intimate. "you’re going to need it."
and with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him sitting there, the echo of your parting words lingering in the air. as you left the library, you didn’t look back. you knew he was watching you, just as you knew he would continue to chase the idea of you, to try and uncover the truth you kept hidden behind layers of ice.
but in the end, it didn’t matter. you were always in control. anton might think he was playing the same game as you, but the truth was, he was just another piece on your board. and you? you were always several moves ahead.
the sun had set by the time you stepped outside, the evening air cool against your skin. the sky was a deep, inky blue, dotted with the first stars of the night. as you walked back to your dorm, your thoughts were already shifting to the next day, the next opportunity, the next move. anton was a distraction, an interesting one, but a distraction nonetheless. you had bigger plans, bigger goals, and you wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—stand in your way.
as the door to your dormitory closed behind you, you allowed yourself one last, fleeting thought of anton, of the way his eyes had burned with that cold fire, the way he had tried to match your coldness with his own. it was a futile effort, but it had been amusing, if only for a moment.
and then, with the finality of a chess player making the winning move, you pushed the thought from your mind, focusing instead on the game that truly mattered—the one where you were always the queen, and everyone else was just another pawn.
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
the days began to blur into one another, the once vibrant tapestry of autumn fading into the cold, muted tones of winter. seonghwa academy, with all its grandeur and decadence, seemed almost timeless in its beauty, untouched by the passage of the seasons. the cherry blossoms had long since fallen, leaving the trees bare, their skeletal branches scratching at the sky like bony fingers. the manicured gardens were now coated in a thin layer of frost, a glittering veil that shimmered in the pale morning light.
you moved through the academy like a specter, your presence felt more than seen. the halls were your domain, each corridor a labyrinth where you pulled the strings, where every whisper, every glance was carefully orchestrated. the students, your pawns, fell in line, their lives intertwined with yours in ways they could never fully understand. you held court in the shadows, your influence seeping into every corner, every conversation.
anton was no exception. from the moment he had sought you out in the library, you had known he would be different, a challenge unlike the others. and challenges, you had learned, were meant to be conquered.
he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, his obsession growing with each passing day. it was subtle at first—an extra glance in your direction, a lingering look that held just a bit too long. but soon, it became something more, something palpable. you could feel his eyes on you even when you weren’t looking, could sense his presence lurking at the edge of your awareness like a shadow that refused to be shaken.
you began to toy with him, your moves calculated and deliberate, each interaction becoming a carefully orchestrated dance. the academy, a place of prestige and ambition, provided the perfect backdrop for your machinations. its grand halls and meticulously maintained gardens were a testament to the wealth and power of its patrons, and you knew how to navigate this world with ease.
your interactions with anton began innocently enough. it started with small things—catching his eye in the hallway and holding his gaze just a moment longer than necessary, brushing past him in the crowded corridors, your touch fleeting but deliberate. you could see the effect it had on him, the way his breath hitched, the way his composure faltered ever so slightly. it was intoxicating, the power you held over him, the way you could bend him to your will with nothing more than a look.
one evening, as the first snow of the season began to fall, you found yourself in the school’s music room, a place rarely visited by anyone outside of classes. the room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the sconces on the walls, casting long shadows that danced across the polished wood floors. the air was filled with the faint scent of old sheet music and the lingering notes of a piano that hadn’t been played in years.
you had come here to think, to plot your next move, but the silence was soon broken by the sound of the door creaking open. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. you could feel anton’s presence, the way the air seemed to thicken with his arrival.
“you shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice a soft whisper that barely disturbed the quiet.
“neither should you,” he replied, his tone calm but with an undercurrent of something darker, something that hinted at the storm brewing beneath his surface.
you turned slowly to face him, your eyes meeting his with a cool, detached gaze. “i go where i please,” you said simply, as if that explained everything.
anton stepped further into the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. he was dressed in the school’s uniform, but it seemed somehow more disheveled, the tie loosened, the shirt untucked at the edges, as if he had grown careless with his appearance. his hair was tousled, the dark strands falling into his eyes, but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of his gaze.
“why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of desperation, as if he were struggling to keep his emotions in check.
you tilted your head slightly, feigning ignorance. “doing what?”
anton’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he took a step closer. “you know what,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “why are you playing with me?”
a smile ghosted across your lips, a smile devoid of any warmth, any humanity. “because i can,” you replied, your tone light, almost mocking. “because it amuses me.”
anton’s eyes darkened, the shadows in the room seeming to grow longer, deeper. “you think this is a game?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly with barely restrained anger.
“everything is a game,” you said, your voice as cold and unfeeling as the snow falling outside. “and you’re just another piece on the board.”
he stared at you, his expression a mixture of anger and something else, something you couldn’t quite place. there was a darkness in him, a darkness that mirrored your own, and for a moment, you almost felt something—a flicker of recognition, of understanding. but you quickly pushed it aside, reminding yourself of who you were, of what you were.
“i don’t want to be your pawn,” anton said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“then don’t be,” you replied, your tone dismissive. “no one’s forcing you to play.”
but you both knew that wasn’t true. he was trapped, ensnared in a web of his own making, and there was no escape. not now. not ever.
anton took another step closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that was almost suffocating. “what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice hoarse, as if the words had been dragged from the depths of his soul.
you looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, you felt something stir within you, something you couldn’t quite identify. but then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating detachment that had always served you so well.
“i want to see how far you’ll go,” you said, your voice soft, almost seductive. “how much you’re willing to sacrifice for me.”
anton’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and anger flaring in equal measure. “and what if i’m not willing to give you what you want?” he asked, his voice challenging, daring you to push him further.
you smiled then, a smile that was all sharp edges and hidden dangers. “oh, anton,” you said, your tone dripping with condescension. “you will. you won’t be able to help yourself.”
there was a moment of silence, the tension between you so thick it was almost suffocating. and then, without warning, anton reached out, his hand gripping your wrist with a force that sent a shock of pain up your arm. his touch was cold, his fingers like iron bands that held you in place, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of fear, a fear that you hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“don’t underestimate me,” anton said, his voice low, dangerous. “i’m not like the others. i won’t break for you.”
you met his gaze, your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, you saw the truth in his words. anton wasn’t like the others. he was stronger, more resilient, and that made him dangerous. but it also made the game more interesting, more challenging. and you had never been one to back down from a challenge.
“we’ll see,” you said, your voice steady, unyielding.
anton held your gaze for a moment longer, his grip on your wrist tightening before he finally let go. you watched him as he stepped back, his expression unreadable, the storm in his eyes raging just beneath the surface.
“this isn’t over,” he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
“no,” you replied, your tone calm, composed. “it’s just beginning.”
with that, anton turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, the silence pressing down on you like a weight. you watched him go, a small smile playing on your lips, your mind already working, already planning your next move.
the game was far from over, and you had no intention of losing. anton was a challenge, a puzzle that you were determined to solve, no matter what it took. and if you had to break him in the process, then so be it.
after all, in the end, there could only be one winner.
as the days passed, you continued to play your game, each move calculated, each interaction designed to push anton further, to test the limits of his obsession. you gave him tasks, small at first—bring you a book from the library, fetch you a drink from the cafeteria—but each one was a test, a way to gauge just how far he was willing to go for you.
and he did them all, without question, without hesitation. it was almost too easy, the way he bent to your will, the way he followed your every command. but there was something about the way he did it, the way he looked at you with those dark, intense eyes, that told you he wasn’t doing it out of fear, or even out of a desire to please you. no, there was something else driving him, something deeper, something darker.
you began to push him harder, your requests growing more demanding, more invasive. you asked him to skip classes for you, to lie to his friends, to steal things from the other students. and still, he did it all, without a word of protest, without a single sign of reluctance.
it was thrilling, the power you held over him, the way you could make him do anything with nothing more than a smile, a glance, a whispered word. but there was also a danger in it, a danger that you were acutely aware of, but chose to ignore. because the truth was, you weren’t sure how far anton would go, and that uncertainty, that unpredictability, was what made the game so intoxicating.
one night, as the winter winds howled outside, you found yourself alone in your room, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. you were seated at your desk, a glass of wine in hand, when there was a knock at the door. you knew who it was before you even opened it.
anton stood in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was something different about him, something you couldn’t quite place. his clothes were disheveled, his hair even more tousled than usual, and there was a wildness in his eyes that sent a thrill of fear, and excitement, coursing through you.
“come in,” you said, your voice steady, betraying none of the emotions swirling within you.
he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other, the tension in the room thick and suffocating.
“what do you want?” you asked, your tone cool, detached.
anton didn’t answer immediately. instead, he took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours, his expression intense, almost desperate.
“i want you,” he said finally, his voice low, hoarse.
you felt your heart skip a beat, the admission catching you off guard. but you quickly recovered, your composure slipping back into place like a well-worn mask.
“you can’t have me,” you replied, your tone cold, unfeeling.
“i know,” anton said, his voice barely above a whisper. “but that doesn’t change anything.”
there was a moment of silence, the two of you standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to control his breathing.
“why?” you asked, your voice soft, almost curious.
anton’s eyes darkened, the storm in them raging just beneath the surface. “because you make me feel alive,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “because i can’t stop thinking about you, even when i know i should.”
you stared at him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within you. you had always known that anton was different, that he would be a challenge, but you hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t expected to be confronted with his raw, unfiltered need for you.
“you’re a fool,” you said finally, your voice sharp, cutting.
anton flinched at your words, but he didn’t back down. instead, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you until there was barely a breath of space between you.
“maybe,” he said, his voice steady, determined. “but i’m your fool.”
you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the sheer intensity of his devotion both exhilarating and terrifying. you had played this game a thousand times before, had manipulated countless others, but this—this was different. anton was different.
“you’re playing a dangerous game,” you said, your voice low, warning.
anton’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “i know,” he said, his voice soft, resigned. “but i’m already too far gone to stop.”
and in that moment, you knew it was true. anton wasn’t like the others. he wasn’t just another pawn on your board, another plaything to be discarded when you grew bored. he was something else, something more. and that realization sent a thrill of fear, and excitement, coursing through you.
he hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was struggling to find the right words. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted finally, his voice raw with emotion. “you’re all i think about.”
you reached out, placing a hand on his cheek, your touch gentle but possessive. “and what do you think about, anton?”
his breath hitched at your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. “everything. your smile, your voice, the way you move. it’s driving me crazy.”
you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. “is that so?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.
he nodded, his eyes opening to meet yours. “yes. i can’t sleep, i can’t focus. all i want is to be near you, to make you happy.”
