#I don't think I want them to go /dark/ to do it - as much as I love the trope of like... LI pulling their S/O out of a Feral Haze | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toxicanonymity · 18 hours ago

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Mama's Boy, 18+

slasher Joel masterlist | problematic playlist | AO3

PAIRING: Slasher!Joel x f!reader LENGTH: 7.2k words and none wasted tbh SUMMARY: Dinner at his mom's house, mostly. WARNINGS: 18+ dark, unsafe PinV, gunplay, degradation, a bit of angst, a whiff of incest, choking-adjacent, dark!reader, major revelations (!), feelings maybe? (god help us), mommy and daddy issues, slasher Joel needs a hug. NOTES: Today is not only mother's day, but also the 2nd anniversary of his first fic. This is packed. @flawssy-227 ty for your activism. And @thesummerpetrichor, I thought of you 🖤. Joel can carry reader.

It's Sunday. He lets himself in.

“Still in bed? Must’ve been ass up face down pretty late last night, huh? Told ya i'd pick ya up… ”

You squint at him as your eyes adjust. “What are you talking about?” He has something draped over his shoulder.

Too much talking. Not enough fucking.

He scoffs, “Really? Sunday dinner, slut.” He marches over to your nightstand with a snarl, picks up a folded piece of paper, and tosses it at you like a frisbee.

Oh yeah.

You unfold it as if it's the first time you've read it: “pick u up sunday.” There's a sketch of his fat cock and a thinner outline of what's presumably a dong next to it. “p.s. u need a real toy.”

Well, here he is. Picking you up on Sunday, and he's even kinda cleaned himself up. A plaid shirt and jeans tighter than his work uniform. Looks like a normal guy you could pass in the supermarket, none the wiser that he’d shove a huge tool up your cunt.

He stands by your bed holding up one dress in each hand. Neither of them yours.

“Now put on somethin’ decent.”

He throws them onto the bed, then pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. “What do you think? ” He gestures between them with the gun.

One of the dresses is simple, clean lines, not far off from something you might normally wear. But it has a brown stain and a frayed edge. It doesn't feel right.

The other dress is a strawberry plant pattern with short sleeves that puff out. It's faded and outdated, but clean and in decent shape–from what you can tell, at least.

“Got my own clothes,” you tell him.

But he insists, “This ain't the street corner, sugar. You're gonna pick one of these.”

“I'm too tired for this,” you complain, then add, “I dunno what makes you think I wanna go to your mom's house.”

“Come on, baby…” He looks at the gun. “I don't wanna use this… unless I'm stuffin’ your muff with it later ”

After looking at both the dresses, you can't bear to put on the stained one and choose the strawberry print. You feel unexpectedly cute in what could have been plucked from a mid century catalogue for housewives, although it’s probably from modcloth circa 2015.

Turning around in the mirror, it’s actually really flattering, and there’s something kinda sexy about dressing up like this degenerate's pretty little wife…Yep, you're really doing this.

Maybe it’s partly out of morbid curiosity, wanting to know where he came from.

How he…. happened.

He brings you a pair of your own shoes and puts them down for you to step into.

“Yeah, that's my girl,” looking over your right shoulder at the bathroom mirror, he grabs your ass, then sticks his hand between your legs from behind, hooking his hand under you to reach your clit. Your feet spread reflexively, giving him more room. Still holding the gun in his right hand, the hand between your legs tents the dress as he strokes you, and your gut begins to swell with need. He spreads his feet and angles himself slightly toward you, getting close enough to press himself against you, letting you feel the warm log in those tight jeans, gun held against his meaty thigh. Your chest heats up and you adjust your tits in the dress, copping a feel of yourself while you’re at it.

“Good girl ” he mutters. With a glint of affection in his eyes, he says, “You were born to wear this dress, kitten.” Now that he’s got you dripping, his fingers slip into the crotch of your panties and he shoves one, then two, inside. “Mm,” he grinds against you as he stuffs you with his fingers. Then he pulls them out and squats down. He lifts the skirt of the dress and yanks the panties down to your ankles. You lean forward and brace yourself on the sink. He stands up, slides the gun between your legs and the smooth, cool metal of the top of the barrel rubs through your slippery seam. Your hips tilt and he slides it forward one last time, before taking it away.

He pats your ass, and says, “Now c’mon, let's go.”

Not even the decency to fuck you first. Not even with the gun.

You scowl at him in the mirror.

He asks, “Am I gonna have to drag you, kickin’ and screamin’?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply.

“Alright,” he agrees, all too happy to oblige. He puts the sticky gun in the back of his pants, bends his knees. and lifts you over his shoulder with a grunt.

He steps through your open back door and slams it behind him with one hand, his other arm braced over the bare backs of your knees.

You yoink the gun from the back of his pants and he says, “God damnit, be careful with that,” without putting you down.

“You seem pretty sure I won't shoot you,” you observe.

“Course ya won't. Be like a … like a drug addict shootin’ their dealer… nah, shootin’ the drug cooker. Yeah. And he's the only cooker.”

He's getting slightly out of breath as he walks. Or maybe it’s the effort of all that thinking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask.

“Cock hungry whore ain't gonna kill off the biggest cock she's got.”

You press the edge of the barrel against the small of his back and nudge it into his jeans, then demand, “Put me down.”

He groans in exasperation, stops, and sets you down in the side yard.

You almost forget to point the firearm at him. Almost. With the gun raised, you ask, “What’s with the gun anyway? Thought knives were your thing.”

He shrugs. “Special occasion?”

“Why do you want me to come to dinner so bad?”

“Cause I told her we were comin’, okay? Told her ya liked the casserole.”

For the first time, you notice his hair is a little bit combed. You ask, “What'd you tell her about me?”

“Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “She knows we met when I was workin’. Knows I gave ya a ride….knows ya ain't like other girls.”

“What’s that mean?” You ask, adjusting your grip.

“I dunno… ” He shrugs, then gets frustrated. “I ain't brought home a girl home in a long time, okay? And she's gettin’ older, and…”

When you've lowered the gun, he lunges forward, muttering, “Gimme that,” as he disarms you with ease that makes your heart skip a beat. He grabs you by the arm and marches you to the Volvo. He opens the passenger door and manhandles you into the seat.

When he gets in the car, he leans over and buckles your seatbelt for you. He smells clean and minty.

As he puts the car in drive, you ask, “What else did you tell her?”

“Uh…. She knows we ain't been on many dates.”

“Not many?” You ask with a laugh. “You mean none?”

He glances at you twice, suppressing a flattered smile at the implication he perceives. He wets his bottom lip. “That mean ya want to?”

He holds the gun against his thigh and steers with one hand.

When you get to his Mom's house, he warns, “Just don't talk about all your whorin’ around, okay? She won't like it.” He checks his hair in the rear view mirror.

You laugh, “What whoring around?”

“All those skinny dicks in your phone,” he mutters, getting out of the car.

“Excuse me?” You ask, still sitting.

“Just tell her about your day job instead,” he says, as if you genuinely don't think or talk about anything other than cock without prompting.

Wait--skinny dicks in your phone? Your train of thought dies when he puts the gun in the back of his pants, and in doing so exposes a few inches of skin, and the tail end of a scar. After he shuts the driver side door, you open yours while he hurries around to help you out.

“Come on,” His big hand wraps around your inner elbow again. “We're gonna be late.” He's slightly in front of you

“Bringing a gun into your mother's house?” you ask as he pulls you along.

He freezes, then mumbles, “You're right. Don't want her to think you're a bad influence. Even if ya are.”

What a gentleman.

He goes and puts it in the glovebox, then jogs to catch up with you again.

When she opens the door, Joel's mother beams at the sight of her son. She steps outside, frail and slow moving. She's pretty, with silky white hair that looks older than her face. The storm door creaks to a stuttering close behind her.

At first, it's like you're invisible. He lets go of you, and they embrace. She reaches for the back of his neck and says, “C'mere, baby,” pulling his face to hers. He kisses her on the cheek, then she kisses him, and then, as they separate, Joel gestures toward you. Her eyes are curious when they meet yours, then her face comes to life as her gaze falls down your body. She puts a hand on her hip as she checks you out, her other hand rising to her mouth for a moment, then resting on her chest, fingers centered in the hollow of her collar bone.

“Joel,” she half-laughs in flirtatious accusation, then narrates, “Well, there she is…”

“Don't she look nice? ” Joel asks with a subtle smile and blush.

His mom admires you with an air of disbelief, then goes in for a hug. Her fragrance isn't entirely new to your nostrils, and the sensory recall brings an unsettling tingle to your loins: The night Joel brought the leftovers.

She holds you close, pressing her body all the way against yours without fully relaxing. Firm and in control, and yet , she feels softer than she looks. Her bosom is like a warm pillow. Like a relic of young motherhood, reaching through time, tickling your inner child awake.

As the hug ends, she gently pinches the puffed sleeves of your dress and says to Joel without looking at him, “Yes, baby. She looks real pretty.” Then, glancing up from your dress, she tells you with a smile, “Can't promise strawberries, but I do have cherry pie. Come on in.”

“Thank you, ma’am” you nod.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she chuckles, “You can just call me Mama.”

It sounds like you should know better. Like ‘Mama’ is the most obvious option. You glance at Joel, and he nods with a little smile of permission, as if that's what you’re looking for, and he's glad to give it.

Might as well rip the bandaid off: “Okay… Mama… well, it's nice of you to have me over.” In the back of your mind, you hope Joel doesn't think this is any special effort on your part. It's more like, your job requires manners, and this is your default setting with older folks.

She holds the door open with her body and you have to graze past her. “Smells delicious,” you observe with genuine hunger, having slept through the first two meals of the day.

She straightens her frilled apron with a smile and suggests, “Joel, why don't you give your girl a tour while I finish up?”

This is a relief - you hadn't been consciously dreading it, but worst case scenario, she would've asked you to help in the kitchen. She seems like that type.

–

It’s a humble brick ranch. Dimly lit. Everything is out of style, but tidy. There are a few bedroom doors, but he doesn’t open any of them, and you don’t pry. The paint in the hall is disrupted over a poorly repaired dent in the wall. You try not to look at the stains on the ceiling.

One of the living room walls has a fireplace, and one wall is lined with pictures. There's a bare corner with nothing but a crochet rug – a rounded rectangle, with raised crosses. The paint is newer over there. Bubbling and wanting to peel as the wall approaches the perpendicular wall, the one with the fireplace.

Before you can get a good look at anything, Joel steers you outside. In the small backyard, a wooden garden bed has overgrown with weeds. The lawn is nice and trim. “You help out with the yard?” You ask.

“Uh, sometimes,” he answers. “ She's got somebody else too .”

He rocks forward on his feet, arms crossed.

“So... you gonna fuck me in your boyhood bedroom?” You ask, and he clears his throat with a forced smile, brows knitted.

“What?” you ask. “Why the hell else would you take my panties?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, allowing himself only a brief glance at you, until he does a double take and admits, “Fuck, you look good.” He seems more distressed by it than anything.

No such luck, you guess, raising your eyebrows at the visible outline against his thigh. Never would've pictured him in jeans.

He runs his hand through his hair, puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, and adjusts himself with effort before leading you back inside. His boot grazes the side of a metal bowl, sloshing water into dark spots on the cement.

She pours Joel a glass of milk with dinner, and when you politely decline, Joel says, “One glass won't hurt ya, baby .” Mama seems pleased to bring over the old fashioned bottle of milk. She rests her free arm on the back of your chair, with the fine lines of her cleavage near your eyes as she fills your glass.

The meatloaf is delicious, with sauce that reminds you of barbecue. The mashed potatoes are over-buttered, but they hit the spot. She smiles to herself, satisfied to watch you eat.

“So tell me about yourself,” she says. “Do you work?”

You swallow your food, nod, and tell her which clinic you work at.

“Oh,” she recognizes the name. “The one over on Main Street?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“That's nice,” she says. “Joel's going to own his own business one day. Do you ever want to own your own practice?”

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” you answer, then ask Joel, “What kind of business?”

“Joel, I'm surprised you haven't told her,” his Mom says, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial volume to tell you, “He’s too modest.”

“Ya know, I guess a tow and repair one-stop shop,” Joel says. “Not a lot of guys do both, but I can really take care of ya. Same night, even. Late hours, too.”

His mom nods. “I always knew he'd be successful,” she says. “Even in the darker days.”

Joel tenses and begins to tap his heel. “ How about you, Mama? ” he asks, “ What have you been up to? ”

“Oh, you know, this and that,” she says. “Crossword was a doozie today!” she laughs. “What are you two gonna do this week? Anything special?”

You shrug and look at Joel.

He starts, “Uh… ”

His Mom bails him out, “You oughta take her to the drive-in like I said, baby,” then she asks you, "Would you like that, honey? You like the drive-in? We used to go, it was so nice.”

“Sure, I like movies,” you answer.

“See, Joel? She likes movies.”

Joel finishes his meatloaf relatively quickly, and his mother puts another generous slice on his plate.

“I don't need any more, Ma,” he says, but she doesn't listen, and he digs into it anyway. By his third slice, he’s pushed back in his chair, adjusting his belt. He pats his tummy and says, “There's nothin’ she makes that ain't good.”

“Only the best for my boy,” she agrees, then asks you, “Ain’t that right?”

“Of course,” you agree.

“Oh! I saw Randall Junior earlier,” she says. “He came by and did the lawn.”

“Randy,” Joel corrects her.

“Yeah, Randall’s son.”

“Randy,” Joel repeats. “He ain’t even a Junior, Ma. He’s the third.”

“Well, it was nice to see him,” she reminisces, fiddling with the corner of her placemat. She catches herself, smooths it down, then brings her hands together, fiddling with her left ring finger. “I swear, that boy’s an inch taller every time I see him.”

“He’s in his thirties,” Joel tells you, drawing a genuine smile to your lips. One that brings a sparkle to his eyes.

“Well, anyway,” she goes on, “A face like that belongs in the movies,” she chuckles to herself. “Of course, he’s nowhere near as handsome as my Joel,” she looks at you reassuringly as she says it. Lest you pine after Randy the third .

A silence stretches on until you say, “Well, this was delicious. I’d love the recipe…” You dab the corners of your mouth and put down your napkin.

“Oh, it’s not a recipe, honey,” she boasts, “It’s somethin’ ya do from the heart.” After a moment, she adds, “But I can write down the ingredients! Now, how about some cherry pie?”

She stands up, puts her apron back on, and you help her clear the table. “Go on Joel, we’ve got it,” Mama tells him, and he goes to sit in the living room.

“Okay,” Mama whispers to herself as she plates the first slice, a generous one. “This one’s for him.” You take it to Joel and he sits up from the couch to accept it with a thank you, reading your face for signs of how things are going. You flash him a small, unrevealing smile.

“Gonna take a piss,” he mumbles, and his eyes ask if that’s okay. “Sure,” you say with a little curtsy, trying not to smirk as you turn and head back to the kitchen.

Mama’s about to plate the other slices of pie when she lifts a finger in the air and says, “Oh, let me write this down before I forget,” then retrieves a notecard and pencil from a drawer. She puts on a pair of glasses and smiles to herself as she jots down the ingredients. You dwell in the threshold of the living room.

She looks up like she’s trying to remember something, then looks down and keeps writing on the notecard.

You begin to look at the pictures on the wall. Some are of Joel, and he’s straight-faced. Some are of cats. Charmingly, a blurry photo of a black cat has been deemed frame-worthy. It sits within a bigger rectangle, the shadow of where a different frame used to be. There are a few spots like this. There are a few relatively recent photos of Joel and his Mom. None with his father, as far as you can tell. None now, and none then. But when you look closer at the older ones, it’s clear some of them have been trimmed.

“He hates having his picture made,” Mama startles you from less than a foot away.

“You two seem really close,” you offer. “Just the two of you?”

She raises her eyebrows in amusement and lowers her volume. “Oh, Joel made sure of that .”

A chill in her voice hardens your nipples and dries your mouth. You search her face for more, but her eyes have wandered, and her face has fallen. “Been about thirty years, just the two of us—well, just me for a while…” You follow her eyes to the corner with the crochet rug, and she squeezes your arm.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

She eases her grip and manages a little smile. “Yes, dear.” She hands you the notecard.

Her handwriting is beautiful. Captivating.

