#I’m so glad all of you are liking it!!!

[lotuswish]

˗ˏˋ how they hold your hand (housewardens & jamil) ⭑ .ᐟ

synopsis: fingers intertwining, a gentle squeeze, the warmth of a palm against yours—how each boy holds your hand says more than words ever could. from shy, lingering touches to firm, protective grips, every gesture is a glimpse into the way they love.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): none.

a/n: just a cute and silly idea i had at 3am. :3

riddle rosehearts

riddle holds your hand like it’s a delicate porcelain teacup—carefully, with just enough pressure to keep it secure. at first, his fingers are a little stiff, his cheeks faintly pink as he focuses on not fumbling. he tries so hard to get it just right, and when he feels your fingers relax in his, his grip softens, almost shyly. he’ll sneak a glance at your face, and if he catches you smiling, his hold tightens slightly, a quiet boost to his confidence.

“i hope… this isn’t too forward,” he says softly, his voice careful and deliberate, though his gaze lingers on your joined hands with the faintest hint of pride.

leona kingscholar

leona’s hand intertwines with yours with effortless confidence, his hold firm yet unhurried, carrying a subtle possessiveness—like your hand was always meant to be in his, and he has no intention of letting go. his fingers slide between yours with ease, and he occasionally shifts your hands against his leg or his side, keeping you close without making a fuss. if you try to pull away, even as a joke, he’ll tug you back with a low grumble, his tail flicking once beside him in annoyance.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, herbivore,” he drawls, his tone low and gruff. though he acts nonchalant, deep down, it's his way of keeping you close without having to say it out loud.

azul ashengrotto

azul holds your hand like he’s trying to make the perfect impression, his fingers enveloping yours carefully, almost methodically. his palm is cool, and every so often, his grip tightens subtly, like he’s testing the waters to see if this is really okay. though he maintains his composed expression, his gaze flickers nervously between your face and your joined hands. when he sees your reassuring smile, the faintest flush of pink spreads across his cheeks, despite his efforts to stay collected.

“i trust this arrangement is… satisfactory?” he asks, his voice soft and composed, but the way he clears his throat afterward betrays his nerves.

kalim al-asim

kalim grabs your hand without hesitation, his fingers threading through yours in a fluid, lively motion, like he’s been waiting to do it all along. his grip is strong and eager, a comforting warmth radiating from his palm. the giddy smile on his face makes it clear that your touch is his favorite thing in the world. as you walk, he swings your joined hands, and every so often, he’ll squeeze your hand gently or press it against his chest when he’s particularly excited about something.

“i’m so glad you’re here with me,” he says, his voice bubbling with joy, as though holding your hand is the highlight of his day.

jamil viper

jamil holds your hand with calculated ease���his touch appears casual, but every movement is deliberate. his fingers lace with yours slowly, his grip just firm enough to keep you close without drawing attention. to anyone else, it might seem detached, but the way his fingers subtly shift to match your movements or the faint, almost unnoticeable tension in his shoulders reveals the truth: he’s hyperaware of you.

he doesn’t say much, but after a quiet moment, he glances at your hands and murmurs, “you don’t have to hold on so tightly,” his tone calm, though the slight squeeze he gives your hand betrays just how much he doesn’t want you to let go.

vil schoenheit

vil holds your hand with an air of practiced elegance, his fingers lacing with yours smoothly, as if even the smallest gestures between you deserve the utmost intention and care. his grip is steady and purposeful, his hand fitting perfectly against yours. sometimes, he’ll lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles before letting his fingers curl a little tighter around yours.

“your hands are quite lovely,” he murmurs, his tone carrying its usual polished air, but softer, more personal. “i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised—everything about you tends to draw the eye.”

idia shroud

idia starts by linking pinkies with you, his hand hovering awkwardly at first. his skin is warm and a little clammy, his nerves written in the way his fingers twitch slightly. after a few moments, he works up the courage to slide the rest of his fingers into place, his grip loose but earnest. his hand fidgets slightly against yours, like he’s still adjusting, but when he notices you’re not letting go, a shy, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“uh… your hand’s… really warm,” he mutters softly, his voice unsteady as the tips of his hair flicker pink. “it’s… kinda nice, actually.”

malleus draconia

malleus holds your hand with a quiet reverence, his long fingers intertwining with yours with a gentle but steady grip. his touch carries a subtle chill, and there’s a deliberate care in the way he adjusts his hold, as if mindful of not startling you. occasionally, he lifts your hand slightly, aligning his palm with yours as if to compare their size. his fingers slowly curl around yours again, his touch gentle and his gaze filled with quiet wonder, as though the contrast holds a meaning only he can understand.

“your hands are small, child of man,” he says softly, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “yet they feel as though they were meant to be held by mine.”

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

[pininghermit]

Duchess' Consort

Request: Loving your Tropovenia stories ❤️ I got, 'Against Parents'. Would you please write something about Adrian and modern reader with that prompt? 🥺

AN: Hello anon, I am glad you're enjoying my silly little event! I loved writing this and would have loved to add more bg but this event is for short stories so I tried my best. I hope you like it :)

Genre: drama & royalty au ish??

Pairing(s): Alucard x female Reader

Summary: “You will have to be my consort. You will not be given the title of duke. I will be the duchess. Our children will bear my family name. Yours will be forgotten. They will never quite treat you well. Your heritage will be scorned. Your lands will be absorbed by the duchy.”

“He’s a vampire!” your father roars, his face flushing red. It’s a familiar sight, one that mirrors your own anger. Apparently, temper ran strong in the family.

“And he’s a dhampir!” you snap back, marching toward him with equal fury.

The latest argument about your relationship had now passed the two-hour mark. You were both too stubborn to yield, two sides of the same damn coin. Exhaustion tugged at your shoulders, but neither of you would back down. Not yet.

With a huff of defeat, your father finally lowers himself into his chair, rubbing his temples. “You can’t just marry the son of Dracula,” he says, his voice weary but still carrying an edge of authority. “He’s no match for you.”

“We’re in love!” You slam a glass of water back, trying to swallow both the drink and your frustration. “And it’s not like I’m abandoning my duties. I’m still here. I’m still doing everything I’m supposed to. Isn’t that enough?”

Your father shakes his head slowly. “And what?” he retorts, his tone bitter. “Sully our bloodline with a half-vampire? You’d ruin everything. Do not make me regret not seeking another heir when I had the chance. Perhaps I should have remarried, like everyone insisted...”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and stinging. They lodge deep in your gut, twisting until your vision blurs with tears you refuse to let fall. You grit your teeth, clenching the glass in your hand so tightly you fear it might shatter.

“Worry not, Father,” you bite out through clenched teeth, your voice trembling with controlled rage. “I’ll be sure to have plenty of children with Adrian. Enough that I never have to suffer the same regrets you do!”

The room falls silent, your words hanging heavy in the air.

Your father glares up at you, his eyes hard but not without pain. He didn’t mean it, you know he didn’t. He loves you. He’s just afraid, trapped by his grief and his fears. You are all he has left of your mother, and her betrayal has carved a gaping void between the two of you. Making a weak man out of your father. One afraid of any and all gentleness.

“I will not give up on him,” you say quietly but firmly. “The duchy can deal with it. And if you can’t, Father…”

You take a deep breath, standing tall despite the tremor in your voice.

“Then I’m sure Uncle will be more than happy to step up as your heir.”

Your father’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of his brother, and you see the flash of panic before he quickly masks it with a glare. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s too proud to admit it. The two of you stare each other down, both unwilling to break first.

The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, your father sighs, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of years has finally caught up to him. "You’re just like your mother," he mutters under his breath.

“Thank you,” you reply curtly, turning on your heel. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You turn to leave the room before he can see the tears threatening to fall.

Once, being compared to your mother had cut deep. A wound to your pride, an insult whispered in the shadows of your childhood. The woman who abandoned her title, her duty, for the fleeting fantasy of love. The scandal had clung to you like a curse. A  constant reminder of your supposed weakness.

But not anymore.

“There are conditions.”

Your father’s voice cuts through your thoughts, halting you mid-step. His tone is cold, measured, calculated like a final move in a losing game.

“For him to be with you, there are rules he must obey.”

You turn back to face him, your heart tightening. His gaze is hard, filled with the last fragments of control he refuses to relinquish. This is his last attempt to bind you to his authority, to play his final pawn.

And yet, you stand straighter. You are not the child he once manipulated with fear and duty. Whatever terms he lays out, you will not falter.

“I’m listening,” you say evenly, crossing your arms as you meet his stare. You will not cower. Not for him, not for anyone.

“You will have to be my consort. You will not be given the title of duke. I will be the duchess. Our children will bear my family name. Yours will be forgotten. They will never quite treat you well. Your heritage will be scorned. Your lands will be absorbed by the duchy.”

Your voice remains steady, though each word feels like a blade against your heart. You stand with your back to him, your eyes fixed on the blooming garden outside the window.

“It is a terrible fate,” you continue quietly. “And I have nothing to give you. But I promise, should you take this foolish gamble, I will always be on your side. We will be equals beyond titles. Our children will grow up listening to your stories, to the tales of your people. Your lands will be cared for and passed on to our second-born, who shall inherit them.”

You pause, your thoughts momentarily drifting to a dream you dare not linger on too long. It’s easy, too easy, to imagine this future with Adrian. Despite your father’s endless demands, the vision takes root deep within you.

You can see it clearly: traveling to Castle Dracula with your children. Spending Yule together in the estates of your duchy. The dream feels achingly familiar, a warmth you are afraid to grasp.

Still, you steel your resolve, pushing the dream aside as you turn to face him.

“I cannot abandon my duties,” you say, the words final yet heavy with sorrow. “But you can leave. This life... it doesn’t have to be a fate you endure, Adrian.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. It stretches out like a chasm, each second a reminder of how deeply you’ve laid bare your vulnerability. You resist the urge to take the words back, to deny him the choice, to ease his decision with false comforts.

But no. A marriage built on lies and half-truths could not survive a harsh winter, let alone the storms your future would bring. He deserves the truth, as bitter as it is. You were prepared to lose him.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

You had rehearsed this moment countless times, steeling your heart for the inevitable. You imagined his hesitation, the disappointment clouding his eyes, and perhaps even a polite, resigned farewell. You had told yourself that you would understand. You had promised yourself you would let him go if that was his choice.

But now, as the silence stretches and your heart pounds louder than reason, you realize you were lying to yourself. You weren’t prepared. You never could be. The very thought of Adrian turning away feels like a blade pressing deep into your ribs, and you hold your breath, bracing for the worst.

Then he speaks, his voice so soft you almost miss it.

“My mother’s maiden name,” he says, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup of tea in his hands. He does not look at you, as though he needs the space to steady himself. “I want one of our children to carry it as their middle name.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Before you can respond, he continues.

“I do not care for titles,” he says, his voice firmer now, each word deliberate. “All I ask is that you do not take other partners. And that you allow me time... time to learn the ways of the household. I would hate to be anything less than worthy of you.”

He sets the teacup down with a quiet clink and steps toward you. His presence is steady as he takes your hands gently in his.

At last, Adrian lifts his gaze, and you see the depth of his conviction shining in his eyes. “I have no doubt that you will not let me be wronged,” he says softly. “My fate with yours will be one of happiness. And I would be the most foolish dhampir to ever walk this earth if I gave that up for anything else.”