“then we’ll see how far you’re willing to go,” you said, your voice filled with a dangerous promise.
anton’s eyes locked onto yours, his gaze unwavering, and in that moment, you knew that whatever happened next, there was no going back.
the game was no longer just a game. it was something more, something darker, something that could destroy you both. and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly alive.
as the snow continued to fall outside, the two of you stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, the fire in the hearth casting long shadows on the walls, the only sound the crackling of the flames and the faint whisper of the wind.
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
in the weeks that followed, your manipulation of anton became a carefully orchestrated dance, a twisted ballet where you led with a graceful, calculated precision, and anton followed, oblivious to the strings you pulled. each interaction was a deliberate step in this dark routine, with you guiding him ever deeper into the labyrinth of your control.
your tasks soon grew more intricate, more demanding. you asked him to dig up obscure references for your essays, to track down rare books that could only be found in forgotten corners of the city, to bring you your favorite coffee from a shop miles away from campus. each request was a thread in the web you wove around him, tightening your hold with every act of service.
anton never hesitated. his devotion to you was absolute, a blind, consuming need that drove him to fulfill your every whim without question. it was as if your presence had become a drug, one he couldn’t live without, and the more he did for you, the deeper his addiction grew. you could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe, the very air he breathed.
as the days passed, you began to notice the subtle changes in him, changes that you observed with a detached amusement. anton’s once healthy frame grew gaunt, his cheeks hollowing out as he lost weight, the sharp angles of his bones more pronounced beneath his pale skin. dark circles formed under his eyes, a testament to the nights spent sleepless, his mind too consumed by thoughts of you to find rest.
his friends grew concerned, their worried glances and whispered questions following him wherever he went. “are you okay, anton?” they would ask, but he brushed them off with a forced smile, his thoughts always returning to you.
the sharp mind that had once been the pride of his teachers, the envy of his peers, now seemed solely focused on you, on the endless tasks and challenges you set before him. his world had shrunk, until it revolved around you alone.
one crisp afternoon, as the late sun cast a warm, golden hue over the campus, you decided it was time to push anton further. the chill in the air was sharp, a reminder of the winter, but inside the academy’s library, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of old books and the quiet hum of whispered conversations.
you found anton where you expected him, hunched over a thick volume of korean history, his eyes scanning the pages with a fervor that betrayed his exhaustion.
as you approached, he looked up, his gaze lighting up with that familiar, fervent intensity that had become so familiar to you. it was a look that both thrilled and repelled you, a reflection of the power you wielded over him.
“anton,” you said, your voice soft and sweet, a siren’s call that masked the sharpness of your intentions. “i need your help with something.”
he stood immediately, closing the book with a soft thud and giving you his full, undivided attention. “anything,” he said, his voice thick with longing, his eyes searching yours for any sign of approval.
you smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “there’s a fundraiser next week, and i need a partner for the opening dance. will you be my partner?”
his eyes widened in shock and elation, the emotions playing across his features like a silent movie. “of course,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “i’d be honored.”
“good,” you replied, your smile widening just a fraction, enough to make his heart race. “meet me in the ballroom tonight at eight. we need to practice.”
that evening, the academy’s ballroom was a cathedral of opulence and grandeur. chandeliers hung from the high ceiling like glittering constellations, their crystal drops refracting light into a thousand tiny rainbows that danced across the polished marble floor. the scent of fresh flowers filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of waxed wood, a testament to the academy’s commitment to luxury and tradition.
you arrived at eight sharp, your entrance a vision of calculated perfection. anton was already there, of course, nervously adjusting his tie as he waited for you. his breath caught as you stepped into the room, the soft rustle of your gown the only sound in the vast, echoing space.
you had chosen a gown of deep crimson, a shade that matched the dark currents of the game you played, the color of blood and desire. it flowed around you like liquid silk, the fabric clinging to your form before cascading to the floor in a pool of rich, dark red. your hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, a few loose tendrils framing your face, and a simple diamond necklace adorned your neck, glittering against your porcelain skin like a single drop of ice.
“you’re early,” you said, your tone light and teasing, as if you hadn’t planned every detail of this encounter down to the second.
“i didn’t want to keep you waiting,” anton replied, his voice filled with a mix of awe and devotion that made your smile widen.
you crossed the room with a deliberate grace, each step measured, each movement designed to captivate. “shall we begin?” you asked, extending your hand to him, your fingers pale against the deep crimson of your gown.
he took your hand, his grip firm yet trembling slightly, the subtle tremor sending a shiver of satisfaction through you. you led him into the dance, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, a testament to the control you exerted over him. anton followed your lead with an intensity that bordered on reverence, his eyes never leaving yours, his focus entirely on you, as if the world beyond your shared steps had ceased to exist.
as the music swelled, you leaned in closer, your breath brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “you’re doing well, anton,” you murmured, your voice a soft, seductive purr. “but you need to loosen up. let go of your fears.”
he nodded, his jaw clenching with determination, the tension in his body palpable beneath your touch. you could feel the rigid control he tried to maintain, the desperate need to please you, to be perfect for you. but you wanted more. you wanted to push him further, to see just how far he would go to prove his devotion.
“anton,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper, a breath of wind in the stillness of the ballroom. “do you trust me?”
his eyes widened, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a tiny crack in the facade of his devotion. but then he nodded, his expression resolute, his voice unwavering. “yes,” he said, the word carrying the weight of a promise, a vow.
“good,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile, a smile that was both a reward and a warning. “then close your eyes and follow my lead.”
he hesitated for the briefest of moments before obeying, his eyes fluttering shut, his trust in you absolute. with his eyes closed, anton’s other senses seemed to heighten, his body attuning to yours with an intensity that bordered on desperation. you could feel his breath quicken, the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, his heartbeat pounding in his chest like the rhythm of the music, a rhythm that echoed the pulse of your own power over him.
you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice a soft caress, a velvet glove over a steel blade. “you’re mine, anton,” you whispered, the words wrapping around him like a chain. “you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”
his breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that spoke of both fear and longing, and he nodded, his voice a ragged whisper, his will crumbling under the weight of your command. “yes.”
“good,” you murmured, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through you, a dark current that matched the crimson of your gown. “because i have another task for you.”
he opened his eyes then, his gaze locking onto yours with a desperation that was almost tangible, a need that radiated from him like heat. “anything,” he said, his voice filled with a desperate longing, a need to prove himself worthy of your attention.
you smiled, a slow, predatory smile, the smile of a hunter who knows the prey is already ensnared. “i need you to find out everything you can about professor kim. i have reason to believe he’s hiding something, and i need to know what it is.”
anton’s eyes darkened at your words, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them, a shadow of the man he was becoming under your influence. “i’ll find out,” he said, his voice firm, the resolve in his tone a reflection of the control you had over him.
you leaned back slightly, your smile widening, your satisfaction evident in the way your eyes glinted in the soft light of the chandeliers. “i knew i could count on you, anton,” you said, your voice a soft purr, a reward for his obedience.
as the music came to an end, you stepped back, breaking the connection between you, your movements fluid, graceful, a dancer stepping away from a completed performance. anton stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and devotion, his mind consumed with thoughts of you.
“same time tomorrow?” you asked, your tone casual, as if you hadn’t just tightened the chains of his obsession, as if this were just another dance, another game.
he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours, his heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. “yes,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the undercurrent of desperation, the need to please you, to be everything you wanted him to be.
you turned and walked away, your steps light and graceful, each movement a calculated display of control and power. behind you, anton remained standing in the middle of the ballroom, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind consumed with thoughts of you, with the task you had given him.
the game was progressing perfectly, each move bringing you closer to your goal, and you reveled in the power you held over him, in the knowledge that anton was yours, body and soul, and that you had no intention of letting him go.
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
the power dynamics between you and anton had shifted to an almost surreal degree. what began as a subtle manipulation had evolved into a full-blown psychological entanglement, a dangerous dance where you were the undisputed maestro, and anton, the eager but unwitting puppet.
each interaction was a calculated move, each touch a deliberate action to tighten the threads of control around him. you reveled in the power you held, the way you could bend him to your will with nothing more than a smile or a whispered command.
the academy’s sprawling grounds, with its grandiose architecture and serene gardens, became the stage for your most intricate schemes. the cherry blossoms in the garden, once a symbol of delicate beauty, now seemed to echo the treacherous nature of your relationship with anton. their petals floated down like fragments of innocence lost, each one a testament to the corruption blossoming between you.
one afternoon, you sat on a stone bench beneath a weeping willow. its branches hung low, creating a curtain of green that shielded you from the prying eyes of others. anton approached with the usual mix of eagerness and trepidation, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that bordered on worshipful.
“anton,” you called softly, your voice a caress against the backdrop of the rustling leaves. “i need you to handle something for me.”
“of course,” he replied, his voice a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. he was so eager to please, so desperate for your approval, that it was almost painful to watch.
you leaned in slightly, letting the air between you become charged with unspoken expectations. “there’s a student, su-jin. she’s been trying to undermine me in class, and i need you to… persuade her to stop.”
anton’s face darkened at the mention of su-jin. you could see the conflict within him, but it was quickly overshadowed by his desire to comply with your wishes. “what should I do?”
you allowed a slow, satisfied smile to creep across your lips. “find out what she’s planning, and if necessary, convince her to leave me alone. use whatever means you deem necessary.”
his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and determination. “you can count on me.”
as anton walked away, you could see the way his shoulders stiffened with resolve. it was a dangerous game you were playing, but the thrill of exerting such power over him, of watching him bend to your will, was intoxicating. you knew that anton’s obsession with you would lead him down a darker path, but you were content to watch the descent with a detached fascination.
anton’s mental state began to deteriorate as his obsession grew. he became increasingly paranoid, his thoughts consumed by the idea that no one else deserved your attention. his once bright eyes took on a haunted look, and his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a nervous restlessness. he started to isolate himself from friends, pushing them away with brusque words and averted gazes. his world had narrowed to a singular focus— you.
one evening, as the sky turned a deep shade of indigo and the stars began to prick the velvet darkness, you were walking through the gardens again. anton followed a few paces behind, his gaze fixed on you like a shadow that never wavered. he had been quiet for days, his once vibrant conversations now reduced to terse, monosyllabic responses.