You stay there, eyes scanning the photo wall, while she finishes plating your pie and hers.

One of the frames catches your eye. It’s the first one you’ve really zeroed in on, looking at the faces and not just the context. The picture is faded and yellowed.

Joel is young and smiling, with a pin-up looking woman hanging all over him.

A rush of begruding jealousy begs the question, who is that?

And then, your stomach turns before the realization sets in.

It’s a much younger Mama, with dark, loose curls befitting of a centerfold. All dolled up and glowing, with her arm around his middle. And god damn, her tits are swelling up out of her neckline. She looks…. Hot. Your lungs go hollow, then your chest expands with a deep breath. Something's stirring in your gut. Arousal? Attraction?

Your eyes pan down to her Mary Jane heels, but the swell of her breasts, those bouncy curls… your eyes are pulled back up her body. The dress is cute, and proper. Innocent, even. But the way she wears it… Sweetheart neckline, puffed sleeves… You squint for a closer look, and your breath hitches. Heat rises to your face, to the tips of your ears. Your heart races. You pull your eyes away, chest burning, and pretend you don't notice anything.

Something soft brushes your calf and you gasp and jump as you look down to see a black cat thread between your legs.

“Oh, it’s Daniel!” Mama says. “He must’ve come in behind you. Not allergic, are you? Here’s your pie, honey.” She sets down your plate on the coffee table.

“You good, baby?” Joel asks.

Taking your place on the sofa next to Joel, you sit like a lady, one foot tucked behind the other ankle, minding your lack of panties. The dress is just long enough to cover your knees.

The three of you finish dessert in silence aside from forks scraping good china and Daniel purring from that rug in the corner. Joel finishes first, and stretches his arm behind you on the sofa. When you finish, you sit back with him, knee brushing his. You will yourself to relax. You will yourself not to ogle his mother in trying to reconcile her fragile frame of today with those curves of yesteryear.

She looks back and forth at the two of you sitting side by side and smiles. She puts down her plate, crosses her legs toward you, and clasps her hands. A smile rises through her pretty cheekbones as she looks directly at you.

“Ya know, Joel was top of his class.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Joel takes his hand off the back of the sofa and leans forward, forearms on his knees, full belly filling out the plaid against his lap as he wrings his hands. “Mama.” Joel’s tone is cautionary, but his face is more pleading. He shakes his head ever so slightly.

Ignoring him, she smiles proudly at you.

You try not to sound as skeptical as you are when you ask, “Really?”

She nods.

“Mama,” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm,” she smiles.

He sits up straight, wipes his hand down his whole face and sits back in defeat. His arm doesn't return behind you.

She continues, “There were a couple other boys, went in ‘round the same time – took’em three tries to get their GED. Three tries, at least. Not my Joel. He got his on the first try,” she beams. “The warden shook his hand.”

“Okay,” Joel mutters.

The Warden. Your heart skips a beat and your face goes cold, but you pray it doesn't show.

You turn and congratulate him, “That’s great, Joel.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. He’s looking at the carpet with a defeated scowl, jaw flexing, chest heaving, arms crossed limply over his stomach. He tries to manage a smile of acknowledgement. You can see the effort, but humiliation prevails.

You feel for him and add, “Really, babe.”

His face softens, but his posture doesn't change. After a moment, without looking up, he mumbles, “Long time ago.”

“Yeah,” his mother nods. “He's always been a smart boy.” She starts talking about his favorite subjects, and how he could have gotten his bachelor's too, three times over, if the program was worth a damn, and state funding, and blah blah blah, riots, and understaffing, and shanks hidden in law library books, and a few bad apples spoil it for everyone…

Your eyes are on him, tuning her out, best you can, despite your curiosity. You rest your hand on his knee, and he relaxes a little. And then, once your face turns toward his mom again, Joel looks at your face, assessing the damage.

You want to hear it all– how long he was locked up, how he ended up in juvie. You're afraid you already know that part.

Daniel purrs loudly from the crochet rug, and you will yourself not to look in that direction.

Joel's Mom looks at Daniel and gets quiet as her eyes wander up that wall that must've been painted over, God how many times in the past thirty years? She idly caresses her ring finger.

You squeeze Joel's knee, slide your hand up his jeans a couple inches, and squeeze again. You tap your thumb, and his hand joins yours.

“We oughta get goin’, Ma,” he announces.

“Oh,” she frowns, slumping in defeat.

“I'm workin’ tonight, and she's gotta work early.”

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, stands up, and smooths her dress.

—---

“It's nice to know there's a good woman looking after my son,” she says as she bids you goodbye with another hug.

Your heart swells at the praise, you can't help it. Her apparent sincerity weakens your eyes, makes you shake away your own memories and steel yourself as she says goodbye to Joel.

“Chin up, baby.” She holds Joel's face, makes him look at her. “Give your mama some sugar.” She gives him a smack on the lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he does accept her hug.

He pulls up his jeans on the way to the car. Almost forgets to open the door for you.

He doesn't look at you, even when he buckles you in, which you would have done yourself if you hadn’t froze.

He swallows more thickly. His posture is less proud.

For the first few minutes of the drive, you ride in silence. Then you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He grumbles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, tummy tickling with a pang of sympathy for the man.

“No,” he answers flatly with no hesitation.

“You don't have to,” you reassure him.

“I know I don't have to,” He snaps. “God, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about.”

You watch him scowl at the road, clenching his strong jaw. His gaze is so dark. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. As if noticing this himself, he stretches one hand out, spreading his fingers before assuming a more relaxed grip.

You wonder… was he born a killer?

He's got this tough, violent shell about him, and now you know there's something else under there. Is he sorry he brought you to dinner, you wonder? You don't want him to be.

“Well, it was nice meeting your mom,” you remark. “Meatloaf was fantastic…. The pie, too.” You cradle the Tupperware stacked in your lap. “You wanna hang out for awhile?” you ask.

“Gotta work,” he answers flatly and swallows with his eyes still on the road.

“Well, that's too bad.” It really is. 'Cause you're not any less horny than he got you in your bathroom two hours ago. Wetter, if anything, you realize, and warmth blooms in your cheeks. Now the sun is going down. You reach back and put the Tupperware on the back seat, then shamelessly turn toward him. You lean your temple against the headrest and watch him drive.

He’s hard-working. Complicated. Private. And his mom’s right, he is successful, all things considered.

You wonder where his dad is buried. Whether he was handsome, like Joel. Maybe . But with or without him, Joel got those looks from Mama.

Joel glances over and shoots you a dark look. A warning.

“You don't gotta play nice,” he says.

“I'm not playing anything,” you protest.

He lets out a dismissive chuckle.

“Pull over,” you tell him.

“For what?” He asks.

His meaty thighs are spread, swelling in those tight jeans. He follows your eyes and squints at you, then slides his hand under his belly and adjusts his belt, annoyed.

“Just pull over Joel,” you repeat.

“Ain't in the mood for your games, sweetheart,” he says.

You open the glove box, then close it with the gun in your hand. You point it at him. “Pull over, god damn it,” you tell him.

He squints and looks at you up and down before dismissing you with a silent, condescending laugh.

Keeping the gun trained on him, your free hand unbuckles your seatbelt, then slides between your legs. You pull the skirt of the dress all the way up to expose your cunt.

“You serious?” He asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” you confirm.

And that's not what killed his dad, you think.

It must've been messy.

He must've deserved it, by the looks of Joel's back. The way the moonlight skidded over his scars, that night in your bedroom.

Joel shakes his head, keeps driving, and you lift the gun to his temple. “Pull over right now,” you repeat, quieter.

“Jesus, FUCK,” he relents, neck vein bulging as he veers toward the shoulder.

It's close to dusk now, on a suburban road, and you're half way out of the seat before the car's in park.

Stretching your leg over the center console, you help yourself into his lap, straddling him, still holding the gun. With your free hand, you begin to unbutton his shirt.

For a moment, all he does is stare at you and breathe heavier. “You're fuckin’ with me,” he tells himself out loud, not wanting to fall for a joke. He has his elbows back and out of the way, one arm on the door, one on the center console, but he’s itching to have you. You can see it in the way his biceps twitch. His stomach rises and falls with heavier breaths under his white tee.

“I’m not,” you assure him.

He lets you pick up his hand, and you guide it between your legs so he can feel how wet you are.

His face darkens, and his hand reflexively grabs your cunt.

“Somethin’ wrong with you?” he asks.

“That’d make two of us,” you answer.

You glance at the gun to make sure the safety's still on, then point the barrel at his chest and reach down to grab the massive bulge in his jeans. The largest you could imagine, for a cock that’s not quite hard. And he chubs up quick under the lustful pressure of your palm.

“You're into this shit,” he says. “ Like some kinda kink.”

Ya think?, you manage not to say out loud.

But you get the subtext: He’s a real person... With a real big cock that swells harder in your palm as you massage him slow with your breasts heaving. He cups your bare ass cheeks. You slide your hand up the front of his jeans, and his hips lift under you, chasing your palm. The heel of your palm presses into his gut as you unbuckle his belt. You rest your wrist on the seat, gun pointed toward the back of the car as your hand continues its work between your bodies.

With his belt buckle out of the way, you grope at his cock through the denim again, then unzip his jeans and rest your hand on the curve of his belly, splaying your fingers out before sliding your hand down into his jeans. As your hand engulfs the mushroom shape of his cockhead, then his swollen shaft, you moan at the girth. “Yeah,” you breathe, “You gonna fuck me in your mother’s dress?” You end the question with a firm grab of his package, and he grunts, nearly breathless, then sighs as you palm his cock hungrily through the cotton of his boxer briefs.

“Looks really fuckin’ good on you,” he answers with a nod.

Blood’s still rushing to his cock, responding to its need to stiffen up and plug whatever gaping hole appears in front of it.

“Looks good on her too,” you note.

“Fuck,” he breathes under your slow but aggressive massage. His eyes pour over your chest and he says, “Looks better on you.” If he’s not lying–and it feels like he’s not–-it’s quite a fucking compliment. His shaft plumps with as much as blood as it can hold, stiff as a rod, fat and juicy, hard as hell, spilling precum in his boxers.

“Ohh, fuck,” he moans. His hips lift and his abs tense and his belly swells against your forearm.

You slide your hand up again, and under his waistband. You brace your wrist on his shoulder, pointing the gun toward his neck as your hand slides into his warm boxer briefs to feel the smooth skin of his aching manhood.

“You wanna put that down?” he asks.

“No,” You reply, unable to connect your thumb fingers around his girth.

“Man, when ya need it ya need it, huh?,” he murmurs, eyelids heavy. “Need this cock real bad, don’t ya? ”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Need to pack that droolin’ gash,” he says. “ Pack it full. ”

“Yeah,” you nod and raise yourself a few inches. You get his tip at your entrance, then slide it through your dripping pussy.

"Oh, fuck,” he moans, “God damn sex kitten.. . FUCK, youre hot”

He breathes audibly, watching you with forced patience as you notch his broad tip at your hole. You start to sink down on him with some difficulty, face scrunching, biting your lip in frustration, eyes watering with need.

“What's the matter, sweetheart? Forget how to take a cock all the sudden?”

You lift yourself up and sink down a little more, swallowing the tip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you down with an upward thrust, spearing you on his monster girth.

“Yeah…oh, fuck,” he breathes, not quite bottomed out. “Ugghh,” he groans, pulling you down more with an upward thrust to the hilt, fully seated in you at last.

“God, you're filthy.” He wets his bottom lip, admiring what a mess you’ve become in his lap. “Hot little slut like you…. Oh, you're trouble,” he says.

You begin to lift yourself, letting most of his meat out of you, tip dragging thick and tight through your walls, your slick beading under the crown and sliding down his shaft. Then you sink back down, splitting yourself open on his girth with a sigh.

The sky has erupted into shades of pink and purple as it begins to sink past the horizon.

Electricity runs through your blood. Your skin hums. His neck glistens with goosebumps and the hues of his shirt look brighter in the almost-dark.

He grabs your hips as you ride him, then moves his big hands to your waist. Each time you slide up his cock, it’s easier to sink back down. Your body’s hungry for more each time. You can feel it pulsing wider around him, welcoming his girth, hungry for more.

“Yeah,” he encourages you as you find a rhythm. “Like that.”

You seize one of his wrists to move his hand to your neck.

“You're a real freak, baby,” he taunts you, brushing his thumb against the delicate skin of your neck before carefully positioning it and raising his eyebrows at you. He closes his eyes as you sink down on him again and his girth slides easily through your soft walls. When he opens his eyes, his massive hand gives your neck a little squeeze, and you moan in appreciation.

“Guess it takes a freak to fuck a guy like you,” you spit back.

He scowls, and his nose twitches.

You go on, “Mighta picked the only freak in town who’d fuck you by choice,” you tell him. “Lucky call,” you say. “Lucky you have such a fat fucking cock,” you taunt him and study his face, hopeful for a sign that he could snap. “What else do you have?” You ask, and it feels almost too cruel. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lot to have… fuck,” you breathe. “Mmm,” fully stuffed by his girth.

“Quit runnin’ your damn mouth,” he snaps and grabs the gun by both ends at once, smoothly disarming you with an effortless twist of his hands. He places the barrel against the hollow of your neck and asks, Is “That what ya want, ya dumb slut? Tryna get yourself killed?”

You freeze, half-way on his cock, getting lost in his eyes.

“Well God damn, if you're gonna ride it, ride it. I'm gonna lose my goddamn patience” he warns.

When you don’t sink down fast enough, he gets rougher, putting you in a bruising grip, one arm wrapped around you, tightening like an anaconda.

He fucks up into you from the bottom, both arms behind you, with the gun held vaguely to your neck.

“Yeah,” you moan.

He growls, pushes his back against the seat, and his stomach pushes against your front, pushes and rubs as he fucks you harder, rocking the car.

The windows fog up.

He unzips the back of the dress and tears it down to reveal your breasts.

He watches them move as you’re bounced on his thick manhood. He snarls and grunts like an animal possessing his prey.

“I see you,” you whisper, intoxicated by the rhythmic stroke of him up in your guts.

“Fuck you,” he rasps.

“Fuck me ,” you retort, “Fuck me,” you repeat, “Fuck me, killer,” your cunt spasms with the word.

“Knew what I was, don’t act fuckin’ surprised.”

"Fuck," you moan, swallowing up his cock. “I'm -mmm- m’not,” you say. “I'm turned on.”

“You’re sick,” he says, burying his cock in you fully, once again.

Your nipples harden, you moan, and he looks at you skeptically, even as he feels your walls twitch around his absurd girth.

“Know that pussy's hungry for something bigger,” he says.

“Like what?” you ask and feel the gun leave your neck.

“Get up.” He checks the safety.

When you rise up, he holds the gun near his dick, making the barrel of it look like a twig.

“Best I got here,” he says with your gummy walls clinging to his shaft as you let out all but the tip.

“Think she can take it?” he asks. “Shit, we know she can.”

You lift all the way up onto your knees, letting his cock fall out. It bounces, bringing a string of slick with it, and stands stiff at attention.

He works three fingers into you with ease.

“Gimme your hand,” you ask.

“Hand's fuckin’ busy,” he says, referring to the one holding the gun.

“No, gimme your whole hand,” you demand greedily, and grab his wrist with his fingers still buried in your cunt.

“Attagirl,” he says, then works a fourth finger into you. “Best I can do here, sweetheart,” he winces as he fucks you with four clustered fingers.

“Fuck this,” he decides, unable to stand his throbbing cock growing ever colder outside your cunt.

He positions you over his dick and the gun, uses his fingers to spread your pussy around both, then pulls you down.

“Uh–ughh,” your mouth is agape as you sink down the shaft and barrel, taking them both.

You’re a quivering mess.

He holds the handle steady and says, “Good girl.”

You don't go all the way down. The cool barrel slides against one side of your walls.

“God damn, this hungry pussy,” he pants, cock stiff against the gun. “God damn, i know she can take more,” he says, frustrated without much more to give you.

“How do you know?” you ask

“Cause I've seen ya gapin’ wide open, sweetheart.”

You moan at his words, pussy quivering around his cock and gun.

“Wide fuckin’ open,” he repeats. “Ya take my fist… take two dicks…fuck ,” he twitches inside you. “ Took my goddamn wrench…. greedy fuckin’ cunt,” he goes on.