A sharp breath escapes you, half-relief, half disbelief. His words fill the hollow ache that had settled in your chest, and for a moment, the dream you’d been holding at bay no longer feels so distant.

“Adrian...” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly.

“I have made my choice,” he reassures you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “And I will make it every day, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Tears blur your vision, but this time, you don’t try to hide them. Instead, you squeeze his hands tightly and offer him a smile that holds all the love and gratitude you cannot yet put into words.

One thing you know for certain: with Adrian by your side, you’ll be better parents than either of you ever had. With him, the weight of your duties will feel lighter. Together, you will make something beautiful out of all the broken pieces you were given.

“You are a miraculous idiot,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you throw your arms around him. You cling to him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Adrian lets out a warm chuckle, his chest vibrating gently against yours. “Marry me, maybe?” he teases softly, his arms pulling you even closer, as if he never intends to let go.

You laugh through your tears, swatting at his shoulder. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

[himbo-kuto]

the tv was playing in the background as you were mindlessly scrolling on your phone. it was a lazy sunday afternoon in skyhaven and you and caleb decided to spend the day doing nothing. he had been twirling the ends of your hair around his finger for who knows how long at this point, half listening to what you had put on earlier. he was just happy to be in your presence. 

you left out a huff as you locked your phone and looked up at him from his lap. 

“done scrolling?” you were silent as you turned toward him, crossing your arms soon after. your eyes scanned his face, down his neck, shoulders, chest and finally your gaze settled on his arms. he was wearing one of those muscle tees with the sleeves cut off and as much as you tried to help yourself, you always caught yourself looking. caleb may be a fool for you, but he was no fool when it came to you. he bought a bunch of shirts just to rip the sleeves off of them in hopes he would catch you looking at his arms again.

“like what you see?” he leaned in closer to you, a shit eating grin dancing on his lips for catching you in the act. you immediately averted your eyes, but your reddened cheeks were a dead give away. 

“shut up..” he took your chin between your fingers, tilting upwards to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. 

“you can look all you want, honey. they’re all yours” you stuck your tongue out at him, glancing over to his arms once again and before you could even think, you leaned over and gave his bicep a big old bite. he yelped in surprise, but laughed as he looked down at you. 

“what are you doing! get off of me!” you quickly sat up and straddled his lap as you began to give his arms little love bites. his arms were soft, squishy and some might describe as… beefy. 

“they’re just so yummy looking, I have to give them a little nibble!” you continued your antics, laughing out loud as you moved up to his neck and shoulders. caleb was over the moon as he laughed along with you. he missed these moments with you– just being stupid with your laughter filling up the room.

he managed to grab your hips, pushing them back so you were sitting on his lap. you took it as your sign to stop. you wiped the stray tears from your eyes from laughing too hard before your vision cleared and when your gaze met his, you swear you felt your heart skip a beat. his cheeks were slightly flushed, hair disheveled, the quickened rise and fall of his chest– when you two were teens and he had the same look whenever you decided to mess with him. 

you took his cheeks within the palms of your hands and shifted his gaze onto yours. moments like these came and went when you were with him. moments when you would think about how you spent those grueling months after his alleged death, how you never thought you were going to see him again, but here he was, in the flesh. your thumbs stroked his cheeks gently, feeling the texture of his skin from the explosion. he was insecure about it, but it was one of things that reminded you that he was real and you loved him even more for it. there was a shift in his expression, one of innocent curiosity. 

“what is it?” you didn’t speak, you just continued to gaze on to his features.  it was only after you scanned his whole face that you gazed into his eyes, running your fingers through his hair to fix the mess you had made of it. his eyes closed instinctively, relishing in your touch. 

“nothing. i’m just really glad that you’re here is all.” you placed a small kiss onto his forehead before leaning your forehead against his. it was your turn to close your eyes. you could feel how his arms held you safely within his embrace and how his hands were steady on your hips. he prided himself on keeping you safe, and you knew it too.

god, how could he have been away from you for so long? he gave your hips a gentle squeeze as his eyes partially opened to see your face. your expression was calm and vulnerable, almost how you looked like when you sleep.. his arms reached up to your back, pulling you in for a longing embrace. 

if caleb could absorb you he would, wanting to absolve any distance between the two of you. he breathed in the scent of your shampoo that smelled faintly of apples he buried his face into your neck. a shudder went down your spine, reciprocating the same amount of intensity. you tried pulling him as close as humanly possible to your chest, you could feel the heat that was radiating off his body. you cradled his head against your cheek, carding your fingers through his dark locks once again before placing a kiss onto his temple.

you finally felt him relax into your embrace, his breathing slowed. it took a lot for caleb to fully relax, especially when he was so used to being on high alert. you’re sure what he has been through in the past couple of months couldn’t have made that easy for him. so you were just going to hold him until he tells you to let go. he listened to the faint sound of your heart beat; you were here and you were real. almost like you were reading his mind, you smile softly as you look down at his calm figure.

“you don’t have to worry anymore caleb, im here and i’m not going anywhere.” 

🎤 hello is this thing on? crazy how it's been 3 years since i've last posted, but IM BACK KINDA? i really want to get into writing again this year and sO this is my introduction back into that!! i hope y'all enjoy this caleb fluff and here's to more!!!

[kdollikesthighs]

Bedroom warfare: part 1

Itzy Yuna x m reader A/N: Angst, smut is for the next part! Word count: 2,434 words.

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna. 

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb just by existing in this room. There’s no flicker of shock on her face, no moment of hesitation. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances up at you, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with something dark. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, man.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes drift to yours, heavy-lidded and absolutely unimpressed. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Because you both know exactly whose fault it is.

And now, there’s nothing left between you but impending destruction. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’, it was a matter of ‘when’.

[creativepot4to]

Stawppppppp <3

I will always think you’re super cool bro!! Live laugh love Sherlock Holmes forever hehe

I’m so glad you were one of my first mutuals🫶

@your-compadre-infinity @urboykoi @alikaalikaalika Love you guys too

And all my amazing mutuals!! I feel so honoured to be followed by literally ALL OF YOU

Yall are too cool for me I can’t-

@ifyouwant-blood @bibi-likes-to-draw @queen-of-roaches @veryballoondestiny @sunzysky @mercitheiridescent @itzstarzwrld @poprocktrolls @citnamora @jobiesayscheese @brozonelovergirl @tennibean22

Anyone else feel like their mutuals are way out of their league? Like they follow you back and you’re just like

[oceantornadoo]

ch9 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: kidnapping. yeah...

masterlist | next

You feel like a teenager again.

Your first date is full of nerves and hormones, shy eye contact in the warm light of the candlelight dinner. That is, the candlelight dinner John organized in the back of a London bookstore you’d never explored, shut down early for the public so you could have a private dinner date. He takes you on a shopping spree after, setting you loose on the quiet store with no restrictions on time or money. You pick a few books to be sent back to your library in the country (what an extraordinary thought to have!), and a few for home. Home. Over the past weeks, almost two months, you now think of John’s home as yours. His bed as yours, his life entwined with yours.

“I would say you’re spoiling me too much, but honestly, you owe me.” You mention as John shadows your book search, his body heat searing into yours. He laughs, waves of sounds settling into your skin. “Glad y’r stayin’ true t’ y’r beliefs, sweetheart.” You nudge him with your hip and he takes advantage of your proximity, pulling you closer into the cage of his body. You grab the book you were perusing and tug it to your chest on instinct. “Hey! I said nothing sexual.” John nuzzles your neck, hands wrapping around your waist to rub at the pudge of your stomach. “‘S not sexual, jus’ comfort.” You melt like chocolate, conforming to the contours of his body.

“Tell me ya hate me.”

He whispers into the space between your ear and shoulder. You shudder at his words, pushing back into him to get closer. “I’m not answering that.” It’s the best you can give him without showing your cards. He hums in approval, sending a shock of electricity to your core. “Guess I’ll hav’ t’ take ya out again.” You turn in his arms, the book between you like a shield. “Someone’s presumptuous. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to plan a second date during the first?” He shrugs, the grays in his beard glinting in the lamplight. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” You gasp in faux-outrage, hitting him square in the chest with the book you’re holding. He barely moves, not having the decency to look hurt. If anything, he stalks closer with eyes like a tiger, a look at you like you’re prey. “Do tha’ again.”

That night, his words echo in your head. A little flower of insecurity grows in a hidden crevice of your heart. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” The memory of his smile, joking and lighthearted in the moment, warps into a smirk in your mind. In the bed you’re lying in, you inch away from John’s sleeping body as it replays over and over. Would all of this be happening if you weren’t married? How much of his hunger for you is fed by the fact that you’re the closest option? That you’re easy, letting him get you off within a few weeks of knowing each other. Sleep only comes hours later, when you’ve wrought your brain of all its thinking power. 

John wakes you with sweet words and intimate cuddles, holding you against him as he tells you about all the places he wants to take you. Your earlier doubts, screaming and rioting, fade away into a whisper, letting his words wash over you. You forget about it.

Mostly.

-

Your own bookstore is getting along well. You’ve hired another assistant, a man named Arthur who was a referral of Phil’s. The extra help goes a long way, as he’s experienced enough to install the cafe you wanted in the front. In the next month, you order inventory and thrift furniture. You venture out to cafes to inquire about catering and post job listings for a cafe worker and bookseller. 

On the weeknights you go on dates, John insists on picking you up from the store. It’s only one or two nights a week, where he’s free enough to do a late dinner or a drive around town. John shows London to you in bits and pieces, shyly peeling back the film of mystery that covers the town. You go to hole-in-the-walls, cuisines ranging from Jamaican to Indian to traditional British fare. The owners always seem to know him, giving him the best seats of the house and refusing to take his card. You’re starting to understand how much of an influence he holds, how the caring husband behind closed doors is also the feared mafia boss outside of them. It’s like you’re learning him anew, sharing childhood memories and terrible twenties stories every date. It’s a fantasy of what life would’ve been like if you’d met him naturally.

Speaking of his frightfulness, he’s not friendly with either of your assistants, but after a stern talking to, he becomes begrudgingly polite. He speaks in monosyllables and grunts, only offering you a full English conversation. Despite yourself, you find it a little endearing. This non-jealousy looks good on him and makes him handsier in car rides.

“Y’ look so fuckin’ good in these.” He’s talking about the overalls you thrifted, which appalled Gaz when he stopped by for breakfast this morning. You insisted they’re practical for the work you’re doing: going through newly delivered inventory and moving furniture around to your liking. “Thought you liked me in fancy things.” You murmur. He tells your driver to keep driving, then rolls up the partition to give you some privacy. John yanks you into his lap, a tight fit between his bulk and the ceiling of the car. It forces you to curl in tighter, your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Think y’re wearin’ these to our next gala.” Our. It grows roots and you hope it's poisonous enough to kill that flower of insecurity. He pulls you closer, and even through the denim of your pants, you can feel him grow hard under you. “John…” He kisses your exposed neck, then licks at the dust that’s settled on your skin. It’s so primal, like he’s reduced to base instincts when he’s with you. “We’re not doin’ anythin’. Jus’ want ya t’ know wha’ ya do t’ me.” He bites your earlobe, then soothes it with a lick. “So this has nothing to do with my all-male employee force?” He growls and you giggle at his annoyance. John pulls you back a bit so you’re off his cock, smirking when you groan at the loss. “Nah. Jus’ reminding you wha’ y’ve got at home.” You plant a quick kiss on his lips, then roll off and into the seat next to him. Despite the glaring safety violation, you tuck your legs under you and rest your knee on his thigh. Your hand runs through his beard, then moves up to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead. “Consider me reminded.” He kisses your palm near his face. “Now take me to dinner, I’m starving.”