“anton,” you said, turning to face him as you paused near a fountain where the water gurgled softly, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound. “you’ve been so quiet lately. is everything alright?”
he looked up, his eyes flickering with a mixture of anxiety and something darker— a possessive intensity that you noted with a hint of amusement. “everything’s fine,” he said, though his voice trembled slightly. “i’ve just been… focused.”
you could feel the shift in his demeanor, a subtle but unmistakable tension in the air. “focused on what?”
he hesitated, his gaze drifting to the ground before meeting your eyes again. “on making sure that no one else gets in the way of what we have.”
you raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. “and what is it that we have, anton?”
he swallowed hard, his throat working as if the words were difficult to form. “i… i want to make sure you’re safe. that no one can harm you or distract you from… us.”
a shiver ran down your spine at the way he said “us,” the possessive undertone clear. you took a step closer, your eyes narrowing as you assessed his state of mind.
“anton, you know i appreciate your loyalty. but remember, you’re here to support me, not to control the people around me.”
he nodded, but the look in his eyes betrayed a different reality. the shadow of his darker side was beginning to surface more frequently. it was in the way he would flinch if he saw you talking to another student, the way his hands would clench into fists when you mentioned someone else’s name.
like when you conversed with a fellow student, your laughter ringing out in the courtyard, you caught anton’s gaze from across the lawn. his face was a mask of barely restrained fury, his eyes dark and stormy. the sight sent a thrill of dark satisfaction through you. you knew that you were pushing him to the brink, but the control you had over him was intoxicating.
afterward, as you walked through the campus, you found anton waiting for you by a secluded alcove. his expression was a volatile mix of anger and desperation.
“why were you talking to him?” he demanded, his voice low and harsh.
you stopped, turning to face him with a calm composure. “anton, it’s just a conversation. you have nothing to worry about.”
“nothing to worry about?” he spat, his eyes blazing. “i saw the way he looked at you. you were laughing with him, enjoying his attention. what about me?”
you took a deep breath, the thrill of his jealousy and anger washing over you like a wave. “anton, you need to calm down. you’re becoming irrational.”
“irrational?” he echoed, his voice trembling with a barely contained fury. “i’m trying to protect you! you don’t understand—”
“understand what?” you interrupted, stepping closer and placing a hand on his cheek. the touch was intended to soothe, but you could feel the tension beneath his skin. “anton, you’re losing control. you need to trust me.”
he flinched at your touch, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over him. his eyes were wild, and for a moment, you could see the extent of his obsession, the way it had twisted into something darker.
“i don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i can’t lose you.”
you drew back slightly, the thrill of his turmoil invigorating you. “anton, you’re not losing me. but you need to focus on what’s important.”
his eyes searched yours, desperation evident in every line of his face. “i’ll do anything,” he said, his voice cracking. “just tell me what to do.”
you smiled, a smile that was both reassuring and chilling. “just remember, anton, your loyalty is what matters most. don’t let your feelings get in the way.”
this only spurred anton’s behavior to become increasingly erratic. he would often have vivid fantasies about you, his mind concocting elaborate scenarios where you were entirely his and no one else could share in your attention. these fantasies grew darker and more obsessive, painting a picture of a world where you were trapped in his own twisted vision of devotion.
one night, as the moon cast a silver sheen across the academy grounds, anton sat alone in his dorm room, his thoughts racing. the walls seemed to close in around him, and the quiet of the night was punctuated only by the sound of his own uneven breathing. he had been unable to sleep, his mind a chaotic swirl of images and emotions.
he imagined you, alone and vulnerable, with him as your sole protector. in his fantasies, you were completely dependent on him, your every move dictated by his will. the images were vivid, almost tangible— you sitting by his side, your hand in his, your eyes locked with his as he whispered promises of eternal devotion.
but these fantasies quickly twisted into darker visions, where he had to fight off other suitors with a ferocity that bordered on violence. in these dreams, he was ruthless, striking out with an intensity that mirrored the storm within him.
when he awoke, drenched in sweat, he could still feel the echoes of his dark fantasies, the haunting intensity of his own thoughts. he stared at the ceiling, his mind struggling to separate fantasy from reality. his heart pounded, the line between his desire and his actions becoming increasingly blurred.
the next day, when you encountered anton, his demeanor was a mask of calmness, but the turmoil beneath was palpable. he tried to hide his paranoia, but the tension in his posture and the shadow in his eyes spoke volumes. he watched you with a possessive gaze, his actions more calculated, his interactions with others strained.
“anton,” you said one afternoon as you found him standing near the fountain, his gaze following you intently. “is everything alright?”
he forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “everything’s fine,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “just… making sure everything is as it should be.”
you studied him, noting the way his eyes darted toward other students, the way his hands clenched into fists. you could feel the control you wielded over him, the way his obsession had morphed into something more dangerous. the thrill of manipulating him, of pushing him to the edge, was a dark pleasure you savored.
“anton,” you said, stepping closer and lowering your voice. “i need you to trust me. I don’t want to see you like this. It’s not healthy.”
his eyes met yours, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his facade. “i just… want to protect you,” he said, his voice a mixture of anguish and resolve.
you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “i know, and I appreciate it. but it’s creeping me out so i need you to stop, okay?”
he nodded, but the shadows in his eyes betrayed the internal struggle he faced. you knew that his descent into obsession was far from over, and as you watched him walk away, you could almost feel the weight of his darkness pressing down on him.
the games you played were dangerous and morally ambiguous, but they had become a twisted form of entertainment for you. you had pushed anton to the brink, watching with a mix of thrill and detachment as he spiraled into obsession. the power you held over him was intoxicating, and though you knew the consequences of your actions, the pleasure of manipulation was too alluring to resist.
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:・゚. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .
the days continued to grow colder, the winter tightening its grip on seonghwa academy, transforming the once-golden landscape into a monochrome world of gray skies and snow-blanketed grounds. the chill seeped into the very bones of the school, into the ancient stone walls and the hearts of those within them, as if the academy itself were a living, breathing entity, feeding off the darkness that now hung heavy in the air.
you had been watching anton closely, more closely than ever, though you would never let him know it. there was a darkness in him that intrigued you, a shadow that had grown deeper, more pronounced since that night in your room. it was as if something had awakened in him, something raw and primal, and you could feel its presence lurking just beneath the surface of his carefully composed facade.
it had been a twisted tapestry of obsession, each thread woven with a careful hand, yet fraying at the edges with the weight of something darker. anton’s once-gentle demeanor, that quiet reserve you had once found so easy to manipulate, had slowly unraveled, revealing a shadowy core of obsession and fixation. what began as harmless devotion had curdled into something far more dangerous, an all-consuming fervor that twisted his thoughts and actions until they no longer resembled the man you had first ensnared.
the signs had always been there, lurking beneath the surface like cracks in a fragile facade. at first, they were subtle—a lingering gaze that held too much intensity, an eagerness to please that bordered on desperation. his words, once soft and measured, began to carry an undercurrent of something sharper, a hint of possessiveness that set your instincts on edge. but these were easy to dismiss, easy to overlook in the grander scheme of your game.
yet, as the days turned into weeks, those cracks deepened, splitting wide to reveal the depths of his obsession. his once kind eyes now burned with a fervor that was both unsettling and relentless, like a predator stalking its prey. the change in him was gradual, a slow, insidious transformation that you hadn’t anticipated, until one day you realized that the man before you was no longer the same anton you had once so effortlessly controlled.
what had begun as a game of manipulation had now spiraled into something far more dangerous. you had been playing with fire, testing the limits of his devotion, pushing him further and further, and now, those flames were ready to consume everything in their path. the air around him seemed charged, like the tense silence before a storm, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you could sense the shift in him, the way his presence felt heavier, more oppressive, as if the weight of his obsession had grown too large to contain.
but you didn’t question it. you didn’t need to. after all, whatever was driving anton, whatever darkness had taken root in his soul, it only served to deepen your control over him. and that was all that mattered.
it was a chilly evening, and the academy’s grand library, usually a sanctuary of quiet knowledge, felt different tonight. the air was thick with an unsettling tension. the shadows cast by the flickering lights danced ominously on the rows of ancient, leather-bound books. you had been here often, as much to avoid the prying eyes of others as to indulge in the hidden recesses of knowledge. tonight, however, your curiosity had led you down a path of discovery you hadn’t anticipated.
you were seated in a leather armchair near the back of the library, a book in hand, though your mind was far from the words on the page. instead, your thoughts were occupied by anton, by the strange, twisted game you had been playing with him, and by the gnawing curiosity that had begun to take hold of you.
it was then that you heard the door to the library creak open, the sound pulling you from your thoughts. you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. you could feel his presence, as you always could, a dark cloud that seemed to hang over him, shadowing his every step.
anton moved through the library with the same quiet grace that had always characterized him, but there was something different about him now, something that set your nerves on edge. you watched from the corner of your eye as he made his way toward the back of the library, his gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see.
as he drew closer, you noticed that his clothes were disheveled, more so than usual, his hair unkempt, the dark strands falling into his eyes in a way that only added to the air of disarray that clung to him. there was something in his eyes, too, something wild and untamed, a flicker of madness that sent a chill down your spine.
he stopped a few feet away from you, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that was almost suffocating. you met his stare, your expression carefully composed, though you could feel the unease building in the pit of your stomach.
“anton,” you said, your voice calm, measured. “what are you doing here?”
he didn’t answer right away. instead, he stood there, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths, as if he were trying to keep himself under control. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it that made your skin prickle.
“i did something for you,” he said, his words clipped, precise.
you raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued despite the unease that was now thrumming through your veins. “oh?” you said, your tone light, almost teasing. “and what might that be?”
anton’s eyes darkened, the storm in them growing more intense, more dangerous. he took a step closer, his hand reaching into his coat pocket, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of fear, a fear that you hadn’t felt in a long time.
but then he pulled out a small, silver object, holding it out to you with a trembling hand. you looked at it, your heart skipping a beat as you realized what it was.
a locket. a delicate, ornate locket that you recognized immediately, because you had seen it around the neck of one of the students, a girl who had been the object of anton’s silent, simmering jealousy for weeks. she had been one of your pawns, someone you had used to stoke the fires of anton’s obsession, to push him further, to test the limits of his devotion to you.
and now, here it was, in his hand, the chain broken, the locket itself smeared with something dark, something that made your breath catch in your throat.
“anton,” you said slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a wild animal. “what did you do?”
he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked down at the locket, his expression unreadable, before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours.