Then you're seized by a swell in your lower belly…. The pressure that’s been simmering quickly boils over, and you whimper as you come on his cock and the gun.

“Yeah,” he pants as your walls flutter and your thighs quiver.

He lifts you up with one arm, and takes out the gun, putting it aside. Then he slams you all the way down on his cock. “Oh god, yeah,” he pants, “Freak nasty whore ”

You moan and let it ride, clenching around his cock, your walls hugging it tighter each time, with the girth of the gun no longer holding you open.

Your climax wanes and your legs are weak. “Oh fuck,” he pants, “Gonna fill this dirty snatch,” He sweats and grunts. “Gonna stuff her with my load,” he warns, “Bout to fill this gash right up .”

“Fuck,” he breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust up into you, then slams you down, and with an upward jolt of his hips begins to drain his massive balls. “Fuck,” he sighs as he comes inside. “Fuck, you're crazy,” he says with another rope, warm and sticky, hitting your womb.

“Tryna get knocked up by some psycho killer ya picked up on the side of the road,” he says. “ Fuck, you goddamn freak .”

Still milking his cock, something possesses you to cradle his face as he slows down. Another burst of warmth in your core, as your face approaches his. He starts to turn his cheek, but your hands become forceful. “C’mere, asshole,” you demand, grinding into him with his cock pulsing deep inside again. His neck begins to relax, and he sighs with his eyes closed. You hold his face steady and bring your face to his. When your lips meet his are limp and open.

Another warm spurt into your womb, and when you moan against his mouth, he moans back. His lips soften, then cradle yours. Your tongue slips into your mouth, and his pushes into yours. He grabs the back of your head, pulling you into his face as he kisses you, releasing a final burst of hot seed. “Mm,” he grunts into your mouth, hands holding each other’s faces. Glued together, consuming each other in the dark. The passion simmers to something gentler as your loins twitch with aftershocks, becoming over-sensitive.

You break away to breathe, gasping for humid air in the fogged-up car.

He pants, looks up at the ceiling. His neck vein pulses. His skin is clammy looking, dewy with cold sweat,

“Fuck,” sighs, his chest heaving, “Still got your goddamn tits out.” He admires them, then feeds himself one. He tongues your nipple, and when your cunt squeezes him, he winces, letting it out of his mouth.

A tractor trailer whizzes by, shaking the whole car.

“Alright,” he says, and nudges you off his lap. “Now pull yourself together.”

He takes the gun, wet with your juices, puts it on the dashboard near him. He looks over at you skeptically when you've climbed back over the center console into your seat.

“You better stuff that dress between your legs,” he warns. “Don’t want ya leakin’ all over the goddamn place.”

THANK YOU FOR READING.

Believe it or not, I cut two scenes from this lol so I might put them in a little bonus visit between Joel and his mom soon.

Look, this took me a year and I feel like I've finally done my mental vision justice lol. So, please interact 🧎‍♀️🥺🖤

anon is fine if you're shy!

#dark!joel miller #slasher!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher!joel miller #cw dubcon

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rotagnus · 21 hours ago

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eye contactship (why you're drawn to them) reading.

a little bit of information about your situation and why you like this person...a little bit about how they feel 4 u, if they do.

i feel like i've left u guys waiting on this forever and it's FINALLY HERE. enjoy, babes 💗 happy mother's day to anyone celebrating!! mwah!! 🩷

p1.

i feel like you guys are full of sorrow recently 4 some reason. so to clarify that this is your pile, i would guess that you've been experiencing a sense of loss. like the feeling of going to a mall or a city or a big place all alone for the first time in a while and it strikes you that the world is damn HUGE. maybe a feeling of things changing, but you don't think it's in a positive light. you guys are introspective and probably introverted, with a strong connection to your hobbies, or even mother earth or deities/your religion.

as for the person you're asking about, i'd say that they do notice you. you represent something specific to them; maybe you have a consistent fashion style they associate with you, or a certain hairstyle; you're the model of a specific aspect for them. maybe alternative or you have cute accessories! i don't think that they hate you, but this person bonds based off of friendships and deep connections, so obviously, if this is just an eyecontactship, they haven't formed that with you.

you're being asked to have patience and to get out of this mindset that's chanting they'retheonethey'retheone in the back of your mind. baby, you limit your options the moment you choose that this person is yours. ask yourself why you like them; do they remind you of a toxic pattern, of home (which isn't always a good thing)? or do they make you feel calm? the universe is telling me to tell you to think about WHYYY you're so drawn to them.

p2.

ahahahaha my idealizers hello babies. so the point is, a lot of you guys are painfully self-aware that you want this person for a specific reason, and you're already puttin' on your analyzing glasses and structuring a wall around your heart to prevent any pain from coming. tell me, do you ever let yourself feel joy? many of you probably grew up in a household where this feeling of peace was associated with a specific figure, and it truly ripped you apart. you were young and innocent and naive but became overly strict with who you let into your life. your heart is closed off. however, this person makes you feel...different. they're a sweetheart and they wanna be sweet to you, awww. you symbolize opposites to them; you guys are probably different in specific ways.

for a lot of you, this person seems to symbolize safety, or whatever you perceive as joy, protection, happiness. a lot of you have never felt true peace, even though you convinced yourself you know what it is...but sometimes we think that what we have is something it's not. you're so used to giving things up and this person, in a way, allows you to step into this specific pattern. always reaching out, giving.

i think that there's def potential with this person, but you have a lot of wounds you gotta heal, darling. all that pain inside you? it prevents you from receiving. you're approached and immediately shy away. 'little bit' by lykke li, y'know? listen to that song, it's the whole vibe of this reading. you guys need to open your heart, truly, but also stop caring so much. your mind runs in loops because you're terrified of feeling true things, because it's just so much. baby steps. don't stay in this boundary just because you're scared of reciprocation. this person doesn't hate you, and in fact, i would say they have pretty positive feelings for you. contrasting you in all the best ways.

p3.

you guys are going THROUGH ITTTT. you feel like you're the darkness and everything around you is so dark too, and that everyone else is just a distant star. you guys always paint people brighter than they are. guys...listen, you are the STAR. i know you're like omgomg what does this person think about me? right now, but c'mon. the star AND the sun popped up. you guys are fucking angels and you refuse to see it. your energy is a fucking BLESSING. treat it as such. you're hella strong, because i know life's been throwing shit at you for the past while, but...you have to step up. stop lowering your standards and settling. stop being humble and realize that life is ready to give you gifts and the whole fucking world, as long as you realize that you, my love, ARE the world.

as for what this person feels for you, i know you guys know what they do. whether they like you or dislike you or whatever, you guys are deeply attuned to what other people feel, so i would suggest you trust your gut. make sure that YOU view them with a level-headed lens. one of the oracle cards i pulled out says 'cracked open. it's happening for you, not to you.' so for your whole situation...honey, i know it'll bring good things. i know that a lot of you were like 'wow i'm so happy i haven't been this happy in a while' then BAM you fell down and broke your wings. baby, it'll get better. i know you can't see it now because your heart aches, but girl. let me TELL YOU.

fuel all that energy and anger you have into making a better life for yourself. this isn't a safe energy to keep in your chest and of course life's gonna hold people back from you when they use you and abuse you and fill you with self-hatred and anger. you need to clean out the weeds. honey, you will meet a person who loves you like you're their whole world. their universe. but this? this energy you're in right now? you're not in a safe place to receive. create your world. realize what you want and stop settling for less. this is a new beginning and the choices you make right now are important. darling, you won't be alone forever. i promise you.

#love reading #pac reading #pick a picture #tarot reading #divine guidance #intuitive reading #tarotblr #pick a card #rotagnus #pick a pile

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verralol · 13 hours ago

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OMG HAI HAI HAI HAI TYTYTY FOR TAGGING ME TOST !!! :D

Three ships I like: Hmm, I'm not too much of a shipper nowadays but I can enjoy any of the main omori ships!! Heromari is my favorite though :) I also enjoy the MLB love-square hehehe

First ship: OOOF I really don't remember, but if I had to guess, probably Sunny and Starflight from Wings of Fire? Maybe? I really wasn't that much of a shipper until like, the pandemic-ish so I don't remember CYOHPHCPVHP

Last song I heard: I play project sekai so it was Stella!!

Last movie I watched: There was a local film club festival just this weekend so it was an amateur mockumentary of some schoolteachers!

Currently reading: CRIME AND PUNISHMENTTTTTTT AAAAAA I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH it's so peak bro

Currently watching: Nothing atm D: I don't make much time for shows except my main ones (doctor who and miraculous ladybug, BUT I WATCH THOSE WITH MY SISTER AND SHE NEVER COMES OVER TO WATCH THEM IM GOING TO TWEAK

I know you're seeing this. I know you stalk my socials. Grrr... Come over so we can finish themmmmmm)

Currently consuming: my saliva :)

Currently craving: chocolate sounds good rn fr

YIPPEEEE THATS IT!!! Aight time to whip out the people I'm tagging that I wanna get to know because I don't interact much with people here... but I wanna.... And also people I think are cool ahem anyways WHAPAM!!! @dark-lord-lumi @duck-mann @tsunih @herochuu @pepperpeltz @saucebou @snowdraconic06 @akindredskillet @alpinesquib @patiencekilljoypk @sketch-traits @yonkagem @spinnileaf @br0-k3n-sch00lb01 @pickledmintpie @carlostck @clegfly @starrysilv3rse @b33viemm @goooseroni @mon-chert @knifecroww

Aha... That's... Totally nine people trust !! (/J PLEASE I WANTED TO ADD SO MANY PEOPLE so I did!! AHAHAHAHA NOTHINGS STOPPING ME!!) /NF if you wanna do this or not!! 100% up to you :D And even if I didn't tag you but you want to do this or get to know me, PLEASE REACH OUT I LOVE TALKING WITH PEOPLEEEEE :D ALSO TYTY AGAIN TOST FOR TAGGING ME :DDD

Still on break for the next month or so, but I'll be responding to dms and mentions n stuff like that now! Tyty for reading this silly lil post !! <3

tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

thank you @defonotacat for tagging me! <3

3 ships: eruri (the most tragic and sexy ship ever), beabato (perfect male wife and girlboss energy) and satorika/labmdabern (killsbians my beloved)

first ever ship: like first ever ever? clara and prince eric, i loved it when i was 3 years old and i still love it now

last song: sleeping beauty op.66 th13 act 1:6 valse

last movie: christmas carol i think

currently reading: before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi

currently watching: nothing, all my shows ended so it's yt time and watching long analysis about stuff i don't really care about

currently consuming: leftover christmas candy

currently craving: to be hugged maybe hah

tagging: @darling-valentine, @satorikas, @minty-muse, @roseofcards90, @svetlushka, @alaiyoooon, @arocinema, @shiomatsuzaka, @not-quitenormal, i hope you don't mind? uwu

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stormystarlight · 3 days ago

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everybody give itup for the slug #myslug

experimental painting from my backlog, number 3 out of 3. so that's all for now! i painted this one after a few days of playing the watcher (because i got excited about Slug), which meant there was a decent half-month gap between it and the last one.

i think i did a lot better with my use of halftones & the rake this time. they stand out way more which is what i wanted!

when i started this piece i envisioned it with a dark/almost black background, but when i got to the actual painting phase it made me realize how much i like the Vibrant Underpainting That Influences The Whole Color Palette thing. switching out the background immediately made me like it way more, but next time i want to practice keeping the underpainting beneath the Character Only so i can get the look i want while still having a dark background.

in the first 2 paintings i added a texture overlay on top of the whole thing and it made them look pretty good. i forgiot it on this one. i miss my texture overlay, tails. i miss it a lot. i know i could just go back and add it now but im not doing that

idk how many people read them, but i've been enjoying writing these progress/thought process summaries under these posts. they're specifically applicable to this 'experimental painting' series because i don't know what the hell i'm doing, but i might add them to more 'normal' posts going forward just because i can

#rain world #rain world ocs #my art #digital art #digital painting #my ocs #imminent accord (oc)#slugcat #2025

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justzutara · 2 days ago

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Prompt: Zuko and Hakoda have a heart to heart about fatherhood.

Zuko stroked Katara's sweat-soaked hair as she slept. Two days after going into labor, their baby still refused to leave the safety of its mother's womb. "He's stubborn just like you," Katara had said after the first sixteen hours had passed.

Everything since then had been a blur as Katara's comment replayed in his mind again and again. "He's stubborn just like you. He's stubborn."

He.

They hadn't talked about the sex of the baby during her pregnancy, but that simple joke had confirmed exactly what Zuko feared: he did not think he could raise a son.

"Fire Lord Zuko," the head midwife whispered, "would you step out for a moment? We need to make preparations for when Master Katara wakes." He nodded and promptly got out of the midwives' way.

The frigid air was still outside the birthing hut. Snow sparkled in the torchlight under his feet, and stars glittered in the dark blue sky above. Any other night Zuko would have marveled at the beauty of night in the south pole, but with his wife's labor stalled and his mind in overdrive, every point of light felt like a needle in his eye.

A firm hand on his shoulder snapped Zuko back to his senses. "How is she doing?" A nigh imperceptible tremor punctured Chief Hakoda's confident voice.

"The midwives gave her something to speed up her labor. It should kick in soon. Besides that, they said everything is fine," Zuko parrotted what he remembered from the update they'd given before Katara fell asleep.

"That's a relief," Hakoda smiled. Zuko nodded, his eyes fixed on the snow.

Hakoda squeezed Zuko's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"I...I don't..." his stomach turned as he fumbled over his words.

"Nervous?" Hakoda asked.

"Terrified," Zuko admitted. They walked around to the side of the hut so their voices wouldn't disturb the midwives. "Katara thinks it's a boy."

"Does she? Most men would be thrilled about that."

"Most men also didn't have fathers who burned off half their faces," Zuko snapped. Hakoda looked away and tension settled between the two men.

"You're right. I apologize," Hakoda murmured. Zuko hugged his crossed arms tight to his body. "At least you know what not to do," the chief offered with a strained smirk.

To both their surprise, Zuko laughed. It was a rough, choked sound that brought tears to his eyes--which he quickly wiped away lest they freeze--but it felt good. His father and brother-in-law's sense of humor wasn't for everyone, but Zuko was glad for it now. "You're right about that. I could use some advice about what to do, though."

Hakoda leaned against the hut. "I'm afraid there's not much I can tell you," he sighed. "I did my best with Sokka and Katara after their mother died, but to be honest, I don't remember much about those years. I left to fight in the war when they were still young, and by the time we were reunited, they'd grown up." The older man drew circles in the snow with his boot. "My children turned out wonderfully, but I can't take credit."

This was not the pep talk Zuko was hoping for. "Sokka would have tried to break you out of prison by himself if I hadn't caught him. I threw my dad in prison when the war ended. I'm sure you did better than you think," he offered.

Hakoda smiled wryly. "Well, when you put it that way..." They shared a brief chuckle. "If you really want my advice, don't try to decide who your child is; they'll tell you. Just be there to help them grow and keep them safe. You're good at that," the chief grinned. That assurance was just enough to calm Zuko's frayed nerves. He had a boatload more questions, but they would have to wait.

"Fire Lord Zuko! It's time!"

"Thank you," Zuko whispered hastily as he headed back toward the front of the hut.

"Wake me when I'm a grandpa!" Hakoda called after him.

Katara's tired face lit up when Zuko returned. He dropped to her side and held her hand. "Ready?" He asked.

His wife squeezed his hand and groaned as a contraction seized her. "Whether I am or not, he's coming!"

Zuko squeezed her hand back and kissed her forehead. "I can't wait to meet him."

--------

Thank you so much for the prompt! Personally, I love the headcanon that Katara and Zuko's (first) child is a girl and Zuko is an iconic girl dad, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to explore his anxiety around the possibility of a son due to his relationship with Ozai.

#zutara #steambaby #katara x zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #fanfic #zutara fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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butterflygirl738 (5)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

This is what you wanted, isn't it? For things to get easier? For some godsend to come and save you from the deepening pit of debt and despair?

Is that what S is? Is he really going to save you? And your mother? Can his money do that? Or are you just dragging out the inevitable? Is this also just denial? False hope? What do you call it?