-

Weeks later, you’re home late from your favorite date yet. A private movie screening of a drama film you’ve been talking about for weeks. The set-up was thoughtful and sweet, with your favorite candies and popcorn set up with a comfy blanket. However, the movie was darker than you thought, with a primary focus on a father and his strained relationship with his daughter. Two hours of watching them on screen left you raw and bloody, silent on the car ride back home. 

“Feelin’ ok?” You nod. He squeezes your thigh, but when he tries to keep his hand there, you cross your legs so it falls off. He seems to get the message, stroking the outside of your thigh before pulling his hand back.

When you get home, Gaz is at your kitchen table. You nod to him in greeting, then try to bypass him in favor of a hot shower, but he stands up and blocks your path. “We need to talk, ma’am.” His eyes flick up to John standing behind you. “Sir, you need to hear this.”

Gaz lays out building plans and tax documents that blur in front of you. Your tired brain can’t comprehend what he’s saying, something about “encroachment” and “buying up buildings.” John goes into work mode, shrugging off his jacket and sitting down to take a closer look.

“Am I really needed here? I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” John’s eyes are warm but Gaz’s aren’t, his smooth skin marred by a frown. “Shepherd's bought a building a block from your bookstore. From what I can tell, it’s empty, but it’s a safety risk. It’s got a basement that we can’t get our eyes on.” You drag a hand down your face, clearly not equipped for this conversation. “Look, it’s empty, right? So just keep eyes on it and up my number of guards. I bought my bookstore under a ghost LLC, so the only way he’ll know is if he sees me. I’ll start using the back entrance.” Gaz’s eyes flit to John’s, waiting for his opinion. You groan at being dismissed so clearly.

“You know what, you guys figure this out. I’m going to bed.”

You leave before they can say anything. A hot shower calls your name, but the water is abrasive instead of calming. The same thing happens with your skincare, sitting too heavy for comfort on your face. When you’re ready for bed, and John’s still not there, you pop a few melatonin and go to sleep, eager to delay any sort of conversation. 

-

He wakes you by brushing your shoulder gently. It’s clear the sun’s been up for a while, a rare sleep in. “Hi, baby.” You grumble at his words, turning to smother your face in your pillow. He kisses your shoulder, where his hand was, and stays there for a second, dark blue eyes tracking yours. “We need to talk.” His tone switches from sweet to serious, enough of a change to warrant you turning back to squint at him. “No.” He did not expect that, eyebrows raising. “No to whatever suggestion you’re going to make about delaying my opening or shutting down my bookstore.” You push off the covers, rising to get ready, but he yanks your arm and tugs you under him.

“It’s not fuckin’ safe.” He growls out. You push against him, trying for once. He uses his strength against you, pushing you further into the mattress. “Then make it safer. I’m not giving this up. There’s not even a clear threat yet.” You spit. Your tactical knowledge of Simon’s security strategy come to the forefront of your mind. “I’m puttin’ Gaz on yer team.” You roll your eyes, finally pushing off him to go use the bathroom. He follows you like a hound, not stopping when you try to shut the door in his face. “You’re not putting Gaz on my team. He would hate it. I don’t need a babysitter.” John doesn’t trust you, doesn’t trust the fact that you’ve been in this life for decades and know how to analyze a threat. John doesn’t respond as you pee defiantly, even when you throw a roll of toilet paper at his head to get him to leave. It’s only when you’re done washing your hands that he responds.

“It’s gettin’ more violent everyday, sweetheart. I can’t be biased when I make this call. Might need to send you t’ the country.” You can’t even compute his sentence. “What, send me away like you did 20 years ago?” That was not what you wanted to say. That was not how you wanted this conversation to be, you washing your face in your shared bathroom while he stares at you through the mirror. “Spit it out, darlin’. ‘S clear you want to.” You don’t comment on how he’s never called you darling and how evil he is to whip it out in that deep accent of his now. You towel off your face, then whirl around to face him, exposed in so many ways. “I think it’s pretty clear. You send me away when I complicate things. You did it when I was a kid and you’re doing it now. I’m a fucking problem to you, John.” He runs a hand through his beard, agitated.

“Tha’ why you hate me? ‘Cuz I told yer old man t’ send you away when I was 16 and green in the gills, not knowin’ a damn thing?” You frown, turning back to rub lotion on your face. You take your time, rubbing the excess into your wrists. John tracks the movement with squinted eyes. “I know you were young, John, but I was too.” John pulls you into him by the fabric of your t-shirt (his t-shirt). He settles his hands on your waist, ensuring eye contact before speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry f’ bein’ an idiot when I was young an’ not thinkin’ about the little girl’s life I was destroyin’.” Well. That was the apology you’d been chasing for months, if not years. So why weren’t you satisfied?

“Thank you. But it doesn’t change what you’re trying to do now.” You stand and look at each other, silent. His hands don’t move and neither do yours, akimbo at your sides. “‘M not sendin’ you away. I’m keepin’ ya safe.” He murmurs. You shake your head in disagreement. “London is my home, John. The bookstore is my life. Where would you even send me?” He looks away, uncharacteristically unsure. “The country.” You roll your eyes. “You said that. I’m asking where.” He grips your hips hard, startling you. “The library.” You bark out a laugh. “The library? What, am I gonna sleep on the couch and just haunt the place.” A realization dawns on you. “No way.” 

“Baby-”

“You own it?!”

“It was my first real estate purchase.”

“When were you going to tell me? You just, what, invented an old, dying friend?”

He almost looks embarrassed, the blush of his cheeks hidden in parts by his beard. “I didn’t want ya to feel trapped and you hated me too much then to take it freely. Yer mad I did somethin’ nice?” You pull away out of his grip, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I am trapped, John. No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage. On top of that, you lied. You won’t let me go on trips with you, you’re trying to push these security decisions on me, and I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity. I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.” You dodge his reach easily, shucking on the nearest nice clothes you can find before heading downstairs to find Terrance. The clothes end up being your recently worn jeans and one of his button-ups, white for a change. It smells like him, pine and musk and man. You sniff the collar discreetly when Terrance is arranging for the car. Quick steps thud down the stairs and when you turn he’s there in a suit, unruffled and polished. You dart out the front door as quickly as possible, but because you’re weak and shameful, you turn back right before you get into the car. You mouth ‘bye’, brows knitted in frustration, and a sliver of betraying warmth hits your heart as he mouths ‘bye’ back.

-

Kyle is going to ask for a raise next week. He’s been working twelve-hour days, tearing through Shepherd's finances non-stop. He’s finally gotten to Shepherd’s employee list, unofficial, of course. Bored with the bland names, he switches over to his tabs on the bookstore. In his perusal, a name catches his eye. Phillip Sorth. Where has he seen that before?

Kyle goes through the man’s file. Pretty standard, worked at a bar before this. Kyle didn’t create this report, handing it off to a person on his team. So he’s disappointed when he clicks on the bar name, The General, and is returned with a blank page. Whoever made this is getting fucking fired.

The bar closed down three years ago. Which is odd, because Phil’s resume says he only stopped working there six months ago. When Kyle runs the address, alarm bells go off. It’s one of Shepherd’s. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He dials Price’s phone, which goes straight to voicemail. Shit. While he waits, Kyle runs another test and sure enough, Phil’s NI number links to a Phillip Graves, not Sorth. Which, of course, is a name on Shepherd’s fucking list. A top name, actually. The man’s a high-ranking spy.

Kyle dials Terrance, who also doesn’t pick up. He bursts out of the security room and ensures his keys are in his pockets before heading out the door. “Shut this shit down. We’re at Level 5.” He barks out to the men guarding the door, emulating his Captain. They immediately start talking in their earpieces and out of the corner of his eye, Kyle sees his men in the park close in on the Castle. Good. Someone needs to protect this place while he tracks down a fucking rat. Before someone harms the new angel of the Castle.

-

“Arthur, do you mind putting these away? I think my arms are going numb.” He takes the box from your hands with ease, winking as he walks away. You breathe out a sigh of relief, then trek to find Phil. He was finalizing the checkout desk, but now he’s nowhere to be seen. You really want to get his opinion on your ideas for wall decor. You head back to the office, thinking he might be there, but pause right before you walk in. Phil’s on the phone, and the walls are thin enough that you can hear his entire conversation.

“Yessir, copy that.” Who’s he calling sir? It’s like how Gaz addresses John, deferent and loyal. “Affirmative. Later today. We’ll get the van ready and-”, the rest of what he says is muffled, like he’s turned away from the door. Something isn’t right. 

That’s when you realize you haven’t seen Terrance in over thirty minutes. He went to the bathroom, which he always tells you about, making you feel like a third-grade teacher, but he hasn’t come back. You dig in your pocket for your phone, then swear when you remember you left it on the cafe counter. When you turn to go find it, there’s a wall in front of you. A human wall. Arthur.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” You try to run but a strong grip captures your arms, holding you firmly in place. From the corner of your eye you see Phil, holding you tight as you struggle against him. “John will find you. My brother will find you. You’re going to-”, except you can’t tell him what he’s going to regret, as Arthur holds a rag over your mouth and everything goes dark.

-

Sorry this took so long! This semester has been crazy. Im thinking 3-4 more chapters and we’ll be done! I hope nothing happens to reader…

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello Dorito!

Can you please write Bruce, Dick, Jason and Clark receiving a good luck kiss on the cheek from their crush before they go on a mission? I’m curious how they would individually react and what their thoughts would be. I thought it would be cute if it was pre relationship for some reason (*'ω'*)

Dick

The moment you kiss his cheek, dick just smiles softly.

‘What was that for?’ He’d ask, his thoughts going a mile a minute as to what this all meant in the long run of your relationships as he knew damn well friends didn’t kiss each other on the cheek…well unless they were close like that, but Dick typically knew it wasn’t and wanted answers before he left for the mission.

‘Good luck?’ You shrug.

‘Just good luck?’ Dick would tease, but on the inside he was hop in that this was going where he was thinking it was going, hoping he wasn’t reading anything you were putting down wrong as he didn’t want anything to be misconstrued or misinterpreted. He wanted this moment for so long and wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to having something worth coming home to; or someone worth coming home to after a long and intense mission.

Dick would look like he was confident and whatnot but on the inside he was more happier then he’s ever been in his entire life. He wanted to shout to the rooftops that he had been kissed on the cheek by the person he liked, but instead decided to play it cool and try to work his charisma into his favour with you in hopes of a date. He’s done being coy and dropping hints, the kiss on the cheek had to mean something to you as it did with him.

Jason

Blinks several times as his brain tries to accept that you did just kiss him on the cheek.

He reaches up to touch the cheek you kissed lightly as his insides were waging war with one another, he was glad that you made a move first as now Jason knew you had some liking towards him, especially if you were willing to go out of your way to kiss his cheek before he leaves for a mission.

This felt like something he had read out of many, many, many books that he never thought he himself would ever experience in his lifetime, and yet here he was being kissed on the cheek by the person who he had a raging crush on that felt like it came straight out of a movie. He’s aware of his crush on you, insanely so, but when you kissed his cheek he didn’t know whether it was with platonic or romantic intentions.