“i did it for you,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “she was in the way. she was trying to take you from me.”
your heart began to pound in your chest, a cold, creeping dread settling over you. “what did you do, anton?” you repeated, your voice sharper now, more insistent.
anton’s eyes flashed with something dark, something twisted, and he took another step closer, the locket still dangling from his fingers like a macabre trophy.
“i made sure she couldn’t take you from me,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “i made sure she would never come between us again.”
the realization hit you like a physical blow, the air leaving your lungs in a rush as the full extent of what anton had done sank in. the locket, the dark smears—blood, it was blood. he had killed her, that girl, that innocent pawn in your game, all because of his twisted, obsessive love for you.
you stared at him, your mind racing, trying to process the enormity of what had just happened. and yet, even as the horror of it all settled over you, you couldn’t help but feel a strange, twisted thrill of excitement, of power.
anton had killed for you. he had crossed a line, had stepped into the darkness, all in your name. and in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had ensnared him, how completely he had fallen under your spell.
but there was also a danger in it, a danger that you couldn’t ignore. anton was no longer just a pawn in your game. he was something else, something more dangerous, more unpredictable. and you knew that you would have to tread carefully if you were to maintain your control over him.
“anton,” you said, your voice low, soothing, as if you were trying to calm a wild animal. “you shouldn’t have done that.”
he blinked, his expression faltering for a moment, as if he were struggling to understand your words. “but i did it for you,” he repeated, his voice desperate, pleading. “i did it because i love you.”
you felt a cold, bitter laugh bubble up in your throat, but you forced it down, knowing that now was not the time for mockery. anton was on the edge, teetering on the brink of something dark and terrible, and you needed to pull him back, to regain control before it was too late.
“love?” you said, your voice soft, almost mocking. “you think this is love, anton? what you’ve done, what you’ve become—this isn’t love. it’s madness.”
his eyes widened, a flicker of pain flashing across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something darker, something more dangerous.
“no,” he said, his voice low, trembling with emotion. “no, you’re wrong. you don’t understand. everything i’ve done, i’ve done for you. because i can’t live without you. because i need you.”
you stared at him, your mind racing, trying to find the right words, the right approach to keep him from slipping further into the darkness. but even as you searched for a way to regain control, you could feel the situation spiraling out of your grasp, slipping through your fingers like sand.
“anton,” you said, your voice sharp, cutting through the thick tension in the air. “listen to me. you’ve gone too far. you’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”
for a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression blank, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. but then, slowly, something shifted in his eyes, something dark and twisted, something that made your blood run cold.
“unforgivable?” he echoed, his voice low, almost a whisper. “but i did it for you. i did it because i love you. how can that be unforgivable?”
you shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. “love isn’t supposed to be like this, anton. it’s not supposed to be… destructive.”
his expression twisted into something ugly, something full of pain and anger. “you’re wrong,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you’re wrong. love is everything. it’s all that matters. and i would do anything—anything—to keep you. to make you mine.”
there was a desperation in his voice, a wildness that sent a shiver down your spine. you had pushed him too far, had played your game too well, and now you were faced with the consequences of your own actions.
but even as the fear gripped you, there was a part of you, a dark, twisted part, that couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement, a perverse satisfaction in knowing just how deeply you had ensnared him, how completely you had broken him.
“anton,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “this has to stop. you have to let me go.”
his eyes flashed with something dark, something dangerous, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your arm with a grip that was almost painful.
“no,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “i can’t. i won’t. you’re mine. you belong to me.”
you felt a cold, creeping dread settle over you, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. anton wasn’t going to let you go. he was too far gone, too consumed by his obsession to see reason. and there was no telling what he might do, what lengths he might go to, to keep you.
“anton,” you said, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to remain calm. “you need to let me go. this isn’t healthy. it’s not right.”
his grip on your arm tightened, his eyes blazing with a wild, desperate intensity. “i don’t care,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “i don’t care if it’s not right. i don’t care if it’s not healthy. i need you. and i won’t let you go. not ever.”
the words hung in the air like a dark, ominous cloud, the finality of them sending a shiver down your spine. you had always known that anton was different, that he was dangerous, but now, faced with the full extent of his madness, you realized just how precarious your situation had become.
you were trapped, ensnared in the very web you had so carefully woven, and there was no way out. anton’s obsession had consumed him, had driven him to the edge of sanity, and now, there was no telling what he might do, what lengths he might go to, to keep you.
“anton,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “please. let me go.”
but he only shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening, his eyes wild and desperate. “no,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “i can’t. i won’t. you’re mine. and i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. whatever it takes.”
the words sent a chill down your spine, the cold, creeping dread settling over you like a heavy blanket. anton had crossed a line, had stepped into the darkness, and there was no going back. the game was over, and you had lost.
and in that moment, you realized just how dangerous obsession could be, just how easily it could consume and destroy. anton had been your pawn, your plaything, but now, he was something else, something darker, something that could destroy you both.
and there was no escape.
“anton,” you said, your voice trembling, your heart pounding in your chest. “this isn’t love. it’s madness.”
but he only smiled, a twisted, broken smile that sent a shiver down your spine, his grip on your arm like a vice, unrelenting and unforgiving.
“maybe,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “but it’s our madness.”
and in that moment, you knew that there was no going back, no escape from the darkness that had consumed you both. anton had become something else, something more dangerous, more terrifying, and there was no telling what he might do, what lengths he might go to, to keep you.
the snow continued to fall outside, the world outside the library quiet and still, as if holding its breath, waiting for the storm to break. and in the silence, you could hear the faint whisper of the wind, the crackling of the fire, and the pounding of your own heart, as you stood there, trapped in the darkness, with no way out.
and as the night closed in around you, you knew that this was only the beginning, the first step into a world of darkness and madness from which there would be no return. anton’s obsession had consumed him, and now, it would consume you both, dragging you down into the depths of despair, with no hope of escape.
and as you looked into anton’s eyes, those wild, desperate eyes that had once been so full of life, so full of promise, you knew that you had lost, that you had played your game too well, and now, you were paying the price.
the darkness had won.
#riize imagines#riize#riize x reader#riize imagine#riize scenarios#riize x imagine#riize smut#riize anton#riize angst#riize au#riize anton lee#anton imagines#anton x reader#anton#anton smut#riize lee chanyoung#riize chanyoung#lee chanyoung#chanyoung x reader#anton lee
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Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU
Fifty-Three - I was made for loving you.
warnings: mentions of weight, disordered eating. wc; 4.9k
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Hyunjin doesn’t get to think about how he ends up in front of your door, doesn’t get to comprehend the impulsive thoughts invading his mind. Not when he’s only known himself as a follower, so he follows, he follows where he knows you’ll be and maybe that’s why when he’s faced with his reality, he’s only capable of blaming you. For the ache in his heart, the fire he feels running alongside his blood and the recklessness coated by love that douses his actions. He blames you for everything even when his dignity curls by the corner and it disdained him. Weak, was it his lack of power or his faux hatred for you?
He tells himself he should leave, the small remaining bone of logical thinking tells him, screams that this is a bad idea, and he wholeheartedly agrees but his legs won’t listen to him, stubbornly glued to the floors of your familiar doorway in desperation and whispers of ‘I love you’s that had fallen from your lips right into his heart on this same spot. He sees it all, the phantoms of you kissing and then you’re smiling at him with your honey-soaked lips, dripping with unyielding affection that only ever manifests for him, in front of him as you tell him.
“I’ll wait for you,” and he feels like crying, or maybe he feels more like dying. He’ll ask you to bury him with your hands, right next to your dead flowers of love. Perhaps only then you’ll be able to witness the pain your name leaves on his heart, its scratched and blue. but he still misses you and it’s nothing less than pathetic. Mundane madness.
If he’s not allowed to die then he wishes he could break free of this leftover self-respect and allow himself to break down at your door, ugly and valiant and filled with piteous desires that you’ll take him. Right into your arms and through the gates of your so-called heaven. If he’s not allowed to die then he’ll kneel and beg you for an escape from you, any sort of drug that will help him numb you. maybe if you allow him to become one with you, mesh himself with your bones and your blood he will feel nothing but love for you, maybe if you drive him further into his awaited craziness this will all be okay, and he won’t have to see you whenever he closes his eyes.
It’s a maybe followed by another maybe and maybe and he feels nothing but overflowing pain the longer he stands here.
You’re nothing but hell so how come his heart has grown to be a masochist? yearning to be burned by your gentle wandering touches.
He wonders if his masculine pride is getting secondhand embarrassment of his soul crushing devotion for you. However, his thoughts are stuck on that point when you open the door as if somehow you knew he’s waiting outside. You’re shrouded in one of his old hoodies, one that he forgot behind when he packed his stuff and didn’t have the courage to face you once more to ask for it back. Or perhaps it’s simply a purposeful blunder to leave you with a piece of him in hopes it will haunt you.
His gaze is somber as they study the dark circles under your eyes and the red rimming your once glowing eyes, evidence of the tears that you shed not long ago. You’re pale, almost sickeningly so, fragile, and thinner than he had ever seen you. a part of him is almost glad he’s not the only one withering away with your dying garden of love.
“Hyunjin...” you’re the first to speak, in opposite to his, your gaze is surprised mimicking your tone. He doesn’t look like himself, but rather a ghost of what was once him. He’s the same man who crawled into your bed at night, the same man who littered kisses down your neck yet it’s not him. It was an ebbing version of him, one that had similar darkening circles to yours, exhaustion that had his back curved in a slouch, evidence of yet another crime you committed, a knife plunged into his heart and his blood on your hands. It makes you sick to your stomach.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, softly and tentatively.
And he closes his eyes at your voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the ears of his heart. To block out the reminiscences of you and how your voice manages to pull him right into the field of you he tries so hard to run away from. But everything leads back to you, in hindsight he’s sure you’ve made your mark on his fate like a plague. He has no choice but to be an extension of you, roaming around in hopes to be reunited with his home one day.
When he opens them, pain torrents from your eyes and he feels like glass, not like the expensive little statues you have around your apartment, but rather cheap, debilitated and easily broken with the delicacy you’re covered in when you call his name. No one will ever call him this softly, no one could ever be as cruel as you.
“Is it true?” he asks, ignoring your question because there’s no logical answer he could give. There’s no answer that won’t break him.
“w-what is true?” you ask. Voice weakened by your quiet nerves.