There's some things you can see clearly he isn't lying about. The money. It's already in your account like he said. And his car screams rich. Richer than you could ever hope to be. A rental but not the type they give to someone with nothing in the bank.

You look out at your apartment building. Those second thoughts already have you nervously picking at the edges of your nails. You take a deep breath and look straight to the windshield.

"You okay?" S asks, startling you from your doubt.

"Yeah, yeah, I... I've never lied to my mom before. Not as big as this. I mean yeah, I lied about losing her pearl earrings in grade school but that lasted all of two hours..." You frame your face and sit back in the seat. "I'm rambling. I'm sorry." You drop your arms. "And I've wasted enough of your time."

"Not wasted. Honest," He leans his hand on the steering wheel. "I'm headed to the hotel to eat room service alone." He scoffs and gives a sardonic smile. "Exciting stuff. But uh... it's a nice suite."

"Hah, yeah. Must be weird being away from home," you sniff.

"Not much different. Still empty." He shrugs.

"Uh huh," you hum thoughtfully.

"Well, you can tell your mom you went for an interview? Got something new? That could explain... things as they come up."

You pick at your lip and nod. "Makes sense."

"I could mock stuff up for you. I mean, I have letterhead," he chuckles and rubs his neck. "I'm not a great liar either, sorry."

You chuckle thinly. "It feels... hopeless." You shake your head. "Not you. Just... alright. Gotta face the music." You look at him. "S, thank you. For lunch and being patient with me. Sometimes I feel like a piece of my brain is not there." You exhale and grab the door.

"Uh, wait, before you go," he grabs your other arm then quickly lets go. You sit back and look at him. "I'm gonna be in town for a few days. So, I was hoping tomorrow we could... spend some more time together."

Your lips part. That's a surprise. You just assumed you'd have more time to adjust. To process. Time. It's precious and you don't know how much you truly have.

"Oh, right," you breathe.

"Unless... " he draws out.

"Oh, oh, I... I thought maybe you had to go back. For your business," you say as you wring your hands. Your skin is raw. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking and... you know, I have work but, I guess I'll be calling in."

"Sure, I didn't mean to blindside you. Sometimes I think things and just assume other people know," he clears his throat. "So, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," you agree and pull the handle, pushing the door out. "Please, go get some rest. You flew out here, it must've been a long day."

"It's sweet of you to think of me," he says.

"Good night," you smile and stand straight. You shut the door and turn to look up at the dingy apartment building.

You drag your feet forward. Your lips move silently as you rehearse your lies. You purse them and slant your mouth one way than the other.

You almost collide with someone else as they come out of the building. You step out of their way and wait. You glance back. S idles at the curb. You wave before you go inside.

You climb the stairs one at a time. You're wading through molasses. As you get to the apartment door, you hesitate. Stop. Get yourself together. This isn't against her, it's for her. This could save your mom.

You enter and the deja vu makes you feel out of place. Everything is as it should be yet it feels like it's all changed. Your mom is on the couch, reading, her head in her hand, her finger feeling the edge of her scarf. You shut the door gently.

"Hi mom," you say as you put your bag down. You sanitize your hands before you go any further. "How was your day?"

"Good," she sits up. "You were gone a while. I thought it was your day off."

"I'm sorry, I didn't... say." You linger by the entryway. "So, uh, I really didn't want to get my hopes up and... I thought I'd surprise you..." you let the words dangle. You watch her, waiting for her to challenge you. She looks tired. "I went for an interview and er, I got it."

"An interview?" She echoes.

"Yeah. It pays better, so I said yes... and... yeah."

"Another store?"

"Um... admin?" You say.

Her lashes flutter and she smiles. "Wow, that's great, pie. Very good." The book closes in her lap and she brings her hands up to her face. "Can you help me to bed? I'm feeling nauseous."

"Oh, of course, mom."

You near her and offer your arm. She gets up and you help her around the couch. She doesn't even have the energy to doubt you. She has bigger problems. She's staring down that abyss and you're worried about a little white lie. She doesn't need to know, she doesn't need to worry. She just needs to get better.

🦋

S arrives at nine. You're outside waiting. You're anxious, not excited. You feel bad enough leaving your mom for work, but this feels wrong. Not just that you're lying to her, but about what.

You get in the car as he smiles at you. "Good morning, I brought coffee," he announces proudly.

You look at the paper cups. You smile back. It feels strangely normal. This is what you see on TV. Real couples do this. This isn't real.

"Thanks, that's so nice," you say. You buckle in and peer around. You feel like you're being watched. Like one of the neighbours will tattle on you. "H--How was your night?"

"Not too bad. Watched a movie. Fell asleep before it ended," he snorts as he pulls away from the curb. "Old man hours."

"Ah," you nod. "I just read a bit. Checked on the butterflies."

"They getting close?" He asks.

"Yeah. Should be soon I think."

"Hm. Nice. You eat yet?" He asks.

"I had some toast." You answer.

"Cool. I hope you don't mind a bit of a road trip? I found this place in the next town. Has good reviews."

"Oh, it's totally up to you but... I don't want to be too much," you scratch your neck.

"This is the deal, right? Spending time together. So don't worry about being too much. Just try to enjoy yourself," he girds.

"Right, yes, I just... guess it's been a while since I did anything for fun. God, that sounds lame, doesn't it?" You ask.

"Lame or it means you've been working hard." He says.

"I guess so," you agree.

He drives on and you stare through the window. It's better that you leave town. It's not like you're well-known but you don't need to chance anyone seeing you with him. Out-of-towners always tend to inspire gossip. Mom doesn't go out much but...

Your mind won't stop. You try to calm it as the minutes tick by. Your worries are replaced by curiosity. Where exactly is he taking you?

Before you can assume the worst, you recognise the large stone behind the town sign. You haven't been around this way in years. He steers past the green park and through town square.

As he pulls in at the vaguely familiar yellow brick building, you can't help but pinch yourself. How could he know? Maybe just a lucky guess. You went to the conservatory once as a child. You realised later how expensive that birthday trip was.

"Here we are," S says. "I know it's nothing fancy."

"It's... it's great," you say. "I love this place."

"You've been here?"

"Not in ages but once," you answer.

"Ah, I should've figured."

He grabs his phone and wallet as the engine quiets. He gets out and slides them into his back pockets. You undo your belt and climb out as he comes around the car.

We waves you ahead of him toward the arched front doors. He pulls one open and lets you through first. He approaches the desk and takes out his phone. He has them scan his passes and puts it away again.

He turns to you and offers his hand. You stare for a moment before you accept. His skin is warm.

He takes you through the entryway to the first wing. Here they have all the antiquated inventions; funky looking glasses with stacked lenses and scientific tools you couldn't guess at the purpose of. You stop to read the placards as S leans in to admire the objects.

"Probably not your favourite part," he says.

"I don't mind. I like old things."

"Ah, me too. Maybe one day... well, who knows, I might take you to the museum in New York... but... who knows," he shrugs.

"Maybe," you say. You don't know about all that. That's a long way away.

You continue on around the winding exhibits and into the room with the live exhibits. Insects of all kinds. You let go of S and stop to watch the bees in the hive with a tunnel to the outside world. There's a little sign explaining that the conservatory houses the hive as a protective effort.

"They have a new part to it," S says. "I saw it on the website. Down that way."

"Oh," you back up. "Sure, whatever you want to do."

He leads you on. You admire the windows that look onto colonies and tunnels of different insects. You stop short at the next door. 'Butterfly Room.' You look at S. The last time you came, you remember there was one tiny little exhibit of unhatched chrysalis.

You rush through ahead of him in excitement. A blue flutter brushes over your forehead and another flap of yellow sweeps by. You spin as the lazy wings beat around you, others still as butterflies rest on petals or branches. It's a menagerie. A garden full of colours.

You turn and look all around. You're breathless and amazed. In that moment, there's nothing else but the beauty of those creatures.

You smile and tilt your head up. A monarch lands on your nose and you freeze. S laughs and you look over at him as he aims his phone at you. The butterfly flees.

He turns the screen to show you the picture. You blush and rock bashfully. "That's cute."

"It is," he agrees."

"S," you gasp, "this is amazing."

"It is." He looks around and lowers his phone. "It's nice to have someone to enjoy it with."

"It is," you cheep. You turn and follow the path of a white flutter.

You go to the bench and sit. It's bittersweet. It's nice to not be alone, but you wish it was your mom here with you. She's all you have but with her being sick, it only sinks in then, how lonely you've really been. She's there but not really. She's fighting a battle you can't understand.

S sits beside you. He's quiet. You blink away a glaze of tears.

"It's really beautiful," you say. "Thank you so much. I can't... I can't even begin to tell you how much..." You sniff. "How much I appreciate this."

"You don't have to say it," he assures you.

"But I should. There's so much I never say. So much to say. So much I might never have the chance..." you lower your head. "I'm really trying. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to ruin this day." You exhale. "You didn't pay to watch me mope."

"I did. I paid to be close to you. To be with you," he shifts closer. "And whatever that means, is fine with me." He puts his hand on yours, like the day before. It doesn't feel as strange anymore. "I don't want you to think about that. The money. I want you to have a nice day. With me."

You nod and gulp. You breathe out the emotion and look at him.

"Why?" You croak.

He stares at you. His cheek dimples. "I got lucky. I took a chance... and I met you."

He squeezes your hand and you look down. His hand wraps easily around yours. It makes you feel safe. It's been so long since you felt anything close to that.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #butterflygirl738 #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #au #captain america #avengers

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discordsmuse · 21 hours ago

Text

Devil Makes Three: Stack/Reader/Mary

Read HERE on Archive of Our Own

{Two beautiful strangers charm you at the club. Mary with her dark eyes, her easy smile, and her boyfriend Elias who watches you like a predator in the dim club lights. They're charming, they're sexy, and they want you to come home with them for a little fun.}

{What could go wrong?}

NSFW below the cut

The bass that surges through the club pulls your pulse to beat in unison with it. The electronic music that's popular is just your speed and makes it easy to lose yourself in the writhing throng of dancers.

Tonight you have no responsibility. Friday means no work tomorrow and a night spent dancing until the early hours of Saturday morning. You've had a drink, but one rum and coke isn't gonna fuck you up. Every girl between Cali and Maine has heard about the drugs guys have started slipping into drinks. Better not to risk getting too tipsy to be safe. Dancing sober is just as fun.

Around you so many different types of people undulate and twirl under the disco lights and flashing strobes. Women with afros, boys and girls rocking mohawks, older guys with dreads down to their hips and barely twenty one-year-olds happy to have skirted the new drinking age all celebrate together.

You feel a sense of togetherness you don't feel much in the world anymore. This is a place where everyone is equal. No one looks twice at the boys kissing by the bar, or the men in skimpy leather, or the little tabs models are dropping on their tongues. Life is good. Life is beautiful.

Beautiful like the woman staring you down across the dance floor.

The guy she was dancing with winds away into the crowd when she pushes off him to look your way. It's like one of the silly rom-coms you've seen, where your eyes meet on the dance floor and you both fall in love. This feels a little more like falling in lust, though.

Her hair is dark enough that it reflects the multicolored lights like they're a part of the shining strands teased into a pile of crimped curls. The scrunchie holding it matches the bright red of her lipstick. She's smiling, and you swear her eyes are brighter than even the strobes. They're pretty yellow-green, but when she moves through the crowd to meet you, they're brown. Must have been the lights playing tricks.

“Hey!” The word is shouted over the music. Her voice is bright and lovely even when she only says one word. “You wanna dance?”

“Absolutely!” You have to raise your voice over the bumping beat, but agreeing delights the woman before you.

She smiles, almost sharklike with how her eyes narrow. Rocking that intense of a smokey eye makes the girl's expression look dangerous. Maybe a little predatory. Her hands sneak around your waist and the denim jacket she wears falls around her elbows.

“I'm Mary.” This time, she leans forward to speak right into your ear. Her full lips brush your skin as she does, and goosebumps chase down your arms. Now you get to lean forward and offer your name in return. “Pleasure to meet you. Did you know you're like, the cutest thing in this club?”

Her compliment makes you blush and duck your head. The way she said it, honest and effortless, makes it sound so real. Coupled with the affectionate expression she wears, you're already a little enamored.

“I think that's you, babe.” The returned compliment is a deflection, but you mean it. She's the prettiest girl in here by far. Her skin is flawless, her outfit too. No one could compare. Mary doesn't respond though, too busy moving her body to the beat. You can feel her start to rock her hips to the music, her hands guiding you to do the same.

Grinning, Mary presses her forehead to yours. With every sway, your noses brush but you don't feel the same damp heat of breath you usually feel when dancing with another person. It's nice, not choking on someone else's air. Her hand is inching lower, tapping at your back to the beat. Like she's asking for an invitation to move further. You press close in wordless consent and she wastes no time in dropping both hands down onto the curve of your ass.

Her thigh slots between yours, and she rolls her body against you. Mary is pretty like a girl in a magazine and looks at you like you're a goddess. It feels unreal. You shouldn't be this lucky, but she's grinding on you and holding you like a lifeline. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. Your breath chases out of your lungs just as quickly as you can drink it in. It's exciting. It's intoxicating.

“When this song ends, let’s grab a drink!” Mary's lips drag along your cheek when she leans in to speak, inhaling as she draws away. Out of breath from the way your bodies are moving together under the lights, probably. You nod to save your voice the hassle of shouting, returning her eager little smile with one of your own.

Mary keeps her promise and when one EDM song blends into the next, she's grasping your hand and guiding you to the upstairs bar. It's a little darker on the second floor, a little quieter. People line every stool except for one on the far end and Mary offers it to you so that you can sit while she makes herself comfortable standing between your legs.

From this spot, you catch a man watching you both. He's got a gold grill that looks like vampire fangs. It catches in the light when he lifts his head and grins at you in greeting. His multicolored shirt is alluring but his expression is a little devious. The bright, beautiful type that translated to venomous in the animal kingdom. Everything about him looks like danger, and Mary draws you back with a giggle.

“Don't mind Elias, that's my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” You balk at the title, sputtering over your words as you apologize for assuming. Instead of replying, Mary leans forward and kisses you. She tastes like whiskey, tongue slipping into your mouth with a light little sound of enjoyment. Her arms wind around your neck and she catches her teeth in your lip. Her focus is entirely on you and consuming you from the inside out. Pushing her back hurts worse than a slap because god damn is she a good kisser.

“Hey, hey, I don't wanna upset anyone-” you start.

“You ain't.” The soft southern drawl of the man you'd caught staring—Elias—came from beside you. When the stool to your left had been vacated, you weren't sure, but now he sat atop it. It was like he'd popped out of thin air. “Nobody here's upset. Right, Mary?”

“Of course. Nothing to be upset about.” Mary's hand finds your arm, smoothing down your skin and lacing your fingers together. She has such a disarming nature that you don't realize how close Elias has gotten. His face hovers just beside your shoulder. “We’ve had our eye on you. Both of us.”

The expression you wear must be dumbstruck, because Mary pets at your cheek with her free hand and catches your chin. Her thumb cleans up where her lipstick smudged over your mouth. She's looking at your lips the entire time. You think you catch her tongue darting out to wet her own. “You scared her, Elias.”

“Nah, Mary. She's just surprised. Ain't you, baby?” Elias’ arm loops around your waist from where he sits beside you. There's something alluring about this, being wanted by both of them. They crowd you from all sides with half-lidded expressions that convey the silent want.

Mary's watching you with her eyes all gentle and doe-like, and she hasn't left the space between your legs. In fact, the hand she has laced with yours is running up and down your thigh. Elias’ fingers are stroking the bare patch of skin between your top and your skirt, tugging at your waistband every other touch.

“C'mon. We can dance together first, if you'd like.” Mary says it like whatever comes next is inevitable, like no one would dream of saying no. It would be hard to deny them from your place between the two otherworldly beauties. Smoky, cedar aftershave waits behind you, delicate floral perfume waits before.

You feel cornered. Maybe that should make you scared, but it doesn't.

“Or we can get up to something’. No one's lookin’.” Elias isn't wrong. You're at the far side of the less popular bar. Most of the crowd sticks to the outside tiki spot or grabs drinks near the entrance. Mary's eyes leave you to look up at her boyfriend, something passing silently between them that you aren't privy to.