Jason wanted so badly for it to be romantic, his heart yearned for it like he yearned for you as long as he had, trying not to show just how he melted like putty in your touches and general affection towards him. Other people try to touch him and he hisses at them, but you? You could hold his cheeks and he’d be fighting to need to close his eyes and melt into your hands, feeling safe enough within your presence to do so then he ever had anyone else in a long, long time.

He knew he was fucked the moment he realised that he didn’t want to push you away but pull you in close. Jason knew he was fucked but in that moment he didn’t care because a life of love with you was a risk he was willing to to take, after all he was deserving of a sweeter aspect of life then the one he was already given.

Clark

Feels his cheeks burn as he rubs the back of his head, the feel of your lips still very much lingering on his skin.

The kiss was soft, it was sweet and innocent but it was enough to have Clark becoming a little flustered and a bit sheepish in looking you in the eye, but he managed to do so and it was obvious by the look in his eyes that it was something that would affect his mind for a long while; even when you were long from view you’ll still be in the forefront in his mind.

His voice was caught in his throat but his mind was filled to the brim with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, for as soon as you kissed his cheek and wishing him luck, you were already out of his line of sight with a knowing smile graced upon your lips upon your exit.

Clark knew that he’d have to have some words with you when he gets back, but until then he could only assume that you were both on the same page without having to speak words to one another, the attraction was clear but would need to be communicated clearly sooner or later.

Clark could only hope he wasn’t the only one feeling something between the two of you, he was hopeful that he wasn’t when you placed your hand on the s symbol on his chest and looked at him the way you did.

Bruce

Doesn’t show much change visibly but his eyes do shine in amusement and his posture seemed to straighten a little more, only the keenest of eyes would’ve seen that he had also leant into your lips when you kissed his cheek.

Bruce prided himself in being a well put together man, but the moment you kissed his cheek that collapsed in on itself, and he was left wanting nothing more then to ask for another kiss and so he did with a hint of mischief upon his tongue.

‘Do I get another one?’ He asks you.

You only shrug. ‘Only if you come back in one piece then you can have as many cheek kisses as you’d like.’

He may have made an entire playboy persona for public outings and such, but in that moment he felt like a teenager with their first crush again, wanting nothing more then to ask Alfred if engaging in a relationship with you was worth the risks. He is a smart man and knew what he wants and yet while he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t claim to know what you want and didn’t want to assume on your behalf when you didn’t say anything of substance.

Bruce knew that something was different between the two of you -outside of him having a crush on you of course- and knew that once he gets back to Gotham he’ll have to strike while he still could in hopes that you’d allow him to treat you right, and allow him to spoil you rotten once in a while, and keep you safe should you all him to have your heart by taking you on a date to your favourite place.

[planetallure]

i am not joking when i say i went to go see nosferatu in theater so that i could read this, and i’m so glad i did.

idk what it is when it comes to historical fiction/gothic romance but i have a feeling that you do this. like this is your jam 100%. i can tell. you just have this way of writing that is so vivid and enthralling.

when i realized where this was going i was so excited. obsession core is my shit and that is friedrich harding dowwwn mama. the king of yearning and devotion, ugh!

when i got to #that scene in the movie all i could think was, “real. real asf actually.” like what a way to go out.

this was just everything, i thoroughly enjoyed myself. her mother was right. she saw what she could not. that man wanted his wife. bad. but was so traumatized that he couldn’t be forthright about it.

but we saw him slowly but surely, and then all at once, give into himself. reader and i were in the same boat for a second there, “freedom…how necessary is it really?” lmao.

also, the amount of clothing people wore back then??? that’s how you know that was a man of service and devotion, my god!!

The Ghost of Harding Manor

Friedrich Harding x Reader

Summary: Your marriage is haunted by the ghost of the wife who came before you, and the walls of Harding Manor bear witness to your husband's descent into madness.

warnings: Dub-Con, loss of virginity, obsession, unsure if stalking counts if it takes place in your own home, implied chronically ill!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

♱

You were not Anna.

You were reminded every day from the moment you wed Friedrich Harding and became his missus that you were not Anna. Anna who was perfect and said the right things and walked the right way and was a walking temptation to the man she called her husband. Anna who—even in death—called to Friedrich from beyond and was nearly successful if it were not for strong hands and strong voices keeping the dark-haired man from throwing himself into her coffin with her. Anna who was well on her way to giving your husband a third child.

Anna whose touch still lingered in this home and along these walls and in the long dead flowers that Friedrich refused to throw out.

Anna who haunted you much more than she haunted your new husband.

Illness had not just taken the angelic beauty, but her three children with her, one never even getting the chance to take his first breath. In your solitude, you sometimes thought that you did not know what was worse—their two daughters remaining and forcing you to fill the void the other woman left in multiple lives…or your life as it were as you were forced to give Friedrich a whole new family and reason for existing.

You knew from the moment you became betrothed that you had a heavy vacancy to fill…but it seemed that Friedrich had no intention of you filling it.

“He does not touch me, mother.”

The words were whispered in the quiet home one day, and you looked around, ignoring the feel of the older woman’s gaze in favor of imagining what this house must have been like before the tragedy. You imagined how loud it must have been with two animated little girls running around. You imagined how good Friedrich must have been with them, and thoughts of Anna welcoming him home with a kiss and her arms full made your heart sink.

You were not her.

The advice of your mother went into one ear and out the other. You had long accepted that you were a poor replacement that Friedrich could hardly stand to look at. You were alone on your wedding night and again the night after that and the night after that. You were always alone, and the few glimpses that you got of your husband since the wedding day only proved fruitful in your gazes meeting for a stolen moment…and then he was gone again.

You were always alone, and he was always gone…

Until the morning you would not rise from your bed.

The fever struck you in the night, and by the time morning came you felt weighed down by sand. Any strength you had was used to keep your breathing as even as possible, unable to even muster an attempt to open your eyes and tell your cold husband that you were well. Conversations swirled around your head for what felt like days, and in between the feverish dreams, you caught diagnoses and assurances here and there.

“It is merely a cold,” the doctor told Friedrich. “Her body is fighting it quite well, and she will be like new in a matter of days.”

You recalled agreeing with the assessment, feeling more fatigued than anything else—you’d always been rather sickly—but your peace had been broken for the first time in months. The voice of your husband had reached your ears—so broken and angry and unlike anything you had experienced with him.

“...and how exactly did this come about? She never even leaves the house, for God’s sake.”

You heard the rustle of fabric and heavy steps and an even heavier sigh.

“In a matter of a night, my wife has taken ill, and I am assured that she will recover in no time, but I have heard that before…” his voice shook. “I will not bury another wife—I cannot!”

It all seemed so unlike him, and so you convinced yourself that you merely dreamt it up. The fever was clouding your mind and making you conjure up your innermost desires, namely Friedrich caring for you for more than just a societal duty to bear sons that would carry on his name. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness and dream some more.

A masculine hand in yours, a finger tracing patterns into your stomach through the fabric of the bedding, soft lips brushing along your fingers and facial hair tickling your flesh. Your mind conjured up all sorts of things that simply could not be true, and yet when you fully opened your eyes for the first time in days, you were not alone.

It was not easy to place the look upon Friedrich’s face as he stared down at you, towering over your bed with a smoke in hand and dark circles beneath his eyes. He did not look well himself, and you could not help running your eyes over him, wondering just how much sleep he had gotten this past week. The room was quiet as you two just stared at each other, and just as you parted your lips to inquire about his own health, he was abruptly turning away from you. His voice rang throughout the house as he demanded someone send for the doctor.

It was only hours later that it was professionally confirmed that you were almost as good as new and would probably only have to put up with a light cough for the next day or two. Hearing those words relieved you, and when you looked up at your husband, you could not tell if he shared your relief. You frowned up at him as the doctor poked and prodded at you, wondering, for the first time, just what the dark-haired young man was thinking.

He only stared back.

In fact, he only ever stared these days.

When you were walking through the silent house much like the ghost that haunted your marriage, you could feel the heavy weight of his stare pressing down on you. It was not easy to ignore—nor did you want to—but whenever you turned, no husband was there to meet your gaze. The only sign of his presence was the flutter of a broad shadow passing along the walls. He was much bolder when you found your nose buried in a book, and oftentimes when you lifted your gaze to catch him, he did not shy away.

“Yes?” you would wonder, voice quiet as both uncertainty and unease filled you.

Sometimes he did not answer, merely content to gaze at you, and other times he took his time in responding. He would exhale smoke and it would billow between you, briefly obscuring his features before he swiped his tongue between his lips.

“Supper will be ready within the hour.”

You would nod, and he would make no move to leave, and you would be forced to turn your eyes back to the pages before you…resolving to ignore the silent presence in the doorway that was your husband. You found yourself doing that a lot—resolving to ignore his presence. Otherwise, you would never get anything done.

His gaze clung to you when you ate, the dinner table silent outside of the sound of food and utensils hitting dishes. When your eyes would meet, you would send him a small smile, thinking to yourself that your marriage was just progressing slower than most, but he never returned it. He never smiled at you, only preferring to stare. When you ate, when you read, when you found yourself outside amongst the flowers…even when you slept.

You had never once shared a bed, so it was startling to answer a knock on your door one night, coming face to face with your other half. Your nightdress kissed your feet, and the sleeves tickled your hand, and despite that, Friedrich gazed at you as if you were standing naked before him.

“I only wish to make sure you are well throughout the night.”

You did not know how you felt both relief and disappointment, but you managed.

It took you some time to respond, nodding with a small ‘of course’. You still let out a cough here and there, and you did not miss the way Friedrich’s head would abruptly turn with every heave of your chest. Your marriage may have been cold and strange, but it was obvious that your husband had grown paranoid with the fear of burying a wife for a second time. You imagined that it would not reflect well on him.

…and so you laid beside him and closed your eyes and even in the cover of darkness…

You could feel his gaze.

It unsettled you, and you had half a mind to seek the advice of your mother the next time your parents came for a visit, but she—ever zestful and bold—completely took hold of your train of thought.

“...and when might I expect a grandchild?”

There was a teasing smile on her lips as she regarded you, and you merely sighed before taking a sip of your tea.

“You know my situation, mother,” you murmured, setting your cup aside.

Father was with Friedrich, and you hoped that he was enjoying his company much more than he seemed to his daughter.

“Yes, but that was months ago, and I can tell that things have shifted.”

At that, you frowned, turning to face her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Your marriage was just as cold as it was in the beginning, only now a strange voyeuristic atmosphere had descended over it. Your husband had gone from ignoring your very presence to shadowing your every footstep in the house. Her light chuckle made you flinch, and she gazed at you as if you were playing some joke on her.

“Darling,” she took a sip of the warm drink. “I saw the way he was looking at you when you welcomed us through those doors.”

Your frown deepened.

“That is the gaze of a man fighting with all of his might to resist his beloved wife.”

Now it was your turn to think she was playing a jest with you, but you had no more time to linger on that for the voices of your father and husband soon filled the house as they made their way inside. You could only swallow as mother stood to welcome father back, slowly rising as your own husband neared you. When you traced his face with your eyes, you noticed the ease upon it, and you felt relieved to see that he and your father got on well. He looked like any normal man alight with the mirth that came from being in the company of other like minded men, and so you disregarded your mother’s words.

As you stepped past him to approach your father, your back felt aflame with the heat of a familiar gaze.