“Is it true that your dad is setting you up on dates and you agreed?” The frost in his voice melts as he spits each syllable out, replaced with unjust anger.
“Who told you this?”
“Does it fucking matter? Just tell me if it’s true or not.”
You grow quiet, your silence only plunges the knife further into his heart and the way your eyebrows furrow in a way too familiar conquest. Your futile attempts to string together a sentence is like grey clouds collecting above his head, leaving him foggy and stormy. So, he scoffs.
“So, was it all lies again? Your whole speech about how you’ll never give up on us how you’ll keep trying. It all meant nothing to you, didn’t it?”
“you’re being unfair Hyunjin.” You shake your head, a fresh set of tears collects in your waterline, and it only angers him, pushes him further into the abyss. He’s overwhelmed with the emotions raining on him “Am I supposed to sit still and wait for you forever when you’ve made it so clear you don’t want me anymore?” It’s all lies because deep down you know you will wait for him forever if you need to.
Sadness, anger, disappointment, it’s an endless symphony of terror that has him locked up and the key is in your hands. You’re refusing to let up and he refuses to come undone before your eyes.
“Do you want to know what’s fucking unfair Y/N?” you look away, the pain taking claim in his iris is enough to have you choking, it’s excruciating so your eyes run away but then he’s all up in your face, ruthless fingers gripping your jaw as he forces you to face him.
“Placing bets on people’s heart as if they’re puppets and not human beings,” his breath hits your cheek like little knifes and each one scratches with ferocious hatred “lying to me while looking me straight in the eye, playing games behind my back when I asked you time and time if there’s anything I should know about.” You sob, overwhelmingly ashamed and unable to keep eye contact with him, you try to break away from his grip, try to look away from his fiery gaze but it’s all useless when it only tightens around your jaw.
“Breaking my heart again when I so willingly handed it to you with so much trust in you.” your heart falls apart at the way his words weakened towards the end “That’s fucking unfair.” His anger is displaced by exasperation that has you shaking.
“I’m sorry Hyunjin. I want to explain myself I promise there’s so much more to everything than you think.”
He laughs, humorless and cruel. Your words remain woefully inadequate, and it only has him dwindling further into his disappointment and he grows to feel idiotic, for coming here, for thinking he has any sort of authority over your actions. He’s only driven by his anger and longing for you, and he resents it. His grip on you loosens, and when he goes to take a step back, he’s stopped by your fingers circling his wrist.
“I never meant to break your heart, jinnie.”
“But you fucking did Y/N! it doesn’t matter what you meant to do, don’t you get it?” his tone rises, breaking towards the end and rendering you the same kind of broken.
“Okay yes, I did! I wish I didn’t, but I did. I get that but you can’t keep blaming me when you won’t even listen to me.”
“This is fucking stupid.” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair and then he’s shaking his head in disbelief.
“Forget it.” He spits then swivels away from you, abandoning his heart alongside his dignity.
But he doesn’t get to make it far, doesn’t even take the first step down because the sound of your body breaking down and your knees hitting the ground is enough for him to look back at you in panic, the vision of your limbs weakened on the floor is enough to have him rushing by your side.
“Y/N.” his arms are around your shoulders; your labored breaths have his eyes widening in worry.
“what’s wrong?” he questions; eyes raking through your features anxiously.
Your eyes have gone hazy, pupils dilating as they lose focus and it sets his soul ablaze with crippling fear, with a trembling absentminded cradle of your cheek “baby, can you hear me? come on focus on me.” He’s tapping your cheek gently, slightly panicking as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you blink at him, regaining some of your fumbled mind.
“I-I’m sorry I just felt a little dizzy and my head was spinning-“
“Shh it’s okay.” He lets out a breath of relief when your eyes focus on him, blinking rapidly “when was the last time you eaten?” his voice is gentle in complete contrast to how he was speaking moments ago, breaking through the collecting clouds in your eyes. He pulls you to his chest, gathers you in his arms and despite the aching in your body you could only think about the familiar scent of peaches invading your senses. The comfort of his warm embrace has you clutching onto his shirt desperately.
“I don’t remember.” You murmur, you feel cold sweat collecting at the roots of your hair, your limbs growing weaker as if they weigh nothing.
“For fuck’s sake Y/N.” his warm palm that rests at your forehead brings a comfort akin to fresh air that you desperately breath in “can you stand up?” Despite the bells ringing in your ears, you still manage to nod, or at least you think you do even if you’re not sure with how lightheaded you’re feeling.
When he helps you stand up your words are meaningless as your body slumps into him, weak and drained of energy, without saying a word he takes it upon himself to carry you inside. The alarming lightness of your body as if carrying a singular feather has his heart tightening. You’re somewhat present yet not fully there when you press your face into his neck, your tears sting against his skin, burn him and he’s sure you’ll only leave another mark of yours on his body.
“I’m sorry,” you kept crying into his neck and Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, not when his heart hammers against his ribcage begging for an escape from you, you who once was his sanctuary. Who is he supposed to find solace in when the cause of his heartbreak lies between his arms?
You don’t remember much of what happens after, you only remember flowing out of consciousness when he placed you on your couch, the familiar cushions are comfortable against your body, his presence brings ease to your loud mind and it quietens it for mere minutes that are enough for you to fall asleep, for the first time in a while. You can’t recall It perfectly, but you swear you felt Hyunjin’s colder hand in yours.
When you wake up it’s 9 p.m. The scent of cooked soup, specifically chicken soup erupts from your kitchen, filling the space of your small apartment and has your stomach growling in hunger. A dull ache has latched itself on your every muscle as if you’re a corpse who just gotten back to life. You run a tired hand over your face, a headache starts to form as soon as you sit up.
“you’re awake,” Hyunjin’s voice startles you, have not noticed him standing there. Eyes locked on you and you only nod in response. Your throat is parched.
“Water?” he asks when he notices your lingering silence and you nod, averting your eyes as he disappears back into your kitchen. When he’s back there’s a tray between his hands, carrying a glass of water and a bowl of what you assume to be the soup you smelled.
“Here.” He mumbles, a tinge of awkwardness clings to his fingers as he brings the glass to your lips, your eye contact has you feeling lightheaded for reasons other than the lack of food in your system. His thumb rubs circles on the insides of your thigh as you sip diligently. His touch has you almost doubling over for more, your longing expands and takes space over every cell in your body.
You miss him more than you miss breathing in air.
“Thank you,” you finally reply as he places the now empty glass back on the table, he doesn’t say anything back and instead pushes the tray of food towards you “eat.” His tone is banal, he avoids the longing in your glance, yet this thumb remains in its place, spreading the warmth of something you know is counterfeit. It has your throat tightening.
“How did you make this?” you ask as you swirl your spoon around the bowl.
“I had to go grocery shopping. Why is your house so empty Y/N?” He’s not looking for an answer so you don’t give him one. Instead, you busy yourself with eating as silence settles in between you two.
Hyunjin keeps his gaze locked on the dark screen of your tv and you force yourself to find a domestic alleviation in the act. In the quietness that is nowhere near as comfortable as it once was, in the rigid lines of harshness on his face. It’s all a charade, you’re aware of it but you pretend that there’s still love in these walls, in the couch you both are sitting on and it’s not filled with disappointment as it witness the growing distant between you two.
“Good?” he asks when you set your half empty bowl back on the tray.
“mhm,” you murmur, your eyes studying the side of his face and the longer he refuses to look at you the deeper your agony settles into your soul, a remorse nestled into the bit of your stomach and you could see it all when your hands reaches for his slender fingers and his body tenses as if your bodies didn’t belong together.
The walls of your living room laugh in mockery when your fingers squeeze his, lucky enough to witness this pitiful parody of what was real once. What you killed. But you never got time for it, instead Hyunjin is somehow sitting next to you, filled with quiet resentment for himself and then for you and thirdly for this foolish thing we like to call love.
“I’m so sorry about everything Hyunjin.” you say, hardly audible.
“You should be feeling sorry for your body Y/N.”
“I don’t care about my body, any sort of emotion that runs through my body is for you. it’s because of you.”
“Why did you do it then? Why did you have to kill us so brutely?” when he looks at you, you feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort that only exists within his fingertips.
“I was stupid,” you admit through swallowing down the lump forming in the center of your throat “I was jealous, and it brought out the worst in me. I had never seen you with a girl before and I just- “you suck a deep breath in, the stupidity of your actions dawns on you the longer you try to explain.
Your eyes comb over his features, the anguish clouding his iris has you melting away in the blues of your rushed decisions.
“It killed me knowing you might have fallen for someone other than me.”
“So, you decided to punish someone innocent over the faults of our hearts?” you long for evidence of his adoring for you, searching the flickers of dark in his eyes for a missing piece that feels it has been snatched away from you. You’re disappointed when you can’t find anything, it’s blank.
Who knew a simple feeling could alter someone’s gaze this much.
“I fucked up, I know I did.” Your voice breaks with anxiety at the thought of losing him “at first it was just that but when I found out that her mom was my dad’s mistress it only got worse.”
Hyunjin lets out a breath of disbelief but doesn’t complain when your nails start digging into his palm, a pathetic claim to cling onto him.
“It felt like she kept taking everyone from me it was you first, then my dad and then my mom kept comparing me to her I just felt like I wasn’t enough, yet no one was feeling my pain.” A small whimper escapes your lips, one that is filled with enough despair to has him shutting his eyes and his teeth latching painfully around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying anything.
“I was in so much pain I just wanted to hurt everyone else around me and specifically her. She was everything that I wanted to be. Everything that everyone wanted me to be, but I was nothing but a failure that longed for your love. I was too much of a coward to say it.” You take a deep breath in, your fingers tremble between his, and you feel like an ugly monster who taints everything it touches red with fiery and resentment, it flows from your fingertips.
You feel like nothing but a weakling destruction, an abandoned ground of all the people you could have become.
“I know it’s not right if I could go back and change it trust me I would. I hate myself for it every day, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror for what I did. I was punishing her for something she didn’t even do. I was filled with hatred and anger towards the world, and I took it out on her.”
A winding coil is waiting to snap behind your eyes when Hyunjin frees his hands from you, a shaky exhale escapes and he stands up, you feel him slipping through your fingers, see the fragments of him leaving you once again. It has an unmistakable tightness pulling at your chest. Anxiety, a monster known to make an appearance simultaneity with your darkening thoughts. It snaps when a pregnant silence follows as Hyunjin paces relentlessly before you from left to right as if trying to make sense of your words.