“Would you like that?” Mary asks, voice sugar-sweet when she returns her attention to you. Her hand falls away from yours, and instead she uses both to bunch the fabric of your skirt around your knees. “It can be our little secret. Just the three of us.”

You nod, enthralled by the couple you've been corralled between. Elias leans you back against his arms and Mary's thin fingers slide up underneath your skirt. They're cool, despite your earlier dancing, and it makes you jump in your seat. Though the man behind you is quick to soothe the scare with a brush of his lips on your temple.

When Mary's hand finds your core, she delights in the lack of undergarments. A more logical part of you would have argued it was to avoid panty lines. The realistic part was aware you'd been hoping to get a little lucky tonight. Right now it's making it easy for Mary to slide her middle finger right up to your clit. She circles it, drawing some of your simmering arousal up to ease the glide.

“Oh baby, you're already excited aren't you?” Mary sighs. Her voice is like a soft wave that rolls over you. “It'll only get better.”

“My girl has a smart mouth, maybe you'll get to see.” Elias’ teeth nip at your ear before they move lower and lay a few kisses on your neck. His lips are full and soft and, without prompting, you turn your head to kiss him. He makes a surprised sound, but it turns into a pleased one before you have time to pull away. For his sweet talking, he tastes like copper and whiskey. A little dangerous, a little sweet, and you want more of it.

His hand takes your chin to hold your face close, tongue slipping into your mouth. You can feel those gold fangs as they catch on your lower lip. Elias kisses like he's consuming you, hungry and unable to be sated. This is different from Mary's kiss, sweet and luring. This is tongue and teeth and want.

“Isn’t she precious?” Mary asks, though you're certain it’s rhetorical. She watches your hungry kissing with desire of her own, light catching her eyes in that yellow glow again. Her hand eases your legs further apart, taking advantage of the fire Elias’ kiss ignited in you. One of her fingers slides inside, followed gently by another as she works you open. She releases a dreamy sigh and curls patterns on your skin with the hand not currently stroking your cunt.

Her thumb is on your clit again in a moment, and you whine into Elias’ mouth. He savors it, grip on your waist tightening before he breaks the kiss. His nose nudges below your ear taking in a breath as he draws his tongue up the column of your throat.

The fingers Mary is stroking you with speed up just enough that your head falls back as you moan. The desire is liquid lighting in your veins. It's hot and explosive and you know you're gonna come around her fingers. Elias seems to know it too, because he stuffs three digits in your mouth just as you're tumbling over the edge. They almost choke you, but it does the trick of silencing any sounds that might get you caught.

How many times have they done this before?

Mary has pulled away, licking her fingers like a cat lapping at its paw. When she catches you watching, she sucks one into her mouth and releases it with a pop. You feel a new flame of need ignite deep within you.

“Good girl, can't have you catching unwanted eyes.” Elias purrs against your hair. You almost could have forgotten he was there if not for the low sound of his breathing as he drinks in the smell of you. It's almost animalistic. His breath comes in pants that wash hot air over your skin. “What you think about coming home with us?”

“What?” You’re too blissed out to fully focus as you look between Mary and Elias with dreamy eyes.

“Come home with us tonight, love,” Mary echoes her boyfriend. “I think Elias wants a taste too. Don't you, baby?”

“Only if our girl here is game,” Elias replies behind you. His voice rasps low, hungry. He looks at you like you're a meal.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm game.” The words come out all soft from how foggy your head is, but you know what you're agreeing to. You barely drank tonight. You're not fucked up on anything except the lust pulsing through you in time with the music.

“Perfect.” Mary's eyes light up with that infectious excitement you've seen manifest a few times already. “Get the car, Elias. We'll meet you at the door.”

Her boyfriend doesn't respond, and you turn to realize he's already gone. Your brow furrows, but Mary is busy helping you to your feet. Her hand weaves around your waist and leads you through the throng of people. The dancing mass parts as she walks, her effortless stride otherworldly. She is a goddess among mortals and somehow you have caught her eye. When the crowd grows too thick to walk side by side, her hand finds yours. It's a cool, grounding touch that you're thankful for.

You exit the club into the brisk Autumn air just as a Pontiac Trans-Am rips into the drop-off area outside. A gold vanity license plate reads SMKSTCK, fitting the souped-up nature of the car. The windows are down and Elias is grinning at the two of you with those glinting gold fangs.

“Whassup, ladies?” Leaning over, he pops the passenger door open and reveals the single seat beside him. “Gonna get real cozy tonight.”

Mary doesn't seem perturbed and encourages you to settle in the seat before she's crawling in beside you. Once she tugs shut the door, her body slides down yours like water, knees meeting the floor on the passenger side and pushing your legs wide open. Your skirt ends up pushed around your hips and Mary kisses your thighs as she reveals them. Her lipstick leaves little prints on your skin, delicate and angelic despite her devious expression.

“Can't wait for another taste, huh baby?” Elias chuckles from the driver's seat as he peels out of the lot. His left hand steers while the right wanders onto your exposed thigh. He's wearing one of those fat, gold letter rings that reads $TACK, the metal cold against your body. He catches your eye, rapping the pads of his fingers on the skin just above your knee. “Mary'll take real good care of you.”

“He taught me everything I know,” Mary replies. “Let me show you.”

The next moment, her face is between your legs. Her tongue is gentle as she rolls it over your clit in slow motions. She's savoring you, you realize. She's gauging your reaction in a quest to find what makes you gasp and grab at the door. Mary moves with precision, alternating between circling where you're most sensitive and dipping down to press her tongue inside you. Her eyes don't stray from watching you. The intensity of it almost makes you moan as much as the attention she's laving on your cunt.

“You feelin’ good?” Elias asks beside you. His hand leaves your thigh and catches your chin to force you to look at him. “Talk to me, mama.”

“Yeah,” you manage to reply. It's a lot. Mary's mouth feels like heaven. She's already found exactly what you like, repeating the things that make you whimper and twist in the seat. “So good.”

“Wanna help me feel good too?” Elias asks as he frees your white-knuckled grip from the center console. You nod, wordless with Mary's tongue back inside your cunt. You're too busy trying not to buck your hips into her face to figure out more words to say. He seems to find it endearing, because in the next moment he's guiding your hand to where his cock is tenting his pants.

Conscious thought isn't quite happening yet for you, but you can focus enough to wrap your hand around him through the fabric. Elias groans, leaning his head back against the seat as you squeeze gently. His hips don't jump, and his gaze doesn't waver, though. He's a better person than you, focused on the task at hand. His eyes are still open, driving the car so straight that the people outside would be none the wiser.

You're too busy staving off an orgasm, trying to make Elias feel good too with one hand on his dick and the other threading through Mary's hair. No amount of self-restraint is going to help, though. You're overheated, overstimulated, and soon you’re falling over the edge into bliss. Your legs shake, and your eyes roll back as you gasp Mary's name.

“Ain't you sweet?” Mary remains between your legs while you recover. Her ruby lipstick is smudged past any recoverable point, smeared over her mouth like blood. It's beautiful, like Helen Chandler in that old Dracula movie. You're still breathless and its made worse by the woman pretty as a movie star that's currently kissing at your thighs. When Elias’ hand comes wandering down, Mary nips at his fingers.

By the time you're seeing straight again, Elias is parking the car outside a chic apartment complex. There's cute little balconies on every level and vines growing up the old bricks. It's very pretty, and dedinitely out of your price range. Of course they'd be hot and rich. Unfair.

Neither notice you getting lost in thought. Mary pops the car open and climbs out with the grace unbefitting someone who just spent a 10 minute car ride on her knees. She doesn't even look phased, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Instead she's offering her hand to help you to your feet. Your skirt falls back down your unsteady legs as you stand. You've already came twice now, and this couple is promising more still. Will you even survive more?

“We're the penthouse,” Mary explains as she hooks her arm in yours. “It has the best view of the city at night.”

Elias takes up the space behind you, only passing to grab the front door of the complex.

“Mister Stack, Mary, welcome back.” The concierge is friendly, offering a smile. “And your lady guest too, of course.”

You greet him in kind, but your new friends are hurrying you toward the elevator. Mary's walking quicker than you normally do and it requires you to work to keep up. Elias has his hand on your lower back, pressed to your other side.

The moment you're all inside the small space, Elias is pulling you in and kissing you hard. His hands bracket either side of your hips, and Mary leans against your back to pepper little kisses down your neck. Her body weight grinds you against Elias, and he groans into your kiss. Everything is hot. You're sweaty from dancing and the pleasure Mary keeps treating you to.

Their hands seem to be everywhere, sqeezing, pulling, stroking at any available skin. Mary sucks at your neck, moaning when she buries her face in the crook of it. Elias’ grip is firm where he holds you, biting at your lower lip every time you break the kiss to take a gasping breath.

The elevator dings and you're pulled from Elias to the hallway. He's getting their door open and Mary is nudging you through the entrance.

The apartment is beautiful. Thick black curtains are pulled back from the windows, revealing the twinkling lights of Chicago beyond. Moody lighting casts the space in warm golds and reds. There's no dining table, but a huge round chaise occupies the space it would have been. The deep red fabric matches the sectional pressed to the opposite wall, and Mary fixes the pillow on them as she passes it on her way to draw the curtains. Elias is turning on some of the overhead lights, still warm but brighter than the scattering of lamps.

“Something to drink?” Your host asks, smiling as she runs manicured nails over the kitchen counter. “We have beer, wine, some liquor too I think.”

“Whiskey,” Elias adds. He's taking off his rings. Each makes a metallic clink as it hits the countertop. Mary nods along, moving to settle herself at the center of the chaise.

“Oh, I'm good.” You murmur from where you hover in the middle of the room. You're uncertain what to do, where to go. Poised between each half of the couple that brought you home, you hesitate.

“Perfect.” The word sounds more like a growl. Elias takes your waist again and spins you toward him. He captures your mouth in a kiss, tongue curling around yours as he drinks you in. His hands are tight where they hold you, and every breath he takes is half-growled into your mouth. It feels like he wants more, wants to consume you entirely.

“Go on, Elias.” From her seat, Mary speaks. You aren't certain what she means until her lover is pressing you down. It doesn't take much to catch on to what he's wanting, and you drop to your knees on the wood floor. “Here, baby.” Mary is quick to pass you one of the throw pillows to put under you, kissing your cheek as she returns to her seat.

Elias only watches as you fumble with his belt buckle, murmuring a compliment and stroking your cheek when you get it unfastened. After that it’s easy to unzip his jeans and dip your hand past the waistband.

He's hard and hot in your palm, twitching when you squeeze it gently. Above you, Elias groans low in his throat. It's a needy sound that sends heat right to your core. The hand idle on your face now guides your mouth to him and you wrap your lips around the tip obediently. You watch his face as you take more of him into your mouth and hum around him. The way it makes his eyelids flutter is incredible. Heat skitters through every nerve ending as you enjoy the power you have here.

“Think you can take the whole thing?” Elias’ voice is low, but you know a challenge when you're given one. You redouble your efforts, swallowing as much of him down as you could without choking. His legs shake when your nose brushes his pelvis and his cock bumps the back of your throat. You feel him shift his hips and relax your jaw to let him set a languid pace while he fucks your mouth.

The man looks halfway to heaven, with dark eyelashes shuttering his eyes and his mouth half-open. His free hand lifts to cover it as a curse slips out. A second later he's shucking his jacket and tossing his head back with a rasping sigh.

“God damn, your mouth feels good.” The praise from his lips makes you light up with pride. It's good to be wanted, especially by two beautiful people. They’re both watching you like you're as perfect as they are. It might not be true but it sure feels nice.

You can feel a little bit of drool at the corners of your mouth and Elias eyes it. The weight of his gaze makes you feel a bit self-conscious, but you don't have time to think too long because he's pulling you off him with a grunt of effort a second later.

“Don't wanna end a good time early,” Elias hums as he helps you to your feet. “Besides, I'm tryin' not to be greedy.” He's guiding you back toward where Mary is sitting and she's looking more like the cat that got the canary the closer you get.

“Come here,” Mary encourages when you reach the edge of the chaise. You oblige, crawling onto the velvet. “Want to thank me for all my hard work?”

Her fingertips drew up the hem of her dress higher and higher until the black lace of her underwear peeked out. When you don't move for a moment, Mary too takes the liberty of curling her finger in the waistband and dragging them down. This finally snaps you into action, and you settle onto your stomach between her legs. Your feet hang off the edge of the oversized couch, so you go to hike up your legs but are stopped by Elias. He smooths your knees back to the velvet and sits beside you. This is, apparently, to start unzipping and removing your skirt.

“Hey, eyes on me.” Mary's voice is low, teasing, but not lacking in its former musicality. She guides your hands to pull the lacy thong down her legs, discarding it to the floor. She rests one foot on either side of your body and draws you nearer with whispered praise. A siren song that you can't deny.

Acrylic nails slide along your scalp as Mary works her nails into your hair. They snag and catch, but the ache feels good. You kiss first to her thighs, then the dark patch of hair right above where she wants you. You let your eyes linger on her face, watching her expression shift when you finally run your tongue over her slit. Those beautiful brown irises roll back as Mary sighs.

You feel Elias dragging your skirt down and lift your hips to help while you also try to focus your attention on the woman before you. She seems to love when you dip your tongue inside her and drag it up around her clit. Or, you assume she loves it by the way her hand fists in your hair. Her hips press up as she pushes you down, and you are happy to oblige.

Pretty, throaty moans fall from Mary's lips. You're so enraptured by the way she looks—like an angel falling from heaven—that Elias’ hand smoothing up your thigh startles you.

“Don't mind me, mama.” Elias chuckles. “Focus on Miss Mary.” His voice is so low it's almost a growl in his chest. It's difficult to do what he says, especially when he's lifting your hips up and sliding thick fingers over your slit. You're so wet that it's an easy glide, and before long he's slipping one inside you. The moan you press into Mary's cunt with your tongue is impossible to stop, and she pushes back against your face.

“Oh you're just perfect,” Mary's praise makes you redouble your efforts. You suck light kisses over her clit until she's whining, lick and lap until she's cursing and praising in the same breath. Her back arches off the chaise and you know she's about to come a half second before it happens. You press an eager finger against her entrance, curling as her muscles tense and pulse around it. She tosses her head back and her eyes pinch shut, an open-mouthed smile on her face as she intakes great lungfuls of air before she breaths each one out in a moan.

Elias pats you on the ass, those fingers still teasing not quite where you want them. You try to press back and he removes his hand. A whine of complaint bubbles in your chest, and he gives your ass a harder slap. “Nuh-uh. None of that.”

“She's just excited, Elias.” Mary's voice is floaty and dreamlike, eyes half-lidded and pleased. She reaches for him, running her hand up his arm when he comes near. “Why don't you give her what she wants?”

“Yes ma'am,” Elias replies with a grin. Mary brings you up from your stomach to lay back against her. She's kissing little marks onto your neck, breathing in the smell of you. The gentle slope of her nose drags along where your pulse jumps in your throat. For a moment, it sounds like she growls. You're distracted by her hands as they find the zipper at the front of your top and slide it down to reveal your chest.

Each delicate touch bares you more to Elias where he stands before you both. He's watching with hungry eyes that catch gold in the light, and his pink tongue runs over the metal fangs he wears. Mary encourages you to draw up your legs with featherlight touches to your thighs while you rest your head on her shoulder.

This gives you a perfect view of Elias as he shoves his jeans far enough down his hips that he can push his underwear down with them. You're a little intimidated when he joins you and Mary on the chaise. Elias looks at you like a predator, moves like one too. Mary is quick to murmur encouragement in your ear, as if she sensed your speeding pulse.

You remind yourself they're just people. However ethereal they might be, they're just people.

“You been real good to us, baby. Let us be

good to you.” Elias is murmuring, ducking down to give you a kiss. “We won't bite unless you ask.” His hand is gentle, smoothing down your hip and over your thighs. The touch is teasing, and you settle back against Mary. Her legs are a comforting frame for your body to lean on any fears eased by the praise she whispers with every breath.

When Elias finally lines himself up, he leans over and spits on his cock before smearing the makeshift lubrication over the head. It feels a little dirty, but dirty in the way that makes your head feel light from all the blood rushing to your cunt. That coupled with the feeling of Elias’ dick as he finally presses it inside you nearly makes you dizzy.