You saw them out and wished them safe travels and your father placed his hand on your cheek before he went, speaking good health over you. While he may have been used to your sickly nature, any instance that required bed confinement for his daughter always worried him. He wanted to leave with the trust that you would be well looked after…and well looked after you were.

“Your father was very transparent with me about your health.”

Friedrich towered over you as you sat at the table, having been unsure where this conversation was heading when he interrupted supper. A small container was in his large hand, and when your gaze lifted from the bottle to his eyes, you swore that you saw him falter, his words momentarily stuck in his throat.

He placed the bottle down before you, his hand remaining on the table, and the scent of him filled your nose.

“I have gotten the doctor to make a tonic for you. You are to take a few drops with your meal once a week… It will keep your strength and health up.”

He only moved again to open it, and despite the fact that you felt it was hardly necessary—having survived so long without it—one look into the eyes of your husband told you that not only could it not hurt, but for his peace of mind, you needed to do this. You two gazed at one another as he held it in his hand, and after some time, you realized what he wanted. Parting your lips for him, you swallowed down the few drops he administered to you, but even after you swallowed the herbal mixture down…Friedrich continued to stand over you.

It was in this moment that you finally started to voice your thoughts, asking him why he stared at you so when his movements completely stumped you.

His thumb found the corner of your mouth, startling you, and it remained there for some time before he brought it to his lips, tasting whatever had been lingering there. His blue eyes—normally so cold and unreadable in your presence—suddenly glinted with a look you could not place. It happened so fast that you would have missed it, but you did not, and the intensity there was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Friedrich parted from you as if nothing had happened, and you watched him round the table to take his place across from you once again. It took you some time to pick up your utensils again, rejoining him in eating your supper, and now it was your turn to stare at him…unable to forget that shadowy something that passed through those blue eyes.

He was staring again.

The wind howled outside of the window with the storm and flashes of lightning lit up the otherwise dark room from time to time and your chest and shoulders moved evenly as you feigned sleep. You stared at the wall before you, and Friedrich stared at you. If at all possible, he grew more shameless with it, and if you were a normal loving couple just so wrapped up in each other—as you were sure he was with Anna—then some part of you might have found it romantic.

Tantalizing even.

As it were, you were not, and as silly as it seemed…you felt hunted in your own house.

You constantly felt like prey under his ever watchful eye no matter how justified he made it seem. Concern for your health, making sure no food disagreed with you, seeing how fair you slept. The paranoia of losing another wife suffocated you both for different reasons and in different ways, and you felt as if you were moments away from choking. Your mother’s voice crawled through your mind, and words that you had once dismissed now rang through your thoughts like a melody.

The room glowed with another flash of lightning…and you felt the gentle feel of fingers on the side of your face. You sharply inhaled, startled from both the sudden touch and the foreignness of it. His hand rested on your hair, ensuring that he could gaze upon your face no doubt, and when you felt the bed jostle, you closed your eyes. His lips found your tresses, and his hand found your shoulder, and you both heard and felt him breathe you in.

Friedrich’s nose traced the curve of your ear and he descended until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Despite all of this, your heart remained steady, and you remained still as he gently pressed his lips to your skin and traced patterns through your sleeve. You felt his larger frame shifting closer, and at that—at the feel of him pressed so closely to you to where you could feel every curve and ridge of him—you shuddered.

Yet you still feigned sleep.

“You will never be her,” the words he murmured into your skin had your brows furrowing. “...and I will never let you.”

Contradictory to the words that left his lips, the hand on your arm found its way to your waist, his arm completely circling you and holding you to him. That was how he remained throughout the night, and only when you accepted the permanence of his position, did you finally allow yourself to find sleep.

It was dreamless, and when you woke up, you woke up alone.

You chose to ignore the relief that filled you at that discovery, telling yourself that Friedrich was still grieving. It was an easy answer to his behavior and treatment of you, and yet, you wondered how much longer you had to endure it. You wondered how much longer you would feel watched and shadowed in your own house.

At breakfast, you parted your lips for Friedrich as he gave you a few drops of the tonic, and he watched you eat, and you pretended not to notice. For some time that is. Finally, after a while, you placed your utensils down, and you lifted your gaze to meet his head on. Ever bold, he did not look away, those blue eyes momentarily making you lose your train of thought.

“Why do you stare at me so?”

You finally voiced your concerns with him, and you watched the mustache twitch from the movements of his mouth at your sudden and brazen question. Friedrich looked as if he had never anticipated you asking that of him, but eventually he straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he studied your face.

“I am afraid you will slip away.”

His answer made you blink, eyes widening slightly.

“I fear…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “...like my Anna, you will slip from my grasp.”

Your lips parted at the unexpected answer, and you were unsure of how to respond. Friedrich took a deep breath before digging into his own breakfast, those blue eyes finally refusing to meet yours.

“I will not allow you to become her…lost to me too.”

It was in that moment that you realized you completely misconstrued his words from the previous night, and you stared at the man before you who was so desperate and driven to uncomfortable lengths to ensure he did not bury another wife. Some part of you felt awful for feeling so put off by his uncanny behavior…but some other part of you recognized that your husband was slowly being pushed to madness.

If he were not so already.

“She vexes me so…”

Those were the words you overheard a week later, your house hosting a small handful of people that Friedrich knew. The wives took to you well despite your quiet disposition, and when they proposed an evening walk along the beach, you went in search of your husband to inform him. When you found him, he was in the company of three other men, the smell of tobacco reached you first and then his words followed.

You froze the moment you realized it was you he was referring to.

“She is so quiet and frail…like a mouse” there were a few chuckles. “...and I so desire to hear her squeak.”

You felt yourself take a step back.

“...but it is because she is so fragile that I cannot bring myself to touch her…” you heard Friedrich inhale. “I fear I would ravage her.”

How was it possible for his words to both terrify and entice you? It was a relief to know that your husband did not balk at the sight of you as you once thought, but you did not hold the same sentiment in confirming you were indeed being hunted in your own house. Friedrich had made no moves to warm you to him and progress this marriage in a way that a normal man would. After all these months, he was still little more than a stranger to you.

A stranger that was increasingly losing himself more and more at the thought of ever losing you.

“...but Friedrich we only just got here.”

You looked to him with a slight frown, the ocean breeze a soothing feeling against your skin. So turned around by his words from the other night, you had completely forgotten all about the beach, returning to the other wives in a bit of a daze, something they happily sat you down and fetched some water for.

With one look at you surrounded and feverish with some water in your hand, Friedrich had cleared the house out immediately, saddening you. You were at the beach, now to make up for it, but you were sure that you had only been here all of ten minutes.

“It is a bit airish out,” he said to you, keeping your hand in place on his arm. “I do not wish to see you fall ill again.”

You struggled to argue with him about your health, understanding both the sensitive nature of the topic and the determination in his eyes to see you back inside the house. Despite what you wanted, you allowed him to guide you away from the water and sand. His hand remained on yours the whole way, and the closer you got to your home, the more your unease grew.

“Perhaps we can try again if the weather is better tomorrow,” you proposed the moment you were inside the warm walls of the house.

Your husband did not answer right away as he removed his coat, and for a moment you feared he never would, but his eyes met yours as he turned to you. He was gentle and meticulous in unbuttoning your own coat, his chest so close to yours as he slowly peeled it off of you. The words that he did not know you heard were on your mind as he looked down his nose at you, and he only answered when your arms were finally free.

“We shall see.”

His tone and his words did not seem to be in agreement, and you were unsurprised when tomorrow came and went and you did not leave the walls of your home. You found enjoyment in your books instead, and like always, you eventually felt goosebumps crawl over your arms as you became the subject of his scrutiny yet again.

Only this time, you were surprised to hear him approach.

“Read to me,” he quietly asked—demanded—of you, and you felt his hand in your hair as he sat down on the couch behind you.

It was an unexpected request, and you were silent for a few moments more as he made himself comfortable behind you. His legs were on either side of you as you relaxed on the floor, the fabric of your dresses and undergarments cushioning your bottom. It took you some time to do as he asked, but once you did, you started to forget that he was even there.

Until his fingers started to move over your scalp and he drew himself closer, his knees in your line of vision now, and his gentle breathing started to accompany the sound of your own voice. You read to him for what felt like hours, both of you only pulled from the moment when the cook informed you that dinner would be ready soon.

Much of your time was spent reading to Friedrich these days, and you wondered if he thought it a sufficient enough distraction to ensure you hardly noticed he never let you out of the house anymore. Your requests to go to the beach grew less and less with every denial and every ‘maybe’ that would just turn into a denial. The day you asked to accompany one of the staff to the market, he visibly blanched, his head shaking as he snarked at you how completely out of the question that was.

You finally spoke up when the monthly visit from your parents did not come to pass.

“I did not think it wise for them to be here,” was his only defense, and you gaped at him.

“...and why not? Why am I the last to know this?”

His hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you away from the curious eyes and ears of the kitchen staff, guiding you through the house with that long stride of his that almost made it hard to keep up. When he noticed, he slowed down, eventually halting his movements just outside of his study, and when you hesitantly reached for your arm, Friedrich loosened his hold.

You watched him use his free hand to gently brush his fingers over the appendage, looking down at it with a frown before meeting your gaze with a more even stare. 

“...because they are always trotting off to God knows where around God knows who, and I will not allow them to bring even so much as a shallow cough into this household.”

You blinked at your husband, understanding dawning on you, and you struggled with a response. You realized now that appeasing his paranoia—not fighting it and letting him have his way—was doing more harm than good. Friedrich was so good at hiding his emotions from you—even the ones you wanted to know about—but in the dimly lit hallway, you could see it clear as day in his eyes.

He was consumed with the fear that you would wind up just like Anna and his children.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly reached for his hand, removing it from your arm. You did not break your gaze, wanting him to listen to you loud and clear, and you swallowed down the unease that filled you as you stood under his unwavering gaze.

“Friedrich…” you whispered to him, so unused to the feel of his name on your tongue. “That is no way for me to live a life.”

He pushed his shoulders back at that, and you knew that he was going to argue with you, so you continued.

“You have gotten me a tonic from the doctor…I am the healthiest I have ever been…and I would very much like to see my mother and father.”

His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth curved upwards at your attempt to put your foot down. The both of you stood there for a lengthy amount of time, just staring at one another, and for the briefest of moments, you thought that Friedrich would see reason. Your hand was still on his, and your husband maneuvered them so that your hand was now in his, and when he stopped closer, you knew then that you were not getting your way.

“Perhaps some other time.”

You knew what that meant as you watched him walk away, and dread began to fill you as the reality of your predicament was truly setting in. Your eyes roamed along the walls, no longer feeling haunted by Anna, but her husband instead. He was haunting you, and she was haunting him, and in his desperation to keep you from suffering the same fate as his previous wife, Friedrich seemed content to keep you behind a gilded cage, a manicured box.

Like a porcelain doll.

Your days were consumed with only him and the house—reading to him, tending to the flowers, picking out patterns for some new drapes or a new rug to be made. It was enough to ignore the obvious for a while, enough to keep your mind off of the prolonged absence of your parents and the unmet desires to see the water and the way Friedrich stared at you like he expected you to crumble at the drop of a hat.

He was driving you nearly mad as he, and perhaps that was why you did it.

The caretaker was new and had not yet learned that Friedrich Harding preferred to keep his new wife locked up like some sickly child. Why would she? You were sure that you would be back home before he returned, but when you entered your home—the sun still at its peak outside—you did not miss the way some of the servants avoided your gaze. Only one approached you, quietly taking your coat as her gaze found the floor.