Regret, a color you were so familiar with, has been painted in so many times but this darkening shade you’re drowning in right now doesn’t even compare to anything you’ve felt ever before. It something so much more. A colossal amount that has painful tears cascading down your cheeks in a silent plea.
“I wanted to call it off, but Yeosang didn’t want to. He started threatening me with telling you everything and back then i-I just wasn’t ready to relive the pain of what happened with Seungmin once again.” You wince, your hands shake as your heart grows heavier with every word, with every step of his “When i-I was ready everything came crashing down and it was too late. I wanted to tell you so much sooner.”
“You don’t get it do you?” he finally speaks, voice doused with raw and unfiltered betrayal. You’re only brought back to life to be killed once again “It’s the fact that you did it in the first place that breaks my heart Y/N.”
You open your mouth to respond but no words make appearance in your mind, it’s all blank and misplaced judgments “I don’t know when you became this person. This is not the person I fell in love with. I knew you had your flaws, but I thought you were changing, I thought you left it all behind,” His eyes are devoid of vibrancy as they stare you down, a manifestation of the sadness residing in his heart “I didn’t know what you were hiding in the dark was so much worse than I could ever imagine.”
“H-how do I make it better? How do I fix it?” Your legs hurt when you move to stand up before him, a throb in your body due to how weak you grew in few weeks of abandonment.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, looking away in yearning for a fleeting respite. It’s out of reach when your hand hesitates to touch him. Why does it pain him so much when your hands linger awkwardly between you two? As if you grew to be strangers in a few counted seconds.
“Please tell me how do I fix it.” You plead, voice hoarse as your tears run like an endless steam “I wish I could go back and never make that stupid bet. I wish I could go back and fight Seungmin properly-“
“Don’t bring him up.” His brows furrow and your heart sinks.
“I never wanted to sleep with him-“
“I know. I believe you.” He interrupts you again and you realize the darkness taking over his eyes, doused in pain, is not because of betrayal but rather unexpected. It’s the same entity that you know is etched all over your being too.
Regret.
“I never blamed you for anything that happened with Seungmin.” Your hand finally touches him, cups his cheek in lovingly manner like all the destined lovers are meant to hold each other, he leans into the soft skin of your palm in broken tenderness. A shaky fuck tumbles out of his lips. He hates how you manage to see through him without him uttering a single word. He hates how delicately you touch him, he hates how his heart is wounded because of you and yet bleeds with you, for you. How your sorrow has his anger disappearing into thin air as if it never existed. And he only aches for you, for all the pain you had to endure alone.
He hates that he can’t actually hate you.
“I couldn’t protect you.” He sounds shattered when he speaks, it shatters your soul with it.
“I’m sorry,” he says shakily, and, in that moment, you think you finally understand what’s it’s like to be absolutely broken, to feel pain run through your veins as if it’s your blood, as if it’s a part of you that won’t ever relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you and he comes with ease, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder “it’s okay, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault Hyunjin.” You speak against it, and he shakes in your embrace.
It was such an odd situation, to comfort the boy you filled with despair. It has reality sinking into you at that moment, the fact that the broken pieces of your relationship are much smaller, much sharper than you anticipated and you’re not sure how to pick them up without any of you two bleeding to death. The damage you left, the scars of your past, the unshed tears and all the broken promises are evidence of how you two are incompatible with your love. And it’s excruciating.
You pull away far enough to look at him, his eyes glisten with sorrowful water and you cradle his cheeks, wiping at the few drops that managed to escape “it’s okay.” You murmur, unsure if you’re trying to comfort him or yourself.
“I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again. I don’t know if we will ever be okay.”
“If I fix me then will you love me again?”
“Don’t talk as if you’re a mere object and not human.” He scolds and you feel as if your heart is being carved out of your chest at his care for you despite how wrong you are, how everything is your fault “It only pains me when you talk about yourself like this. When you starve yourself as a way to punish yourself.”
“What should I do then? How do I end your misery? Please tell me.”
“Bring back the girl I fell in love with. The one with infectious smiles and the gleam of the moon in her eyes,” His words hang over you like a gloomy cloud.
“Will you able to forgive me then?” you ask, sad and small.
“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, an answer you weren’t looking forward to, and it feels like an arrow has been shot through your heart “but if you’re trying then I’m willing to try too.”
Hyunjin leaves soon after, a mountain of unspoken words lingers between you two. Nothing like the secrets you had kept till now, a foreign void forms in your heart and a rather bigger weight burdens your shoulders shrouded in your relationship that’s falling apart. Hanging by a thread that you’re holding onto as if it’s your lifeline. And that’s why you stop Hyunjin by your door. Both of your cheeks flushed and eyes puffy.
“I think I was made for loving you,” your words spill like an explosion that you cannot hold back, enamored by how your soul intertwines even when you’re refusing to touch “Even if you think we seem hopeless right in this moment, and I am only ever wrong and confused. I might be a fool who does not know anything but all I know is I was made for loving you so this is my last promise, I will try my best to make everything better, to be better.”
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything back, there’s no right answer that he could muster up so instead he saves your words in his pocket, and you capture the look of his dreary eyes swimming with endless adoration for you in your mind.
You know it’s true, you love him without being good for anything else.
It’s not until a week later that you see Hyunjin again, right as the first snow of the new year falls. You welcome winter with a dull ache that has spread through your soul. A tempest of memories curl in the folds of frigid winds. It dances through your hair and through his when you see him right outside of your apartment complex. A thick dark blue scarf looped multiple times around his neck, remains of half-finished cigarettes at his feet gives away his building nerves as he waited for a glimpse of you.
“Did you really mean it when you said you want to be better?” When he looks at you, you envision fragments of summer in him. Mere centimeters separate you.
“I meant every word.” Your voice is as soft as the ray of sunshine slipping through the grey clouds.
“I don’t know if there’s gonna come a day where I’ve fully forgiven you. I don’t know if there’s a way for my heart not to throb painfully as it calls your name,” a pause, enough to have you holding your breath when his dark eyes flit across yours “but I think I want to be next to you when it happens.”
He closes the small space between you two and stands before you, looking down at you as if you were 16 again in the middle of your school hallway, your last book ended with bloodshed and deep scars but that never means there’s no room for healing and when Hyunjin extends his hand to you, a youthful smile taking place on his face you feel the truth bloom in you. You see fate rewrites itself into new pages, scribbles of poetry that won’t have to be filled with lies and fearful tears.
“No more secrets?”
“No more secrets.” You answer, with a similar smile.
Despite the bitter winter you feel the warmth of sun seeps into your being when you take his hand in yours. It’s as sweet as peaches and embraces you in overwhelming comfort. a peaceful buzz that settles through the center of your heart, a fresh new color, so bright and foreign but more than anything welcomed.
It’s hopeful and it screams stay, stay, stay.
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stopping by to say how much I love your writing again ;v;!! was wondering if I could request some priest afton content (you know that man would have a god complex) teehee
☥ the fallen one (William Afton x fem!reader)
hi angel! im very happy to know you like my writing! thank u for requesting priest Afton because myself been thinking bout this idea too ᡣ𐭩 im not sure if 2nd part needed but I hope you’ll like this!! also sorry if it’s little, I just wanna write some silly headcanons and blurbs bc big fics take very much strength which I don’t have rn :(
tags: nsfw, smut, au, older man/younger woman, priest!William, William’s pervert thoughts, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, innaproriate use of cross?, obsessed William, small daddy kink, confessions, church
♡ As the priest, William couldn't help but be drawn to you, the innocent (as he thought) parishioner who often attended his church. Your ethereal beauty stirred something dark within him. Every time you entered the church, William's thoughts were consumed by you. He imagined the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips, the scent of your hair as he leaned in close to whisper prayers in your ear. He knew he shouldn't entertain such impure thoughts, but did he really care? In his twisted fantasies, he imagined you kneeling before him, your eyes pleading for salvation. He couldn't help but imagine you kneeling not in prayer, but in submission before him. That’s not what priest must imagine, right?
His mind wandered to the most depraved corners of desire. He fantasized about taking you in the sacred confines of the church, defiling the holy sanctum with your shared sin. He imagined bending you over the altar, your body a sacred offering to his carnal desires, each rough thrust ripping off you angelic moans. And yes, he longed to come inside you, the thought of claiming you as his, of filling you with his seed made him feral.
He pictured you kneeling before him, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip. He imagined your warm, wet mouth around his cock, such an angelic sight. He imagined guiding your head, urging you to take him deeper, nearly fucking your cute throat. He could almost feel the tightness of it as you swallowed him whole.
He imagined himself parting your trembling thighs, revealing your pussy to him. He’d eat you out like a man possessed, tongue tracing circles on your clit, sucking and nibbling with a hunger that knew no bounds. The thought of hearing your whimpers of ecstasy, of feeling you arch under him, drove him to the edge of sanity.
In his thoughts, he pictured you writhing beneath him, your back arched in pleasure as you called out his name in that sweet angelic voice of yours. Your hands would claw at his back as he abused your cunt, your screams growing louder with each hard thrust as he fucks you.
He imagined circling your cute nipples with a cross, the cool metal pressing against your heated flesh as you let out a sigh, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. The thought of defiling you in such a manner, of using the symbol of his faith to evoke pleasure, to touch something forbidden, something his eyes mustn’t see. The sight of you, bathed in the soft glow of the candles, fully exposed in front of him, the devil in saint clothes. That was a sin.
He heard your voice, soft and pleading, as you begged for more. “Touch me,” you’d gasp. “Use me for your pleasure, daddy. I'm yours, my soul is yours.”
He’d lean in close, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his tongue over your hard nipples. “Do you feel it?” he’d murmur. "Your pussy is so wet for me. Dear God, you're dripping. . .”
His kisses would grow bolder, more aggressive, as his desire for you consumed him. He could almost feel the way your body would respond, the slight arch of your back, the soft sighs and gasps.
William saw himself pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together, his lips moving up to your ear. He would nibble gently on your earlobe, his breath hot and heavy. “You’re mine, every inch of you, every breath, your soul. You belong to me.”
He watched with sinful delight as you moaned in pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. With his other hand, he circled and rubbed your clit sweetly. His fingers danced over your swollen bundle as he watched your needy face. The slickness of your arousal coating his fingers. He’d waste no time thrusting them into you, enjoying the squelching sounds your cunt would made. He’d finger you, at first slow and gently with his thumb on your clit.