You've had two orgasms and are probably the most turned on you've ever been in your life, so he's to the hilt inside you before you can exhale without a scrap of resistance. As you finally remember to release the air trapped in your lungs, Elias is sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. It hisses like a kettle and his eyes close in focus. Mary's reaching her hand to stroke his cheek while she tells you both how good you look.

Her canines drag on your neck and goosebumps prickle down your spine. They feel so sharp as they pause over your pulse and dig a little deeper than normal. You almost say something, but Elias grabs your face to make you look at him and starts to move his hips and you forget the English language for a minute.

He's holding the eye contact so intensely that closing your eyes and letting your head fall back seems like the only option. The way he rolls his hips into you presses you back against Mary, and she wastes no time finding your clit again with deft fingers. The pleasure jolts through you, and Elias growls as you tighten around him.

“Oh he liked that. Let's see if you can do it again.” Mary's fingers set the same pace she had in the club. Gentle but quick, finding exactly how you like your body touched and doing it until your breath comes in little pants. You’re breathing heavy and frantic and she's still kissing at your pulse. Elias is cursing every time you body tenses around him but doesn't stop moving once. His hips keep rolling deeper into you and you think it feels so good that it might kill you.

“You're doing so well,” Mary whispers as she nips at your earlobe. “I just wanna keep you.” You feel her head turn, but your head is still in the crook of her shoulder. She's probably watching Elias, or you, or how he's fucking you stupid “Would you like that? We can do this forever.”

You nod, but Elias answers too with a sound of agreement. Mary smiles against your skin, and her fingers speed up just enough to short-circuit any thoughts that were running around in your head.

“You gonna show Elias the pretty face you make when you come?” Mary asks. “Want him to finish inside you? Want to really be ours?” The delirium her hand is currently spinning in your head stops for a single panicked moment as you realize none of you spoke a word about protection, but in the next breath your muscles freeze and release hits you like a truck.

It's the third orgasm in maybe an hour and a half and leaves you overstimulated. Everything is floating and fuzzy and Elias is leaning forward with a grunt as his hips stop, shuddering close to release before—

Pain slices through the pleasure like a hot knife. Where Mary had been kissing you moments prior is now alive with heat and scorching pain. Your eyes snap open and are greeted by the blood pulsing in time with your feverish heartbeat. Mary's attached to you by the throat, sucking and biting at the mauled skin. Your mouth opens to scream, but Elias presses his palm to your lips.

“Naw baby, none of that. It'll be over quick. Promise.” His voice does nothing to soothe you, but your screams of pain become whimpers as cold starts to creep into your skin. Elias takes your arm, kissing over the vein at the underside of your wrist. This time, you're forced to watch as those gold fangs cut into the skin there and blood pools around his lips. The pain is blinding. Your vision flickers at the edges as you cry out.

“Shh, we're bein’ real nice.” Mary has pulled away from your neck and leaves a sticky print where she kisses your cheek. “Nicer than the man who made us was.”

“You'll wake up and we can do this forever. Just like I said.” Mary's promise makes no sense, a false comfort spoken to the girl stupid enough to go home with two strangers. Another missing poster at the community center. You want to fight, but the world is fading fast. You're fading fast.

“Sleep tight.” Elias says, kissing at the place he rent open on your wrist. “We'll see you real soon.”

It's those words that accompany you as you slip into the dark, a sea of cold you can't seem to escape. An endless eternity.

Then your eyes open. You don't breathe, but the ache in your chest doesn't come. Your body has been cleaned, swaddled in blankets and left in a bed far bigger than your own. The room is dark, protected by the heavy curtains that cover every window. A TV drones somewhere in the background.

“Good mornin’ sunshine!” A woman's voice.

That startles you and panic drops into your gut when you see Mary and Elias sharing an armchair. He has a book in hand, and she's perched on the armrest fiddling with a remote. Both of them still have blood painting their mouths and chest. Your blood, you realize.

“Welcome to forever, baby.”

#sinners #sinners 2025 #elias moore #elias stack moore #stack x reader x mary #stack x mary #stack x reader #mary sinners #x reader

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ihaznoclue · 2 days ago

Note

Hi there! I hope that you’re having a wonderful day and I hope you don’t mind me asking and wondering if you can do a Breadhead x fem reader who’s secretly a human/fallen angel who bleeds black blood and is keeping their identity a secret from Breadhead & The Smiling Dead for their own safety while disguising themselves as a rotling.

As while the reader clearly loves Breadhead, they don’t trust him to know the truth about their actual identity, so imagine the reader getting injured in front of Breadhead and just as Breadhead is checking out their wounds, his hand spots a couple of splatters of black blood and the reader is terrified upon Breadhead realizing the truth.

You can make this fluff to angst or angst to fluff or whatever, I don’t mind! Also my apologies if this is too detailed as well. I also don’t mind if you can do headcanons or a one shot about it as well.

Also I love your writing it’s so amazingly good!

Pairings -> Breadhead x Female Reader

Warnings -> Betrayal, Lying, Keeping secrets, Emotional?

Note -> Reader has kept a secret of being a fallen angel who bleeds black blood like Mel, keeping this as a secret from the smiling dead and breadhead for safety while disguising them as a rotling

Genre -> Angst to Fluff (I like to think that Breadhead wouldn't really care but is a little bit scared but he deserves a happy ending with you)

A/N - This request is perfect for me! Thank you and I don't mind how detailed the requests are going to be unless I know what I'm doing and this request was what I was thinking of writing about this with Breadhead or Ken

BREADHEAD

The alleys are dark and ominous with the smell of death and oil and dust mixed with fog, and something worse

The green neon lights from the streetlights flickering near by in the alley way, but somewhere in the alley, a pipe busted making you scream in fright

You were trying to move forward, one hand braced on the wall to guide you on your way back to somewhere you wouldn't be seen from anyone

Your other hand clutching onto your wound on your side, your rotlings disguise was now gone, half of your face was smeared slightly off your face

You had taken a rather big hit for Breadhead back there and you didn't know why though, knowing that he can easily heal back to full heal and not die but you on the other hand.. can't

One slip up and you will die and reveal your true identity

But right now you were trying to get away from all the chaos and madness before you were seen by any of the smiling dead, you knew that if Breadhead was going to figure out about this

He was sure to be mad at you for the rest of his life

You didn't know what the others reactions will be but you fully knew Mud or Ken would be the angered ones of the group once they know

In the distance you heard your name being called out, and you recognised that voice which caused you to have a shiver down your spine, you knew it was Breadhead by the sweet sound of his worried voice

But right now was such a bad timing on your part, you were so focused on your wound and your wings from coming out, you didn't even realised you didn't move that far from the crime

"Birdie! Where did you go?"

Quickly you tried to cover up as much as possible but that was not until Breadhead eventually found you in the dark alley way

"Pretty Bird?"

You froze as you realised you have been caught, turning your face only to look at him but all he saw was your bright white eyes and your wicked smile trying to play cool

"Oh Breadhead you found me" You then nervously chuckled

That was until he took a step forward but jumped at the sound of your voice

"No! Don't come any closer, I don't want you to see me right now.."

"But I wanna check on you to see if your okay now" He asked, stepping more and more closer which to you begin to sweat a little

"But I'm fine, I guess I should've not got in the way, maybe that you can go back to the others and I can come later after I finish doing something" You tried to lie about that you were fine

But you weren't but you didn't want to make things worse and make him see of what you truly are

"Let me see" You could feel the ghost feeling of his large hand coming closer to you as you scooted back then gave out a hiss of the movement causing your wound to bleed a little bit more

"No.." The words came out fast, your blood was black, which was already soaking more and more through your bandages that disguised you as a rotling

But Breadhead didn't listen as he wanted to check up on you which was a sweet thing for him to o do but it the worse thing possible for him to do

Breadhead crouched down near you which made you realise that you were about to be found

Then you felt his hands on you with such care and gentleness that made you think he didn't care about this

Then you heard it.. a little cuss

"What the fuck..?" He gave out a little whispered once he was upon your wound

Black blood sticking to your bandages and to your skin that he could easily see that it was white, like a human

This made you froze, your breath was caught in your throat as it was hard to swallow, your eyes slightly darted to his.. wide, glowing red and horrified eyes

His hand slightly began to tremble near your skin, this made you scoot back a bit more to get away from him

"I'm sorry.. please don't tell the others.."

His eyes snapped back to yours, his bright red eyes glowing in the dark of the alley making you slightly shiver at the sight

"You lied to me.." He said, like he couldn't quite understand why you lied to him this whole time of being a fallen angel

"You're not even a rotling.. you're a fallen angel.."

You just wanted to disappear right then and there

"I was once an angel.. I fell.. they tried to rip my wings out but I bailed, so I hid down here hoping they would never find me, disguising myself as one of the rotlings down here"

"So you're one of them.." His voice cracked, hitting you hard in the chest 'one of them..'

"You've been lying to me this whole time"

"For mine and your safety Breadhead, I wouldn't want you to find out but.. If the others find out they will cement me like what they did to the others and I tried to keep it a secret from and I'm sorry.." You confessed

Tears started to form in your eyes as you didn't know what to do or say anymore

A long silence followed the air in between you two, Breadhead stared at your blood and your black wings that were displayed now, but then you saw his expression shifting.. from scared to something softer, more heavier

Sadness then... he reached out to you with his large hand being careful to not hurt you more than you were already

"Angel.." He stated "I can keep it a secret from the others If you like"

You blinked up at him a few times "Wait.. what?"

"I should be feeling something else but I can't be scared or mad at you Pretty Bird" Breadhead said

"I was just trying to protect you.."

"But what if I wanted the truth.."

"But I was afraid that you were not going to like me anymore and think of me as a monster.." You spoke up as you looked down

Breadhead tilted his head then lifted your head up "Pretty bird, you need patching up.. can't heal like me"

"Please don't tell the others... don't know what they will do"

"I won't.. but promise me one thing to never keep a secret from me again okay birdie?" Bread head then took off his leather brown jacket and covered you and then picked you up and started to carry you

"Promise.."

"Pretty bird needs rest, I'll get you somewhere safe and will patch you up, either way I think you're beautiful rotling or not"

"Thank you Breadhead.. for helping me"

GOD DAMN I did a a lot

-A<3

#the gaslight district x reader #gaslight district x reader #the gaslight district #gaslight district #tgd #tgld #tgd x reader #tgld x reader #tgld breadhead #breadhead x reader #gaslight district breadhead #tgd breadhead #breadhead

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nhmkhnh · 2 days ago

Text

consume.

pairings: vi x fem!reader

preface: the love vi had for you never truly left, but the pain of losing you lingered in the corners of her soul, haunting her every step.

author's note: alright i broke my own promise not to post angst here, heh.

wrn: lowercase, angsty with a happy ending.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

♫ consume - chase alantic [slowed].

"can't feel nothing"

it’s 2am. the kind of hour where even zaun goes quiet. vi’s sitting on the floor of her apartment, back against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. she hasn’t touched the light switch in hours. just the dim glow of the neon outside seeping through the cracked blinds. her gauntlets lie discarded at the door, like even they gave up on her.

there’s a bottle in her hand. something strong. strong enough to burn, but not enough to make her forget.

not enough to forget you.

vi drags in a breath, then lets it go slow, like she’s trying not to fall apart on the exhale. she stares at the ceiling, jaw tight. her voice is hoarse when she says it aloud, like it matters. like you can still hear her.

“you really left, huh.”

you did. days ago. and she didn’t stop you.

she should’ve run after you. should’ve begged. screamed. something. but all she did was clench her fists and watch your silhouette disappear into the smog. all she did was swallow the pain like it didn’t gut her. she thought she could take it. tank it. that you’d come back. that you'd miss her too much to stay away.

but you didn’t. not even a message. not even a look back.

her phone’s still beside her on the floor, screen cracked from being thrown against the wall the night you left. the picture’s still set to you. a moment from some forgotten summer — you laughing in the sunlight, hair tangled in the wind, looking at her like she was worth something.

vi can’t look at it for more than a second.

the worst part isn’t the silence.

it’s that the silence is starting to feel normal.

that the absence of your voice in her kitchen, your laugh echoing off her walls, your soft goodnights and messy handwriting on sticky notes — all of it — is becoming something she’s getting used to.

and she hates it. hates that she’s learning how to function without you. hates that she can walk to work and buy groceries and breathe without you, even if every second of it feels wrong. feels empty.

she tips the bottle back again. it doesn’t help.

you once told her she was addicted to the idea of destruction — always fighting, always pushing, always ready to burn something down before it could hurt her.

you were right. she burned you down.

and now there’s nothing left but ash in her throat and your name in the ruins.

“i don't feel alive”

the first time vi goes back to the club where you met, it’s by accident.

she didn’t mean to walk in. just wanted a drink. somewhere loud. somewhere dark. somewhere no one would ask how she’s doing because they already know the answer. and she’s tired of people looking at her with pity like she’s not the one who did the leaving, even if you were the one who walked away.

but the second she steps in, the bass hits her chest and so does the memory.

you — spinning in the strobe lights, smiling at her like you’d seen straight through the hard shell she wore and liked what was underneath. you, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the crowd like she belonged there, with you. you, yelling your name into her ear, laughing at something she said, kissing her with sticky lip gloss and soft urgency and hope.

vi shuts her eyes, but that only makes it worse. now she can hear your laugh in the chorus. smell your perfume in the air. taste the memory of that night on her tongue like cheap whiskey and regret.

she downs her drink in one go.

two more and she’s not thinking anymore. she’s acting. moving. drowning.

there’s someone dancing too close — hands where they shouldn’t be. but she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t pull away. lets them touch her. lets them lean in and whisper, “you’re gorgeous,” like that’s all it takes to get under her skin.

it used to be. before you.

she kisses them in the back hallway. it’s sloppy. meaningless. a mess of heat and nothingness. they moan against her mouth, and for a second — just one brutal, godless second — she lets herself pretend.

pretend it’s you.

but the taste is wrong. the shape of their mouth is wrong. their hands are too cold. their voice is too high. and when she opens her eyes, she sees your ghost looking back at her, devastated.

she pushes them away. hard. mumbles an apology that barely makes it past her dry throat and stumbles out into the night like she’s being chased.

the alley’s empty. her head’s spinning. her chest is a vacuum.

vi slides down the brick wall and just sits. her hands are shaking. her jaw clenches, unclenches. there’s something thick in her throat and she doesn’t know if it’s rage or grief or the scream she’s been swallowing for days.

maybe all three.

“what the fuck did i just do?”

she knows the answer.

she was trying to fill the space you left.

but nothing fits. no one feels like you.

and the more she tries to replace you, the less human she feels.

like she’s just a shell of the girl you once held in your arms, desperately trying to convince herself she’s still worthy of being touched.

but the truth is brutal.

she doesn’t feel alive anymore.

not without you.

“mornings without you”

the worst part of the day used to be the fights. now, it’s the mornings.

the sun rises like it always does, stupid and golden and soft — like it’s trying to be gentle. like it doesn’t know. like it doesn’t remember the way your silhouette used to fill that side of the bed, tangled in sheets and dreams and vi’s arms.

now it’s just cold. the pillow still dipped where your head used to rest. still smells like you sometimes, if she doesn’t wash the covers too often. she tells herself that’s why she hasn’t done laundry. not because she’s clinging. not because she misses you. not because she lays awake at night, fingers brushing the air where you used to be.

she gets up like she’s on autopilot. same routine. same silence. same ache.

brushes her teeth, but doesn’t look in the mirror. she hasn’t in days. doesn’t want to see the dark circles or the way her eyes look like they belong to someone else — someone older. someone who let the best thing that ever happened to her walk away.

there’s a mug you left behind. pale blue, chipped at the rim. you used to say it was your favorite because it felt like “home.” vi pours coffee into it like she always did for you. sets it across from her at the kitchen table out of habit.

and then just… stares at it.

like it might warm itself in your hands again.

like you might stumble in half-asleep, wearing her shirt, grumbling about the draft and asking why she’s up so early when it’s a sunday. like it’s not all gone. like it’s not her fault.

she reaches for her phone. checks it.

nothing.

no message. no missed call. no sign that you’re thinking about her the way she’s thinking about you.

she could send something. just one line. just your name.

but what would she say? "i’m sorry?" too late. "i miss you?" you already know. "come home?" it’s not your home anymore.

the phone shakes in her hand. she almost types it anyway.

but instead, she locks the screen. face blank. breathing shallow.

she finishes her coffee in silence.

when she leaves the apartment, she turns off the lights, locks the door, and pretends she’s not carrying you in every step she takes.

because the world doesn’t stop just because she did.

and mornings come whether she wants them to or not.