“Mr. Harding is waiting for you both…”

Your heart sank at her words, and you looked to the caretaker, knowing that you just cost her employment. That had never been your intention, and you walked ahead of her, prepared to plead her case to your husband, but he let her go on the spot before you could get a word in. Everything you said went ignored, every plea and every excuse, and it was only when the staff made themselves conveniently scarce did your proper and mighty well-to-do husband finally…

Break.

“Do you wish to ruin me? Is that it?”

His voice bounced off of the walls, and your lips parted as he stared you down. His eyes were alight with every emotion known to man, and his shoulders heaved with every breath he took. You only just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“For surely it will be the end of me if I have to say goodbye to another wife,” he angrily whispered, and you took a step back. “I do not ask much of you.”

“I know-.”

“I have not forced you to my bed, I have not demanded any sons or daughters,” he let out a tearful chuckle. “I do not even demand you greet your husband with a kiss when he returns home.”

All of this was true, and yet…

“All I ask is that you remain here.”

He said it so casually, as if he were not asking the world of you to remain prettily seated in a cage. You had never known how to gently broach this subject, understanding the sensitive nature of it, but as you stared into the face of your husband—driven mad with trauma and paranoia—you accepted that there would be no gentle way to do it.

“I am not Anna,” you breathed.

The man before you froze in place as you said her name, and you swallowed. 

“I am in good health now,” you licked your lips. “You saw to that…”

You slowly reached for him, and you did not miss the sharp look in his gaze as he followed the movement with his eyes.

“I am not going anywhere, and I implore you to have faith…”

Your words trailed off as the sound of his bitter chuckle reached your ears. Friedrich moved closer to you with no intention of stopping it seemed, and your back hit the wall. 

“Faith,” the dark-haired man sneered. “Why would I trust faith to keep you with me when that very same faith failed me before?”

You had no answer for him.

His fingers touched your face, and you looked between his eyes. His chest heaved, and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. His fingers trailed down the expanse of your neck before his hand moved to rest on the back of it, moving closer.

“You are so frail,” he murmured. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He forced your face closer, and you pressed your hands to his chest. The conflict was evident on his features, a furrow between his brows as he drank you in with those sad blue eyes of his.

“I fear that a change in the wind would rip you from my very arms.”

“Friedrich…” he gave no indication that he was listening to you. “I have not seen my mother and father in months. I know they must worry and… All I ever see are these walls and the staff and my books and you. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?”

He tilted his head.

“Do you wish for me to be alone again?”

“Friedrich, please,” you begged, and he was shaking his head as soon as you said his name.

“I cannot do what you ask of me,” he forced out, eyes becoming glassy.

You pulled at his arm and pushed at his chest, but your husband was a mountain of a man, and it did you no good. The room was filled with both of your voices at once, both of you pleading with the other—you for freedom and he for understanding.

“You do not understand the lengths I go to…”

“I will be driven to madness!”

“...the nights I refuse my own desires,” he tearfully spat.

“So you would have me be your doll then? Placed on a shelf where only you and the staff can see me? To only be looked at like a trinket until the end of my days?”

Your poor choice of words had him freezing, his voice dying in the air as he gazed at you with a stricken look in his eyes. He did not move for a concerning amount of time, and as he stared into your eyes, tears kissing his own, you wondered who he saw, right now.

You or Anna?

The wife he had lost or the one he was scared of losing?

“I cannot bear it,” he choked out, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. “It is an impossible thing to ask of me.”

You said his name, but he felt lost to you, mumbling to himself and kneading at you through the fabric of your dress. When his soft lips pressed against the skin just above your bosom, you tensed. You could feel the wetness from his tears on your flesh, and you said his name again.

In this moment, you were wholly aware of your disadvantage.

“All I do is try to protect you, and all I ask is that you help me…”

“Friedrich.”

He was on his knees, now, burly arms circled around your waist, and blue eyes wide and bright and tearful as he looked up at you.

“Yet you fight me every step of the way.”

“I am not Anna,” you said to him, trying to get him to see reason.

…but he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“...and you will never become her if I can help it.”

You felt his hand slide to your backside, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the fabric of your skirts.

“Night after night…day after day…I fight with myself for fear of hurting you, of doing irreparable damage.”

His arm tightened painfully around you, and you gasped, reaching down to pull at his sleeve.

“...and for what? For a wife who still leaves these walls and puts herself in harm’s way even after her husband begs her not to.”

“I cannot…”

You struggled to breathe, and you no longer just wanted him to let you go…you wished to get away. You both heard and felt him press a lingering kiss to your stomach, his tears wetting the fabric of your dress.

“If I am to risk you in any capacity…then surely it should be for the betterment of us both.”

So focused on trying to take in air, you did not fully register his words and the implication behind them. Your chest was tightening and your stomach was hurting, and your husband was losing his mind, and you did not know how to convince him that he would not lose you too. You pushed further back against the wall in an effort to relieve some of the painful pressure when you could suddenly breathe again.

You sharply inhaled…and the sound of tearing fabric reached your ears.

The pressure around your abdomen was loosening in more ways than one, and when you looked down, Friedrich had his hands quite literally inside of your dress. It was one that your mother had commissioned for you, but you could not find it in yourself to mourn the loss of the beautiful gown. You were more focused on your husband’s sudden animalistic nature.

You said his name, pushing at his hands, but you were no match for his strength.

“I cannot stop,” you heard him murmur, making your blood run cold. “Do not dare ask me to stop.”

With his hand at your back under the fabric, it was not long before you quite literally felt the fabric and strings of your corset being pulled taut against your flesh before ripping and popping completely. A panic seized you as you fought to get away from Friedrich, and he fought to rid you of the mountain of layers that covered you.

“Friedrich,” you gasped, pushing at his face and head, but with his arms around you in a vice-like grip, you had nowhere to go.

You pushed one foot forward, a difficult feat with a grown man attached to you, and your husband did not like that. He pulled at your dress some more—pulling down—and the action had you careening forward as you attempted to get away from him at the same time. With the floor fast approaching, you were prepared to crawl away from him, but Friedrich was much quicker on his feet than you.

Arms that were now increasingly familiar to you wrapped around your waist, catching you midfall, and Friedrich’s chest was to your back as he stood and brought you with him. You could feel his facial hair tickling your skin as he leaned in, deeply inhaling and kneading his fingers just under your chest.

“I cannot…”

His words trailed off as he forced you to face him, pink lips parted and blue eyes glazed over. Every step back from him was followed, and his nose touched yours while one hand found a home on your cheek. His lips touched yours for half a second before you pulled away, and he let you, frowning at you as if you confounded him.

She vexes me so.

You recalled those words that were not meant for your ears.

“I cannot…” his frown deepened. “I cannot resist you any longer.”

He finally stole a kiss from you, his lips covering yours in a way that no one ever had before. The kiss at your wedding was sweet—chaste even—but this was nothing of the sort. Friedrich deeply inhaled your every breath and pawed at you and pulled you closer if at all possible. The kiss made your head spin, and every time you attempted to move your head back, he followed. It was hard to breathe with his lips on yours.

You realized that what you felt against the back of your thighs was the bed, but only too late and when Friedrich’s hands tightened on the neckline of your dress. His lips sought out the flesh of your throat as he pulled and ripped it open completely. His blunt nails softly dragged against your skin as he yanked it down, moving closer, and with nowhere else to go, you felt yourself backed into a corner.

Your resistance was clear, and your husband wrapped an arm around your waist, briefly lifting you before dropping you on the soft surface. His large frame found solace between your legs, and you felt irreversibly trapped. He towered over you and his mouth held yours captive and his arms did not allow you anywhere to go.

You gasped his name into his mouth, a protest in your tone.

“I no longer have the strength to keep myself from you,” he murmured into the kiss. “Do not ask me to for I cannot do it.”

His hand slithered between your legs like a serpent, and you squirmed in a way you never had before. You had never even touched yourself there on lonely nights, recalling how unclean and unchaste it was said to be, but Friedrich was your husband. Surely that made it okay…but then why did it not feel okay in your chest? Perhaps it was because he scared you and isolated you and kept you locked away like some prized possession.

You felt yourself growing wet beneath his touch, and a low hum climbed from his throat as you laid your hand on his arm. When a finger slid into you, you dug your nails into his arm. The feel had you blinking, and when he added another, your eyes widened. A third had you gasping and him cursing—something you rarely heard. You felt stretched, and when he moved closer, forcing your legs to part more to accommodate him, you hissed.

“Lie back, my love,” he murmured to you. “It will feel much better.”

You refused to, one hand on the bed behind you in some weak hope that you could stop this before it went any further. You simply wanted freedom, and pleading with Friedrich for something so simple had ended in him seeking out his own pleasures instead. You could feel yourself dripping around his hand with every thrust of his fingers, and shame filled you.

When you were unable to swallow down a moan, you hid your face.

“There she is,” he slowly whispered, and when his thumb brushed over you in a way that had your arm weakening, he took advantage.

In one fell swoop, you found yourself on your back, your husband on top of you and his fingers still pushing into you. Your ruined dress hung off of you in tatters, and Friedrich tasted whatever visible skin there was. His large frame kept you pinned to the bed, and your eyes rolled and lashes fluttered from the way he moved his fingers and his hand between your thighs. You weakly murmured his name, and beyond that, in the quiet room, you could hear his movements. You could hear the wet sound of it, and more shame filled you, but you were not given time to linger on it.

He sat up on his knees, reaching down with his other hand so that he played you with both. You felt your back arching, and your breathing grew more shallow, and one hand gently massaged your mound while the other continued to push his fingers into your slick walls. He curled them into you over and over, massaging your insides and pressing the pads of his fingers against you.

It was unlike anything you ever felt, and when your stomach tightened—a rope or a coil or something deep within your gut—you let it until it could not any further, and you were suddenly gasping and whimpering in a way that made you sound possessed. You could feel Friedrich’s gaze on you, and when you managed to focus your own on him despite the difficulty, he wore an expression that you were sure you had never seen before.

It made you want to cover yourself and shy away, and when he pulled his fingers out of you—a tinge of red on them—that was exactly what you set out to do. 

Feeling hot and confused and unsettled by the man before you, you reached for the covers in an attempt to hide your nakedness, but your husband would not have it. He climbed over you, keeping you pinned between his thighs as he peeled off his light jacket, his tie and shirt and undershirt quick to follow.

You imagined that your wedding night would have been something akin to this, but only without this level of unease and fear and confusion. As it were, your wedding night was nothing like this. You had been alone, convinced of your husband’s lack of care for you, and now almost a year later, you were squirming beneath him and wanting to be as far away as possible from the man who metaphorically locked you in the tower and tossed the key.

“Friedrich,” you choked out, pushing at his chest. 

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you felt every bit of him as he forced you out of your garments completely.

The tip of him brushed against your sensitive flesh, and you shuddered beneath him. He would not stop kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and inhaling every gasp that escaped. His normally perfect hair was in disarray, and when he reached down between you, his other arm was proactive in holding you tight and in place for him.

The feel of his cock pushing into you almost made you wish for his fingers instead. You thought that you felt stretched before, but it was nothing in comparison to the slow way in which he sheathed himself inside of you. You felt unnaturally full, and it took your breath away. Friedrich groaned from above you, and you felt a shudder crawl up his back as he rested inside of you.