As he felt you clench around his fingers, he closed his eyes and whispered, his voice trembling as his cock hard and throbbing. “Forgive me for i have sinned. But this pussy is just too good, too sweet, too tempting to resist.”
Your moans and whimpers as you take his fingers, echoing in the depths of the church.
William Afton was your master, your tormentor, your God.
However, his idea of you as an innocent being disappeared after one incident.
Taking a deep breath, you whispered. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
Afton's voice, low and velvety, floated through the lattice screen. “Tell me, my child, what weighs heavy on your soul?”
“I, uh. . .” you stuttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I. . . touched myself. I pleasured myself,” you confessed in a hushed tone. “I couldn't resist the temptation, Father. The desire was too strong.”
Afton remained silent for a moment, giving you a serious look. “My child, such thoughts and actions are indeed sinful. . .” he started explaining you. “but you are not alone in your struggle.“ although this one he said in his thoughts.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as relief washed over you, “Thank you, Father,” you whispered. “I needed to confess, to seek redemption for my sins.”
“Rest assured, my child,” Afton replied. “Your sins are forgiven, but remember, temptation lurks around every corner. Stay vigilant, and may the grace of God guide you on your journey to salvation.”
His thoughts were a chaotic blend of obsession and disgust. He wanted to worship you, to kneel before you as if you were a goddess, to drink in your purity and let it cleanse him of his sins. But at the same time, he wanted to destroy that purity, to fuck you rough and make you scream in agony, in pain, he’d lick your tears and order you to beg forgiveness for your sins, beg God to save you. The more he yearned for you, the more he despised you for making him feel this way. Your every movement, every glance, every smile, laughter seemed to radiate a divine light that both enchanted and tormented him.
But even as he plotted his next move, a part of him knew that he would always come back to you. You were his obsession, his muse, his greatest sin.
#fnaf x reader#william afton smut#william afton x reader#fnaf x y/n#steve raglan x reader#fnaf william afton#fnaf smut#steve raglan smut#dilf william#william afton
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💎A Night of Forever💎
︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿
ღ Anthony Bridgerton x female reader (18+ sligth smut part at the end)
ღ Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. To fully immerse yourself in this enchanting love story, I encourage you to start from the beginning. Enjoy the journey!
ღ Sumarry: Y/N and Anthony's wedding day is a joyous celebration of their love. After heartfelt vows and a lively reception, they share a deeply intimate and passionate first night together as a married couple, marking the beginning of their life of happiness and love.
ღ word count: 661 (words), 3,736 (chacters)
ღ Thank you so much for all the love on this series! This will be the conclusion, but I wanted to give you a little something before Season 3 comes out tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading and escaping reality for a bit. I can't wait to create more short stories like this one for you. Just a small heads-up: since this final chapter is romantic, it’s rated 18+ for the slight smut part at the end. Enjoy!
︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿
The day of Y/N and Anthony's wedding dawned bright and clear, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the grand estate. The gardens were in full bloom, their vibrant colors mirrored in the smiles and laughter of the guests who had gathered to witness the union of two hearts bound by love.
Y/N stood in her dressing room, surrounded by her closest friends and family. Her wedding gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin, hugged her figure gracefully, the train flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation.
As the ceremony began, Y/N felt a calm wash over her. The chapel was adorned with fragrant blooms, the air filled with the soft hum of anticipation. When the doors opened, and she began her walk down the aisle, her eyes immediately locked with Anthony's. He stood at the altar, looking more handsome than ever in his tailored suit, his eyes brimming with love and awe.
The vows they exchanged were heartfelt and sincere, each word a promise of eternal devotion. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anthony's kiss was tender yet passionate, a seal of their love that drew cheers and applause from their guests.
The reception was a joyous celebration, filled with dancing, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. But as the night wore on, Y/N and Anthony found themselves stealing glances at each other, their hearts longing for the moment they would be alone.
As the last guests departed, the newlyweds made their way to the bridal suite, their hands entwined. The room was a haven of romance, lit by the soft glow of candlelight and adorned with rose petals scattered across the bed.
Anthony turned to Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long."
Y/N's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her heart racing. "And I, you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with anticipation.
With a gentle touch, Anthony began to undress her, his fingers moving with reverence and care. Each piece of clothing that fell away brought them closer, the air between them charged with an electric tension.
When Y/N stood before him, clad only in her delicate undergarments, Anthony paused, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. "You are breathtaking," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.
He closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. As their tongues intertwined, Y/N felt a heat ignite within her, a longing that had been building since the moment they first met.
Anthony's hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finally lifted her and laid her on the bed, Y/N's body was aflame with desire.
Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, each touch, each kiss a testament to the love they shared. Anthony's movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Y/N's as he brought her to the peak of pleasure again and again.
In the quiet aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies glistening with the sweat of their shared passion. Anthony brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's face, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took her breath away.
"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "More than words can ever express."
Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Anthony," she replied, her voice a soft melody. "Forever and always."
As they drifted into a peaceful slumber, their bodies still intertwined, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.
#anthony bridgerton imagines#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton netflix#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton season 3#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton smut
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How would you imagine wooyoung would be like during your first time with him? B/c he's such a tease but I think he'd have to hold back a little if you're losing your virginity to him-
I do think he'd try and make it the best experience possible.
Anyway, I'd love to submit that as a request if you're still accepting them
The First of Us
﹒♡﹒Pairing: bf!Wooyoung (non-idol) x reader
﹒♡﹒Summary: It's your first time with your sweet sweet boyfriend Wooyoung, and he's doing everything to make sure you're comfortable, green flag alert!!
﹒♡﹒Word count: 1.2k
﹒♡﹒Genre: fluff, smut (MDNI)
﹒♡﹒Warning: fingering, oral sex, losing virginity, i think that's all
﹒♡﹒Author's note: Thank you for the request lovely! I really had a blast writing this, this man is so sweet i cannot. There might be some mistakes since I wrote this at 2AM my brain couldn't function properly, bear with me.
As you sat on the edge of Wooyoung’s bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a nightlight, the quiet around you seemed almost overwhelming. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness filling you as Wooyoung stood in front of you, looking effortlessly beautiful. His dark hair fell messily over his sharp features, and his glowing honey-toned skin almost shimmered in the low light. His dark eyes held yours, intense but filled with an unmistakable softness that made your breath hitch.
He stepped closer, his lips curving into that playful smirk he always had—the one that made your stomach flutter. "Nervous?" he asked, his voice low but teasing, as he gently ran his thumb over your cheek.
You bit your lip, nodding slightly. "A little."
His grin widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of you, it’s your first time after all." His tone was teasing, but there was a tenderness behind it, a promise that he wouldn’t rush you.
As he kissed you, he started slow, almost too slow, just to mess with you. His lips moved against yours softly at first, but the kiss deepened quickly, his tongue slipping between your lips, drawing a soft gasp from you. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh.
He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "You’re wearing my shirt again, huh?" His eyes flicked down, the fabric of his oversized shirt barely covering anything. "You should’ve told me you weren’t wearing anything underneath." His fingers lightly tugged at the hem, eyes flicking back up to yours with a devilish glint.
You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, your heart racing faster at his teasing words. "Shut up," you mumbled, embarrassed but secretly enjoying how much he seemed to love it.
He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your nose. "I’m just saying, baby. You’re gonna make me lose control."
Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, his kiss hungrier this time. He slowly guided you down onto the bed, his hands sliding beneath the shirt and lifting it over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you bare beneath him. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body appreciatively, making you feel even more exposed under his intense gaze.
"You’re perfect," he whispered, almost to himself, as his fingers lightly trailed down your sides, sending a shiver through you. "Gonna take my time with you, okay?"
His lips trailed kisses down your neck, moving lower, teasingly slow. He was purposely dragging it out, enjoying the way your body tensed in anticipation. When he reached your chest, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again. "I love when you get all shy on me," he teased, his breath warm against your skin. "But I want you to relax for me."
His mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin as his hands continued their slow exploration of your body. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he began to suck gently, his other hand sliding lower between your legs. He could feel how tense you were, so he slowed down, adding playful kisses between each touch.
His fingers found your core, slipping between your folds as he gently teased you. His thumb brushed over your clit, drawing a soft moan from your lips, and you could feel the tension in your body start to melt away under his touch. "That’s my baby," he whispered, lowering himself down between your legs before pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin, then he tasted you.
You gasped, your back arching at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. He took his time, his mouth moving against you in a way that had your head spinning, each movement deliberate, each touch sending shivers down your spine. His tongue worked skillfully, finding all the right spots to draw out the sweetest sounds from your lips.
When your body began to tense, teetering on the edge, he pulled back slightly, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he slipped a finger inside you, slowly easing it in. His touch was gentle, careful, and he watched your reactions closely, making sure you were comfortable. He added another finger, his movements deliberate as he worked to prepare you, stretching you with slow, steady motions. You moaned softly, feeling your body adjust to the sensation, the warmth between your legs growing with each movement of his fingers.
When he finally pulled back, you were trembling beneath him, every nerve ending buzzing with need. He kissed your thigh again, moving back up to meet your lips in a heated kiss. "Gonna make sure you feel good," he whispered, reaching for the condom on the nightstand and slid it down his length. "But you gotta promise me one thing…"
You raised an eyebrow, your breath still coming in short, quick gasps. "What’s that?"
He grinned, positioning himself between your legs. "Get used to this quicker, I’m dying from frustration" he teased, his lips brushing yours before he pushed into you slowly.
Your body tensed at the new sensation, and he stopped immediately, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed your forehead. "You’re doing so well," he whispered softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ll wait, take your time."
He stayed still, letting you breathe, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. His other hand held your waist, steadying you, and you could feel the warmth of his body, grounding you. After a moment, the tension in your body started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth, a need for more. You gave him a small nod, letting him know you were ready, and he began to move again, slowly at first. His eyes never left yours, the playfulness and frustration still there, but his restraint was evident as he held himself back, not wanting to overwhelm you.
"Good girl," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed your lips softly. "You feel so good, baby."
His pace quickened slightly, his hands holding you tighter, and you let out a soft moan, feeling yourself lose control.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing against your ear. His praise sent a shiver through you, and you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure intensified.
The pressure inside you built higher and higher, and soon, you were teetering on the edge, ready to fall. “Wooyoung,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you felt your release approaching.