“your ghost lives here”

zaun isn’t that big. not really. not when you’re trying to outrun memories.

vi keeps her head down, hoodie up. she tells herself she’s just passing through. that she’s not looking for anything. not retracing steps. not hoping she’ll see a flash of you in the crowd.

but her feet know better. they always lead her back to you.

that little café under the rusted staircase — the one where you dragged her inside during a thunderstorm and made her try “real tea” like a piltover girl. that alley where you once kissed her against the bricks, giggling into her mouth because you’d just stolen a bottle of wine and she was drunk on you. that busted neon sign where she made you promise you weren’t going anywhere.

lie after lie after lie.

she walks faster. doesn’t help. the city’s a mausoleum now. and everywhere she turns, your ghost’s waiting.

there’s a busker playing something soft on a broken synth and it sounds just like that song you used to hum when you were washing dishes. vi freezes. just for a second.

then keeps walking. jaw clenched so hard it hurts.

she sees a girl across the street with your hair. same walk. same way of holding her phone in both hands like it’s the most fragile thing in the world.

vi nearly calls out your name.

stops herself just in time.

it’s not you. of course it’s not.

you’re not here. you don’t haunt this place the way she does.

she ducks into a shadowed corner and leans against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her lungs hurt. or maybe that’s her heart. she can’t tell anymore.

people pass by. life goes on. like she didn’t lose everything right here, on this pavement.

she hates this city. hates that it remembers you even if you’ve forgotten her.

but she can’t leave. because what if you come back?

what if one day you miss her enough to find your way home?

she knows it’s pathetic. that you’re probably fine. probably laughing. living. maybe even in someone else’s arms by now. someone who knows how to love you the right way. someone who didn’t fuck it all up.

vi digs her nails into her palms, hard enough to leave marks.

because all she has left is the echo of you in her ribcage and the sound of her own breathing in the dark.

you’re gone.

but your ghost?

your ghost never left.

“i didn't mean to let you go”

vi never planned to call.

she knew better.

but the ache gets loud sometimes. especially around 2 a.m., when the city’s quiet and she can hear herself think — and thinking is the last thing she wants to do.

she scrolls to your name without meaning to. it's still pinned. still got that stupid little heart emoji you put there when you stole her phone and said, “now you’ll never miss me.”

joke’s on her. she misses you every second.

she doesn’t hit call. not at first. just stares. thumb hovering. waiting for common sense to kick in.

it doesn’t.

the line rings once. twice. then voicemail.

your voice fills her ear. too bright. too soft. too gone.

“hi, you’ve reached—” she closes her eyes. bites her lip. waits for the beep.

then starts talking.

“hey. i’m not— i wasn’t gonna do this. i just…”

silence. deep breath.

“i saw someone today. they smiled like you. hurt like hell. thought you should know.”

another beat. her voice drops, rough around the edges.

“i miss you. i mean… fuck, of course i do. that’s not news. i just— i keep trying to be okay, you know? i’m doing the things. gym. work. sleeping, kind of. smiling when people ask. but none of it works.”

her laugh is broken glass.

“i keep expecting you to walk in. to say you were just pissed. that you didn’t mean it. that we’re still us.” “but you’re not here. and i don’t think you’re coming back.”

the silence stretches. she swallows hard.

“i didn’t mean to let you go. i thought… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. not dragging you down. i didn’t realize that space meant ‘forever.’” “if you hear this — don’t call me. not if it’s just to say you’re doing fine. i don’t think i could take that. i just wanted you to know…”

her breath catches. there’s that raw edge now. the part of her voice that’s all fight or fall.

“i loved you more than i’ve ever loved anything. and i’m sorry i didn’t say it loud enough when i had the chance.”

click.

she doesn’t save the message. doesn’t send it.

just stares at the screen, tears drying on her cheeks, wondering if the universe will somehow deliver the words without her help.

it doesn’t.

you’ll never hear it.

and she’ll never stop wishing you would.

“you promised”

she throws the picture frame before she even knows what she’s doing.

it shatters against the wall. glass, splinters, the sound of something breaking that isn’t her heart for once.

but it doesn’t make her feel better.

nothing does.

she’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal. like if she moves fast enough, she can outrun what’s gnawing at her chest.

your fucking perfume still clings to her hoodie. she smells it when she breathes too deep and it burns.

she rips it off. throws it too. it lands in the corner next to the box of your stuff she’s never managed to throw out. she kicks it. the lid pops open. one of your notebooks spills out, pages creased and smudged with your stupid little hearts in the margins.

she wants to set the whole thing on fire.

but instead, she sinks to the floor, head in her hands, fists clenched so hard her knuckles go white.

“you promised,” she whispers.

then louder. again. and again.

“you promised.”

she punches the floor. once. twice. the pain shoots up her arm but she doesn’t care.

“you said you weren’t going anywhere. you looked me in the eyes and said that. you fucking liar.”

she’s not crying — not exactly. it’s worse than that. her face is dry but her voice is soaked in it. like she’s choking on everything she never got to say. everything you didn’t stay long enough to hear.

“what was it all for, huh? all that shit we went through? i fought for us. i bled for us. i would’ve taken a bullet for you and you just… left.”

the silence after is deafening. like the walls are listening. like the city is holding its breath.

she crawls over to the photo on the floor. picks it up.

it’s cracked now. your smile split right down the middle.

she stares at it, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“you ruined me,” she says, quiet now. “and i’d still take you back.”

that’s the part that breaks her. the truth of it. the raw, pathetic, real truth.

you could knock on the door right now and she’d forget every scream, every sob, every shattered piece of herself — if it meant she could hold you again.

but you won’t.

you’re not coming back.

and she’s the one who has to live with that.

“sits where you used to smile”

it’s just a bench.

cracked paint. rusted arms. a view of the old canal that doesn’t sparkle like it used to.

but it was your favorite.

vi remembers the first time you brought her here. said you liked how quiet it was. how the city felt far away, even though it wasn’t. you told her this was where you came to breathe.

she didn’t get it then.

she does now.

she’s been sitting here for hours. no music. no distractions. just the sound of the wind brushing the water and the ghosts in her chest.

you used to bring sunflower seeds in your pocket. make her guess the flavor with your eyes closed. you’d talk about the dumbest shit — cloud shapes, book endings, what you’d name your dog if you ever got one.

vi never cared about any of it. not until she lost you. now she’d sell her soul to hear you ramble about dog names again.

she sits where you used to smile. same angle. same slouch. same spot you leaned against when you kissed her like she was something soft.

now she just sits there alone.

she presses a hand against the worn wood beside her, where your leg used to be. where your warmth once bled into hers.

it's cold.

vi closes her eyes.

she imagines you sitting next to her. turning your face to the sun. nudging her knee with yours.

she imagines leaning her head on your shoulder and you letting her. imagine you saying, “i missed you.”

she imagines it so hard her throat aches with it.

but when she opens her eyes, it’s just her again. her and a dying sky and a city that doesn’t care she’s breaking.

she doesn’t cry. not this time.

just sits. still. quiet.

maybe if she stays long enough, the wind will carry your voice back to her.

maybe if she breathes slow enough, she’ll remember what your laugh sounded like.

maybe this bench can love her like you used to.

“in my dreams, you still love me”

vi’s not a heavy sleeper these days.

too many nights tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, heart pounding, brain chasing things that aren’t there anymore.

but tonight?

tonight you’re there.

you’re there.

she doesn’t remember how it starts — just that she’s suddenly holding your hand. you’re laughing. god, your laugh. she forgot how it sounded in real life. but here, it’s perfect. you’re wearing that hoodie she liked to steal from her, the one way too big, sleeves past your hands. you're looking at her like you never stopped.

like you never left.

“told you i’d come back,” you whisper.

vi’s whole body shudders.

she cups your face like it’s glass, thumbs sweeping under your eyes like she’s memorizing you. she’s crying — she knows that — but she doesn’t care. she pulls you in, breath hitching.

“please don’t go,” she begs.

you smile at her. so soft. so damn gentle.

“i never left.”

you kiss her.

and it’s everything she remembers and more.

warmth. safety. that ache in her chest that only ever quieted when your hands were on her.

she buries herself in you. holds you like the world’s about to end.

because somewhere, deep in her, she knows it’s not real.

and sure enough—

her eyes snap open.

dark room. cold sheets. empty bed.

her chest caves in.

she sits up fast, hand on her mouth like she can shove the sobs back in before they start.

“fuck—”

it all crashes down. the dream. the feel of your lips. the sound of your voice.

gone.

it was all gone.

she folds in half, forehead to knees, shaking so hard the mattress creaks beneath her.

it felt so real. you felt so real.

and now?

now there’s nothing but the aftertaste of a kiss she never got to keep.

she lies back down eventually. stares at the ceiling.

doesn’t sleep.

doesn’t try.

because what if she dreams of you again?

and this time, forgets to wake up?

“the sun was out when she saw you again��

it’s a good day.

sun’s out. streets are warm. vi’s got a coffee in one hand and her hoodie sleeves pushed up, letting the light kiss skin that’s gone cold for months.

she’s almost smiling.

almost.

then she sees you.

at first, her brain doesn’t register it. just a flash of familiar movement, a laugh like windchimes. the kind of sound that used to turn her head.

and it still does.

she stops walking.

because it’s you.

standing across the street. hair shining in the sun. that same smile she used to see first thing in the morning. you're talking to someone. laughing like your ribs don't still live in her hands.

vi's lungs forget how to work.

you don’t see her.

thank the stars, you don’t see her.

she stares.

takes a step back, coffee sloshing, heart slamming so loud it drowns out the city.

you look good. too good. better than you ever did at the end. peace looks good on you. like healing fits you just fine. like you moved on and didn’t need to take her with you.

vi’s frozen on the sidewalk.

wants to run to you. wants to scream. wants to disappear.

but she just stands there, swallowing broken glass, watching the girl she loved walk forward into a life that doesn't have her in it anymore.

you toss your head back when you laugh. the sun hits your skin. you’re glowing.

and it kills her.

because she used to be the reason for that glow.

now she’s just another shadow watching from across the street.

she doesn’t follow you. she’s not that selfish. not anymore.

but as you vanish into the crowd, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and forces her feet to move.

the coffee’s cold now. she doesn’t care.

the sun’s still shining, bright and warm and cruel.

and vi walks home in silence, trying not to wonder who gets to kiss you goodnight now.

“you came back on a tuesday”

it was a tuesday.

not a special day. not an anniversary. just… a tuesday.

vi was fixing the goddamn window hinge. her knuckles scraped. hoodie sleeves rolled up. sweat at her temples.

the knock on her door wasn’t even loud. just two soft taps. like whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure they had the right place.

she wiped her hands on her thigh and swung the door open, annoyed.

and then —

silence.

time did that thing it always did around you.

stopped.

you were standing there. same eyes. same mouth. same weight in your stare that said, i shouldn’t be here but i am.

vi didn’t speak. couldn’t.

you looked nervous. your fingers were clenched in the sleeves of your sweater — hers. the one she gave you and thought you’d thrown away.

you didn’t smile. that hurt the most.

instead, you whispered:

“can i come in?”

vi stepped aside like her body moved before her brain did.

you walked in like a ghost. like if you looked too hard, you’d vanish.

vi shut the door. turned around. looked at you like you were the last page of a book she never got to finish.

“why are you here?” her voice broke at the end. just enough for you to hear.

you swallowed. stared at the scuffed floor like it had answers.

“i tried,” you said. “i tried to forget you. i tried to move on. i even went on dates, vi.” you laughed. bitter. cracked. “but nothing ever felt like you. not even close.”

her heart thudded once. then again.

you finally looked up at her.

“i missed you every day.”

vi didn’t cry. not yet. but something in her face cracked — like the part of her that had been bricked up just split open.

“you left.”

you nodded. “i know.”

“you didn’t say goodbye.”

your lip trembled. “i know.”

silence.

then:

“but i’m here now.”

and that’s when vi moved. fast. desperate. she crossed the room and pulled you in so tight your breath hitched.

she buried her face in your neck like it was still hers to kiss. her hands shook against your back.

“don’t leave again,” she rasped. “don’t you fucking leave me again.”

you whispered into her skin:

“i won’t.”

and she kissed you like you were air after drowning.

you stayed the night.

not in her bed — not yet. but on the couch. curled into her side. holding hands like they were anchors.

and for the first time in months, vi fell asleep to the sound of your breathing.

and it didn’t hurt.

alright and about the requests, i already received all of them! don't worry, i will write as soon as the inspiration hits!

#vi x reader #violet x reader #vi arcane #arcane

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averagecygnet-blog · 1 day ago

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look i knowww that narratively gregor is supposed to stay in the overland but hear me out. hear me out

there's a law in regalia that says the reigning monarch must marry by age 21. if they haven't chosen a suitor by this age there's a whole Ceremony where suitors, typically from the regalian nobility, present themselves as competitors for the monarch's hand and it's a whole thing

gregor does not know about any of this. he's in nyc working some random job he doesnt care about, writing back and forth to luxa who he hasnt seen in person since the events of code of claw. she's always dropping hints in her letters that he should visit the underland, and he's always dropping hints in his that she should visit the overland, and neither of them acknowledge this

one night gregor is on his way home when ripred shows up in a dark alley (scaring the shit out of him and making fun of him about it). he tells gregor that suitors for the queen's hand are going to formally present their intentions in like 3 days. gregor is like . oh ok cool thats cool im happy for her (so fucking sad) (also hurt that she didn't tell him). ripred's like overlander you stupid bitch you have to go vie for her hand. gregor's like look ripred i cant do that i don't belong down there and ripred's like oh yeah bc you've got soooo much going on for you up here (that one stings) (ripred's a dick man) and gregor's like fuck you ripred, and fuck luxa too, if she wanted me to . declare my intentions for her hand or whatever then she shouldve told me about all this herself and ripred's all SHE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU YOU ASSHOLE, she's always saying you should visit and you DON'T, that's on YOU,

they fight and ripred's like fine just throw away the love of a literal queen who wants to marry you you stupid motherfucker. and leaves. and gregor tells himself that's that. except he can't stop thinking about it. at tf all.

and of course when it comes time for luxa's suitors to declare themselves there's some part of her, a part she's trying to stamp down as being stupid and childish, that's waiting for him. and just when she thinks he's not coming he bursts in all out of breath and all the regalians gasp and luxa's mad at him for taking so long

and then maybe the suitors have to compete in challenges for her hand or something idk i think itd be fun

#gregor the overlander #the underland chronicles #queen luxa #gregor/luxa #ripred the rat #ripred the gnawer #fic idea #suzanne collins

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lullabyalikpoptarot · 2 days ago

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Stray Kids Shadow/Moral Compass Reading

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged. This is my interpretation of the cards and energy I work with.

Not sure what I can get here but going to pull a bunch of cards to see if I can get a full picture of where their moral compass stands and how shadow like they are. Hopefully it is nothing too creepy. So, here I go, let's dig in and see if I can get anything here.

I can't control what I tap into to, so I may get nothing, or some creepy stuff. Some of these idols may not operate too much in their shadow side. This could also be their potential, but don't necessarily operate in it in the physical. I am reading energy, but they can also be as shady as I mention below. At the end of the day. I am just sharing my interpretation here.

Also, we all have a shadow and dark side and, in this industry, higher ups like to play with idols/celebrities moral compass. It is how I feel it works, if you want fame and money it comes with a price, so it is understandable if some showcase strong shadow sides. I am not here to look down on them. Just to see how they operate in this industry. Remember, we are not in their position, and we could very well operate this way if we were. People with money and power do things differently and have different set of rules. I am just here to see where they stand and understand where they come from. I am not here to villainize them.

I am actually really excited to do them, as I haven't dived into this group as much as my faves that I have done, so going to new territory here. There are some members I feel work more on their shadow side and some I see more lighter, so let's see if I get the same vibe here. Also, this group isn't as open with me, so not sure how deep I can get with them, but let's see.