“I tried,” you heard him whisper. “I tried so very hard…but I cannot go another day without having you.”

He slowly pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained before sinking into you completely. You could not stop the movements of your body, your hips lifting with his as if being carried by a wave, a breathless sigh escaping with every thrust. His bare chest was pressed to yours, and his burly arms kept you right where he wanted you, and you felt yourself slowly forgetting why you had ever resisted him.

“Endless nights of lying awake and knowing you were a mere room away,” Friedrich breathed against your skin. “So close…and so forbidden to me.”

The speed of his hips grew, and your nails dug into his skin, dragging over it as he plunged his cock into you with a vigor you did not know he had. He was always so cold with you, keeping you at arm’s length even when he was touching you. You recalled the feel of his hand on your hair and his fingers on your mouth and a brush against your waist. Always giving in just a little bit more until he no longer had the desire to hold himself back. Always staring and watching and craving.

It was so clear to you, now, and all you could think was that your mother was right…

…and you were a fool.

“I feared I would break you,” he panted, thrusting into you so strongly that the bed beneath you shook. “I still fear that I just might.”

He pushed himself up onto his hands so that he could look down at you, and the dull tender ache had started to subside, replaced by something that far exceeded the pleasure his fingers had given you. Your back arched, and Friedrich wasted no time in dipping his head to wrap his lips around a heaving breast. His tongue swirling around a hardened bud had you reaching up to thread your fingers through his dark locks.

He groaned at the action, and when he lifted his head again, his intense blue gaze sought out yours. You softly moaned every time his hips curved into yours, his cock smoothly sliding between your folds, now and stroking you in a way that momentarily convinced you your freedom was not all that desirable. Your husband did not look away from your eyes again, and it felt overwhelming to be beneath him and staring into his eyes and feel him within you.

One of his hands reached up to touch your cheek, and a frown formed between his brows.

“So fragile… It would take nothing for me to break you, to snuff you right out,” his words made your heart skip a beat. “You test my self control in ways that terrify me.”

His hand traveled to your neck.

“I was right to fear the monster that I would unleash if I ever got my hands on you…”

His fingers danced to the back of your neck, and he gripped the hair at the nape there, slowly and gently forcing your head back. His hips did not relent once, meeting yours again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin reaching your ears among other things that filled you with shame. So much shame.

“For I will never be able to resist you again.”

He leaned in and pressed gentle kisses along the expanse of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste the damp skin, humming at the salty nature the thin sheen of sweat gave it. You whimpered when he reached down with his free hand, fingers brushing against you and circling you as you greedily clenched around his cock. 

“If anything happened to you,” he whispered into your neck. “It would be my undoing.”

[asksonicverse]

You dont need to answer but I just wanted to tell you I adore Paradox being like "I hate all of them except" and then listing everyone except like 2 guys, honey you don't hate *all* of them you expressly don't hate *most of them*

Extremely charming characterization i adore it

[Creator Special number 2!]

So glad someone noticed that, I was originally going to have him name EVERYONE except Boost but then I was like “nah, Mania is just too annoying for Paradox to tolerate him”

And thanks! I’m trying to be… consistent with my characterization of each of them and stay in line with canon but like… URGH sometimes I want to deviate so bad just to indulge but I resist!

Needless to say tho, prism is probably going to get more affectionate later on. Rewatched Sonic Prime again and bro is a cutie patootie!

Headcanons… headcanons… hmm

Well, starting with the obvious, Paradox goes to therapy as I’ve mentioned which I think is hilarious. He and Lance are the only Shadows who really have their shit together which is why I think Sonadow works well for them? (we stan healthy relationships guys)

I do head canon that Eight doesn’t like being touched really at all anymore. After the metal virus, he grew so used to the fact that he couldn’t touch anyone that it sorta just stuck. He does it to save people, but not anything more. :(

And while I’m a sucker for the Trans Sonic HC I decided not to implement it in this particular AU!

I really want to include Captain Sonic and Shadow, but I haven’t played nor watched a serious play through of the game. (I’ve only really listened to a bit of the Snapcube dub..)

can someone tell me if Shadow is a Barista or a Mechanic in that game btw?? I google it, nothing pops up. I could’ve sworn there was something about a mechanic.

Uhh I LOVE Sonic Frontiers, fire game. If I include that one, it’ll ALSO be Sonamy since I’m pretty sure that game takes place before SA2 in canon?

I’m trying to keep the Sonics and Shadows balanced but I’d love to add Generations Shadow and Sonic. Just thinking of names already I get “Doom” for Shadow and “Emerald” for Sonic. (Referencing the fake emerald from their interaction in the shadow story)

Unfortunately I haven’t seen the Archie comics or Sonic Underground so I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Someone also asked about if I’d ever include different AU’s: maybe if those AU creators gave me permission I’d be down to do a collab for a few asks or something!

Nope!

I dunno I just..! … how do I do? I’m fast. And you’re slow. That’s how I did it. /ref

Ahahah just kidding! But I am very fast. A few years ago I convinced myself I was a “slow drawer” because I was in a discord server with someone I looked up to (and holy cheese they could draw out fully articulate sketches in like 30 seconds!)

So I got insecure and taught myself to draw really fast. So now I just.. zoom! This does have a terrible draw back where I will very frequently forget smaller details.

Like if you look at half the posts, Shadow is missing his eyeliner and other markings frequently.

THIS IS JUST HILARIOUS TO ME YOU GUYS. PLEASE—

I’ve gotten SO many asks in my box about using Maria to calm the Shadows down or trying to give Shadows “Maria plushies”

Imagine you’re having a bad day and you get a plushie of your dead sibling thrown at you??? LMFAOOOO

I CANT I CANT I CANT PUT THEM THROUGH THAT 💔 Also I see every single ask.

“Do you all like Latinas” and “sonic which shadow is the hottest/shadow which sonic is the hottest” have all been engraved in my brain

Was joking with a friend on how that second question would come out LMFAOO

Previous | Next

[revelboo]

REVELLLLLLLL DROP ANOTHER MEGATRONUS FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURRRRSSSSSS

honestly I’m such a big fan of your writing I’ve searched and searched for megatronus fics for so long and I have never found one but I checked your acc and I’ve never been so happy before like I’m addicted to your writing a lot of the time I look for transformers fanfics but I’ve never really liked them as much as yours and you also inspired me to start collecting transformers figures so I’m gonna start sooner or later cause things are expensive these days sadly 😔🤞🏽 but I don’t wanna start yapping so I’m gonna end it off here by revel have a beautiful weekend and week😋

I’m glad you like my nonsense! The figures are pretty fun to collect

Give It Up Pt 3

Megatronus Prime x Reader

• Venting in frustration when you swat his servos, chirping angrily, he just needs to see the little display on your arm long enough to figure out if he can pull your language from it. Something you’re absolutely not having. Studying your little suit more closely, he frowns. Maybe you’re breathing some exotic gas and need the suit to survive? “I don’t need your entire suit,” he says, holding a palm over his own arm and miming flipping up an invisible screen like you just did . Wishes he could get a better look at you, because your features are just an indistinct shadow through the tinted helmet. Staring up at him, you lay your own palm on your display and chirp softly. “On my honor, I’ll return your tech to you.”

• Grumbling, his awful language, he repeats the gesture. Why does he want your display? While you can detach it, you’re not sure you should. Though you doubt the super advanced living robot is the least bit interested in your tech. It’s probably the equivalent of a DOS computer to you. Or maybe a telegram. He’s defiantly not stealing secrets from it. And he’s not hurt you so far. Shook you until you nearly hurled, but you don’t think he was trying to harm you. If you’re trapped who knows where, you’re going to need someone to trust. You really hope that’s him.

• Chirping unhappily, you mess with the display until it detaches and hold the tiny thing out. And it’s such a shock that you’re willing to trust him. Extending a servo, he waits while you look at the display then at him before laying it on his servo. “Thank you, little one.” Lifting it, he squints at the tiny thing and shifts it to his datapad to try to sync the primitive technology. “You’re being very brave.”

• You really hope your GPS isn’t in the display. Really wish you’d paid more attention when the tech guys were explaining the minutiae of the suits instead of being terrified of what you were going to find on the other side of the portal. Giant, alien robots definitely hadn’t been on your bingo card, though. What can he even get off the thing, really? Nothing dangerous. Probably? Like coordinates to your world? “Please don’t be an evil, giant robot.”

• Waiting for the datapad to compile and create a language file for him, he studies you. Wonders what organics eat and how exactly you’d wound up on Cybertron. A peaceful explorer? You don’t seem to have any weapons. Can’t understand the language. And you’re so tiny as to be helpless. Probably not a warring species. Certainly don’t look at all intimidating in your puffy little suit. Moving closer, you rock up on tiptoe to try and see his datapad and chirp at him. Pointing with a finger and you’re just so adorable. “I’m going to give it back,” he reassures you, smiling behind his mask. Definitely not a warring species. You’re much too cute to be dangerous.

Previous

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Cords

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,183,932 others

y/n_rb: Bahrain here we come! This is gonna be our season!

view all comments

user1: you’ve got this girl!

↳user2: represent! So incredibly proud to be able to support a woman in f1!

↳user1: it’s been so long…

oscarpiastri: glad to have you here!

↳logansargeant: not sure I’d go so far…

↳y/n_rb: wow logie just say you hate women then!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s not very feminist of you

↳logansargeant: I’ve been cursed by the universe

↳logansargeant: LET ME BE CLEAR — I DO NOT HATE WOMEN

↳logansargeant: it’s just y/n_rb is every intrusive thought you’ve ever had with a dash of no impulse control or thought-to-mouth filter

↳y/n_rb: hey!

↳oscarpiastri: no that sounds about right — just add a dash of no media training too

↳redbullracing: oh no…

↳y/n_rb: I have a contract! You ain’t getting rid of me so easily!

↳redbullracing: we’re scheduling media training sessions right away

↳logansargeant: good luck!

maxverstappen1: it’s great to have you on the team!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god it’s Max Verstappen!!

↳maxverstappen1: …we’ve met before?

↳y/n_rb: still!

↳user3: it’s not even the start of the season and she’s already bullying both her old F2 competitors and her teammate 😆😆

user4: proud y/n fan here! Having followed her since her F3 days I can say with full confidence that I’m so glad we’re gonna have a new grid terrorist again!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳user4: besides you of course Mr Rookie sir

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro de verte finalmente aquí! hello! glad to finally see you here!

↳y/n_rb: Mr Fernando sir I’m a big fan! Do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Sí?

↳y/n_rb: score!

↳maxverstappen1: oh no

↳logansargeant: no no no

↳oscarpiastri: please don’t

↳redbullracing: the training book doesn’t have a chapter on what to do now…

↳y/n_rb: smile and wave boys. Just smile and wave

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, liamlawson30, and 2,197,284 others

tagged: y/n_rb, redbullracing, pierregasly, alpinef1team

f1: contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly turned dangerous when y/n flipped! She was quickly freed from her car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Still conscious during the crash and waving to the fans while taken to the helicopter, no further information is known on her injuries.

view all comments

user5: oh my god that was so awful

user6: I’m still sat in shock

maxverstappen1: Based on the text messages I’ve received in the last 10 minutes, she’s fine.