He smiled, his expression soft but filled with desire. “Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice low and encouraging. “I’ve got you.”
With his words, you finally let go, your release crashing over you like a wave, making you cry out his name. Your body trembled beneath him, and he held you through it, his movements gentle as he rode out the last waves of your orgasm. He followed soon after, his own release hitting him as he buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
For a moment, everything was quiet again, the only sound was the soft hum of your breaths mingling together. He kissed your forehead, pulling you close as he whispered, "Told you I’d take care of you properly."
by @woolysium
#wxx nsfw: ❄️#wxx requests: 🌠#ateez smut#wooyoung smut#ateez x reader#jung wooyoung smut#wooyoung x reader#ateez wooyoung#ateez fanfiction#ateez fic#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez x y/n#wooyoung ateez#wooyoung
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♡ But It's Better If You Do ♡
♡ Pairing: rockstar!mingi! x chubby!fem!!tattoo artist!reader
♡ Genre: fluff/angst/sorta suggestive
♡ Summary: Your ongoing love affair with your rocker client is all fine and dandy until you begin to catch feelings for him that send you into a spiral that isn't fine nor dandy.
♡ Word Count: 1.7k-ish
♡ Warnings: drinking, getting tattoos, kissing, briefly reminiscing on getting some top-notch dick, pet names (baby), reader gets turned on by Mingi (because, like, who wouldn't?), I like to say "fuck", & that's about it
♡ A/N: I've combined my neverending weakness for rock musicians, Song Min Gi, and happy endings into one fic and my lil alt girl heart is happy. I hope yours will be too. I may or may not have a thing for turning bad boy Mingi into a simp for reader but, like...ssssh.
It drives you insane when your friends tease you about Mingi, asking what city he’s in now and when you’ll see him next. You don’t know what city he’s in. That’s a lie, you always know. And you have no plans on seeing him ever again. Another lie. You’d stop the world to see him for 5 minutes. From the moment he walked into your shop, seeking an impulsive late-night tattoo, you were doomed to fall for him.
The first time he stopped by your shop it was a little after midnight and you were ready to close up but you were starstruck, you’ll die before you ever admit that, and he was gorgeous so you let him in. His choppy hair was a total mess and his dark eyeliner had all but melted off, the remnants smudged like ash beneath volcanic eyes that engulfed you each time they gleamed in your direction. You did the tattoo, an old-school traditional dagger down his left rib snuck in amongst the other 30 or so tattoos crowded onto his chest.
He paid you 3 times your normal rate and was supposed to be on his way. But you knew from his shows and his offstage antics that he wasn’t one to do anything he was supposed to. Armed with a pretty face framed by the softest cheeks and a plump figure he just wanted to nibble at, he instantly developed a weakness for you. Mingi had to have you and he did. All night. Reclined in your tattoo chair, bent over your workstation, cuddled up on the couch in the lobby. In the darkness of your studio, sweat-slicked bodies reflecting the glow of the neon lights like puddles of rain, he took you every way he could.
And you gave. And you gave. And you gave. Being with him altered everything you thought you knew about desire. About pleasure. Mingi touched you in ways you never imagined someone could. He made you feel beautiful. Worshiped you with his tongue from head to toe until the sun rose. Once it did he was gone, off to some other city. To some other girl in some other tattoo shop no doubt. So you moved on, filing it away as a one-time thing. Only it wasn’t. Mingi came to see you every chance he could.
Even if he was a few cities over he made sure to come by for another tattoo and another night with you. But these passionate encounters, concealed by the shadows of late nights and early mornings, planted feelings in your heart that bloomed long after he left. Your body was beginning to confuse lust for love, or so you believed, and that could only hurt you both. You especially. It had to stop. No more. Never again.
Your tattoo gun buzzes in your hand, a bundle of needles punching delicate black lines into Mingi’s neck. Never again? Yeah right. This time he wants a death moth on the side of his neck. It’s beautiful, as all your work is, and nearly done. Something he’s thankful for because this hurts like fuck but pissed about because being straddled by you on the couch has always been the preferable position for him. Your thighs double in thickness when they’re spread around him. He can just zone out rubbing and squeezing them.
“Hey!” you squeak when he takes a particularly greedy handful of your ass, “Cut it out or I’m gonna fuck up your tattoo.” Mingi takes a deep breath, his toned chest flexing as his muscles contract. “You won’t fuck it up. You’re too good at what you do. That’s why I come to you.” “Oh, really? Is that the only reason?” He grins and you can feel him staring at you the way he always does before your clothes end up on the floor. It makes your palms sweaty and your panties wetter than they already were. “You know that’s not the only reason, baby.”
Mingi sinks his fingers into your pillowy flesh, leaning forward to kiss you with not a care in the world about it ruining his tattoo. His lips brush yours, heightening the warmth between your thighs and making your heart change rhythm to match him. You want him on you. In you. You need him. Love him. Love him. Love him? “You need to go,” you say, your voice shaking as you flick off the tattoo gun. You’re off of him in a split second, packing your things away.
“Wait, what’s wrong? Did I do something?“ He tails you in your mad dash around the shop, sick at the thought that he might’ve made you uncomfortable. “I can’t—you just have to go, Mingi.” Snatching his t-shirt from the front counter, you toss it at him without looking. You can’t bear to make eye contact. “Did I hurt you?” You unintentionally ignore him, too lost in the tsunami of repressed emotions wrecking your insides. Mingi takes you by the wrist, pulling you close to him before you can get away from him.
“Did I hurt you?” “You didn’t hurt me, okay? But if you stay you will.” Mingi’s hands cradle your face, his mind frantically scanning it for some sign of what’s going on inside your head. “Whatever I did to scare you…I’ll leave but I’d never intentionally hurt you” he swears, “I love you too much for that.” You’re both equally shocked at the words that leave his lips. You weren’t expecting to hear them and, though he means it beyond measure, he wasn’t expecting to it to slip out.
“No, no you don’t. You don’t” you mumble, backing away from him, “You’re just saying that to—” “To fuck you?” he scoffs, in slight disbelief of what you’re implying. “I don’t know” you shrug, “It’s why you sneak off here at 1am to see me isn’t it?” Mingi throws his shirt on, grabbing his leather jacket off of your workstation. “I’ve asked you on dates. I’ve invited you to dinner with my friends. I send you backstage passes to my shows and you never come.”
“I’m trying to be more to you. I just wish you’d let me in” he sighs, stopping to plant a tender kiss on your trembling mouth, “Goodnight.” You're frozen in place, your feet sinking into the checkered tile floors like quicksand, as you watch him walk out of the door. A little voice in the back of your head whispers that he’s right. You have been pushing him away, playfully brushing off his proposals because they must have been a joke. He’s him…a star...and you? You’re just you.
Ignoring the tears clouding your vision, you flop down in a chair and begin scrolling through the texts the two of you exchanged over the past week. You stop at a message sent 2 days ago, your heart stinging at the sight of a link for a backstage pass for both nights of his show. It reads: "It’d be nice to see you. Would love it if you came.” You could take the chance, gamble with your heart—you close out of the thread, swiping to delete it—but it’s better if you don’t.
The roar of the crowd. The cacophony of instruments, harsh vocals, and borderline destruction laid out by the opening band. The chaos going on backstage to resolve last-minute disasters while his barely sober friends bullshit in the green room. The pure insanity of it all usually has Mingi wired but tonight he’s numb to everything. He leans back in his chair, checking his phone notifications. Nothing. At least not from you. He takes another sip of the beer he’s been taking child-sized swigs from for the past hour. It takes like piss, he doesn’t even like beer, but he has to calm his friends’ suspicions that something’s wrong by at least pretending he’s joining in on things.
“Party's here!” Yunho screams, bursting into the green room full of energy. Mingi perks up when he enters, the arrival of his best friend calming his anxiety. Yunho has no problem taking the social spotlight when Mingi isn’t all here and tonight he’s definitely somewhere far away. Yunho spots Mingi seated in the corner, staring into the mirror as he falls endlessly down some mental hole. “Still haven’t heard from her?” he asks, throwing his arm over Mingi’s shoulder. “No. I wanna call her, you know, but…I don’t know.”
Yunho snatches Mingi’s beer, chugging the remainder of it before tossing the bottle in the corner. “Listen to me, you forget her. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Actually, I brought a pretty fresh one for you tonight.” His face painted with a mischievous grin, Yunho slinks back over to the door to retrieve his surprise. Mingi rolls his eyes, his head thrown back in agony, “Yunho, not tonight. I’m not in the mood for this, man. I don’t wanna meet any fucking groupies.”
“I resent being called a ‘fucking groupie’” you pout, sneaking up beside him with the stealth of a secret agent. Mingi turns his head, squinting at the inverted image of you, “You—what are you doing here?” Your smile is awkward and endearing as you nervously fiddle with the lace trim of your black dress. “I’m letting you in...if it’s not too late.” By the way he hops up from his chair, his arms around your waist and his tongue down your throat in an instant, you already know the answer. But it still makes your head spin when he pulls away to say, “It’s not too late. It could never be.”
The head of a heavily pierced girl peeks through the door, her bubblegum pink hair swept into a high ponytail. “2 minutes til stage. Let's go!” she shouts like a drill sergeant and all of the men fall in line, rushing to get Mingi out on time. Yunho does what he can to put some distance between Mingi and everyone else, "He's coming! He's coming! Don't tear my man apart!" Mingi struggles to keep hold of you as what seems like a million hands pull him in the other direction.
“Just go. I’ll be watching so kick some ass, okay? For me!” "For you." You grab him by the shirt, sneaking in one last kiss, “Love you.” “1 minute til stage!” the girl’s voice booms once more. The tide sweeps him away until you can’t see him anymore but you still manage to hear a very excited “Love you too!” in that deep, raspy voice of his. You follow the herd, finding a spot off to the side just as he takes the stage.
Watching him perform, smiling at each other so hard your cheeks ache every chance you can, gets you high enough that you might as well be watching him from a cloud. When rips his shirt off, tossing it into the crowd, he reveals a chest covered in tattoos made with ink laced with silent admissions of your love. Only now they aren't silent. They're louder than every instrument on that stage. Because you're confident now that when it comes to taking a chance on love…on him…it’s so much better if you do.
#song mingi x reader#song mingi x you#mingi x reader#mingi x you#mingi fluff#mingi angst#ateez au#ateez x reader#ateez x you#ateez fluff#ateez angst#chubby reader#plus size reader
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