Bang Chan

Looking at the first card I got, the 7 of Swords. I felt this would be bad, but looking at the full spread. He isn't really giving me dark energy that much. I do see sexual favors could have happened with him. I see him wanting to seek some sort of revenge, or speak up more.

I see him wanting to communicate the messed up things they do in the industry. I see him wanting them to focus more on their skill and he could want to be independent and make money on his own, but I doubt he could do that. I see him wanting to spread information about these parties or drinks they have them take. Not sure why that came up here. But it seems he may want to express himself about the dirty deeds they may do behind the scenes.

Is he not able to communicate as much anymore. I know he used to, but don't follow up on him enough, but there is this urgency for him to communicate more about, maybe his life, or things in general. There is this strong desire to connect to others. I see him being very lonely or just feeling very isolated, like he is closed in and can't really do much. And I do see this strong tendency to want to take care of others. He can be a bit overbearing and coddling towards others to the point he can be smothering.

There is this sense that he thinks he knows more than he does. It is like he may feel he has knowledge to expose people, not sure it is the members or the industry, the higher ups, but he seems not to know everything he thinks he does. I see him wanting to empower himself and maybe seeking revenge will do that. I see him being an idealist, could have a vivid imagination, and can be prone to pity himself a lot or play victim. He can be impulsive and start sh** when he feels like it. But he also has this energy of needing to lead things and taking charge of things. He can have this bossy and overbearing energy as well.

I am not seeing that bad of an energy for him, so let's see what I get from my keyword deck here. Yeah, nothing crazy with him I am seeing and his energy is pretty light, which is what I expected from him. He seems heavily focused on his work and creativity. I see him as someone who really feels conversing with others is important, so if he isn't able to do that it can be very isolated for him and he may struggle to deal with not being able to share his opinions and thoughts on things.

I see him appreciating the things he has and maybe likes being appreciated as well from others. Probably mostly from fans. I see New Love in reversed, this gives me he may be blocking a potential relationship. It seems whatever struggles he may have he is able to bare it all and endure it. He may prefer to hang out with friends and talk over drinks to deal with it. I also see him as someone who tends to others before himself, so his needs may not be a priority for him.

His energy seems light. I don't see many problems with him that much from what he is showing me. I will continue on.

Lee Know

I am not sure who this King and Queen of Pentacles are, next to the ten of cups. It could be his parents, or maybe he sees two businesspeople in his life as family, or maybe he wants to run an empire with someone someday. He seems heavily focused on money. He could do anything to get that. If that is his parents he learned early on money is very important. I see him as someone very opinionated and someone who can be hard to break through or someone who doesn't listen well, and may feel his opinion is right. He can be stubborn and hard to argue with.

I see him being very sensitive. He seems to have a lot of emotions. The emotions can sometimes be overwhelming for him. I can see him dealing with depression and having lots of thoughts over things, over analyzing and thinking things through over and over again.

I will say this man is very money driven that is what he mostly cares about. Basically, he will do what he is told and do what he can to make more money. I don't see him listening to his intuition all that much. Also, I sense he can give information to people for money, whatever that is I don't know.

I see him having a very doom and gloom mindset, which could be why he gets depressed and down. I don't see him having much hope about things and can see the world as sh**hole. I see him feeling isolated and alone. I see him feeling caged and that he isn't able to do the things he wants. There is a lack of freedom he does feel he has.

I see him getting numb and old to things. Although, I see cards that he can be sensitive. It seems he shuts that off to not feel too much and closes himself off and numbs his pain. But he can be a bit cold and detached at the moment. And just numb to everything that pertains to the industry. I am not sure he drinks or takes drugs to do that.

He did get the House 8 card, which is related to Scorpio energy. This underground stuff, stuff happening in the dark, this can do with sex, contracts, secrets, so he may be privy and may partake in the shady stuff they may do behind the scenes. Even with that he sees the potential this all can bring to his career. I do see him feeling unsupported by others, neglected. I think he learned early on that he would need to defend and depend on himself.

He gave me a bit more than I needed, but I'll take them all. I did get Work in the Dark, so yeah, he does tend to work more into his shadow side and operate in it, so whatever hidden things they do from the public he seems involved in it. He could do things to cheat the system to get ahead. He struggles to open his heart to others and be vulnerable, so seeing that detached energy again.

He gives me someone who likes the thrill of a challenge and he may like to start fights with people to get that excitement. I do get a sense he isn't able to take charge of his life like he wants to and that other people seem to have dominion over him, so he may not like that, but will deal with it to get what he wants. It is like whatever he has to do to get ahead he will. I just heard, I will just suck up to these clowns. I don't know but that makes me laugh.

His energy didn't really creep me out, but he tends to do some shadow stuff and may not have the best moral code, but that can be due to how he was raised and taught growing up or he learned from the industry to be cold and detached. I will learn more about his upbringing when I get to their family dynamics.

Changbin

This dude is hiding a relationship. I keep seeing it in my readings. The Hierophant, 7 of Swords and 2 of Cups. Basically, that says, company hiding a relationship, so there that is. Besides that, he got nothing, nothing shadowy about this dude. He also got the Queen of my World card which is tells me there is a woman that is important to him and he wants to keep her protected from the public and crazy fans. Good for you man.

Other than that he is pretty light energy wise. The Sun gives me someone who is authentically themselves and doesn't give af. He seems like a bright and positive person. He seems to be all about his work and improving his skill. He believes skill trumps that shady stuff they do. He is about work and that is it, none of that funny business, the partying. He seems like a stand-up dude.

I see him wanting to progress and move towards a new direction and improve himself and his talents when it comes to his career. I see him as someone patient and just letting things flow and moving at his own pace, so he isn't someone that forces things. He seems to enjoy what he does for the love of it. I don't see him as the type seeking too much money or on the pursuit to be the richest person. He kind of is fine where he is at and just goes along for the journey. I just see him wanting to follow his passion and he is someone who tries to keep his innocence in a sense and doesn't want to be tainted by the industry. I see new beginnings or new doors opening for him as well.

With this corruption reversed, it gives me he refuses to be corrupted by the industry. I see him struggling to take a break, even though he may want, or he tends to just overwork himself, or highly focused on his work to take a break. I see him dealing with a lot of anxiety, worry and stress this could be due to his relationship. I don't really see him getting help from anyone or wanting help, so it may be hard for him to recover or heal from it. But yeah, his energy is light. Not much here, so moving on.

Hyunjin

This boy's energy is so damn convoluted. It is like he has multiple personalities. He got 3 King cards, not sure he represents all of these. I do see with one I see him sucking up to the KOS person. And trying to please this person.

I see a lot of cards of him having an ego. He can be stubborn af and arrogant. He may feel he is the center of his own world. I see him breaking promises a lot. Barely is able to keep his word at all. Not sure he is the most dependable or loyal. The fact I got no pentacles says all I need to say about that. He isn't very grounded or stable.

I see anger issues with him. I see him indulging in things a lot and he tends to overdo things, lack self-restraint and balance. I see him as a go big or go home type of person. He can have his moods when he feels very down, low and depressed. I can see him as someone who manipulates the narrative. He is competitive and may topple others to get what he wants. Or he just finds a way to climb to the top of the competition.

I do see him feeling restricted and he can be highly controlled which he may not like. He is someone who likes to shine and be in the spotlight. I do see a lot of cards of creativity with him, so he does have that energy and the ability to create the life he wants and fights for the life he wants. I do see limits on him and him not being able to do as much as he may want.

I do see him as someone who likes to take up a lot of room and be the center of attention as I mentioned above. He does have the Heart card which shows he does have love there and can be loving and compassionate towards others as well. And the KOC's shows me that too. Just saying, he is a complex person and has many sides to him. He can be sweet, but can be downright mean and cold at times too.

I am not seeing him being dark, maybe problematic, but that can be due to his lack of self-love I am seeing here. So, he could project his insecurities onto others and lash out. He may struggle to open up to others and be vulnerable. He kind of prefers to show this strong armour, this can be a protection barrier for him, so he doesn't get hurt by others.

There seems to be a lot of stress, conflict, maybe lots of conversations about him. It may sometimes be too much for him to handle. Also, there could be some Daddy issues he hasn't addressed yet, so there is that. It may be hard for him to communicate his hurt and pain, so that can be another reason he lashes out. Overall, he seems to struggle to cope with all the messiness around him and he can succumb to the craziness of the industry.

Han

I see this dude being highly controlled. Is he isolated somewhere or something? I see a lot of cards of isolation, him being left alone, maybe he feels alone and abandoned. I can see depression in his energy or this lack of hope. I do see him as someone who needs his alone time to recharge his energy, which this goes for a lot of people, so nothing crazy here.

I see him being drained, not having much energy. I can see him indulging in things. Doing things that can be toxic for his body. This thing can drain his energy and spirit. I see him feeling like his hands are tied and there is much he can do. I just see him as someone who just does what he is told and listens no questions ask. I see him being an Empath, so people with this energy, he reminds me of Soobin. They tend to struggle in this industry and it is hard to cope with being around so many people constantly, so he may need to take things to cope with it.

I see him being highly monitored, coddled. He struggles to mature or grow or learn lessons. He seems a bit stunted. He seems to give his will and authority to others. He struggles to take charge of his life. There are lot of hidden truths about him.

I can also see his reality being distorted and him not seeing the truth of things, but also the narrative around him not being true either. I can see him seeing himself as a possession and not a person, which is kind of sad to get this. And as I mentioned this inability to mature. It just seems this industry is hard for him to bare and there is too much pressure around him, or the industry is too hard to handle for him. I see with him there is this inability to learn or gain knowledge. He seems heavily reliant on others and may struggle to depend on himself. He comes off as someone who wants someone to save him and struggles to find his way out of things himself.

So, the Trauma card came out, so yeah, he may have dealt with some sort of trauma and this could be why he is messed up, which does not surprise me with this industry. I see him having difficulty coping with it and may do things to numb it or lean on others to do it. I see he could be in a delusional state or just not seeing things for what it is.

I see him lacking self-love, which makes sense. I see him needing to take a break and I feel there is corruption around him, but he may struggle to see it. He gives me similar vibes to Jungkook of not seeing how currupted things are around him and he may see it as normal, because that is what he is used to. So yeah, his energy is a bit more fleshed out for me now. It seems he is another traumatized idol struggling to cope with being an idol and a puppet to the industry. I am glad I understand him a bit more now.

Felix

A lot going on with him. I am not sure where to start. So, I see something with mysteries, the occult, psychic abilities. This sounds weird but stepping into different dimension I am sensing with him. As I mentioned in Yunjin's reading, not weird for me that people may do this as I can as well, but for outsiders it can sound weird. I am seeing a lot of cards of him just being highly intuitive and maybe aware of a lot of things. I am getting something about him being in altered states or just not in this reality.

Like Hyunjin, he seems to be highly sensitive. So, that could create problems for him emotionally. He is giving someone who can have strong psychic abilities. I see a lot of cards that give me this vibe. He might be someone who takes certain things to numb it out. His vibe seems similar to what I get from Heeseung.

I see him wanting to isolate himself. He could deal with anxiety or depression and just want to be alone. I see him being an empath, so he is sensitive to other people's energy, so being around others drain the hell out of him, which can mess with his emotions a lot. But he can also be draining for others. He may be exhausting to be around at times as well. I do see him as someone who could be addicted to fame and someone who will do what it takes to climb the ladder.

I can see him sleeping with others to get ahead. Although, he can be sensitive. He can be cold, detached and possibly mean when he can be. And as I mentioned, he does have this need to control, who or what do not know, but he has issues surrounding control. I think he learned how to shut his emotions down from how things are in the industry. I say he is about his work and business. I don't think he cares to much about making friends in the industry either.

I see him as someone who strives for fame and attention. And may like being the center of attention and being in the spotlight. So, if there is any way he can get ahead he will take that opportunity no matter what it is. I don't see him being someone who trust others that much. I see him having his guard up and it is hard for him to be vulnerable with others. As this is a tough business and he probably needed to learn to harden himself to stay afloat, which makes sense.

Of course, the dominance card would come up. He has a power trip. This need to dominate others and be the best. I can see his energy can be aggressive at times, as I have seen this before. He may struggle to control himself. I think he struggles to listen to other people's opinions and just goes by what he thinks. If someone gives him sound advice. He would just ignore. It is like he goes by his own rules. I don't see him being good at conversation. Pretty much shuts people down if he doesn't agree with them. I also think he tends to think more negatively about the world, or he tends to over think things that lead him down a spiral of negativity. Typical Virgo energy, so not really surprised about that.

So, is he dark morally, no, not what I see here, problematic, yes, but that comes with being part of this messed up industry. Either you play the game or fall behind. Someone people need to toughen up and be cold to survive this business. He seems like one of the idols who has done that.

Seungmin

I find him to be an interesting person. So, he is showing me something about a connection. He wants to have this happily ever after with someone. This dude is a romantic or wants to have a strong loving connection. I am being pulled back to his love tea session reading. Where there could have been an ending that made him sad or he felt betrayed.

He is showing me he wants to seek some sort of Justice for that. I see him seeing the truth of things and seeing things clearly. There is something about him being lied to or fed lies, and he is now seeing that he has been deceived. Maybe he is starting to understand how toxic the industry can be. It seems he is someone who rather follow his heart and his emotions.

I just see him wanting to have a close connection with someone and be with the person he loves. I see him being aware of the dark secrets of the industry, but he wants to either share what he knows, or he has gained access to the stuff they do. I am getting he sees that stories do not add up. I am not sure what that means. He is kind of drained and done from the industry. It has left him empty, and it seems he wants to find happiness. He also wants to find stability and a good work/life balance, and not just be stuck working all the time with no other life.

Yeah, he is showing me again. There is someone he feels a strong connection to. He feels they belong together and wants to be with them. I see him wanting a break, maybe to spend time with them. He wants a change, and I am getting again, a work/life balance. Where he can be with his partner and work, yeah, good luck with that. He may want a change to his contract as well. He wants better boundaries around work and that they don't invade his space and time too much. So yeah, he is pretty light, he didn't show me anything problematic. His energy is focused on this connection he has with someone.

I.N

I don't really see him being that morally compromised. I see him feeling trapped and not being able to shine the way he wants to, or be his true self. He kind of has to limit himself and water himself down a bit, which makes sense.

I do get this sense of entitlement with him. He can be a bit bossy, or he has this inflated ego and thinks he can do it all or do anything. There is this aggressive fighter mentality of needing to be the best. This strong competitive energy he has. I can see him being in people's faces a lot. He reminds me of Beomgyu a bit. I can see why they are besties. I see him being very confident in himself. I do see him being about money and making that money. He values money a lot, so he will do things to obtain it, but I don't really see anything of him doing shady things to get it, not yet. I can see him hiding his emotions behind jokes and laughter. He doesn't show his emotions that much.

He may be the type that rather laugh through the pain. I can see he can be exhausting to others as well and may drain their energy. He seems to like to be the center of attention. I can see him being a bit selfish and focused on himself way too much. It is like he is the center of his world and everyone revolves around him. I mean everyone is like this, but he may take it to the extreme. So yeah, I can see him being a bit too intense for people at times.

I see him as someone who finds it hard to focus on one thing. He has to do many things at once, or go from one place to another. He is someone who likes to distract himself, or I see that he may get overwhelmed by too many things and may need to spend some time alone to recharge. I see he has a lot to do to reach his full potential in his career. He isn't satisfied with where he is at, so there is this focus on achieving more and making more money.

I don't see him as someone very stable, practical and grounded all that much. He may lack a bit of patience as well. I can see him not thinking things through and just charging ahead towards things. He does things before he thinks, which can cause problems.

He can be someone who can be disruptive. His presence isn't always peaceful. I see once again, this selfish energy, but also there is nothing wrong with putting yourself first, but this is a shadow reading, so he may not care too much about other people's feelings or thoughts on what he does.

He may not listen to anyone's input at all. I mean it is cool to believe in yourself, great, but he may feel he is a know it all and everything he does is the best way to do when in actuality it isn't, as no one knows it all and could benefit from the help of others. I can also see him struggling to commit to things, or just breaking commitments from time to time. His energy isn't that dark, annoying at times, yes lol

I will say their energy overall wasn't too dark from what they showed me, and it was nice getting to know their energies a bit more, so here it is. This is what I was able to pick up from their energies.

#kpop tarot #stray kids tarot

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