↳logansargeant: how many did you get? Cause I’ve gotten 82 in the last 3

↳maxverstappen1: 187 in 10 minutes

↳oscarpiastri: 23 in the last minute

↳liamlawson30: too many for the group chat. It broke my phone

↳user7: not even on the grid and still terrorizing them 😂 liked by y/n_rb

user8: why did they have to play her radio though…

↳user9: no that was fucking awful

↳user10: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget her screams

↳y/n_rb: skk food bsny!!

↳logansargeant: and that’s the concussion typing 😆

logansargeant

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, 2,284,469 others

logansargeant: “Tell that frenchie that I lived bitch!”

view all comments

user11: oh thank god

↳user12: that was one of the most harrowing crashes I’ve seen

user13: if that’s not a Gen-z response I don’t know what is

↳user14: I’m just glad she’s ok

pierregasly: 😑😑

↳pierregasly: well I guess I’m glad she’s ok

↳logansargeant: “JUST SAY YOU DONT LIKE WOMEN FRENCHIE!”

↳pierregasly: I LIKE WOMEN

↳y/n_rb: qe kniw TROPID$$$ SHIILS CSKL TJE PILICE ON U

↳logansargeant: I’ve taken her phone again but she meant “we know TRIPOD!!! SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOU”

↳pierregasly: oh so she’s good

↳logansargeant: as good as she’s ever been

oscarpiastri: glad to see she’s ok!

↳logansargeant: some pretty shredded vocal cords and a nasty concussion but yeah she’s fine

↳oscarpiastri: ouch! Sending a gift basket!

↳logansargeant: “if that thing has a stupid apple in it I’m gonna save it and stuff it down your throat you stupid Aussie!”

↳oscarpiastri:…🫣🫣

↳maxverstappen1: apples?

↳oscarpiastri: don’t ask

↳logansargeant: don’t

↳liamlawson30: do not bring up that trauma again

↳logansargeant: “🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻”

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @angelluv16 @voidvannie @justaf1girl

[jjunbug]

EEEEKKK THANK YOU SO MUCH ELLIE!!! (๑´ω`๑)♡♡ and i completely get you!! like don’t get me wrong, i love a good serial killer fic here and there but i love it even more when you can tell they’re so obsessed to the point of madness too!!

but hehe yes all the little details!!!!! i loved adding them in so you can really see how not only perfectionism looms over her but how also sunghoon does too! AND YES THE DOLLS!!! the way they literally are everywhere in their house no matter where you turn… you understand omg!!! his one way he can try to immortalize her in the only way that he really knows how in fear that it’ll one day all be gone!! like i need that level of obsession and devotion too omg.

but yes omg until dawn!!! i love that game so much and i’m so happy that i’m making references to it (even if it’s unintentional lmao)!!!!

OMG OMG OMG!!!! hehe you’re the first one to get that little bit of detail i added in the smut!!! like she doesn’t even realize that she just gave him the green light indirectly…. and YESSS in order to get what they both want they both end up losing!! AND YOURE LITERALLY THE ONLY PERSON TO MAKE THAT PARALLEL STOP!!!!!! hehehe that makes me so extremely happy that you caught it!! her in the beginning going “these days, you just wanted to be” and sunghoon saying “it just is” like that was really what made her stop fighting herself and give in!!

i’ve never heard of mad father, but i’ll definitely check it out after this!! and the song!!!! THE SONG??!!!?! it’s literally perfect. i’m immediately adding it to the playlist as soon as i can omg!!! and it’s so good too!! hehe i’m definitely gonna check out more of their songs!!! like wow omg i can’t get over how perfect this song is

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! ♡♡ and hehe thank you for your kind words!! i was wondering how many people would notice all the little details i added, and most of you guys got them, but you REALLY got them omg!!! like i’m shaking with excitement that you noticed it hehe ^^ like don’t worry i’d LOVE to hear you fully dissect the story omg,,, i’m glad you liked this little messed up world i created!! i’m honestly still so obsessed with it too i’m really proud of this fic as a whole!!

THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸  𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements

warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩    ╱    ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t. 

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

[ kipo’s note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

© jjunbug - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[cherry-coffees]

Marriage of Convenience!Caitlyn headcanons

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who does not want to get married - much less to someone she doesn’t know or have feelings for. so when Cassandra introduces you to her for the first time, all she knows is that you’re from some noble house in Noxus and she resents you. It’s not your fault, she knows, but it’s so much easier to have someone to blame for her unhappiness.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who watches Cassandra talk to your mother in silent rage, who watches you smile politely and just go along with this. this just makes her resent you even more because why are you so okay with it?

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who (very reluctantly) attends the ball in celebration of your engagement. no one know it’s arranged - everyone in Piltover thinks that a Piltovian and Noxian fell in love and oh how wonderful it is that these star-crossed lovers will bring peace and an alliance between the two regions! Caitlyn wants to scream the truth at them all until her lungs burn. but her mother would kill her, so she just stands there with a fake smile, blue gaze icy.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who eventually ducks out of the main ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, seeking some relief from the constant attention of the crowd, only to find that you’re already there. frustration runs through her veins, a scowl automatically gracing her sharp features because why can’t she just have a single moment alone? but her expression morphs into one of surprise when she takes in your posture: leaning against the balcony railing in your gown, your head low and your body almost crumpled — defeated.

Caitlyn can’t help but hesitate, straightening out her Commander uniform she had insisted upon wearing. She doesn’t know whether to intrude or leave you be. But, she supposes, you will be married soon. 

So she breaks the silence, stepping forward to lean on the railing beside you. “Why aren’t you in the ballroom?”

“Why aren’t you?” You counter, not bothering to meet her eyes. You stare ahead, looking out at all of Piltover all lit up at night. 

Caitlyn can’t stop the scoff that escapes her. “Too much attention for something I don’t want.”

You bob your head once, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Makes two of us.”

“Are you kidding?” Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing and turning her body to fully face you. “You seem to be quite content going along with everything your parents want.”

“Yeah, well,” you exhale, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold night air. Caitlyn notices this, gaze darting to the gooseflesh that prickles on your bare arms. “There’s nothing either of us can do about it. It’s better to go along and make the best of it. If I’m going to be married to you, I don’t want to hate each other.”

Caitlyn blinks, slightly taken aback. “I-“ she pauses, considering your words. “I don’t hate you.”

“Seems like it.”

“I don't,” she insists, and you finally turn your head so your eyes lock with hers. “Look-“ Caitlyn holds your gaze, a twinge of respect stirring within her. “If my parents had to marry me off to someone, I’m glad it’s you. I know we just met, but you’re very respectful, and you seem kind. I like that.” She hesitates again, eyes flicking down over your body for a split-second. “And you’re undeniably pretty.”

“Uh- thank you." You blink, wide-eyed at the unexpected compliment, a pink hue dusting your cheeks. You can't deny that being called pretty in that posh accent of hers makes you a little flustered. But you push past it, shaking your head to clear your mind and continuing. "You’re right: we don’t know each other. But since we’re getting married, I’d like to, if you’ll allow it.”

And for the first time since Cassandra broke the news to her about this marriage, Caitlyn lets herself give you a half-smile. “Yeah,” she nods, a hint of interest in her eyes. “I’d like that.”

I have loose plans to write a full fic of this so!!! Stay tuned and lmk if you have any ideas/things you'd like to see with this <333

Reminder that my asks are open!

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[almosttinycreation]

Thanks for tagging! Sorry I took a hot minute to respond. Also ps six of crows is a great book I’m so glad you liked it :)

Last song: I don’t remember but probably whatever they played last on the Grammys broadcast last night (charli xcx iirc)

Favorite color: dark periwinkle

Last book: The Hawthorne Legacy was the last one I finished, and the one I’m currently reading is A Curious Beginning

Last movie: I do not remember, likely Howl’s Moving Castle

Last show: Downton Abbey, I just started season 3

Sweet, savoury, or spicy: sweet all the way. Cake is the greatest thing on this earth.

Relationship: single

Last thing I googled: 2019 box office. I saw a thing that was like “the movie that was top in the year you were some age is how 2025 will go”. I got avengers endgame and idk about that

Current obsession: epic the musical and my oc verity are both vying for attention in my head rn

Looking forward to: my lunch break I’m so hungry rn

Npt: @nichyevosobachka @ramblings-of-lola @sunshinerainbowsandlollipops @poppy-petals18 @artemis-dawn8

thank you @slashsleuth for the tag 😁 i havent done a little game in a long time

last song: fruit roll ups by waterparks

fav color: purple 💜😈💟🪻

last book: the absinthe underground by jamie pacton (it was ok)

last movie: wicked

last tv show: abbott elementary

sweet/savory/spicy: sweet usually

relationship status: single 😊

last thing i googled: the absinthe underground (needed the author lmao) before that it was turbulent waterparks chords

current obsession: ive been watching a lottt of jet lag lately!!! super fun travel show!!

looking forward to: signed parx print coming in the mail today 🫶🏼

tagging: @bergoozter @trashworldblog @outer-space-face @22psyduck :-)

[harrywavycurly]

I just read the bumble story and I love how reader talks to Harry and the “we listen and we don’t judge” thing about his hands😂 I can see her saying that to him all the time and maybe he even says it to her a few times as well!

Hiii babes!!! Awe thank you for reading the Bumble Fumble!! I loved writing their dialogue, it was so fun because she just says exactly what’s on her mind and you know Harry was probably thinking “what does that even mean?” when she said that to him the first time!! But this made me think of some random convos they’d have where you use that phrase so I hope you enjoy!!💖

You can find the Almost Bumble Fumble: here✨

*these are just conversations so it’s pure dialogue*

Summary: You teach Harry how to properly use “we listen and we don’t judge” ✨

“I lied to Jeff and told him I had an appointment this morning so I could get off the phone with him because I didn’t want to listen to him tell me about his weekend because I knew it was going to be a bit boring and I wanted to make sure I had your coffee ready by the time you got here and I can’t fake being interested in what he’s saying and making coffee at the same time.” “We listen and we don’t judge. But thank you for putting my coffee so high on your list of priorities.” “Well I just know how you get without it.” “Kinda the same way you get when you can’t journal for ten minutes every evening before bed.” “Exactly.”

“Wait you said what to her?” “Harry you’re supposed to listen and not judge…and that face you’re making is telling me you’re totally judging right now.” “What? No love I’m not judging I’m-I’m listening. Continue please.” “Right well I told her that her dress wasn’t very cute because I just couldn’t let her walk out of the house not looking her best so she got mad and broke my favorite pair of sunglasses so I cut the straps off all her purses.” “Jesus remind me to never upset you.” “I was in high school Harry it was just normal teenage angst that’s all.” “Well uhm we listen and we don’t judge.” “Too late Styles…you already judged but nice try.”

“Niall told me he’s reading fifty shades of gray but told from Christian’s point of view. I didn’t even know that was a thing?” “We listen and we don’t judge. It’s good. I mean as good as fifty shades can be..” It’s good? I didn’t-wait you’ve read it?” “Harry…” “Sorry sorry. We listen and we don’t judge.”

“I cry every time I watch Taken because-” “We listen and we don’t judge. You can cry at any movie you want sweetheart it’s fine.” “Oh my god.” “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” “You really meant it! I didn’t feel any judgement from you at all!” “Crying is cool so of course I’m not going to judge you for it.” “I feel like a proud mom right now this is great.” “Glad I could make you proud but I don’t know…m’not really into the mommy thing.” “We listen and we don’t judge so that’s fine you don’t have to be into the mommy thing.” “Oh that was good…you’re quick.”